#emotional favoritism means i draw them naked a lot

[ishtates]

HCs for Ishtates pls

- Ishtar fell in love first, a few months after moving in. Teutates brought her a sense of normalcy when they first met and she got attached, they both did, became best friends and Ishtar began to love her. Teutates took only about a month more to feel the same, the knowledge that she fell in love hit her like a train

- they were absolutely those best friends before dating who would be extremely comfortable with each other. Naked ? Ok, they don't mind. Laying down on each other ? Ok ! Little kisses on the cheek ? Oh they're just playful ( they are stupid ) !

- it took a while for Ishtar to be comfortable with physical touch, and for a while was only comfortable with Teutates ( and under specific circumstances, Abducius ). Teutates made her feel safe and happy, her touch didn't scare her, rather it replaced discomfort with warmth. Teutates loves her touch, too, seeing her look so happy and open with her and how comforting she can be is heavenly to her. Teu is someone who can get angry or overwhelmed easily, so someone who's as soothing as Ishtar is a gift

- Teutates loves leaving kisses all over Ishtar, especially her face. She looks adorable ! Ishtar will keep some of them sometimes when in public.

- protective x protective. Ishtar is a lot more timid and quiet, but as she gets more used to her surroundings, she's able to stand up and be more assertive, and she's just naturally one to defend loved ones. Teutates is the more violent, mean one when confronting perpetrators, while Ishtar is more cold and firm

- they w o u l d have a kid but there's many factors that prevent them / make them decide against it; neither can get pregnant, and even if they could it'd be horribly painful, their neighbors aren't the best influences for young kids, they're both not stable enough to deal with a baby long term, their jobs, their disabilities.. they could adopt or foster but there's again the issue with their neighbors and their jobs. " Just move " they're oddly attached to their neighbors, even Teutates might miss ones like Yog as much as she hates him.

- Ishtar had summoned herself a raccoon once in the early days of her moving in, and he decided to be her emotional support seeing how unwell she was. His name is Rocco. Teu and Ishtar treat him like their kid in a way

- they both used to be human; Nacha Mikaelys and Olly Ljubolevic ( OC that I am yet to draw ), said humans were together before getting separated. Separation and death be damned they reunited, however neither of them remember their human lives

- there's things both still retain from their human selves; Ishtar is a fantastic cook, motherly, and very sweet, and Teutates loves to draw, older sisterly, and intimidating. Teutates makes art for Ishtar and Ishtar makes Teutates her favorite meals

There's more but that's it for one post ! If you want to know more it could be useful to ask questions relating to them

[mokutone]

after seeing ur hiruzen/third hokage thoughts i was wondering what u think abt tsunade ?

thank you for the question! well as far as villains go she's—

no im just kidding. i know she's not a villain. of all the hokages, she's probably my favorite, but...i suppose that's not saying much, since i dislike literally every other hokage skdjghsdkjghdkgh (it's true i don't dislike kakashi or naruto. but i don't like that they become hokages)

i struggle a lot with her because she's one of the most compelling female characters in the show, but she's also written into a lot of sexist tropes.

mostly, when i think of her, i think of this quote from john berger's Ways of Seeing

“You painted a naked woman because you enjoyed looking at her, put a mirror in her hand and you called the painting “Vanity,” thus morally condemning the woman whose nakedness you had depicted for you own pleasure.”

obviously, tsunade is not naked, but she is a 50+ yr old woman, who is drawn to look like she's in her 20s because she's doing a henge to look youthful always. all of the characters make asides about this, condemning her for her vanity, and we the audience are meant to agree. she never gives a solid reason for wanting to look like she's in her 20s, so we're meant to assume that she values her own beauty over everything else, and is afraid of losing that beauty. i have a lot of trouble getting over this point when it comes to her.

there could be something really interesting and fucked up to explore about a woman who is unable to let go of the youth that, due to war and loss and trauma, she never got to live out! about hanging on to that impossibly because she doesn't know how to grieve or move past a loss like that—but. the fact that nothing in the series gives that visual choice any emotional weight aside from a punchline about the vanity of women mean's that's not what's happening. she's just "vain." lol.

the reason she looks like she's in her 20s is probably just because kishimoto didn't want to draw a middle aged woman. that sucks. i have a really hard time forgiving him for things like this.

but, ah, whatever. this is turning more into me talking about kishimoto than it is talking about tsunade.

I'm disappointed that we see more of lady chiyo working with sakura than we do lady tsunade. not that i didn't enjoy the fight vs sasori but. tsunade is sakura's shishō...why don't we get to see them together....that would be so entertaining...

her gambling addiction and tendency to lose are interesting too, but i feel like i want to see that influence her decision making? like, the choices we actually see her make for the most part, she seems like a very cautious and calculating person, somebody who stares at tempting problem for a long time before deciding it's not worth it to risk that.

why is she so different at a gambling table?

i think i want to see a little more dysfunction from her. she's maybe the most functional hokage konoha has ever seen. I think I would've liked to see her try and make really rash calls, and either learn from the mistakes, or have to rely on the people around her to help her NOT risk it all on an off chance they'd succeed. basically. i want her to have a bigger character arc about handling power than "no i dont want to!!!" —> "oh well this little blond guy convinced me. guess ill do it."

her having lost her family is a backstory. I don't really have much to say about it. It's fine, I guess.

her relationship with the other sannin...i dont know what to say. i think i've seen more fanworks of them interacting than actual interaction, so I don't want to speak on that, my opinion will be skewed.

I think it's fucked up that she's the best medical ninja in the world, but technically Yamato's self healing properties are probably on par, let alone Hashirama's. don't you think that's fucked up? like, that's the one title she's got to herself, and just.........ugh. whatever. sorry im ranting about kishimoto again.

i think a lot about her relationship with yamato. it seems, in canon, that she doesn't feel she has any duty or connection to him (and! rightly so. just because he's connected by her former squadmate to her grandfather doesn't technically mean she's in any way responsible for him)

BUT obviously. i personally think it would be interesting regardless, if she did. I think that her having tea or meals with him sometime and just connecting with him over this shared fucked up little attachment would be funny.

I'd like to see both of them (Yamato who never had any family) and Tsunade (who lost her family) try and forge a connection where there really doesn't have to be one. I think that would be sweet. Not necessarily a mother and son thing bc. well. Idk.

like tsunade seeing naruto as like her son, canonically, is kind of sweet, but it sucks that its like. you know. she has to be hot. she has to be a mom. and we can say she's a total trainwreck but we can't actually explore what that would look or feel like for her because she has to fulfill those rolls, and being a trainwreck is neither hotcoded, nor momcoded and also she can't be old. we're kishimoto and we hate women. blarg blarg blarg.

i don't knoooowwww. i struggle with her a lot. I wouldn't have this many problems with her if kishimoto was better at writing women, or if he wrote more of them and gave them more screentime so I didn't have to look at the few crumbs he offers as intensely as I do.

[the-east-art]

oh my god that animatic is so so phenomenal. The music fits so well!! I really like how you show Ingo going missing and the entire story of their lives separated and then their reunion. The way you manage to show such clear emotions is so amazing. You managed to show how much they care so much for each other despite being separated by time.

The flashback was so. Oh my god. It’s so soft and kind and a reprieve from the angst but it just makes it hurt so much MORE

oh. oh that’s Ingo dreaming of that isn’t it. oh my god.

i love how much that happiness is immediately followed up by this horrifying moment where Ingo just. can’t remember Emmet. It hurt me SO MUCH I actually started crying

Like!!!! The way you draw his devastation is amazing!! It brought me to tears and I just ADORE IT!!

I really liked the moment where it was showing pokémon that were opposites and like. god. the zoroarks……

there’s so much emotion in them!! The way you draw is just so emotive and I don’t really see that a lot and I love it!!

I’ve been watching this animatic on repeat and I’m just gonna put the rest of my favorite frames here since I couldn’t fit them in:

I love how you draw expressions and how naked Ingo looks without his coat and hat. And the Pokéball just looks so SO good I love it!!

God this is the sweetest comment. My lord I want this comment printed out and framed tbh. I mean I assume that both Emmet and Ingo learn to live with their pain of being separated (I tried to show moments where they are apart but aren't miserable, such as Emmet hanging out with Elesa and Ingo with the Pokemon) but also I don't think the pain is ever gone. have you ever heard of the analogy that grief is a button in a box that has a rubber ball bouncing around in it? And when the ball hits the button you feel the pain of grief, but with time the box gets bigger, so the odds of the button being pressed decreases, but the pain when it does is still the same and as powerful . That's kind of my framework idea for these two. They're okay, until suddenly they aren't.

I'm glad my expressions were adequate, I really wanted to try and convey the agony but I'm never sure if I hit the mark. Expressions were particularly tricky with these two since no matter what expression they were making I wanted Emmet to still had the ghost of a smile on his fact and for Ingo to have the ghost of a frown.

I'm glad you like the Pokemon and the Zoroaks. Tbh drawing Pokemon is no my strong suit but is something I want to improve, so the fact that you like how they're drawn means a lot to me.

Drawing Ingo without his hat or coat felt really weird in the moment so I'm glad that the frame was impactful! And I actually agree with you I personally am irrationally pleased with the pokeball and the light coming out of it lol, idk why but I'm really proud of it.

Thank you again for the sweet comment. It really does mean a lot to me. I feel really bad about my work a lot because there's so many incredible artists out there, so the fact that it means something to someone really touches me.

[kittymsmithwritesstuff]

Which legends can draw

Okay for the record anything made by Horizon is very cute and in that weird liminal space where it isn't bad but it isn't good, almost Avant garde but with that touch of Mom™ that means if she does a little doodle on her kid's lunch bag they'll probably keep it.

Does that make sense? I don't care.

Anyway legends that can ACTUALLY draw.

Short answer: Bloodhound, Wattson, Bangalore, Rampart, Seer, Fuse, Valkyrie.

Long answer:

Bloodhound: Probably the best out of them all. Particularly good at animals, but has an almost eerie ability to capture people in pencil, almost a photograph without being photorealistic. With animals and people they have a knack for catching that one piece of movement that just makes them feel alive. This is because of many, many, many many hours spent alone in the wilderness, on hunts or other expeditions. They leave little notes by drawings of plants to record what is and isn't poisonous and have actually sent in some small sketches to help with identification of rare flora and fauna to scientific boards in Gaea. Most of their notes in their sketchbook are the little things they notice about people and animals, though.

Bangalore: Canonly she got like a B in art and I just see her super stylized. Not award winning, but bold. Uses really harsh, dark lines and is one of those people that instead of starting out with too many light tones starts out way too dark, but eventually develops a really interesting style similar to old-school comic books. Would draw for her little cousins but not really for her family members. Reflecting her style, her favorite thing was to draw comics even if she didn't read them much. She figured out she was gay when she realized she wasn't drawing naked women to "practice anatomy".

Wattson: This is also canon if you read the lore book, but spending a lot of time on her own with almost complete control of what she did with said time left Wattson to learn, well, whatever she wanted, and one of those things was how to draw. She got a couple tutorial books, looked it up on the internet, and developed a clean, methodical style. One of those people where she says something is a "sketch" and you kind of wanna punch hit her but she's too damn nice. She tends to draw on the "cutesy" side of things, looooves to draw chibi-like characters. Will often use drawings to cheer Wraith up in particular. (Wraith has kept every single one). She's not very good at drawing anything but people and clothing, and her cat, but she's trying to branch out.

Rampart: Yeah it's canon, I know. Street art to the core, main method is spray paint and it started because of all the cool tags and art she saw in Gaea growing up. When she started doing it herself instead of being mad about it, her parents made her promise not to get caught more than twice. They actually got her art lessons, too. They bored her to tears, but they were helpful. Anatomy always comes out a little wonky though. Did find out she liked acrylic so she will use that. Used to make a little side money doing window paintings for Christmas.

Seer: Art was a method of expression and stress relief for him. It's really out there, somewhere between Picasso and Dali most of the time, but he can do some really intense human figures-think Alexandre Cabanel or any intense emotional figures in art in the 19th century. It's mostly a therapy thing for him and a test of skill, so a lot of people don't know how good he is at it. Loba has one of his pieces on her ship.

Fuse: Got into drawing because it was an easy way to goof off during class without getting caught. Style lands somewhere between Bangalore and Bloodhound really-there's a lot of movement and life in what he draws, and he can whip it out real fast. Half drunk drawing on a napkin can be a very cool sketchy vibe, prefers urban landscapes and people and will typically add dialogue or titles he finds funny to his drawings. Maggie used to make fun of him for it, but when they got older she actually got him a sketch book one Christmas and he really went off with it. There's a very "homey" feeling to his drawings, and he's always happy to sketch something for a friend. Has never been shy about sharing his stuff. After Maggie died, Bloodhound told him to try keeping a journal to help process his thoughts, and it's turned into half journal half illustration of his day, feelings, thoughts, etc. Bloodhound is the only one that's ever seen inside that particular journal. Similarly, he's one of the only ones, besides Loba, that's seen their sketchbook.

Valkyrie: I can kinda see her into drawing, but strictly anime. Not because she's Japanese or anything but because she gives the vibe of some kids I knew in high school who were like, really good at art, but only anime art, and soon as they stepped out of that it was like anatomy had fallen with the Roman empire and everything just kind of looked off. This isn't meant to be a bad thing I just see her very, very specific and not one to branch out from that particular style or develop one of her own. Really good at stylized landscapes though, and is in fact overall very good at converting any person or thing into a sort of anime style (I don't know enough about the different ones to specify).

[multifandomthoughts]

Dark King of Desire

MINORS DNI

Requested by: Anonymous

Warnings: Penetration, Dry humping

The rain beats down on the Oro Jackson, lightning and thunder making it almost impossible to sail. But to support your captain and his crew, you stayed outside, gripping the side of the ship. The ship rocks and sways but one thing that doesn’t budge is Rayleigh.

His posture is tight, his voice booming through the storm as he shouts commands, muscles glistening from a mixture of the rain and sweat. His arms bulge as he pulls in the sails, and you have to avert your eyes just so you can focus on the task at hand. You’re soaked, and the only thing you want to do is go inside and dry off. But you have your own work to do. You linger a bit longer to watch him work. He’s just so alluring, the moments turn to minutes and soon you’re all settled in to brave the worst of it. Rayleigh looks over the whole deck to make sure everyone is accounted for, and your eyes meet. You look away quickly, hoping that between the distance and the rain he can’t see your blush.

You swear that his eyes having been wandering just like your own, but to what you can’t figure out. It can’t possibly be you, he has much more important things to do than talk to you. But here he comes, long strides and firm shoulders as if he’s talking to the most powerful person in the world. You shudder to think of what could possibly be so important that he’s coming over here for.

You try and find something to do so you look busy, and end up fiddling with a knot in the rope ladder. “Can I… help you, sir?” You ask politely, not looking at him yet. He looms over you, a serious look on his face but mischief in his eyes. “Seems like I should be asking you that. You were looking at me like you needed my attention for something. Mind telling me what that was?”

Gulping loudly, you begin to try to think of an excuse. It was rude to stare, and you had no idea whether or not he was actually looking at you. “I wanted to go down and lay in my room for a bit…the swaying of the boat was making me feel uncomfortable. But once I made eye contact with you I figured that I had been found out and I had to stay. I felt I had to keep looking at you to make sure I was still required above deck.” You mumble out, trying to look past his exposed chest and look him in the eyes

He nods in agreement with this explanation. “Alright, guess I can excuse that then. But going forward, you can just go ahead and slip below decks even if you see me looking. I’ll make the connection as to why, I’m pretty perceptive. For example, your panties are damp… or was that just the storm?” He asks, grinning devilishly

Your face turns a deep red, understanding the entendre almost immediately. Shaking your head, you take a deep breath before responding with a sly “I don’t know, why don’t you follow me and you can find out?” Letting out a deep belly laugh, you were almost certain that you were screwed. Instead, his strong firm hand clasps yours as he walks you down to your private quarters.

As you’re led inside and get a chance to think things over, you come to the embarrassing realization his innuendo was actually quite correct. Without even realizing, you had indeed become aroused. Mentally setting that aside as a fun surprise for Rayleigh later down the line, you squeeze his hand as you enter your room. Now comes the moment of truth, he called your bluff before so you have to follow through for the sake of your dignity. “Guess I should get out of these wet clothes before I catch pneumonia or something…” you sigh playfully, seeing Rayleigh has already dropped his wet coat and taken a seat on your bed to watch.

Your pants were torn, not from wear and tear but from slashes and stabs. That being said, it made it a breeze to drop them. Sighing, you step out of the soaking puddle around your feet. You bend over, pulling a bandana out of you hair and whip it back, allowing your hair to be free. However, it releases all the water, causing you to shiver slightly. Next was your crop top that you had created yourself; it was too fancy and frilly upon your purchase. As you cross your arms to pull it up and off from the bottom, you glance over to see his reaction. He’s just tapping his finger and giving an easy going smile, as if this means nothing to him. Frowning, you turn around so he’ll have to stare at your back rather than the perky breasts you’re now exposing to the cool night air.

You toss your top over your shoulder at Rayleigh, not even looking at him now. If he wants the show to continue he has to ask, otherwise he better be content with wet fabric. You hear the sound of a weight being removed your bed, then the soft creak of footsteps across the floor, and the next thing you know Rayleigh’s arms are around your waist. “Might if I help with the grand finale?”

You try to act indignant. “Hmph! I don’t see why you should get to, you weren’t nearly appreciative enough of what I’ve done so far.” You haven’t given me one look over, not one compliment, nothing! I might as well let your wet clothes cause you shrinkage. You turn away from him and pout, not letting your true emotions be known.

Rayleigh rest his head atop yours in a pout. “Don’t be like that. I was just being patient; you don’t applaud in the middle of a great concert, you wait until it ends.” It’s a great line, and he knows you liked it. Damn smooth talker… “I guess that logic is acceptable. Fine, I’ll let you do the last bit, but you have to show off for me first. And I’m not turning around until you say something else nice.” You can feel the chuckle ripple through his chest to his jaw, then he leans down to kiss your neck. “If I didn’t have my spirits literally dampened by these clothes I’d be rock hard and dying to feel you… How does that sound?” A delighted shiver runs down your back, and suddenly you’re soaked all over again.

In an impressive feat of strength, he rips off his shirt with only his bare hands. Drops of rain still cling to his smooth chest, a sigh escaping his lips. “I’m at least a little bit warmer now, but now my upper body is cold.” You don’t understand, what does he mean? Oh. Oh. He smirks, watching as you struggle to respond. You decide to tease him one more time. “Then go ahead and lie back on my bed. I’ll handle those pants, and then we’ll see if you even want to sit up again to get me naked?” Now it’s his turn to feel flustered, biting his lip to hold back a devilish grin. “I don’t know, most people can’t handle what I’ve got. But you, sweetheart? You seem like you’ll be a formidable challenge for me.” He coos, throwing hot and heavy words back at you.

“Then lie back and let me feel challenged, stud.” You order, sitting on your knees on the edge of the bed and waiting for his obedience. When he complies your hands immediately dive to his fly and within seconds his pants are around his ankles… and you were so eager you yanked off his underwear too. Leaning over his waist, you’re now staring down the barrel of his sex pistol, and it’s every bit the monster you expect from Roger’s right hand man.

You rub yourself up against Rayleigh’s thigh, kissing him hard. “Does someone want attention? Or are you just going to sit there and make me do all the work?” Firm hands grab your thighs as you squeal, being hoisted into the air and directly onto Rayleigh’s lap. “Ooh, seems I came in for a rough landing…” you jeer, knowing full well what he is doing. “I guess you did my dear, and what are you going to do about it?” He retorts, a sparkle in his eye sending shivers down your spine.

You begin to grind your clothed pussy against his hard length, hoping to making him eat his words. Somehow, he’s going to wish he just shut up. His grip on your thighs immediately tightens, and you can see his brow furrow in concentration. His hips twitch, as if it’s taking a lot of will not to buck and roll against you. Guess he still wants to keep the air of composure. That won’t last much longer.

You can feel how hot and ready his saber is just waiting for you to sheath him. You have to bite your own lip to hide how much fun you’re having with this, and at the rate it’s going you might draw blood before any other fluid.

You run your hand across his cock, it’s warmth evident. Along with your hand on his shaft, you begin to wiggle, pressing into him. “Two can play that game.” He sneers, cupping your bare breasts in his hands. Kneading softly, he carefully runs his thumbs over the gentle buds, eliciting a squeak from you.

As if it couldn’t get any better, he pulls you as tight as he can against his throbbing dick. Every move you make, you can feel it pulse and throb. You stop for a minute, with Rayleigh pressing his face directly into your cleavage. His beard tickles as he gently shifts his face, looking to the left and to the right.

You don’t know how much longer you can wait. You’re not at your breaking point, however, your core aches to have his thick cock inside of you. Even just thinking about him makes your thighs clench, and you feel a damp spot in your panties.

Just as you think you’re about to give in and beg for more, he lets go of your chest and starts pulling at your waistband. Jackpot, he cracked first~ You put a hand over his and tut at him in playful judgment. “Tsk tsk tsk… someone’s run out of patience I see. But these are my favorite panties, so I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tear them apart like a wild man, okay?” On wobbly knees you climb off of Rayleigh and bend at the waist to slide the damp garment down your thighs. The fresh air reaching your wet and sensitive nethers is enough to overwhelm you for the moment, and you fall forward onto your hands and knees. Without meaning to, you’ve provided him with the perfect view of your bare sex.

“you know I’m going all out after that torturous foreplay, right?” You give a nod, and hope your body can endure it. That’d be a hell of a way to go out, your corpse being found by your crew mates the next morning with a shattered pelvis and signs of a heart attack from over excitement. But before he enters, you feel his hard cock playfully slide between your asscheeks and down to rub against your folds, causing you to let out a loud moan

Smirking to himself upon hearing your reaction, Rayleigh holds you steady by your waist and slowly presses his way in. He gives a guttural groan at the sensation, while your moan raises in pitch with every inch he buries in you. You push yourself against him, trying to attain more friction. Each inch he puts in adds another layer of pleasure, waves causing you to shudder. Once he is all the way in, he begins with a steady pace and hard thrusts.

Your body shakes with each thrust, your hanging breasts jiggling and swaying as his pelvis claps against your ass. Hands gripping the bedsheets, you try not to get lost in thinking about how deep he’s getting and how full you feel. Pleasure like this had been unimaginable before now, but you don’t want to picture what it would be like if it went away again.

Rayleigh is clearly enjoying himself as well, his grunts and moans soft, but audible enough for you to hear what he says. A curse or an oh god slip out of his mouth every so often, and that turns you on more, quickening your release. Meanwhile, Rayleigh is having an internal struggle of his own, your tight and soaking pussy treating him better than he can recall getting from any other. He wants to enjoy this for as long as he can, but between the mad teasing before and this current euphoria it’s hard to hold the tidal wave back for too much longer.

The two of you continue to rock the bed while the ship rocks in the storm, passion deafening all noise but each other. The wave reaches its crest sooner than you would like but later than you thought with how worked up you were to start with, and Rayleigh hunches over you to keep you close and deep as he finishes. Your orgasmic scream is muffled as he cranes your head back for a deep kiss, and you remain joined at both ends as his pulsing member pumps a hearty load into you.

You sigh, collapsing from exhaustion. Always the gentleman, Rayleigh pulls you up into a comfortable position. “Are you alright?” He questions, a slightly glassy look in his eyes. You gently nod to him and run your hand over his chest with a happy sigh. He pulls the covers over you two, and wraps an arm around your shoulder. What an end to the night.

[dissociativedaydream]

Soft - Part 3

Pairing: Bossk x Vertani!reader (read more about Vertani here)

Word Count: ~2.4K

Tags: NSFW (18+), brief mentions of alcohol, a dash of protective!Bossk, talks about family building, illusion to breeding kink, unprotected PiV, double penetration (both in V), brief mention of cum eating

A/N: so I have a headcanon that Trandoshans make noises like some lizards do to indicate their needs/emotions, I bring it up here toward the end so I wanted to address it

<- Part 2

NSFW below the cut

“No, the agreement was you could come but you stay on the ship.”

It had been months since your father kidnapped you from the apartment you had shared with Bossk on Tattoine. With the help of Latts you were able to convince your husband to let you follow along on jobs. He still insisted on continuing to pay rent in case you one day decided that you wanted to stay behind.

So the fact you were starting to ask to actually help with jobs was annoying him.

Latts and Dengar, the human man that joined your pickup, enjoyed the fact that you were annoying the normally stoic Trandoshan. It was evident now as Latts giggled and Dengar smirked while gathering his gear.

“Please. I can be helpful.” You pouted.

He huffed. “This isn’t a discussion about you being helpful. I don’t want you in danger.”

You continued to pout as he nuzzled your hair before following the other two bounty hunters off the ship. Boba hadn’t come on this one, something about them being able to do the job without him. He was sprouting into quite the leader.

To pass the time you took inventory and tidied up the ship. For someone that was a bachelor up until recently, Bossk kept his ship pretty well organized and clean. That meant you quickly ran out of ways to keep yourself busy. You grabbed the datapad that Bossk had gotten you for situations like this.

Settling into the copilot chair you read up on the planet you were currently on, some backwater jungle planet. You lost track of time, only looking up when you heard the group return. They all sounded like they were in good spirits so hopefully, that means the job went well.

“Hey wifey!” Latts Razzi swept into the cockpit with her standard smirk. “We’re going to go get drinks so celebrate, want to come?”

You all but jump out of your seat, “yes please, I’m so bored.”

Latts giggled holding out a hand to you. You wrapped your arms around each other’s shoulders and walked to where the boys were waiting just outside the ship.

Bossk clicked his tongue as you two appeared. “Making a move Latts?”

“It’s tempting,” Latts leaned her head into the side of yours as you two giggled.

Your husband extended an arm to you and you moved to embrace him. He leaned down to press a kiss to your lips, a rare occurrence for him. While Latts was joking, maybe he was a little nervous. Or the job paid a lot. You didn’t really care, you enjoyed the extra affection. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders as your group walked to the closest bar.

The bar was crowded, only a few seats were open at the bar counter. People stared at your odd group as you walked to the seats, Bossk’s grip on you tightened as someone whistles. There were only the two open seats and Bossk all but pushed you down into one, Latts sitting in the other. He took a territorial stance behind you two, glancing over his shoulder.

You followed his gaze to a group of Trandoshans, surprisingly you recognized one of them as Cradossk, his father.

Leaning in you whisper so that only he and Latts could hear you, “what is he doing here?”

“There was a liiiittle competition for the bounty.” Latts admitted, an uneasy grin on her face. “They’re not super happy about it.”

You grasped Bossk’s shoulder, his muscles were tense. “Maybe we should wait to celebrate until we’re back on Tattoine.”

Dengar snorted behind you, “I doubt they’ll actually try anything. Cradossk wouldn’t stop asking about you when we bumped into him in the middle of the job.”

You quirked your brow at him, “why?”

Before he could respond Bossk growled, effectively cutting him off. You frown, turning to your husband. His face was scrunched, his already intimidating appearance looking downright frightening. Well, frightening to other people.

“If you think I’m not going to get the answer eventually, then you don’t realize who you married.” You grumbled, squeezing his shoulder.

His face relaxed slightly, a breathy chuckle leaving him. “I know. Let’s get a drink then get going.”

~

“Are you going to tell me what your dad was asking or am I going to have to annoy it out of you?” You mumbled into the collar of your husband’s nightshirt.

You’d made it back to Tattoine that afternoon, the three bounty hunters going to report to Boba while you headed back to your and Bossk’s apartment. He’d stayed away until it was late, no doubt hoping to avoid this very situation. Unfortunately for him, you’re stubborn as hell.

He grumbled in response, the low noise rattling his chest. “Can’t this wait?”

You rolled your eyes before moving so you were face to face with the Trandoshan. He refused to make eye contact, instead opting to stare at the ceiling. Sighing you traced a finger down his chest, with his muscle relaxed he was softer than he looked.

“You’re hoping I’ll forget.” You smirked. “If you don’t want me to keep asking, then you’ll have to just tell me. It can’t be that bad.”

He was quiet and still for a moment, if it wasn’t for his blinking eyes you��d think he fell asleep.

“He wanted to know if you were expecting yet.” His voice was uncharacteristically quiet, obviously not wanting to have this conversation.

“Oh,” you reply.

You weren’t really surprised. Both Trandoshans and Vertani had a heavy focus on families and a baby would solidify your marriage. It was odd that Bossk was so reluctant to tell you something so normal to both your people.

While you wanted answers, you were reluctant to push. You liked to annoy him with little things, this didn’t seem little to him. Instead, you snuggled back into his side.

“That’s it?” Bossk interrupted the silence.

You hummed, “yeah.”

He pushed you back slightly so he could sit up, you propped yourself up on an elbow to watch him stretch.

“What do you think about it?” He asked, standing to gaze out the window blinds.

This was the most fidgety you’d ever seen him in the last year you’d been together. Normally he was the definition of either stoic or angry. It was making you a little nervous.

Nevertheless, you answered. “I would like a family but it’s not the end of the world if we don’t have one.”

Bossk didn’t react for a few minutes. You laid back down, tracing patterns on the blankets, waiting for him to respond. Finally, he moved but instead of speaking, he moved to hover over you, caging you to the bed.

“Pretty relax answer for someone trying to figure out my cycle.” He chuckled.

You felt your cheeks flush. He was half right.

“Sort of,” you admit.

He says nothing as he leans down, tongue lolling out of his mouth before he licks a stripe up your neck.

“Continue.” His voice resumes its relaxed grumble.

You sighed. “I thought maybe my cycle would sync with yours if I was around you more.”

His eyes snap up to yours, a mischievous glint in them.

“You should have told me, little wife,” he clicked his tongue in pretentious chastising. “Pheromones would fix that right up.”

Pheromones, duh, why didn’t you think of that? Bossk often let you know he could tell what emotion you were feeling through your scent, it made sense pheromones would be a factor.

“I didn’t know how you would take it.” Your second admission caused him to look at you skeptically.

“Isn’t communication key my little wife? Why wouldn’t I want to give you exactly what you want?” His voice is almost a purr as a hand moves down your chest, pausing over your breast. “What my girl wants, she gets.”

His words went straight to your core, surprised at his words.

“What about you? What do you want?” You asked.

Bossk’s hand moves down and lingers on your stomach, thumb stroking the fabric of your shirt lightly. He looks up at you pointedly.

“Noted,” you breathe, somewhat surprised.

You guess you shouldn’t be surprised. It’s not like either of you had been careful with sex but explicitly saying it changed things, made it real. He shifted, hand moving down to the crotch of his pants to adjust himself and drawing your attention to the straining fabric. Raising one of your brows you smirk at him.

“So pheromones, huh?” You giggled.

He shot you a warning look before pulling his shirt off, discarding it on the floor.

“I won’t be gentle when I fuck you while in rut.” He growled.

You giggle, “you’re usually gentle? Pretty sure the bruises on my hips beg to differ.”

He leaned down, nuzzling your neck before licking it again, this time with his sharp teeth grazing over your pulse point as well.

“That’s nothing little wife,” he murmured against your skin.

“Show me.”

The growl that erupted from your husband’s throat went straight to your core and admittedly startled you momentarily. He grabbed your shirt, the sound of ripping fabric the only sound in the room as his claws tore it easily. His tongue teased across your breasts, his saliva leaving a warm trail across your skin. He trailed his tongue up your neck and chin, nipping your skin lightly as he went. A strong hand trailed down your naked body, grabbing your underwear, nearly ripping it too.

“Uh uh, these are the ones you like.” You interrupted his movement.

He grumbled but conceded, they were his favorite, he carefully moved the fabric over your hips before his tongue was between your legs. Bossk’s tongue pushed inside you, a content grumble in his throat as he tasted you. His claws dragged up your thighs causing you to hiss at the sting. He paused, glancing up at you checking that you were okay. When you nod he acknowledges it with a flick of his tongue, hitting a soft spot inside you.

You moan loudly, his claws digging into the meat of your thighs in response. He’d stated on a few occasions that he enjoyed the variety of noises you made, especially in the bedroom.

“You know,” you murmured. “This isn’t very different from normal.”

His reply chuckle was deep in his throat, “Let me enjoy you little wife, I missed your taste.”

You huffed and rolled your eyes, squeezing his head between your thighs to be a brat. He growled in response, nipping your thigh with sharp teeth.

“Ow!” You recoiled, seeing red pinpricks where his teeth pierced your skin.

“That’s a taste of what you wanted me to show you little wife. Do you still want it?” He murmured before licking across the small wound.

You thought for a moment, you knew he wouldn’t hurt you to the point of genuine pain. Not that you entirely hated the pain either. All you knew right now is his tongue felt really good as it soothed your skin which caused you to whimper.

Bossk groaned, pulling his pants down. He reached down grabbing his cocks in one hand and started stroking himself, groaning at his own touch. You whimpered in disappointment and pouted.

Chuckling Bossk clicked his tongue, “want something?”

You reached down between your legs, touching your neglected clit. He grumbled, watching as you traced tight circles around the sensitive nerve. Pushing your hand away, he lined his cocks up with your entrance.

“Ready to try?” He asked softly.

You nod nervously, up until now you’d only taken one at a time. But you knew during his rut his amped up body would only be satisfied if you could take both.

He rubbed the heads of his cock through your folds, adding your juices to his, “Breathe little wife.”

Bossk eased into you slowly, you winced at the stretch and a whispered chorus of curse words left your lips. He moaned loudly as he bottomed out inside you.

“Fuck,” you whimpered.

His cocks left no area inside of you untouched, you’d never felt so full. You looked down your abdomen slightly swollen from the intrusion. Bossk was still other than his claws digging into the sheets with an audible tearing noise. His hips rocked slightly, pressing against every sensitive spot inside you.

Bossk groaned something in Dosh as he almost collapsed on you, his hips pulling back slightly before snapping into you again. You gasped loudly, you could feel yourself clench around him though his cocks didn’t allow for much movement.

“You’re so tight little wife,” he moaned before licking up your neck. “I could cum just like this.”

To emphasize his point he pulled hips back nearly all the way, just leaving the heads inside, before pushing back into you. You gasped again, each movement he made pressed pleasure up your core, the growing pressure of your orgasm coiling tightly in your belly.

He grasps your hips, pushing his flush against yours rocking so that his cocks pressed against the one spot he knew would unravel you quickly. You wrapped your legs around him as he pulls back just slightly before snapping hips back to press into just the right spot, hard. Your thighs shake as you feel the tension from your belly spread heat up your spine and down your legs, another thrust hitting just the right spot caused a shockwave of pleasure to flood your body.

Your pussy clenched around his cocks, Bossk swearing before he shuddered, his own orgasm hitting him as his cum flooding your pussy. As he pulled out you could feel the mixture of your juices drip from you and he leaned back to admire his handiwork.

You dropped your head down to the bed, feeling sore and more than exhausted. Bossk spreads your legs, mindful of pushing you too much as you hiss. He dips his head down, tongue running over your slit, tasting the two of you. You’d normally would have made a smart ass comment but his tongue soothed the sting that the stretch of his cocks left you with and you didn’t want him to stop.

He moved again to rest his head on your stomach the rest of his body still resting between your legs. You reached down stroking his face, earning a sleepy but content sounding grumble from your husband.

“You did good little wife,” he mumbled, “now go to sleep.”

You shift slightly, centering his head on your stomach before you stretch and close your eyes. Bossk made a quiet clicking noise, a noise you’d heard a few times when he was overly content, it was a welcomed noise as you drifted off to sleep.

[ordinaryschmuck]

Starkid Musicals Ranked from Worst to Best

Salutations to you, random people on the internet who most certainly won’t read this. I am an Ordinary Schmuck. I write stories and reviews and draw comics and cartoons.

Welp. I finally did it. I've watched the entire Starkid musical library, and I must say, most of these plays fit my writing style perfectly:

Humor that is cynical yet random

Leaning in with comedy while sprinkling in some well-executed drama

An understanding that any type of story works as long as the cast of varying personalities of characters is dynamic enough to result in some phenomenal chemistry.

This is in almost all of their plays, excelled through fantastic writing and stellar performances driving the overall quality. And it inspired me not only to review each musical, but also ranking them all from worst to best. Or, more accurately, least good to most good. Because even at their "worst," Starkid still provides a funny, enjoyable experience that will keep you laughing with its comedy and your toes tapping with its catchy music. So strap in as I go in-depth into how Starkid proves how they are the masters of humor and melody.

(I'll also provide links to each musical, which is all for free on YouTube, so you can check them out yourselves. Just know that their early work is impossible to enjoy without subtitles, so you might want to have Closed Captions on when watching.)

#12-Holy Musical B@man-Everything about this play makes it seem like it's the weakest to me. The jokes, songs, and characters in Holy Musical B@tman just don't hit as hard as Starkid's other plays. It's still good, but compared to their best, the cracks show a lot more. That is, except for the ending. Not only is there a great speech that shows what makes superheroes so beloved, but "Super Friends" might just be my favorite finale song Starkid has ever put out. Holy Musical B@tman may not be the best, but it's at least worth the time.

#11-Firebringer-This was stupid. Really stupid. Funny as f**k, but still pretty stupid. Although I will give credit to one of the central pairings being LGBTQA+...Even though it makes little to no sense based on the characters' previous interactions. But in fairness, Starkid really sucks at writing good romantic relationships, so at least Firebringer has the benefit of being gay. And as we all know: The gayer, the better. The play is still stupid, though.

#10-Me and My Dick-The world in this musical makes little to no sense. Penises and vaginas are sentient and can communicate with their humans. And yet the penises and vaginas can also talk with each other, form relationships, leave their humans, and reinsert themselves into others--Yeah, it makes no sense...But, DAMN, is it funny! Every joke and innuendo Me and My Dick has about human anatomy works, and I could not stop laughing at each of them. Especially the names that were given to the vaginas, which are just...I mean, I'm laughing just by thinking about them. That should tell you how funny they are. This play might be illogical in every way, but if you turn your brain off and watch it for the humor, you'll definitely be in for something fun.

#9-ANI: A Parody-What's weird about ANI is that its best qualities are also weaknesses. A good chunk of the jokes are hilarious and expertly delivered. The issue is that most of them are about taking potshots at the Star Wars prequels, which might be the laziest jokes to make in a Star Wars parody. Then there's the soundtrack, having several songs that are a bop to listen to. The problem is that ANI suffers from the same issues as Tarzan and Brother Bear: Yes, technically, it is a musical, but it's one where none of the characters sing, and some people in the background do all the singing instead. It's all an odd balancing act of quality content made through questionable choices. ANI is still an entertaining play, but the force isn't as strong with this one.

#8-Black Friday-This might be the least funny play that Starkid has ever put out. Not just because it leans extra hard into drama, which was pretty effective during certain scenes. It's just when there are jokes in Black Friday, they tend to fall flatter more here than they did in other plays. Also, the plot of Black Friday might not be the best one to play straight. The serious moments work best when focusing on the characters and their personal struggles, but through the big bad that's supposed to be threatening? Not so much. Even if it was meant to be funny, well, I wasn't laughing. And believe it or not, I consider that to be the best judge of whether or not something is funny. That being said, while Black Friday isn't the most humorous Starkid musical, it's still pretty good. The characters are excellent, the songs are awesome, and the story is somewhat easy to follow. I would have appreciated a few more laughs, but I can respect these talented people wanting to challenge their strengths.

#7-Starship-This play feels very...Disney. It follows a familiar formula we've seen several times: The main character wants more than what he has in his crappy life, miraculously gets the exact thing he wants, falls in love with a girl in a short amount of time, faces off against a campy/over the top villain, realizes the hand he's been dealt isn't so bad, and in the end, gets what he wants anyway. Starship is still pretty entertaining through its jokes, characters, and songs, but it also feels weird that Starkid leans into these tropes when they would eventually make a much better play by making fun of them. The end result is not bad in the slightest, but it's also nowhere near their best.

#6-A Very Potter Musical-Starkid's first production, and boy, what a start to something wonderful. Every one of their gimmicks and motifs is present in A Very Potter Musical. The use of parody to playfully mock characters and stories they love, making songs that are as funny as they are emotional, and creating characters that work because of their lines and the actors' performances. Oh, and also, it's funny. And it’s not just through a parody angle, like making Cedric be a perfect boy who's always smiling. It's also funny through its jokes that work, even if you ignore the fact that it’s a parody altogether. Case in point, there are these two bits, one involving Voldemort and Beatrix with the other involving Ron and Hermoine, that are written and delivered so well that I was in tears much more than with any other Starkid play. When watching A Very Potter Musical, you'll not only understand how parody works, but you'll also gain an understanding of why Starkid turned out as successful as they did.

#5-The Trail to Oregon-What can I say? I'm a sucker for comedic dysfunctional families. And seeing a family of idiots make their way to Oregon via The Oregon Trail parody? Yeah, that's a win for me. The play may be another family road trip narrative, which some people might get sick of at this point. But because the dynamics and comedic chemistry everyone has with each other are on point, the end result proves that you don't need an original story to tell an entertaining one. Although I will say that out of all of Starkid's productions, The Trail to Oregon has by far the worst ending. Without giving anything away, the play spends way too much time on this one stupid joke that any of the characters could make. Comedy is defined by personalities, as are most things, so making the joke work for anyone is a bad move when this one, in particular, doesn't fit as well for some characters as it would for others. Plus, the finale song "Naked in a Lake" is a really poor choice to cap off this musical. It's catchy, but to me, a finale song should encapsulate everything about the story, characters, and themes. Not paying off a joke that I honestly wouldn't want the payoff for. So while the ending could have used a lot more polish, that doesn't change how The Trail to Oregon is a pretty funny play that I won't mind revisiting when I have the chance.

#4-A Very Potter Sequel-Hey, sometimes a sequel is better than the original. Sure some jokes don't land, and some story beats aren't as impactful as they thought they were (Serious Black's introduction, for example), but there are far more improvements to this play than the last one. The performances are stronger, the jokes are funnier, the music is catchier, and the characters are much more entertaining in this play than in A Very Potter Musical. Especially new additions like Lupin and Lucious Malfoy, who provide great comedy and sublime drama at times. And Umbridge. Sweet Mother of all that is holy, Umbridge. While A Very Potter Sequel never made me laugh to tears as the first play did, twice, Professor Umbridge carries the comedy so well that she surpasses all of that. Plus, on top of it all, this play nails its ending through a bittersweet note that really captures what makes Hogwarts so special to these characters. I always feel like Starkid's plays tend to lose steam during the last few minutes, but A Very Potter Sequel is one of the few instances that it just builds and builds to a perfect ending. A Very Potter Sequel might not always hit the right marks, but the results are just magical when it does get it right.

#3-The Guy Who Didn’t Like Musicals-This one is pretty clever. The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals is one of those stories that manages to be explicitly hilarious yet implicitly disturbing. For instance, people suddenly bursting into perfectly choreographed musical numbers in a world where songs are exclusively diegetic is pretty funny (especially through the characters' reactions to it). However, knowing what happens to these people and why they sing and dance so expertly helps make the whole situation pretty dire. It's an excellent balancing act that not many stories can accomplish. And while The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals leans one way or the other at times, it's still all handled really well. Oh, and also, you know how most people say the villain song is the best one in any musical? Well, technically speaking, nearly every song in The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals is the villain song. Including the finale, which is just too brilliant for me not to give a round of applause. If you're a person who unfortunately doesn't like musicals either, I'd say be more than willing to give this one a chance. It's funny, catchy, and if you think of the implications, pretty damn disturbing.

#2-A Very Potter Senior Year-...You know how Avengers: Endgame is a bit of a mess, yet people still love it for how much of a perfect (sort of) finale it is? It's the same regard with A Very Potter Senior Year in my eyes. It's far from a masterpiece, but the many, many solid scenes that cap off this series help make me willing to overlook the mistakes. The characters, callbacks, and overall message about how things end was done so expertly well that I physically can’t hate this one. I can understand how it's more of an ok play when compared to the rest of Starkid's productions, but sometimes, ok is wonderful.

#1-Twisted: An Untold Story of a Royal Vizier-...It's Twisted. Everyone loves Twisted! And how could they not? Everything about this play just screams Starkid at their best. The comedy is uproarious, added with the fantastic delivery of the actors and the characters' personalities. Everyone feels as though they have one step in reality and the other in insanity. This, to me, seems like the best type of character work when going for the parody angle. Parody is about giving slight yet snide remarks toward the work you're mocking, which I feel works best when characters drop the suspension of disbelief audiences have when enjoying such a story. And Twisted definitely nails its satire in not only poking fun at Aladdin but also making jokes towards Disney as a brand. From their movies to their inside jokes to their formulas to even their corporate dealings with Pixar, nothing about Disney is sacred in Twisted. But on top of being funny, Twisted might just be the most successful Starkid has been with telling some really compelling drama. The jokes allow themselves to take a back seat to let serious moments play out, and even comedy is added, it provides more for the experience rather than taking anything away. You see this not only through the actors giving it their all but even through some really gorgeous and heart wrenching musical numbers. Oh, and also, Twisted has the best Starkid soundtrack, featuring songs that are epic, funny, and, as I said, heartbreaking. You cannot get better than this and, if you want to get a friend interested in Starkid as a whole, this might be the play for them. Scheherazade may have a thousand tales, but his one is a tale I wouldn't mind hearing for a thousand nights.

And that's about how I feel about Starkid and each and every one of their plays. Odds are your ranking would be much different from mine, and I'm all for that differing opinions. Feel free to make your own ranking if you want because I'm honestly curious where fans would place these plays above or below others. I'm relatively new to enjoying their work, so I have no idea what the consensus is. I do know one thing, though: If Starkid can still be incredibly entertaining through over ten years of content, then I am excited to see what they can accomplish next in another ten years.

[dancingazaleas]

jean kirstein | supportive

so this was completely self indulgent. i also wrote this because i’m tired of reading really unrealistic writings of what having a depressed lover is like and how you should take care of them. i’ve been diagnosed with MDD, so i’m just getting tired of seeing misrepresentation for it. i tried to make the reader as neutral as i could, i apologize if i couldn’t. also i don’t feel like using capital letters, i apologize. also sorry the spacing is weird, i originally wrote this when i was half asleep on my notes and just copied and pasted. i have a lot to apologize for.

notes/warnings: depressed reader, mentions of s3lf harm, cursing, reader & jean are 18, slight angst, pure fluff

“(name)... (name).... babe? c’mon, i need ya to wake up for me,” a voice you recognize says as they knock on your bedroom door.

you stumble over the clothes in your room and over to your bedroom door, struggling to open it. despite said struggles, you do manage to open the door. and you end up scurrying back to your messy, and comfortable bed.

jean walks in, one hand holding onto the strap of his backpack and the other holding onto a plastic bag with stuff that smells like snacks. he’s got a soft smile that instantly shifts into shock, disgust, and then into a frown.

your room was a mess. you hadn’t cleaned it since the start of your depressive episode, the same for yourself. you left the trash of fast food bags, unfinished sodas, and crumbled up bags of cheese-it’s. the fact you had been farting in your room and wouldn’t leave the door open to air it out made the smell worse.

he opens his arms, giving you the decision of if you wanted a hug or not, to which you accept. you’re cuddling your face into his chest, and you’re absolutely positive that you rank of BO and greasy hair. he doesn’t joke about anything yet though, he knows not to.

“you okay,” he’s so quiet, you barely hear him.

you respond with a shaky mumble, “no. sorry if i worried you.”

he pulls away and shakes his head at the claim you’ve just made.

“you didn’t mean to. it’s okay,” he kisses your forehead.

“have you eaten today?”

you think a little before you answer, “not much... haven’t eaten since lunch.”

“okay, i got us some snacks if you feel up to it. do you want to start cleaning your room before or after you eat,” he kicks off his shoes—he always waits until he’s in your room since he spends most of his time there.

“after, my stomach might feel fucked if i eat before. even though i’m not really the one cleaning,” you groan, going back under your covers.

“wanna talk about why you’re upset before or after we eat?” he’s tugging the covers off of your body, he knows you’ll try going back to bed.

“before. i’ll get hungry after crying.”

“okay,” it goes silent for a moment, and then, “i love you.”

“i love you too. thank you, and... sorry if i don’t seem appreciative of this, i don’t know what to say other than thank you.”

“i know you appreciate it. anyways, i’m gonna start picking up some of your clothes and maybe some of the sodas. wanna get in the shower while i do that?”

“yea. if you need to air out my room, open the window. close the door while you clean, don’t like my mom knowing you’re cleaning for me,” you sigh, getting out of bed and walking to your dresser to get underwear, a shirt, and shorts.

“okay. don’t miss me too much,” he’s suddenly hugging you from behind, and it makes you think he’s the one who will miss you. his stubble is tickling you a little as he rests his head on your shoulder, he just started growing it out.

you turn your head a little to look at him, taking notice of how long his hair was starting to get. he’d be turning 19 next year and would soon be getting an apartment with you.

and dear god, you were so ready for that to happen. you hate living with your mother.

“i love you,” you whisper to him once again, and for once your mind feels at peace for just a moment.

“i love you more,” he kisses your clothed shoulder and smiles.

“let me go shower so i can stop smelling like shit,” you chortle a little, grabbing a ‘Queen’ shirt—which used to be jean’s but you’ve stolen it—and some shorts.

he rolls his eyes, but obliges and lets you walk out of your room into the bathroom. you try avoiding the mirror as you get naked but it proves to be pointless when you catch a glimpse of a pimple. you almost want to kill jean for not pointing it out, but you know it would only hurt your feelings. you’ll take care of that after you shower.

he’s putting your clothes in the laundry hamper when you’re coming back into the room with the ones you just had on. he takes them from you and you started putting on deodorant and do your hair routine. you’ve taken care of your skin in the bathroom.

jean’s turning on your TV and pulls out a can of cold (favorite soda), placing it next to your hand on your—now—clear vanity.

“thank you,” you smile a little, wanting to laugh at how he’s standing behind you and watching intently.

“‘m almost done, jean.”

“did you brush your teeth? i don’t want to be in a comfortable snuggle position only for you to get up to brush your teeth,” he ignores the comment you’ve made.

“oh shit, no. thanks for reminding me. i haven’t brushed them in a couple days,” you sigh, scurrying off to the bathroom again and jean decides to pull out the vacuum he knows you keep in your closet.

he plugs it in and started vacuuming the best he can, and as he does so his mind shifts to levi. ‘i hang out with him too much...,’ he thinks to himself as he turns the vacuum off to see if the filter is clean.

you walk back in, “what the hell are you doing?”

“vacuuming,” he says nonchalantly, squatting a little to see if he got the floor under your vanity.

you laugh again, “i’m sorry. you don’t gotta do that.”

“i know. just wanted to,” he shrugs, unplugging it from the outlet and wrapping it back up.

you jump onto your bed, which now has clean sheets because of jean, and scoot toward the wall. jean closes your window and grabs your drink and scoots in behind you. he puts your drink onto the nightstand—his is already on it—and shuffles awkwardly to lay behind you.

“you wanna talk about it,” he asks, leaning on an elbow and looking at you.

“yeah...”

“whenever you’re ready, babe,” he takes ahold of your hand and kisses it.

“so, like, other than the shit about my mom i told you about, i don’t know. i don’t know what’s wrong, and i had that urge to just hurt myself. it scared me so bad. and what scares me is that i almost acted on it. like, am i okay? what the fuck is going on with me?? a-and i just kept pretending to be sick to my mom so i didn’t have to go to fucking school,” you start off slowly and start to cry as you think about what caused jean to come here, which was the abrupt disappearance of your presence at school.

“you’re okay. and i am so incredibly proud of you for not giving into the urge to harm yourself and for messaging me. unfortunately, you can’t avoid school until may. i need your dumbass to graduate,” you both giggle a little.

“i just.... i feel so bad about worrying everyone at school. like i didn’t mean to, but i fucking did. eren’s so fucking pissed at me right now, i just fucking know he is. god, i just want to be happy,” you sob and jean rubs your arm with his thumb to help soothe you a little.

“eren’s just pissed because he’s worried, but that doesn’t give him an excuse to be an ass towards you. you’ll be happy, my love, i know you will. you’ve just got to wait—let me finish—and i know you’ve been waiting for a long time, but it won’t just happen overnight y’know,” he smiles with an eyebrow raised at the end, nudging you with his elbow a little.

“maybe start being nicer to yourself, huh? you’re absolutely gorgeous, and i love you just the way you are, but my opinion shouldn’t matter. the only opinion on yourself that should matter is your own. and try speaking up more when floch and ymir hurt your feelings on accident,” jean tells you while he draws patterns into your skin with his fingers.

“it doesn’t feel like that, y’know? and like—i don’t want to be selfish or hurt anyone else or worry anyone else, cause what if that hurts them?”

he shakes his head, “babe, when it comes your own happiness, you’ve gotta be selfish sometimes. and calling floch and ymir out won’t hurt their feelings, sure, they’ll be a little pissy about it for a second but then apologize. it’s not like you’re telling them they’re cunts and to go fuck themselves. also, everyone will understand you being selfish in order to be happy. it might hurt or piss someone off in the moment when you make an action that’s selfish but in the long run, they’ll understand. and if they don’t, they’re a fucking doucher. answer this one question i’ve got for you.”

“okay...?”

“at the end of the day, who’re you gonna have?”

“myself...?”

jean starts nodding rapidly, reaching over to wipe snot off your face, “you’re going to have yourself at the end of the day. preferably, i’d like to say myself, but there are going to be times where i hurt your feelings unintentionally or where you’re pissed at me, and that’s okay. you’ve gotta start being selfish and i know it’s hard, but i promise you it’ll be so rewarding in the end.”

you sniffle a little and nod while you listen.

“and about being sad in general without provocation. it happens. it’s okay to be sad sometimes babe, it’s a normal human emotion and it just means you’re living correctly. but if you’re sad because of nothing for weeks on end, then maybe it’s time to try to do something. it’s okay to ask for help. maybe talk to your mom about increasing the dosage of your anti-depressants and going back to therapy?”

“i don’t know how.”

“you could write her a letter and tape it somewhere you know she’ll look. if you can’t talk about it face-to-face, write that in the letter,” you nod again at him, quietly asking for a hug.

he responds by just giving it, and hums happily.

“i love you so much,” he whispers, squeezing you tighter.

“i love you too,” you laugh and whisper at the same time.

jean knows this isn’t going to immediately make you happy, but sometimes what you need is to just be reminded that it’s okay to feel this way and that in the end it’ll all be okay. and for right now, that’s all you really need.

[clonewarslover55]

You say you like Boba?? Any chance for some Boba Fett SFW/NSFW HCs for a relationship with him??

Yes!!!! I love Boba!!!! I made this super long because I love Boba Fett too much lol. I also based this mostly off of legends Boba, because legends Boba is the best lol.

Note: Boba Fett is a true Mandalorian, just like his father Jango Fett. 

Boba Fett relationship headcanons SFW and NSFW

SFW 

Boba Fett is the galaxy’s most famous bounty hunter, so he is a very busy man 

He lives on Slave I so if you ever want to see him often you’d have to move in with him 

If you don’t join him on his ship then you’ll see him whenever he gets a chance to stop by 

He’ll stop by at like your job or something, making sure to cause a scene because he’s dramatic 

If you stay with him on Slave I you quickly learn that he owns like three t-shirts 

Boba has no outfits at all, when he’s not in his armor he’s in a t-shirt and cargo pants

He only owns one pair of boots that are older than he is 

If you even think of buying him clothes he won’t wear them 

Boba is extremely stubborn, and you learn that early on 

For example, Slave I is old as shit and is falling apart slowly. He fixes the ship by himself, he will not pay to get it fixed

Fixing Slave I while shirtless just to show off is Boba’s favorite pastime

He’s a big show off and will not admit it 

Boba has a lot of money from his job, but he never really spends it. 

He is also a very blunt man, he speaks his mind openly and doesn’t take any shit

This makes him sassy as hell sometimes

He plans ahead constantly, he always has a plan for everything 

Boba even plans out what is going to happen with you both in the future

He just believes you’ll get tired of him and leave one day, which secretly worries him 

He’s use to being lonely and miserable, so he never really tries to stop you if you ever want to leave 

Being a blunt man, he isn’t very romantic.

He isn’t big into giving or receiving gifts. Sometimes he’ll bring you back little trinkets from his job 

“This reminded me of you.” He mumbles out as he throws a pretty necklace that he stole at you 

 Speaking of mumbling?? Boba doesn’t like to raise his voice and he mumbles often 

Boba doesn’t talk that much. Once you get to know him better you’ll learn that his body language is very readable. 

Boba is terrible at showing any emotion besides anger and irritation, so you’ll have to work hard to get him to laugh 

He is a very angry man, you can see it in his dark irises

Boba doesn’t like to talk about his emotions, instead he bottles them up 

He hardly talks about his father, but if you ask he’d love to tell you stories 

He obviously misses his father, and thinking of his death angers him greatly

Being such a detached man means that you’ll have to work hard for your relationship to work out 

Boba is a workaholic, so expect him to always be working 

Slave I often as has bounties in the cargo hold, just ignore them and you’ll be fine 

Sleep? Boba has never heard of her. He hardly ever sleeps, and when he does he doesn’t sleep well

He has nightmares often, mostly about losing his father and his hard life as a teen 

Please cuddle this broken boy when he has nightmares 

You swear you’ve never seen this man eat anything but protein sticks/ration sticks 

They taste like paper but carry all the proper nutrients so he doesn’t care

If you bring him sweets though he’ll act like he won���t eat them. Then eat them all in the middle of the night

He is a very very attractive man, but he doesn’t see it 

All he sees in the mirror is his father, he hates his reflection

The clones? Boba doesn’t like them either. He doesn’t see them as brothers 

Especially the clones trained by his father and the Cuy’val Dar

Boba Fett is a very miserable man, but you make him happier 

Does he show it? Not really.

Boba is a hardass and doesn’t have the time to give any fucks 

He does not care about anyone's opinion, sometimes he cares about yours though

Boba doesn’t know how to really show his love for you, so he shows it by being super protective 

Possessive as hell. Boba get’s jealous super easily but won’t show it in any way but anger 

He will kill a person that looks at you wrong. You’ve seen him kill a man in a bar with his bare hands over you before

He’s crazy but it’s pretty hot

He sometimes does trophy hunts and will bring you back a fur blanket or something. He thinks it’s sweet 

Those braids on his shoulders? Wookie scalps. He’ll happily tell you about it 

Boba had a wife and daughter when he around eighteen(18) but he had to leave them because his dangerous job made them targets of other bounty hunters 

He doesn’t like to talk about them. At all. He’ll tell you he fucked up badly with them and that’s it

If you ever get pregnant with his child expect him to freak out badly 

His dangerous job will make you a target as well, so be prepared for Boba to have a tracking device on you that you don’t know about 

He has a reason to be so protective of you, he has many enemies 

Boba gets injured a lot and knows how to fix himself up. It’s terrifying how he doesn’t really show pain

He’s obviously had a very difficult life, and it makes you sad. 

Once he escapes from the Sarlacc and heals he is covered in acid burn scars, and one of his legs is pretty fucked up. 

The leg will give him problems throughout his life, and that’s all he really complains about 

You’ll have to say “I love you” first. Boba will either be like, “Ha ha cool.” Then disappear for a month or he’ll be like, “I think I love you too.” Then disappear for a month 

Boba knows that everyone he has ever loved has either died or ended up in danger 

So falling in love with you scares him pretty bad. You’ll have to talk some sense into him 

Once he calms down and learns that feelings are a good thing he’ll be a little nicer to you 

He’ll still be an asshole but he’s an asshole that loves you 

Boba Fett would die for you, that’s how he shows his love 

He isn’t the perfect boyfriend but he tries 

NSFW

Your relationship starts out as only sexual btw

Because Boba is scared of falling in love with you 

Boba has a lot of experience and it shows 

He’ll find out what makes you tick and he won’t ever forget 

His self control is terrifying, so you’ll have to work hard to make him snap 

Since his self control is so good he draws out orgasm after orgasm from you 

Like I said before, Boba does not give a fuck. So he’ll fuck you anytime, anywhere 

Boba has fucked you in front of his bounties before 

He is also extremely possessive, so he covers you in marks to prove that only he can fuck you 

When his jealousy gets the best of him he basically turns into an animal and fucks away his frustrations

He absolutely loves having sex in his armor while you’re completly naked 

Boba loves some good ol’ rough sex, but sometimes he’ll be gentle and slow 

Sometimes he’ll fuck you painfully slow, mainly as a punishment 

He loves punishing you, sometimes he’ll leave your ass bruised for days 

Orgasm denial is his favorite punishment, that or overstimulation 

Boba is surprisingly kinky and will openly tell you about his kinks

He does have a breeding kink, but he tries to control it. He doesn’t want another kid 

Boba is on male birth control but he is still cautious 

He’ll really do anything, so tell him your darkest desires and he may make them come true 

He isn’t really into being submissive but there are some rare nights 

Pegging? Absolutely. He’ll whine and beg like a whore 

After you peg him once he’ll ask you to do it a lot more often 

He’s pretty big into anal in general, so prepare for that 

Boba is into choking as well, if you try to choke him then it’s game on 

Sometimes he can be pretty rough, but he makes up for it in aftercare 

He’s a sweetheart if you two have time for aftercare 

He’ll clean both of you up with a warm rag then cuddle you, while whispering sweet nothings into your ear

Boba’s weakness is his neck, if you kiss him there he melts 

Please mark this dirty man up, he loves it 

He loves oral sex! Giving or receiving! 

His mouth is magical and he knows it 

Boba is a quiet man so he isn’t really into dirty talk, but he will mumble out some hot words here and there

His voice is gruff as hell, so the few words he does say makes you melt 

He’s a little shit, so he teases the fuck out of you 24/7

Please fall asleep on his chest after sex and just cuddle him, he’ll sleep like a baby 

[demonsonthemoon]

Standing on the Edge / We’re Already Falling

Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Clint Barton Word Count: 3499 Rating: M Summary: Clint doesn't do romantic relationships. Bucky doesn't do sex. But they do do something together. One night, Clint has a request. "Do you mind if I jerk off?" Featuring akoiromantic!Clint. Notes: If you are here expecting smut you might be disappointed because the smut I was planning to write disappeared in between whole paragraphs of introspection. STORY OF MY LIFE. This fic has been sitting in my draft for more than a year and I STILL had to rush it to post it in time for #AggressivelyArospecWeek, so apologies if it is super wonky and there are typos everywhere. This is vaguely inspired by personal experiences and fantasies, because relationships are fascinating and I like to self-reflect. Also please note that I'm allosexual and the perspective I have on asexuality is totally external. So if you have any comments about the way I wrote it that might further my understanding of asexuality and help me write it better, let me know! Content warnings: Bucky's asexuality in this is explored partly in relation to his history of abuse so if that sounds squicky or triggering to you, be careful!

Read it on AO3.

The feeling of Bucky's lips on his wasn't anything new to Clint. That didn't mean that the pleasure of it was wearing off, far from it. First kisses were never the best. No, the really good one only came after, when you knew what the other person liked and they knew your preferences as well. When you could play each other like finally tuned instruments to elicit your favorite sounds at will. Those were the best kisses.

The one they were sharing now was quite high-ranking on that scale, at least according to Clint's opinion. They were both freshly clean from a shower, and Clint was quickly letting go of all the tension from the mission he'd just come back from. He was finally reaching the good side of pent-up where sensations were pleasurably heightened but not making him paranoid. Then there was the fact that Bucky was softly biting on his lower lip and had a hand in Clint's hair. Yeah. It was a pretty good kiss.

“Fuck,” Clint whispered at they broke apart for hair. They didn't go far from one another, just hovering on that edge of kissing again. Clint had a hand on Bucky's face, softly running a thumb over his stubble, the other over his hip.

Bucky smiled, then kissed him again. It was funny. Clint swore his lips tasted different when he smiled. It was one of his favorite flavors.

This thing between them hadn't always been that easy. There had been a time when Bucky's only two moods were “shadow in the corner” and “murder glare,” which had not been conducive to much physical intimacy. (Not that Clint had been unwilling. Everyone who knew him was aware of his attraction to danger.) It had taken a while for Bucky to become comfortable, both with himself and with the people also living on the Avengers compound. Clint had understood that. The guy had been through a lot. He'd still barely remembered who he was when he'd turned himself in after a year of leading Steve and Sam around on a merry chase.

But he'd gotten around to it. The whole being a person thing. Being something other than a weapon.

Yes, Clint had been a little protective of him. Still was. He could relate to the guy. A few days of alien brainwashing was obviously different to a few decades of being Hydra's puppet, but it still gave them more common grounds than most of the other Avengers.

They'd started getting along, and then they had started getting along, and now Clint was shirtless and kissing Bucky in his bed and it all felt really nice.

Really really nice.

“Shit, fuck,” Clint whimpered against Bucky's mouth, drawing away slightly. “Wait a sex- sec. I have a question.”

The beginning of their relationship (Clint always made a face at the word, but he hadn't found any other one that fit) had involved a lot of awkward conversations about boundaries. Clint had been on the verge of e-mailing his therapist about it several times. She would have been so proud. Clint wasn't ready to admit that, but it had felt nice for once not to be the only one tiptoeing around a minefield. That's what it had felt like in a lot of his other relationships, and most of his other partners hadn't been subtle in letting him know it was his fault.

Bucky didn't make him feel like it was his fault. He had plenty of minefields of his own and seemed grateful to have Clint here to help him figure out their layouts.

It had almost been funny when they'd realized how little they matched one another.

Clint didn't do romance. He'd learned the hard way that however much he liked the person at first, and even continued to like them, in a way, he couldn't sustain romantic attraction for much more than a few weeks into a relationship. And the pressure of a romantic relationship was just too much for him to handle. After a series of self-sabotaged messes and a divorce, he'd been forced to admit that it wasn't worth trying anymore. He'd mostly resigned himself to one-night stands and the occasional cuddle with a friend. Wanting regular physical and emotional intimacy outside of a romantic relationship just wasn't something he figured he could get.

Bucky, on the other hand, was totally open to the pursuit of romance. At least as much as someone with such severe trust issues as he had could be. But he didn't really do sex. At least not for now.

It had been kind of funny to find all of that out, but also not at all. Clint was very happy that they'd decided to figure something out anyway. He'd been even happier when the something in question had turned out to involve having a close friend he could regularly make out with but who didn't pressure him into being with each other all the time, being wooed or going on dates.

Their relationship probably looked like weird and misshapen from any outside perspective, and sometimes even from Clint's, when his nerves were too raw or his mind was too numb and he looked at the universe and only saw the result of his failures. But it was theirs, and whenever Clint felt like his skin was his own again, he found he was willing to fight for it.

It was a weird yo-yo motion, with a string that threatened to snap every so often, but so far it was still turning.

Clint couldn't help himself, and he gave Bucky another peck on the lips. Just to erase the frown that had formed on his forehead as he'd pulled away from their kiss.. “Don't worry. There's no good or bad answer here.” He tried to keep his tone confident and casual. Spy training came in handy in these kinds of situation. Of course, the fact that Bucky was just as well trained meant he could usually read through Clint's bullshit, but well. One had to try.

Clint took a breath, and smiled. “Do you mind if I jerk off?”

Bucky froze against Clint's hands. His eyes widened just the slightest bit.

And then he looked down at Clint's crotch, and the blond bit down on his own lip to avoid letting out a thoroughly undignified squeak. The outline of his erection was clearly visible through the worn material of his post-shower sweatpants. Bucky somehow seemed surprised by it, even though there was no way he hadn't felt it rub against him at any point of the previous proceedings.

Clint felt a blush rise to his cheeks. He wasn't embarrassed about sex. He didn't think that was what it was. He was just very aware of the request he'd just made and the fact that Bucky's attention was still lingering on his cock.

“You don't have to say yes. I really don't mind if we just make out some more and cuddle. I just thought... Well. I just thought that if you didn't have to... participate, you might still like to watch?” The blood in his cheeks was quickly approaching boiling point. “Or not. I don't know. I just thought I'd ask.”

Clint forced himself to close his mouth and stop talking before he fell into a spell of ill-advised chatter. For a few excruciating seconds, Bucky stayed silent. At least he was looking into Clint's eyes again, instead of at his dick. Small mercies.

“Is that something that you would like? If I watched?”

“Um.” Clint swallowed. The fact that Bucky's gaze followed the movement of his Adam's apple was enough to force him to admit he didn't want to lie. “Yeah. Yeah. I'd... I think I'd like that a lot.”

Clint didn't know what reaction he'd expected at that. A joke perhaps. Or at least a raised eyebrow. He hadn't expected Bucky to move forward like a hunting animal jumping on his prey and kiss him. Clint opened his mouth and let the kiss deepen. He wasn't an idiot, he wouldn't pass up the opportunity to get kissed passionately by Bucky just because he was confused. So he moved one arm over Bucky's shoulder, found a better angle and kissed back, giving as much as he got.

He hadn't lied when he'd said he could do just this for hours. Who cared if it made him feel like an awkward teenager again, one who was all too happy to agree to “no sex on the first date” because he didn't know how to tell his at the time girlfriend that he hadn't ever touched a condom in his life.

Clint wasn't frustrated. He jerked off a healthy amount, and in the time between he got to hang out with Bucky and get kissed senseless. There was really no drawback to this situation.

And sure, Clint had desires. Fantasies. There were many things he thought about while he jerked off, and quite a few of them inlvoved Bucky in different stages of nakedness and with various amounts of their naked skins touching. But he also had fantasies about a lot of people he had never had and would never have sex with, and that was fine. He was friends with Bucky, and his comfort whenever they spent time together was a lot more important than Clint's libido.

But he had wondered if maybe... If there could be a way to get more of what he wanted without pushing any of Bucky's boundaries. He already felt bad for not being able to give Bucky everything he wanted, everything that he deserved. Bucky should get to be with someone who would go on dates with him, who would kiss him in the rain and hold his hand it public, and whisper I am so glad that you're my boyfriend against his ear. After all the ways he'd been used and abused, Bucky deserved the certainty of someone who loved him in all ways, all the time.

And Clint wasn't that someone. Clint couldn't give himself to someone in that way without feeling trapped, without tainting the beauty of every gesture with his own fear of being controlled.

Asking for this, for this selfish thing that wasn't sex but was so so close, it was a dangerous thing. It felt like taking something more, and Clint had never felt like he deserved anything in his life, not most of the bad, but not really any of the good either, and he didn't want to be that person who just took and took from someone who had already lost so much, but Bucky had always told him to just ask and he had, and Bucky was still kissing him like there was no other way to say what he meant to say and-

“Okay,” Bucky panted when he finally pulled away far enough to form words. “I think I want to see that.”

And, fuck, this was definitely something that Clint had fantasized about before, that's why he brought it up, but his imagination paled before the real thing, before the livewire tension all across his body and the way Bucky looked hungry in a way he'd never had before, and then Clint was being pushed back against the pillows of the bed and Bucky was slowly peeling off his sweatpants to expose the boxers underneath and this was all too much already. Bucky looked so smug about it too, like this was a perfectly normal things for them to do, like anything below the belt wasn't an entirely new territory for them. Bucky settled cross-legged on the end of the bed opposite to Clint, and tilted his head in a sort of go-ahead gesture. There was such open curiosity in his eyes, and Clint hadn't known that that was something that did it for him, but it really, truly was.

In all of his fantasies, he hadn't had to think about how to jerk off, he'd already been doing it as he set the scene in his head. He had felt a certain thrill at the idea of being watched, but none of the nervousness that came from putting on a show. And that probably wasn't what Bucky even expected from him, but Clint still felt weird. It felt like the worst case of stage fright he'd had since his first performance in the circus when he'd been a teenager.

Clint took a deep breath. He looked up into Bucky's eyes, carefully trained on his, and slowly pulled his boxers off.

*****

Bucky could tell that Clint was nervous. He wanted to so something about it, but he had no idea how. Clint had been the one to offer this, to ask for this, and Bucky was just along for the ride. A ride he definitely thought he would enjoy, but he also couldn't be sure, and he didn't want to push Clint but didn't want to stay totally detached either and...

And Clint was now touching his dick, hand in a loose fist around it, going up and down, thumb brushing over the head to gather a few drops of precome. And he was staring at Bucky as he did all that, worrying his bottom lip and staring at Bucky like he held all of the answers in the world.

He was surprised at how big the urge to touch was. He wanted to put his mouth on Clint's and bite down, bite properly instead of whatever Clint was doing to deal with his nervousness. He wanted to put a hand in Clint's hair and lick along the side of his neck and then look down at where his hand was still moving on his cock.

But he didn't do any of that, even though he had before (except for the looking part), because if he did he might trip on his own boundaries, might trigger that trapwire inside himself that made him retreat.

So he just watched instead, held Clint's gaze when it met his.

This was a new things for the two of them, but at the same time... it wasn't. Not really. Because this wasn't about sex. Sex was something that Bucky felt totally detached from on a good day, and on a bad one it was something that made him nervous, made his stomach twist and weigh heavily.

He couldn't explain why, because he hadn't ever had a particularly bad experience with it. At least he didn't think so. (He hated that he still wasn't sure, couldn't be sure, because so many memories had been taken from him and he couldn't ever know if he had gotten all of them back.)

What he remembered, at least, wasn't bad, although it wasn't good. Bucky could see himself, another person in another time, lying in fresh grass with a girl, her perfume just heavy enough to make him slightly light-headed, to take the edge off the feeling of wrongness he was experiencing as he touched her, let her touch him. He could feel the purely physical pleasure of the act, perfunctory, but nothing else.

This thing right now with Clint was nothing like that, because it wasn't about the sex. It was about Clint and it was about pleasure, but physicality was only one tiny part of this equation.

Bucky watched Clint's hand run up hand down his cock, and he didn't wish that it was his instead, but that didn't stop him from being fascinated by the movement, by the way Clint's dick responded, hardening further, and by the quiet sounds that caught in his throat.

A thought crossed his mind, and Bucky stood up. The fact that Clint immediately stopped moving made him feel... something. It reminded him that, yeah, Clint was masturbating, but this thing still actively involved Bucky. And Bucky let himself be involved, since he ruffled through his nightstand and threw Clint a half bottle of lube. Clint's eyes widened even as he caught the bottle easily. A soldier's reflexes. “You-”

Bucky rolled his eyes.

“I don't have the same libido as you, but I've still got enough experience to know it's better when it doesn't chafe.”

“Right,” Clint replied, scratching the back of his head in an embarrassed gesture. The combination of that and his erection sticking out made him look completely ridiculous, but Bucky only smiled in endearment.

He settled back at the foot of the bed, crosses his legs and make a vague gesture with his hand.

“As you were,” he said with a smirk.

Clint stared, mouth agape. “You...” He chuckled. “You are such an asshole.”

Bucky didn't deny it, but he also noticed that Clint wasn't too bothered, pouring lube into his right hand and carefully warming it up. He looked slightly uncertain again, slowly touching his own dick. Bucky didn't say anything, but he watched. That's what Clint had asked for. That he watch.

Clint worried his lower lip and hummed in his throat as he worked up a rhythm again, and Bucky watched.

He liked Clint's hands, the calluses on his fingers, the various scars from knife fights and careless handling of arrows. He liked them for the stories they told, the one that had been erased from his own fingertips by serum and metal. It was something he kept to himself, unlike Clint who took great pleasure in telling Bucky how hot he looked and which pants he should keep wearing because they framed his thighs just right. Bucky didn't look at Clint's hands like Clint sometimes did his, with a far-away intensity in his eyes and his mouth just the slighest bit open. But that was okay.

Clint didn't look at him like he wanted to be what made Bucky happy, his everything, his forever, with a yearning to share as much of the other's life as he could. But Bucky...

Bucky looked up into Clint's eyes, scared of everything his own could say, but it felt like the other man could hardly see him, too caught up in the movement of his own hand and the sensations that ran through his body. It didn't make Bucky feel alone, though. Quite the opposite. Clint was including him in a moment that could so easily have been private and it was thrilling, it made Bucky feel powerful and wanting. Bucky could have touched, Clint probably would have liked him to touch him, and Bucky felt his arms strain towards the other man, but stayed still. This made the moment feel purer, safer, better somehow, and Bucky didn't get it, not really, but then again, there were so many things he didn't get about Clint and his relationship, this was just one more thing on the list.

Another fragile compromise, another precarious equilibrium, just like everything that had followed that fateful “Can I kiss you?” during a conversation that had felt half like a fight and also like the most comfortable Bucky had been in years, because Clint hadn't been scared of him and he hadn't been careful, and he had asked to kiss him and Bucky had said yes.

And barely seconds after their lips had touched, Clint had said “Okay, this doesn't have to go anywhere, but in case it goes anywhere, we need to set boundaries,” and Bucky had thought “I think I might love you.”

These days, he tried his best not to say it aloud, but he thought Clint still understood it sometimes, like right now when Bucky had finally reached out and kissed Clint one more, and the other man's hip had thrust up twice before he came, one hand grappling at Bucky's shoulder and gripping his shirt. He was panting into Bucky's mouth, eyes wide and a little scared, and Bucky kissed him again until Clint whined, louder than any sound he'd made as he orgasmed, and Bucky couldn't help but be selfishly pleased by that.

He felt warm and relaxed. For once, the arousal coiled in his gut didn't feel uncomfortable, there was no pressure for it to go anywhere.

He pulled away, and watched as Clint carefully got his breathing back to normal. “Thanks,” the blond said, a slightly pathetic attempt at filling the silence between them.

“You're welcome,” Bucky replied, too quiet and not snarky enough, but they both smile and pretended not to know what had been said behind the word. They didn't destroy the balance.

Clint looked at his hand and made a face, and Bucky pushed him out of bed with a laugh, telling him to clean up. He chucked off his own shirt, which was stained by Clint's come and oh, what a strange thought that was. And then he settled into bed.

He was pretty sure Clint would join him, tonight, though he didn't always. If he was lucky, they'd have breakfast the next day. He didn't expect to see much of Clint for the rest of the day after that though, but that was okay.

It was an equilibrium.

[lilana163]

Reunited: Chapter 3

Cygnus Black definitely had a favorite, he wasn't the best father but he was certainly better than Druella when it came to parenting, for the most part. Bellatrix was seen as a disappointment because all Cygnus ever wanted was a boy to call his own, even though the poor girl did everything to please her father and mother. Andromeda was always quiet and kept to herself, Cygnus never thought of his second as a disappointment or disgrace because quite frankly she never gave him a reason to. Narcissa was much like Andromeda, the blonde had a liking to being invisible so it was rare that the angel of the Black sisters would have to face the wrath of Cygnus or Druella. Aurora on the other hand always had a goofy and kind persona, she never felt the need to go invisible and not be herself or beg for the attention of either of her parents, which is why Cygnus Black adored the raven-haired girl the most.

So when he overheard Walburga speak to Orion about Druella almost torturing his daughter into insanity all he could see was red, he loved his wife and would sometimes agree to the punishments she gave their children, but the only person Cygnus loved more than Druella Black was Aurora his precious little star, or so he called.

The black-haired man furiously slammed the door to both his and Druella's bedroom open, his wife sat on the couch with a cigarette between her fingers as she stared into nothingness.

" You almost tortured her into insanity!" Cygnus screamed slamming the door behind him, a bitterness crept on Druellas face as she glanced at her husband.

" That girl needs to learn how to behave," Druella spoke letting a tear fall from her eye, Cygnus rushed up to the blonde lifting her up from where she sat, pinning her up aggressively on the dark green walls grasping onto her neck tightly making the blonde gasp for air.

" You don't torture her to an extent where she could be driven to insanity, if I lose Aurora because of you I'll kill do you hear me?!" Cygnus screamed into the blondes face tightening his grip around her neck, his grey eyes watery as they stared into Druellas green ones.

" You wouldn't d- dare," Druella managed to respond her words barely audible from the tight grip on her neck, Cygnus let on an amused laugh that disturbed the blonde who slowly started to let fear consume her.

" What makes you say that?" Cygnus asked his wife who stared into his cold watery eyes, she then figured out that the man who stood in front of her isn't the man she married but just someone who looked like the shy man who said I do many years ago.

" Because you love me," Druella muttered her words making Cygnus expression soften, he let her go dropping the blonde on the floor, Druella held onto her neck taking as much air she could, Cygnus walked over to the door opening it but before Cygnus left he glanced one last time at his wife.

" Don't count on love, it can get you killed," Cygnus last said leaving the blonde alone in the room. Druella curled up into a ball laying on the floor allowing her tears to fall, she looked at her reflection on the wall desperately crawling to the mirror. Druella winced as she touched the marking of her husband's hand on her neck, she stared into her eyes crying with uneven breathes Druella Black a protective mother, loving wife, a broken woman, she was slowly falling apart, her perfect picture life getting harder to maintain by the day. She was lost, the woman who stared back was unrecognizable she had no idea what her life was to become, and that fearless woman who wasn't afraid of no one was now fearing for her life in many ways.

Cygnus walked across the manor to find his daughter, he reached Aurora's room finding Walburga pacing back and forth in front of the closed white door. His loud footsteps caught the attention of his sister who looked back at him with worried eyes.

" Walburga?" Cygnus whispered loudly slowly approaching the black-haired woman, her grey eyes held concern and nothing more, she was a vile lady but that didn't stop her from caring which was an emotion all Blacks learned to hide, at moments like these maybe it was appropriate to show feelings, yet that's showing weakness, and Blacks are far from weak.

" I'm to assume that you're here to check on Aurora?" Walburga asked Cygnus not bothering to cover the worry which laced in her words.

" Yes," Cygnus replied not quite sure what to make of the situation, his sister never showed anything but coldness, so it would be an understatement to say that he was surprised.

" I would like to know of my niece's well-being, so if you could find me after you see Aurora, that would be much appreciated," Walburga quickly stated rushing off to the direction Cygnus came from with her long black dress flowing behind from the quick movement.

A gentle knock was heard behind the white door alerting all the young Blacks of someone wanting to enter, they all shifted their gaze to the young black-haired girl who put on her brightest smile in an attempt of easing the tension.

" Come in," Aurora announced watching as the door opened revealing her father, the man seemed tense but once he locked eyes with his daughter's green ones he felt his body relax letting out a loud breath he hadn't known he held.

" How's my little star?" Cygnus approached the young girl standing on her bedside, Bellatrix loudly scoffed at the nickname earning a hard glare from Andromeda.

" I'm doing just fine Papa, I could outrun you in a race if I really wanted to," Aurora teased her father nudging him lightly with her elbow, he let out a low laugh playfully shaking his head.

" Rubbish, I always win when we race!" Cygnus boasted puffing out his chest and fixing his posture, looking down at the girl who held amusement in her eyes.

" Because I'm nice enough to let you win old man," Aurora revealed laughing as his facial expression dropped at the word old, the group around them awkwardly stood around the pair feeling nothing but envy at the interaction, though a certain blonde smiled brightly at her father and sister she was certainly happy that they had the relationship they did.

" How about we go and paint, what do you think little star?" Cygnus asked Aurora who nodded excitedly jumping out of her bed, she stumbled a bit from the effects of the cruciatus curse but the little girl managed to hide her weakness and masked it with an energy she didn't have, at a young age Aurora Black learned how to mask and hide things away, not for her but the benefit of those around her, all she ever wants is for good energy to surround those around her which meant that she would have to learn how to hide her true self, but everyone always has that one person who could see through their fake happiness and Auroras person was Narcissa Black.

Cygnus and Aurora left the room not before saying one last goodbye to the others, the father and daughter duo walked across the dark corridor into an art studio, when Aurora was younger she found Cygnus painting and from there, Aurora took interest in her father's hobby which soon became hers.

The studio was surrounded by painted canvases all that belonged to both Aurora and Cygnus, the artwork around them always had a deeper meaning than what caught the naked eye. Cygnus taught his daughter that Art should always have a deeper meaning than just art drawings of an apple and so on, the black-haired man believed that art is one way to express feelings, thoughts, a story, and observations. He always made sure that his daughter's art held a bigger purpose and each canvas the little girl painted always did.

" I'm going to start a new painting Papa," Aurora hummed making her way over to a blank canvas taking it to her easel and paint.

" Fine by me little star, may I ask what you plan to paint this time?" Cygnus told his daughter while he prepared himself to finish his own painting he started two weeks ago.

" You'll find out," she glanced at her father with a small smile before sketching her face on the blank canvas occasionally looking into the mirror she set up beside her.

" Papa, do you love mum?" Aurora mumbled not moving her eyes from her work, Cygnus stared at the girl in shock she had always been so upfront with him on many occasions but this particular question set him off.

" Of course I love your mum Aurora, why wouldn't I?" Cygnus answered going back to his painting not without sparing a few glances at the girl who took a while to respond.

" You two argue a lot, are you sure you love, mum?"  Aurora stated glancing into the mirror analyzing her mouth and each detail that came with her plumped pink lips.

" Do you love mum?" Cygnus returned with a question watching how Auroras let out a genuine smile that reached her eyes.

" Of course I love mum," Aurora turned to met his gaze smiling lightly before turning back to the canvas which stood in front of her.

" But don't you two argue a lot?" Cygnus sent a cheeky grin to his daughter who playfully stuck her tongue out at the grey-eyed man.

" Touché, Mr. Black," Aurora said nodding her head in amusement, Cygnus chuckled at his daughter's reaction before resuming back to his half-done painting.

" I heard you singing to Sirius a few weeks ago, I must admit I'm oddly curious where you heard such a song," Cygnus let out changing the subject unknowingly triggering something inside the little girl.

" You heard that?" Aurora dropped her attention from her painting instead focusing on her father, he rose a brow at the girl her confidence no longer lingering in her tone.

" It was quite a beautiful song, I'd love to listen to it, who's it by again?" Cygnus questioned glancing at his green-eyed daughter who blushed by his comment.

" I actually wrote the song," she shyly whispered Cygnus looked at his daughter not knowing how to feel, he had only heard a few sentences as he passed the corridor though it was enough for him to realize the song was made because of dark thinking.

" I only ever wrote it for Sirius and me, it brings peace to us," Aurora added trying her best to hint that he wasn't meant to hear the song, Cygnus had a worried expression covering his face recalling each word he managed to hear.

" And you relate to the song?" the grey-eyed man queried hoping he was wrong, Aurora simply nodded moving her uncomfortable gaze to her canvas.

" The shadows in your head, they've got you down again, got you feeling low," Cygnus softly spoke staring deep into his daughter's side, Aurora felt his burning gaze but instead kept her focus on the canvas before her.

" It's just words," Aurora remarked fiddling with the hem of her white dress, Cygnus didn't know what to make of the idea of his daughter or nephew feeling such away, so he sat there on his stool letting the silence linger once more.

" Songs are considered art, and art is not meaningless it always tells a story," Cygnus responded under his breath loud enough for the black-haired girl who sat across the room to hear.

" I'm aware Papa," Aurora said with tears brewing in her eyes which she quickly blinked away before they could get noticed and attract unwanted attention.

[thoughtsaboutshows]

87. “I’m pregnant and the baby…it’s yours.”

This is a continuation of the firedrill prompt which you can read on AO3 here:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27183004/chapters/66879928

“I’m pregnant and the baby…it’s yours.

Sabrina was one of those people who absolutely loved finals week, especially the one at the end of Fall Semester. She had an excuse to cozy up in her favorite pajamas and eat all the junk food in the world, all whilst keeping herself awake with an endless cycle of holiday lattes.

She loved having a weeks full of free time without class to sit in her favorite corner of the library and study, or even better, on Nick’s couch in front of his fireplace.

She was nearing the end of her final fall semester of college and he was just finishing his first of grad school, when not even the joy of Nick ordering her favorite pizza and chocolate lava cake could make her less nervous.

They’d been through a lot together since meeting in their class and subsequently learning they lived in the same dorm. It hadn’t taken long after the fire alarm fiasco and Nick pulling her into his arms under his blanket for them to realize they didn’t want that to end. She tentatively asked what they were to each other a few days later when it was too cold for anyone to have class. They were snuggled in his bed, repeating their experiment of body heat being transferred best naked, when he kissed her tenderly and told her the only thing he’d accept was to be her boyfriend. They’d been nearly inseparable since.

There was only one time when Nick was applying to grad schools and her insecurities got the better of her when it looked like it might be over. She had put words in his mouth about not being committed and he had not fully considered her feelings in his reaction. They broke up for a total of three days before they ran into each other, meeting halfway between her dorm and his on-campus apartment, both intending to go and find the other. It’d been smooth sailing ever since, and both of them knew that their love was the forever kind. The kind you share blankets and body heat and hopes and dreams with.

But as Sabrina stared at herself in his bathroom mirror and then down at the three sticks on the counter, because one wasn’t enough, and saw they read pregnant in big bold letters, she prayed that this was something they could get through too. That he would share in the joy that was coming up amidst all the fear. With a deep breath she picked up one of the sticks and out the door in search of her boyfriend of three years, and hoped he’d be okay with being her baby daddy too.

At the shuffling of feet, Nick absentmindedly moved the blanket that was on his lap up so she could join him again on the couch. He was immersed in his book about 17th century literature when he realized his girlfriend didn’t plop on the couch next to him and curl into his side like he’d expected her to. He closed his book, careful to save his page, and caught her eyes. His brow furrowed immediately when he noticed her concerned expression. She had seemed fine when she got up to go to the bathroom, and he wondered if she had gotten her period, remembering she’d grabbed her bag and took it with her. He was already thinking about where he had last left the heating pad for her and mentally added chocolate to his grocery list.

“What’s going on, Spellman?” He leaned forward on his knees as she held her hands behind her back and didn’t meet his eyes. “Are you okay?”

“You love me right?” She asked him while biting her lip. Tears threatened to fall, waiting for the signal if they should be ones of joy or heartbreak.

“More than anything.” Nick responded with a confused look of his own and made quick use of disposing the blanket. He was up and on his feet quickly, brushing the hair from her face and touching her lips. “You know that. Why would you ask me something like that?”

Sabrina squeezed her eyes tight right before opening them and finally looking at him. His dark eyes were awash with warmth and they looked like melted chocolate. She wanted to sink into them and never leave, like she used to sink into his extra long twin dorm bed whenever Prudence was especially mean.

“I’m pregnant and the baby…it’s yours.” Sabrina blurted and she tore her gaze away from Nick’s, putting off seeing his reaction a little bit longer.

“Well I hope it’s mine, otherwise this is a bigger conversation.” Nick told her and the playfulness in his tone made her eyes dart to his face. His smile, while usually crooked, was full blown and even, taking up his entire face. She swore she had never seen him smile with so much joy.

“That’s what you go with?” Sabrina asked him and placed her hands on his shoulders. “I tell you I’m pregnant and that’s what you say, Scratch?”

Nick laughed out loud and kissed her scrunched nose, making it impossible for her not to giggle along with him.

“You were all it’s your baby, Nick. Like I think we have sex enough for me to know it’s mine. You don’t even have time to sleep with anyone else.” He was still smiling in a teasing way but his hands had made it to her waist and were drawing soothing circles against the skin exposed by her cropped sweater.

“And I love you.” Sabrina pointed out to him, indicating that was the real reason she climbed him like a tree more days than not. It was a wonder they hadn’t ended up pregnant already. Nick smiled sweetly again and kissed her lips this time. “Joking aside, I just wanted you to know. I literally just found out and I wanted to tell you right away.”

It was then Nick realized she had a positive test in her hand and he took it from her, smiling down at the confirmation of what he had wanted for a long time.

“Damn.” Nicks said, still amazed.

“And I really hope you’re happy and excited, because I am.” Sabrina began to ramble and took a deep breath. “And I know we’re young and we’re not even married and we didn’t think this would happen for a long time, or at all, because, hello Sabrina, we’re not even married.”

“Babe.” Nick tried to inject but she didn’t hear him.

“And I love you and I know you love me, but I don’t expect anything from you. You can have an out if you want and-”

She was cut off by Nick’s lips on hers. He couldn’t let the rambling continue, and kissing her always shut her up. Plus, he couldn’t think of a better way to tell her she had it all wrong. When he pulled away to take a breath he left her with one more lingering kiss before speaking.

“Sabrina, I’m in. I’m all in.” Her tears finally fell. Tears of joy at their little family that was forming in that very moment. “I want all of this with you.”

“You do?” Sabrina asked even though she knew the answer. She always had, any doubt she had about him was always short lived.

“Yes.” He kissed her again, short and sweet but full of emotion. “We’ll figure it out. But you’re not the smart and hot freshman I thought you were back then if you don’t think I have every intention of spending forever with you now.”

Sabrina pressed her forehead firmly to his, knowing she had a lot of phone calls to make. And that she’d probably get pressure to marry him now that she had his baby growing inside her. But all she wanted in that moment was to sink onto his couch and into his arms. Knowing her as well as he did, he kissed her forehead and pulled her to sit down. He immediately wrapped his arm around her and placed his hand on her belly, drawing little hearts over it, already loving the tiny little soul that was him and her. And thanking whatever god was out there that set off the fire alarm that night years ago, nudging the two of them even closer together until they were where they are now.

Family

[sunflowerhae]

- ̗̀໒ Straight for the knife

Lee Donghyuck x female!reader

☾ ✓

Warnings• language, mentions of sex

──────── ❝ 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭 ❞

You stood in front of the mirror and stared at your naked body with a sigh. You thought you were beautiful. He made you feel so beautiful.

Well, he did.

You and Donghyuck had been drifting apart for a while now. It started three odd months ago, when he left without kissing you goodbye. You didn’t think anything of it, I mean, why would you? It wasn’t like you kissed goodbye everyday. It didn’t mean anything. You thought it didn’t mean anything.

But eventually, it got worse. Petty fights every night about petty things, no more kissing, no more sex, no more long conversations until the break of dawn, no more laughter,

No more love.

Just two empty bodies that would sometimes sleep in the same bed. You two never even cuddle anymore. You slept on opposites sides of the bed and acted as if to touch the other was to commit the highest crime. You couldn’t take it anymore. You didn’t sign up for this. You wanted the love of your life back.

And tonight was the perfect chance.

Tonight you two would be celebrating three long years together, and you figured now was the best time to draw him back in.

So you put on his favorite outfit of yours - a tight, velvet red, strapless, mid-thigh dress that hugged your body nicely. You put on makeup, curled your hair, and black lingerie that would hopefully no longer be on you by the end of the night. You wanted to impress Donghyuck, make him want you again.

Donghyuck was practicing late tonight, and you figured now would be a good time to try that recipe for Lemon and Spinach pasta that you had seen.

The house smelled like garlic and lemon. You stood, looking beautiful, in the kitchen, and Donghyuck’s present - an expensive, golden watch - sat in your bedroom on the desk, along with a card telling Donghyuck just how you felt about him.

You were dancing to Irreplaceable by Beyoncé when you heard the door open.

You were expecting Donghyuck to walk into the kitchen, but he never came. So you walked to the front of the apartment, to see Donghyuck standing there, obviously confused and tired.

“What’s that smell?” He grumbled with furrowed eyebrows. You smiled at him widely, but your heart broke a little. You knew he forgot, but you wanted to see if he could put two and two together.

“I made dinner! I thought maybe we could eat together.”

Donghyuck sighed and rubbed his forehead. He hadn’t looked at you yet, he hadn’t looked at you in a while, actually.

“I’ve had a stressful day and I’m tired. Can I raincheck it?” Your smile dropped.

“Well... I just thought we could eat together for once. I made pasta!” You smiled again. You wanted to hug him, but the last couple times you would try to make any form of contact with him, he would push you away, and you felt now wasn’t the time for rejection.

“Well I’m not really in the mood for pasta. I had a bad day in practice. I’m tired and I want to go to bed.” He sighed again, and you could tell he was getting angry, but you just wouldn’t give up - not this time. But donghyuck wouldn’t give up, either. In fact - he would’ve said just about anything to get you away from him.

“Well, maybe you can tell me about your day over dinner and I can hel-“

“Listen y/n! I said I don’t want to eat with you! Can’t you listen for just once in your life?”

Your world was closing in, and you felt light headed. Donghyuck mistook your silence as an answer.

“See what I mean? It’s like you don’t even have a brain! Or a personality, for that matter. What do you do all day, all alone, while I go out and actually do work to pay the bills? While I am working my ass off, you sit on yours, doing fucking nothing! All you do is sit on your fat ass and suck up all the attention you can get from me, then when I come home, cling to me like some stupid bitch. I’m tired of it. So fucking tired, y/n. I...I..”

Tears where pouring from your eyes, but donghyuck never saw them. You think, that if he did, he would have never said what he did next.

“I don’t love you. I don’t think I ever did. Not really. I wanted a good fuck out of you that turned into so much more that I didn’t want.”

And that was it. The final blow. You felt as if you had been hit with a knife in your heart ten, maybe twenty times. Your memories with Donghyuck hit you like a wave, with the word “meaningless” stamped across them. All of it was meaningless. Three years of your life wasted for him. Three years spent loving him, and getting nothing for it. Nothing but disappointment and lies. But you were a big girl, and your mother taught you better then to let a man get the last word.

So you wiped your tears, stood up tall, walked towards the front door, and opened it. You were 100 percent ready to walk out of it then and there, but you couldn’t leave knowing he won. So you turned to him, and looked him straight in the eye. Really looked at him. You wanted Donghyuck to realize that he had his chance, that he had you, and that he lost you, and will never get you back. That this was the last time he would see you, probably. And you said those fatal words,

“And you wonder why you make girls cry.”

Donghyuck didn’t cry a lot. There were moments, sure. But for the most part, he was pretty calm. And so he didn’t cry while he walked to the kitchen and turned off the stove. The food did smell good, and man, was he hungry, but he didn’t cry.

Donghyuck didn’t cry when he walked up the stairs with his bag in his hand and saw a photo of the two of you at a fair two years ago, on your first date. He didn’t cry or scream or breakdown when he walked into your room, jumped onto the bed, and landed perfectly on your pillow, where he smelt you and your hair and that shampoo that he loved so much, he would make you get it just for him. He didn’t cry when he sat up in bed and thought of you just for a moment. None of that made him cry.

Donghyuck truly felt relieved. He had told you how he really felt about you. How, over the past three months, he has come to silently hate you. Well, felt like he hated you. The peace made Donghyuck feel calm. He could finally breathe. The only thing that made Donghyuck even remotely emotional was what you said to him. He doesn’t make girls cry, not in a bad way, at least. And you knew how he felt about that subject. His father had once told him to never let the love of his life cry. No matter what. But you didn’t count. Donghyuck didn’t really love you.

Donghyuck shuffled off the bed finally, after dismissing your thought as just the last resort of a bitch to keep latching to him. He went to take a shower and wipe the day off his body (and to maybe wipe a little bit of you off in the process). He tried not to think about your things everywhere, and when you would come get them. Or about where you went, and if you were safe. Or if you were still crying. He tried not to think about the fact that all his shampoo was gone, and he had to use yours, that smelt so nice. He tried not to think about the fact that you always smelt good. He tried not the think about you. He couldn’t. He didn’t want to start feeling guilty for speaking his mind. So he shook you off his thoughts and continued his shower.

It was when Donghyuck left the shower and went to get clothes from the dresser that he saw a box sitting on the desk nearby. It wasn’t large, just a small, black velvet box. There was a card propped up next to it, with Donghyuck’s name on the front. In your handwriting.

With a sigh, donghyuck slowly shuffled over. He reached for the box, first. Maybe he was avoiding the card, maybe he was anxious, maybe it was both.

Once he saw what was in the box, however, his mind blanked. An expensive golden watch sat in the box nicely. Donghyuck could tell it was new. He remembered telling you a while ago that he needed a watch desperately, and that he didn’t want any old thing. But that was maybe four months ago, he didn’t think you would remember.

But you did.

That scared Donghyuck greatly. He didn’t want to look at the card. He didn’t even want to touch it. So, without looking, he snatched it from its place on the desk and shoved it in the back of the drawer, along with the watch. He couldn’t use it. That would just be cruel.

He didn’t want to think about it, so he quickly walked to his - now solo - bed and tried to sleep.

It had been a month since you and Donghyuck has talked. That night, you went to your friends house and slept in her guest room. The next day, you went by the apartment and packed up every single thing you owned and ever bought. The nice thing about paying attention to Donghyuck at all times was you knew his work schedule. You always payed attention. You loved him.

At one point, you went searching for the anniversary present, but alas couldn’t find it. You were mad that he saw it and didn’t do anything - even after reading about how you felt - but there was a whole other side to Donghyuck that you never knew of and saw last night, and you weren’t surprised anymore.

After you packed all your stuff away, you sent it all to your moms house, quit your secret job that Donghyuck didn’t know of, and booked your flight out of Korea, to your mothers home in America. You figured since Donghyuck was the only reason you were in Korea, there was no point in staying anymore.

The minute Donghyuck walked into his apartment, he knew something was wrong. At first glance, nothing seemed off. The furniture was all there, there were no signs of forced entry. Everything seemed okay.

But Donghyuck knew better. There were some photos no longer on the wall. All the photos that involved you and your family or friends were gone. Sure, the photos of him and you were still there. But the photo of you and you alone by the kitchen was gone. And the shot of you and your sister in the snow by the door was missing. And when Donghyuck really looked around the house, he realized nothing about you was there. Hell, even you pillow was gone.

You weren’t there, anymore.

Donghyuck knew he should have felt relieved then and there. If he just took down the photos of him and you, it would have been like you were never even there to begin with.

But instead, that’s what made Donghyuck clutch his chest and begin to breathe heavily in and out. He was having a panic attack.

The room got small and dark, and Donghyuck felt so much fear that he almost fainted from it. What was happening? He had never had a panic attack before. This had never happened before. Why was this just now coming up?it lasted maybe 30 seconds, but it felt like 30 years. Like it would never end; like donghyuck would never be okay again.

But he was okay, for a while. He hadn’t talked to you in a month. And he was doing fine. The panic attack was a one time thing and didn’t happen again. He got a watch, and quickly forgot about the golden one, and the note. He even began to forget about you. He was seeing a girl, Soyoung, and she was nice. Donghyuck was doing okay, for the most part.

But sometimes.

Sometimes, in the crisp, 3 am air, donghyuck would sit on the balcony, insomnia kicking his ass once again, and think about you. Think about how you knew how to cure his insomnia with a simple kiss. How you felt. How it felt to hold you, but he didn’t cry.

Sometimes, Donghyuck would be running late to something, and he would think about your punctuality. About how it felt to laugh with you over his lateness. But he didn’t cry, he never cried for you. He still thought he made a good decision. That it was for the best.

Sometimes, Donghyuck will clean the apartment, and find something you forgot. One time, he found your bra. And he definitely remembered you then. How it felt to have sex with you. How you made him feel. And it was then that Donghyuck tried really hard not to cry. And he didn’t.

It was one of those 3 am nights. Donghyuck was going to watch a movie, but ultimately decided not to. He, instead, choose to sit in his bed, in the dark, and think until he fell asleep. He was thinking about all of his life choices that lead him to this point, as one does, when you popped into his head.

He found you doing that more and more lately.

Tonight, he thought about your personality. About how you made everyone feel smaller than you, but not necessarily on purpose. You always had an elegance about you, Donghyuck would give you that. It made him feel too inferior to walk with you, sometimes. You were so proper and punctual.

For some reason, his mind took him to that night. A night Donghyuck had to block out sometimes. It was painful to remember it. Donghyuck always cared for you. Whether that was love or not, it didn’t matter. He was disappointed in himself for directing his anger toward you. He had just had a bad week and didn’t want to deal with you. He was willing to say anything to get you away from him.

He thought about after you had left. After he had seen you for the last time, with mascara running down your cheeks.

And his mind went to the watch, some how.

He had completely forgotten about the watch, and the note. His 3 am mind became so curious, so intrigued, that it was like he lost control and walked to the drawer. Donghyuck slowly pulled out the dusty watch and unopened card. He took a seat on the chair at the desk and stared at the card.

𝓓𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓱𝔂𝓾𝓬𝓴 ❤️

With a sigh, he flipped over the card and ripped open the envelope. Inside the card was a photo of Donghyuck and you sitting in bed making silly faces at the camera. It was weird, seeing you. When you and Donghyuck officially hadn’t talked for a week, he took down all your photos and deleted you from his phone. You were gone.

But seeing you again felt strange. Donghyuck forgot how beautiful you were.

He set down the photo on the table and took out what looked like a note.

That scared Donghyuck. He didn’t want to read this, he really didn’t want to. Something that got him through this time was that you hated him. He didn’t want to think the opposite. But he sucked it up and began reading.

Baby, sunshine, my prince, haechan, hyuck, Donghyuck,

Hi. How do you start a letter. HELP ME!! I’m from the 21st century, writing doesn’t come as natural as typing. Maybe I should have just texted this to you. So much easier, so less sincere. Oh well, I’ve already started. Wait. Let me start again.

Shithead,

That’s better. Hello. Happy Anniversary!!!!!!!! Three years ago today, you asked me to be yours, and I practically peed in excitement (I never told you that. There’s actually a lot you don’t know about me. Ooooh. I know).

I remember meeting you, you know. We met at a party. You walked up to me and said “hi would you like some alcohol?” Then I said “no thanks I’m pregnant” then you said “no shit, really?” Then I said “uhhh no.” Then you laughed and said “oh lmao okay.” Like lmao out loud oof and I said “huh okay” then you said “so about that drink” then I said “sure” then we went and had sex and in the morning you were still there.

Thank you for still being there.

I’ve never said that to you. But thank you, really.

It’s weird. Knowing I’m loved. Knowing someone so amazing like you loves me. Lately, we’ve been drifting apart. And I don’t really like that.! You make me smile to my ears, hyuck. You make me feel like I can fall and never die. Like you’ll be there to catch me, no matter what. You are so kind, so beautiful on the inside, I don’t think you could hurt a fly. When you call me princess, I am willing to fight the world for you.

And I’m honored. I’m absolutely honored that you chose me. That you chose to love me. I will always be there to catch you. You will always have me, baby. Even when the world is at your door ready to kick it down, I will be there to guard your door, to make sure you stay clean. Always, Haechan. You give me meaning.

I love you.

Oh and uh. Happy anniversary. Let’s make it to another one, yah?

With all my love to give,

Your forever princess

Ps. Like the watch? Suprise!!! I got a secret (shh) job to pay for it. How petty would that be, buying your present with your money.

Donghyuck then had his second ever panic attack. All he could think about was you. About your eyes, and the last time he saw them at the door. About your mouth; and the last time he kissed you, which he couldn’t remember. About your body, and the last time he hugged you, or touched you, or maybe even held your hand. About your mind, and the last time he held a conversation with you that didn’t end it a fight, usually made by him.

All he could think about was what he did to you. What he said. How he made you feel. He finally understood what you meant when you left.

His father would be so disappointed in him. What was Donghyuck thinking? Of course he loved you. He had loved you ever since he met you, when he saw you across the room at that party and thought you were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in his life. He had loved you every time you annoyed him, every time you pissed him off. Donghyuck wished he could take back those late nights he spent at the studio, trying to ignore you. He wished he could see you smile because of him one more time. That he could sleep with you one more time. Not sex. Just sleep with you, next to you. He wished he could hold you and kiss you and live up to everything you expected of him. And it wasn’t much, not really. You didn’t care about the money, about the fame. You just wanted him for him. His smile. His love.

And he couldn’t even give you that.

Donghyuck felt disgusted with himself. He used to call you his princess. But he didn’t treat you like that. In those last three months, he pulled away because he felt like you didn’t deserve his love, when really you were the most deserving. You were always in the background, running things. Making sure he was where he needed to be. Kept him in check. And he treated you like shit. Now all he had were the memories of when you two were happy.

He wished he could go back in time. He wished he could tell you he loved you so much. That he was so sorry. That he was not a better man without you, and never will be.

It was when donghyuck realized all this, that he finally cried. He put his head in his hands and just...cried.

──────── ❝ 𝐞𝐧𝐝 ❞

[ladyblogger-margie]

James “Bucky” Barnes – NSFW Alphabet

***GN!Reader (Let me know if I slipped up anywhere)

A = Aftercare (What are they like after sex)

He frankly isn’t the most attentive after sex. He tells you the experience was great and gives you a kiss when you’ve both finished, but he leaves you to clean yourself up and wanders away to do his own thing and work out the remaining aderline by getting some water or washing his face. But he will have a smile on his face for the rest of the day just thinking of how your bodies came together so perfectly.

B = Body Part (Their favorite body part on themselves and on their partner)

He loves his thighs. They are strong and support his and your weight without shaking. He struts when he walks, and his thighs are front and center of that confidence display.

He loves your eyes. He feels like you are the only one who can truly see him, the real him, and those eyes just bore into him so knowing, so lovingly. He loves to watch you sleep and his heart grows so soft when he sees you lashes fluttering as you dream.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum - I am a disgusting person)

He wants to come on your face whenever possible. He loves leaving a mess you clean up with you hand and push into your mouth. If he gets some in your hair in the process, he will not tell you and let it stay there until the next time you shower, the thought of that making him hard again instantly.

D = Dirty Secret (What do they secretly want)

He would love to have a threesome with you. The gender of the third doesn’t matter, just wants to find someone that’ll make you happy too. He wants to watch you fuck someone else and he wants you to watch him fuck someone too. A threesome is the top of his special request list, even though he’s worried it would offend you to know that. You’ll really have to develop that bond and sense of understanding before he’ll feel comfortable enough to know that you won’t be upset by his request. It’s absolutely not that you’re not enough for him, it’s just about escalating the experience for you both and creating a shared experience.

E = Experience (Do they know what they are doing?)

He’s not as experienced as you might think. He may be over 100 years old but his time as a brainwashed Hydra agent was not spent exploring his sexuality. His experience before the war was varied, but he still has a lot to learn, especially when it comes to all the new inventions in toys and roleplay that have occurred during his time out of practice. He is an eager student though and happy to explore uncharted territory and experiment with you.

F = Favorite Position (Self explanatory)

He loves to 69. He loves how your mouth feels around his cock as he draws an orgasm out of you. It also is inline with how much he loves to finish on and around your face.

G = Goofy (Are they serious during sex or goofy?)

He’s a pretty serious person. He can be a little flirtatious which sometimes comes across goofier than he means, especially when roleplaying. Most of the time though he is as dark and brooding as ever.

H = Hair (Are they well groomed?)

No, he is not a detailed groomer. He is clean, but he does not manscape and is all natural. He likes his partner however they’re comfortable, regardless of if that is completely hairless or full bush. But he does love himself some pubic hair to get absolutely lost in, but will never force a choice on his partnet. He expects his partner to respect his grooming choices equally.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment?)

Most of the time when you two are intimate it is primal and urgent leaving his emotional connections feeling a bit detached from your physical actions. He is all about the release for both of you and that’s his clear objective. He shows his emotional attachment to you in different ways. At first it caused you some insecurity, but as you got to know him better you understood that his compartmentalization actually created different ways for you two to connect rather than to keep you apart.

J = Jack Off (Do they masturbate?)

He jack’s off almost constantly since he returned from his brainwashed state. He loves mutual masturbation as well. He sometimes uses his metal arm for a unique, almost out of body experience when it comes to self-pleasure. Though he’d always pick time with you over going solo.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

He is very into spitting. He always spits in his hand before he jacks himself off and if you’re masturbating together, he’ll insist you spit in his hand for him. He loves to spit in your mouth and if you’re riding him, he begs you to spit in his mouth. It’s filthy and he loves it.

L = Location (Favorite place to do it)

He loves to fuck you in public. You’ll find a secluded path just off the trail and drop your pants to your ankles as he pushes you against a tree. He’ll cover your mouth with his hand and expect you to drool and pant into it as he thrusts into you hard and messy. He’ll be hard the rest of your walk as he knows his cum drips out of you as you continue forward.

M = Motivation (What turns them on or gets them going?)

It doesn’t take much to get him going to be honest. He’s always ready whenever you are. He especially likes when you slyly reference a previous encounter in a vague way in front of other people, faking innocence to your inside double entendre.  

N = No (Something they will not do. Turn offs.)

He does not want to engage in anything related to a piss!kink. It is just one of those things he can’t understand why people are into it, and while he respects everyone’s right to explore their own sexuality in their own way, it is just not something that appeals to him or turns him in. He supports it, but only for other people and not for his own experience.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skills, etc.)

He loves to give you pleasure, no question, but he never comes harder than when you give him oral. Something about him looking down at you with your lips around his cock just pushes him over the edge like nothing else does. He loves when you touch yourself while he fucks your face. He never lasts as long as he means to when you tease him like that.

P = Pace (Are they fast or rough? Or slow and sensual?)

He is a fast and hard kind of fuck. The kind of fuck that leaves your breathless and bruised unable to walk. He wrecks you so completely and so thoroughly so quickly that you don’t even mind that he leaves you whimpering and trembling alone on your bed when he’s finished with you because you’re so overstimulated by the time he’s done you don’t think you could handle much more.

Q = Quickies (Their opinions on quickies rather than regular sex)

He is the king of quickies. If anything, he prefers them. They keep him from getting too caught up in his own thoughts and insecurities and force him to be entirely in the moment where all that matters is your shared pleasure in whatever time span you two have available to you without interference from the real world.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

He is up for anything you want to try. After discovering internet porn he came to you every day with a new idea to test out. Sometimes they end in complete bliss, and other times they are complete failures, but he loves the process and learning new ways to worship each others’ bodies.

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

He is a super soldier; he can last much longer than you with more rounds in him than you can take. Some days you are totally beyond spent that he finishes himself off and cums on your face as you lay there and take it as a blissed-out shell of your regular self.

T = Toys (Do they own or use toys on themselves or partners?)

As part of his experimentation, you and he buy every toy that piques your interest until you have quite an elaborate and varied collection. His favorite is a remote-control vibrator that you use on him when you’re out in public. He likes the exhibitionist nature of that and he likes that you are in control of him in ways no one actually knows.

U = Unfair (How much do they like to tease?)

He thinks he is a big tease, but he can’t help himself when you’re naked in front of him. He’ll send you naughty messages with details on what he will do to you later in order to build up the anticipation, but when the time comes, he is full steam ahead at a rapid pace.

V = Volume (How loud are they? What sounds do they make?)

He is a grunter for sure. Doesn’t say much, but he makes animalistic, unrestrained grunts that awaken something primal deep within you. He sounds absolutely feral sometimes and it’s the best kind of dangerously sexy.

W = Wildcard (Random headcanon for your character)

He hard to get to know, but once he lets you in he becomes extremely clingy. He will never admit it, but it’s not a coincidence that he always happens to be in the same room as you and just happens to need to brush his teeth while you jump in the shower, or he decides he needs a snack while you’re in the kitchen baking, or why he decides to read in the living room while you doing yoga instead of in the library/den. When you’re working from home he has never been happier knowing he can be in the same room with you literally all day every day.

X = X-ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants)

He’s surprisingly average, not that average is bad. Frankly though all that matters is how he uses it which is exceptionally well. He fills you just right and always leaves you feeling good. He isn’t flashy in appearance, but who needs flash when there’s substance and commitment to pleasure.

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

He is horny all the time, he is always ready whenever you are and can get feral if denied too long. He always respects your consent of course, but he is all over you all the time. If you ever ask him to fuck he’s naked before you can finish your request.

Z = ZZZ (How quickly do they fall asleep afterwards?)

He usually gets up and putters around right after you two finish as he works some of the leftover adrenaline out of his system. Which is why you often find him passed out, snoring and drooling on the couch or slumped over at the kitchen table just crashing where he lands when he comes down from his high.

[slytherinbarnes]

Sub Rosa [55]

x. die all, die merrily

Pairing: Bellamy Blake x reader

Word Count: 4.6k

Warnings: I mean, the title says it all, people die, there is fighting and violence. also some light smut, a lil touch of kidnapping, and some language to finish it all up.

Summary: the final conclave begins, and 13 clans fight for the ultimate prize: surviving the apocalypse. 

a/n: I AM NERVOUS TO POST THIS BC APPARENTLY THIS IS A LOT OF YALLS FAVORITE EPISODE EVER SO I HOPE I DID IT JUSTICE! the taglist for this series is open! I hope you enjoy, please let me know what you think!!!

previous chapter // season masterlist // series masterlist

March 27th, 2150; Polis

You wake to the sounds of yelling outside. 

Your eyes pull open slowly, blinking against the bright light of the sun that streams into the room from the balcony. You roll over, coming face to face with Bellamy, who is looking down at you and smiling. You give him a sleepy smile in return. “How long have you been up?”

He glances towards the balcony, before his eyes fall on you again. “An hour or so. Sounds like they’re prepping for the conclave.”

You hum in agreement. “Didn't Clarke say it starts tomorrow? I’m sure there’s a lot to be done and not much time to do it in.”

“Does that mean we have to help too?”

You laugh at the grimace on his face, clearly not excited about this prospect. “Probably.”

He sighs and starts to stand from the bed, but you grab his hand and pull him back down towards you. He looks at you in surprise as you give him a mischievous look, pulling him down even closer, until his face is inches from yours. “We can have some fun first though, don’t you think?”

He catches onto your line of thinking easily, and he gives you a look full of fire and passion. He answers your question with a searing kiss, your previous separation making you savor the kiss more than you usually do. His hands come to land on either side of your face, holding you in place as he kisses you like his life depends on it. Like he’s a drowning man and you’re a tank of oxygen sent to save him. His hands slide from your face, down to your body, sliding all over you, the feeling of his skin on yours electric. 

He pulls you closer to his body, tugging until you move to straddle him, the fur blanket sliding off of you as you do. You run your hands down his already naked chest, his shirt on you, your favorite thing to sleep in, and he smiles up at you. You tug the shirt off and toss it to the side, and his eyes roam your body with appreciation, taking you in. You have to resist the urge to cover up, knowing how much he likes to look at you, but still, you whisper, “You’re staring.”

“I’m admiring. I’m drawing a detailed image of you in my brain for later, and I want to make sure I don’t miss anything.”

His fingers trace over a few of your scars, the one on your shoulder from the arrow, the one on your leg from Roan, and the one on your side from the assassin, and you can see his eyes mapping their location on your body. You copy the motion with him, carefully tracing the scar on his side, the one you stitched up. He glances down at it, the small, jagged little scar, shaped like an uneven lightning bolt. “It is crooked. Sorry about that.”

“Don't be, I like it. It reminds me of you.”

“It looks like lightning. The perfect scar for my stormy boyfriend.”

He gives you a peculiar look. “You think I'm stormy?”

You lean down and kiss him, chasing away the insecurity that seems to creep up. “Not in a bad way. Storms are powerful, forces to be reckoned with. Sometimes they rage and crackle, but they cleanse too, and help the Earth grow.”

He smiles up at you, his face softening and his earlier insecurity now gone. “And you are radiant. Breathtaking. Beautiful.”

He kisses you in between each compliment, lingering on the last one, making it long and slow. You open your mouth, granting his tongue access, and they dance and move together in a perfect symphony. As he kisses you, you both slide out of any remaining undergarments, both of you naked and warm against each other. The usual vulnerability, and fear, that comes with being naked around another person is lost on you, because Bellamy is careful to radiate nothing but love and adoration, wanting you to feel safe and secure. 

He breaks the kiss to watch you as you sink onto him, both of you moaning with pleasure. He rolls you both, situating your body beneath his, his arms supporting his weight next to your head, caging you between them. Your eyes lock as you move together, finding your rhythm, and his other hand slips between your bodies to bring you closer to the edge. You fall first, eyes squeezed shut and head thrown back in pleasure, and the sight of you sends Bellamy over right after.

He kisses you again as you come down from your high, the kiss lazy and sloppy, both of you feeling like jelly as your pleasure rolls through you. Bellamy eventually rolls off you, laying down at your side, turning to watch you. You turn to face him, smiling up at his freckled face and messy curls, “Tell me about the gods.”

He smiles, always ready to oblige, before launching into his story. “Persephone, better known as the goddess of the dead and Underworld, wasn’t always known that way…”

-

March 28th, 2150; Polis

Bellamy’s hand is held tight in your own, slick with sweat from nerves as he leads you down the hall, towards Octavia’s room. The tradition of the Final Conclave has now begun, and in mere minutes, Octavia will walk onto the stage in front of everyone, and accept the sigil of her clan, your clan, and fight until the death for Skaikru. 

When Bellamy reaches the door, he turns and looks at you, nervous, and you nod your head, reassuring him. He lifts his hand and knocks, and Octavia looks his way, quickly looking away again when she realizes who it is. “You here to give me a pep talk?”

He drops your hand and steps into the room, settling onto the couch beside her. You linger in the doorway, here for emotional support more than anything, watching Bellamy make his last attempt to save his sister. “You don't have to do this. We can find someone else to fight. “

“If I die, I die. At least I go down fighting.”

“O-”

She cuts him off immediately, shutting down his argument. “Don't. This is my decision, Bell. I know what the odds are, I don't need you pointing them out.”

You hear footsteps from down the hall, and you peek behind you, watching as your twin approaches you. Her face is set in a grim expression, not optimistic at all, and as soon as she looks up and meets your eyes, she calls out, “It's time.”

You nod, turning to pass the message along to Octavia, but she must have heard because she is already standing and walking your way. You get a good look at her make up as she approaches, the dark war paint painted over each of her eyes in the shape of an upside down “L”. You realize immediately what her inspiration is, and as she stops in front of you, you whisper, “Lincoln’s tattoo.”

She nods once, confirming your suspicion, and you see a quick pass of nerves cross her features. You reach out and squeeze her shoulder, offering her comfort. “He’s always with you, especially now, and I know he's proud of you.”

She gives you a small smile before walking past you and out the door, walking down the long hallway to the stage. You and Bellamy follow her path until you meet up with Clarke, who leads you out a side door and into the crowd, just in time to watch Gaia, Indra’s daughter, announce, “Octavia kom Skaikru, step forward.”

Octavia steps up onto the stage and ducks her head, allowing Gaia to attach a necklace around her neck. “Accept the sigil of your clan and fight with honor as their champion.”

She walks across the stage and comes to a stop beside Roan, and you and Bellamy exchange a look as Gaia begins her final speech. “Soon will begin the Final Conclave, a battle to the death within the walls of Polis. These warriors will fight until only one remains. When that warrior collects all of the sigils from the fallen and delivers them to me, they will be declared the victor. This final champion alone will tell us which clan is meant to survive in the crypt of Bekka Pramheda, and which clans are meant to perish in Praimfaya. Osir koma op daun bilaik slip daun kom bleirona, ba mafta op Won bilaik hef em op mou beda.”

Kane translates for you and Bellamy, able to understand the words faster than both of you can. “We honor those who fall by the sword, but follow the One who wields it best.”

Somewhere behind you in the crowd, someone yells, “Daun bilaik ai!”

That would be me. You all turn and watch in shock as Luna stalks through the crowd, shoving people out of her way to get to the front, and you can sense trouble brewing as soon as you see her face. “Shit.”

Bellamy looks at you, not understanding what you mean, not aware of just how bad things got for Luna on Becca’s Island. She stalks onto the stage and comes to a stop in front of Gaia. “I'm Luna kom Floukru, and I'm the last of my clan.”

“We know who you are...The Natblida who ran from her conclave.”

“I'm not running from this one.”

Gaia turns and grabs the last necklace from the bowl, turning to face the angry Nightblood. “Accept this sigil, Luna kom Floukru. But with your clan gone, who will you fight for?”

“I fight for no one. I fight for death.” She snatches the necklace from Gaia’s hands and turns and holds it up for the crowd. “When I win, no one will be saved.”

Her words immediately send a wave of murmurs through the crowd, and Gaia quickly solves the problem by dispersing the crowd and sending the warriors down into the weapons room to arm up and prepare for the battle. You, Kane, Bellamy, Clarke, and Jaha all cluster in a circle, quietly discussing Luna's arrival when Gaia comes over to your group, voice full of authority. “Skaikru! Three advisors to the worgeda. The rest of you, report to your designated safe zone. Now.”

Kane gestures to you and Bellamy, “Come on. We have to get her ready.”

Jaha reaches out and grabs Kane’s arm, stopping him from leaving. “This conversation isn't over. The death wave will be here within three days, and here we are, risking the fate of our people on a blood sport?”

Clarke corrects him, “The fate of all people, You heard Luna.”

“She's just one of 13.”

You wince, remembering when you walked in a room to save Luna from at least 6 men, only to find that she had already saved herself. And that was after being repeatedly tortured. “You're wrong. She's a Nightblood novitiate, which means she trained in combat exactly like this.”

Bellamy looks at you, misunderstanding you. “You want us to cheat?”

“No.” You look at him, shaking your head. “I only mean that Luna is the walking definition of killer warrior, and that scares me.”

Kane adds, “Besides, you know the rules. If we break them, we lose, and if we lose, we die.”

“The rules are not the problem, Marcus. The game is. Even if we stop Luna, even if Octavia finds a way to win, does anyone truly believe that the Grounders will accept Skaikru as the lone survivors?”

“Yes. The conclave is sacred, they'll honor the winner. Like it or not, we're all Grounders now.” The words tug at a memory, Bellamy standing in the middle of a circle of delinquents, convincing all of you to fight the Grounders coming your way. But Kane pulls you from that memory when he looks at Jaha, and says, “You get our people to the safe zone, we'll have Octavia ready for the fight. The rest is up to her.”

You and Clarke nod at each other, knowing you’ll see each other again soon, after the Conclave. Either as the sole clan to survive Praimfaya, or as one of 13 clans left outside to perish. Bellamy walks close to you as you follow Kane into the weapons area, leading you over to Octavia. As you walk towards her, you eye the competition, taking notes on their weapons, their fighting, anything you can gather that might help her. Kane seems to have the same idea because as soon as he stops in front of her and you and Bellamy stop beside him, he starts, “All right, listen to me. The Blue Cliff Warrior, she has two corvo blades. I just saw her practicing. She's left handed, you go for her weak hand.”

“Okay.”

You add to his point, “Plains Rider and the warrior from Shallow Valley, they're strong, but slow. You can avoid them, not to mention the black rain, which could fall at any moment, so stay close to cover.”

Beside you, Bellamy fidgets in place, turning and looking away, which does not go unnoticed by you or Octavia. She snaps, “What, Bellamy? If you've got something to say, just say it.”

“You don't need any of this. When the starting horn blows, just stay out of sight and let the others thin out the competition.”

“You want me to hide?”

“You don't need to go up against the strongest warrior from every clan.”

“I came here to fight.”

Bellamy bends down a little, matching their heights, his voice almost pleading, “You were the girl under the floor. Use that, just like Mom taught us.” 

Kane nods, “Bellamy's right. You don't have to kill all 12 warriors.”

“I just have to kill the last one.”

All of you exchange a nod, now on the same page in terms of strategy. Behind you, one of the Flamekeeper scouts announces, “Ambassadors and advisors, to the tower. Champions, to your flags.”

Kane and Octavia hug, quick and fierce, before she turns to Bellamy. They hover near each other, unsure whether they should hug, and eventually Octavia settles on, “May we meet again.”

“Damn right we will.”

Bellamy’s voice is sad, and he looks like he wants to hug her, but he’s so worried about upsetting her before the battle that he doesn’t. He just turns and starts to walk away, leaving you and Octavia alone. You don't hesitate to hug her, reaching out and grabbing her, squeezing her tight and passing along as much love and strength as you can through the hug. She hugs you back tight, almost desperate, and when you pull away, both of you have tears in your eyes, aware this might be your last goodbye. You smile through your tears, “You were my first friend on the ground, and the first person to see me as someone other than the Invisible Twin. Now you’re my people, my family, my sister. I am so incredibly proud of you.”

She smiles at you and you see her fighting back her tears, not wanting anyone to see her crying. She squeezes your arm and whispers, “I love you. Bellamy too.”

You nod, already aware, because you knew the siblings couldn't stay upset with each other long. Lincoln's death left a mark on their relationship, but that doesn't mean their relationship was irreparable. You start to answer when one of the Flamekeepers grabs your arms and pulls you away, pushing you towards the door to the tower. You turn and wave one last goodbye to Octavia, eyes watching the small girl melt into the crowd of warriors who have been fighting longer than she’s been alive. You meet Bellamy at the elevator, and his face is fallen, completely upset. You slip your hand in his and he looks over at you in surprise, so lost in his own head that he didn't even hear your approach. “What did she say?”

“She said she loves you.”

Surprise takes over his expression, then regret, and he immediately drops your hands and turns away, “I have to tell her I love her.”

But the Flamekeeper who pushed you out of the room blocks his path, pushing him back towards the elevator, not allowing him to leave. You can tell Bellamy wants to fight it and fight him, but you reach out and grab his hand again, pulling him towards the now waiting elevator. “She’s going to win, Bellamy. You can tell her afterwards.”

He nods and you ride the elevator to the top, meeting up with Kane in the throne room, just as the horn sounds, signaling the beginning of the conclave. You can hear the sounds of fighting immediately, and the tensions inside the room are high as you hear the clang of swords and the thud of fallen bodies. Minutes later, Gaia comes into the room and announces, “The first two champions have fallen.”

Everyone turns towards her, absolutely terrified that she will say the name of the warrior from their clan, and you, Kane, and Bellamy are no exception. 

“Gael kom Ingranronakru, yu gonplei ste odon.”

One of the Flamekeepers walks over to the candle that represents the Plains Riders and puts the flame out, ending their battle for the bunker. You all watch the Flamekeeper turn away from the snuffed candle and walk towards the next one, and your heart drops as every step he takes brings him closer and closer to the Skaikru candle. Bellamy whispers, “Please don't be her.”

Luckily, but still heartbreaking, the Flamekeeper stops just shy, in front of the Trikru candle, as Gaia announces, “Fio kom Trikru, yu gonplei ste odon.”

Relieved, you turn to Bellamy. “Octavia's still out there.”

Bellamy’s eyes turn towards you, full of tears, his expression breaking your heart. “I couldn't tell her I loved her, even with the world ending.”

You squeeze his hand, still held tight in yours. “Trust me, Bellamy, she knows.”

He nods and his eyes drop to the floor, lost in his head again, and you and Kane share a look. With nothing else to do now, except wait, you and Bellamy head out to the balcony with your binoculars, watching the fights alongside Gaia. Kane comes out onto the balcony as you watch the Blue Cliff warrior kill the Sangedakru warrior, and Bellamy lets out a small gasp at the sight of the death. When you turn to look at him in confusion, he nods towards Kane, and you follow him as he leads you over to the Chancellor. Bellamy’s voice is low when he mutters, “We just saw the Blue Cliff warrior kill the Sangedakru warrior with a bow.”

“So?”

Bellamy looks at you, and you remember your pre fight conversation with Octavia. You tell Kane, “So, we saw her before the fight. She didn't have a bow, she had two swords.”

“Yeah, the corvo blades.” He shrugs, not understanding your worry. “Well, she could have picked up a bow off the battlefield.”

You and Bellamy exchange a look, both of you aware that someone you know is exceptionally good with a bow, and exceptionally good at betrayal. You both step back inside the room, scanning for the Azgeda spy, shaking your head when you don't see her. Kane comes up beside you, looking between you in confusion. “What is it?”

“Echo's gone.”

As soon as the words leave your mouth, Bellamy stalks out of the room, looking like a man on a mission, and you and Kane look at each other in panic before running after him. “Bellamy, wait!”

He spins around to face the two of you, annoyed at the interruption. “My sister is down there. Echo is cheating, and I'm gonna stop her.”

Kane shakes his head, “Let one of Gaia's scouts find her, and then Ice Nation will be punished.”

“They'll never catch her. Echo's a spy, this is what she does.”

He tries to walk away again but you grab his arm to stop him. “Listen to me, Bellamy, I’m with you. But running out there in broad daylight is not the way to fix this.”

“So, you think I should just stay here and do nothing?”

You shake your head, and Kane vocalizes a plan you were already starting to form in your head. “No. You wait until dark so you don't get caught. And then the two of you get her out of the fight and get back here without being seen. Clear?”

“Clear.”

-

The wait until nightfall is agonizingly long, and all you can do is hope that Octavia makes it until then, safely away from Echo’s arrows. When darkness finally blankets the city, only five lit candles remain. Floukru, Azgeda, Podakru, Louwoda Kliron, and Skaikru. 

Bellamy leads you through the streets of Polis, heading towards the building Echo is hiding in, careful to keep the both of you hidden from the view of any warriors or Flamekeepers. You’re close to the building when Bellamy abruptly stops and pulls you back behind a wall, disguised in the shadows. You know it’s too dangerous to ask why, but you don't need to, because a second later the Shallow Valley warrior comes into view. He seems to see something in the distance that you can’t see, because you watch him brace himself before a scream breaks free from the unseen force, and Luna comes running into view. She kills him quickly, easily, and just like that, five lit candles becomes four. 

Luna stalks out of view again, and as soon as Bellamy is sure it’s clear, he takes off running again, leading you the last few steps to the building. The two of you creep up the stairs slowly, remembering that Echo is up high, and when you reach the door to her hiding spot, Bellamy gives you two hand signals: push the door open and then immediately get down. You nod your head, letting him you know you understand, and then he counts you down from three. As soon as he puts his last finger down, you swing the door open as quickly and quietly as you can, before you immediately duck, Echo’s arrow landing in the door right above your head.

Bellamy runs forward and tackles her to the ground, and the two of them fight back and forth until he gets the upper hand, wrapping his hands around her neck and choking her. She is seconds away from death when you feel a knife to your throat and you freeze in place, voice frantic when you call out, “Bellamy.”

He turns and his face drops when he sees you, his hands instantly releasing Echo’s throat, allowing her to breathe. He steps away from her and the person at your back shoves you towards Bellamy, who catches you with ease, and when you turn around you really aren't surprised to see Roan standing there, sword pointed at you and Bellamy as he glares at you. “I should've known you three couldn't stay away. I heard you all the way down the street, you're lucky I wasn't a scout.”

Bellamy nods towards the Ice Nation spy. “We came to stop her.”

“Explain yourself.”

“I was only trying to help save our people.”

Roan sneers at her, “I am not my mother. I'm not willing to cast aside honor for power.”

“No one has to know.”

“You misunderstand. I will not allow your dishonor to give Luna an advantage, and you will not shame our clan ever again. You are Azgeda no more.”

Shock takes over Echo’s face, and you have to resist the urge to smirk at her. “Sire, wait.”

“You're banished, Echo, and when I win this conclave, make no mistake, there will be no place for you inside that bunker. Now get out of my sight, and off this battlefield without being seen, or know that you are the cause of the death of our people.”

She swallows hard, fighting back tears, before turning and leaving the room, sneaking out and off the battlefield, despite having nowhere else to go. Once you and Bellamy are alone with Roan, the sword comes back towards the two of you again, everything about the king threatening. “I take it by your presence here that your sister's still alive.”

“That's right.”

“If I call for a scout, she'll be executed right now.” He lowers the sword, leaving enough room for you to eventually pass. “But what fun would that be? You really think she can win, don't you?”

Bellamy smiles, looking proud. “I wouldn't count her out if I were you. She's survived harder things than this.”

“Before she dies, I'll tell her she's lucky to have you as a brother.”

“I got a better idea. After she guts you and before you die, you tell her I was the lucky one.”

Roan smirks at him and you feel Bellamy's hand slip into your own, letting you know it’s time to go. You step away first, pulling Bellamy behind you, both of you keeping your eyes on the Ice Nation King until you’re out of the room and back on the street. You begin the careful retreat back to the tower, taking a different path than before, just in case. It takes longer this way, but this path is darker, and easier to stay hidden in, and after a few minutes, you’re just outside the tower again. You and Bellamy look at each other and smile a little, relieved to have made it back without getting caught, but that relief is short lived. 

Just as the two of you start towards the door of the tower, two people jump out of the shadows, each one of them grabbing each of you, holding a rag over your mouth. The substance smells awful, and you know without a doubt that you shouldn't be smelling it, but you don't have much time to process that. You and Bellamy look at each other, both of your eyes wide in panic when you see the other in danger, and you fight against your captives. But by then, it's too late. The chemical has kicked in and you feel unconsciousness seize you rapidly, pulling you under at an alarmingly fast rate.

-

The first thing you notice when you wake is the heaviness in your head. 

It feels like someone popped open your skull, stuffed it full of rocks, and closed it up again. You try to pry your eyes open, but they feel heavy, weighed down by anchors. You groan and try again, prying them open with all your strength, closing them back again when they are met with a bright light. But then you hear someone next to you groan, and a hand brushes against yours, familiar and warm.

Bellamy.

This time when you get your eyes open, you turn his way, both of you looking at each other in shock before you confirm that each other is real. You reach towards each other, silently checking the other out, making sure you're okay. And as soon as you realize you are, you both turn and look around the room, realizing you must be in the bunker. Your eyes land on Clarke, standing at the desk in the room near Jaha, both of them looking towards you. You look between them, at the clench of Clarke’s jaw, the extra weight on her shoulders, and your stomach sinks. “What the hell did you do?”

Jaha is the one to answer, sounding unashamed of what he has to say. “If only one clan could survive, it might as well be ours.”

Bellamy turns to your twin, not believing what he’s hearing. “Clarke, you agreed to this?”

“It was her idea.”

You and Bellamy share an incredulous look, before you turn it on Clarke, in disbelief of what she’s done. She sets her jaw, trying to convince herself, and the two of you, of what she’s done. “We did what we had to do.”

-

next chapter

[haloud]

day 7- uranus

Michael rolls his head over the back of the lawn chair, closing his eyes, letting all the tension out of his neck and shoulders. Then he blinks his eyes open, staring up at the stars. They’re faint, light pollution from the nearby town, his eyes too unadjusted thanks to the crackling fire at his feet. He’d have to stare straight up for a long time to pick out most of his favorite stars, but the Big Dipper is an old friend, so he’s content.

A car pulls up, and then there are footsteps on the gravel approaching him. He takes a second before looking up. He likes it, that people know they can find him here in the early night. Likes that people do.

“Hey, uh…Michael?”

Michael sits up so fast he cricks his neck at the sound of Max’s voice. Wincing, he rubs it and says, “Well look what the Chupacabra dragged in.”

“Um, yeah,” Max says, doing that awkward thing he does where he rubs the knuckles of both hands together, a nervous habit he’s had most of his life. Michael kicks the chair next to him.

“Sit down, stop hovering.”

Max sits. His long legs sprawl a little too close to the fire, but Michael doesn’t say anything that might get mistaken for nagging, for taking too much care. Anything that might start a fight.

“So I’m guessing you noticed I’ve, uh, not been around a lot lately.”

Michael gropes for a beer from the sixer at his feet and pops it with his brain, taking a deep swig. If Max wants one, he can ask for it, he thinks mulishly, then hands him one anyway.

“You could say that,” Michael says shortly.

“I’m…sorry. I…learned something about our history that I don’t know how to…”

“Oh yeah?” Michael drawls. “’Bout six foot one, beard oil connoisseur, really shitty accent he thinks no one can tell is fake?”

“No, not him. This is something a little closer to home. And I didn’t know how to talk to you about it, so I…but that wasn’t fair to you. Trust me, I’ve heard that plenty from Isobel and Maria. Even Alex dropped by the Pony to give me a piece of his mind.”

“Oh yeah?” Michael says, keeping his voice impressively level. The idea that anyone would stick up for him over Max ignoring him is…not something he knows what to do with.

“Yeah, man. Scary stuff.”

Max laughs without a shred of humor, chugging half his beer at once.

“Okay, now I’m worried,” Michael says. “Just spit it out, man. I’m sure it’s nothing worse than any other shit we’ve dealt with. I am numb to bombshells at this point.”

It’s a long time before Max says anything else. Michael finishes his beer, doesn’t grab another one, just watches the leaping flames in Max’s eyes.

“A few months back when Sheriff Valenti was after me for killing Noah, she sat me down to talk about all the ways I fit the profile. Y’know, uh, white male, 18-40, anger issues...One of those ways was, uh. Troubled childhood. Tried to tell her my childhood was fine, but she pointed out that wandering the desert naked at seven years old isn’t exactly a lack of trouble. Turns out she was the deputy on our case, back then.”

“Huh.”

Explains a few things about the way she used to look at him every time he got hauled in, before she just got used to it.

“She told me that she came to see us in the group home the day Isobel and I were adopted.” Max takes a deep breath.

Stop. Michael wants to tell him to stop. Doesn’t want, doesn’t need to hear what comes next. Doesn’t remember that day, doesn’t have to. He knows, enough, from what people have told him. Can hear the screams, see the red on the walls.

“Good for her,” he grunts.

“She told me that—fuck, Michael, there’s no good way to say this—she said that. That I was the one screaming and drawing on the walls, that you…you calmed me down, but…it was too late, and the Evanses had the wrong idea, and that’s why you were left...” Max chokes off, puts a hand over his eyes. Michael doesn’t have to have his and Isobel’s connection to recognize the awful emotion crushing him.

Michael opens another beer.

“Say something,” Max almost begs.

“Why.”

Michael has to swallow around the lump in his throat, his rabbiting heartbeat.

“Why even tell me this? What fucking good does it do? I can’t—you can’t—nobody can change what happened, even if I believe you—”

“You deserved to know.”

“I wish you hadn’t told me. Since when does the world give a fuck about what I deserve?”

Max flinches. It doesn’t make Michael feel any better. Just like putting a fist in his face wouldn’t make him feel better, and neither would screaming at the world for not being fair. He did a lot of that when he was a child and still believed in a few things that might be listening.

He doesn’t take another beer, if only because only something stronger would put a dent in the feelings he wants to drown, and he doesn’t keep any of that shit around.

“Whatever. It all worked out in the end, yeah? The guy who doesn’t murder people with his hands got the short end of the stick and was therefore responsible for disposin’ of a few less bodies. Highlight of my fuckin’ life, that one. You’re welcome.”

His mind doesn’t go easy on him, whirling with images and thoughts from Max tied to the bed, Max exploding and killing Father Davis to, absurdly, would Alex have ever noticed me if I was preppy Michael Evans. He laughs just to do something with his mouth that isn’t screaming, clenching his left hand into a fist and squeezing the knuckles, though it isn’t as much of a distraction now as it used to be, without the pain.

“Hey, you wanna thank me, make me some business cards—Michael Guerin, mechanic, gravedigger, and total fuckin’ mug—”

He breaks off into more laughter, until he’s bent double, clutching his knees and wheezing.

Max hasn’t said a fuckin’ word.

“Well?” Michael demands, straightening up, looking Max in the eye.

“I don’t know, Michael, I don’t know! I don’t know what to do with any of it, I don’t know what to do with, with you, with everything you’ve sacrificed for Isobel and for me, I don’t know how to be worthy of it, I don’t know how to thank you, I don’t, I don’t know.”

Michael rocks back in his chair, face pointed up at the sky again, drinking in the constellations until he covers his eyes with his hands and lets out a shout of frustration. Everything around them not bolted down lifts and inch and slams back down for emphasis.

Calmer, then, Michael says, “We were seven year old newborns. I’m pretty sure I didn’t do it for gratitude.”

“No, you couldn’t have. Which means you just did it on instinct. It’s just who you are. You protect us, and we, and we…”

“Don’t,” Michael cuts him off, wearily. He doesn’t need to hear any self-recriminations.

“No, Michael, come on. The things you’ve done, the ways you’ve been hurt, you…there aren’t words to describe the gratitude, I just...Thank you, Michael.”

The only sound after that is the crackling fire, and in that silence, Michael floats Max over another beer.

It would be easier if Michael could resent him. If he could want to go back and do it all over again without knowing in a place deep enough in him it could be his cells or a sickness that he’d do the exact same thing, go through all that hell a second time, a third.

“Nobody can change the past,” he says eventually. It’s something Sanders used to say to him any time he made a mistake, when he was just a kid and learning and not a certified ace mechanic who ought to know better. It’s weird, to Michael, right here and right now, having the wisdom of somebody else in his mouth.

This life hasn’t had all bad things.

“But we can try and change the future,” Max says. “I know I’ve done a hell of a job of it these past weeks, but I don’t want to pretend like we don’t know this. I want things to be better between us. I want to be a better brother.”

“Oh yeah? Like how?” Michael’s voice slips into mockery; he doesn’t try to prevent it. “Find me a job that you don’t want? Toss me a hand me down phone when you get an upgrade? Biweekly pity parties? Been there, done that, was given the t-shirt against my will.”

“Yeah, okay, maybe! Just not like that, man, we’re not kids anymore. Maybe we could, I don’t know, try to figure out what being better means together? No more sacrifices. No more charity.”

Michael picks at the label of his latest empty bottle. 

Voice quiet, almost inaudible over the crackle of the fire, Max says, “Dude, my heart only beats because of what you did for me. I came back to life knowing that. This just puts it into perspective.”

“I didn’t do that alone. Liz and Valenti were just as important. More. Rosa kickstarted you. I was just the assist.”

“Michael.” 

“What?”

“What do you need from me? What will help you understand how much you mean to Isobel and me. It’s not charity, man. It’s family. We keep saying that, but I think we need to do a better job defining it, you know?”

What does he need. It’s such a rare question he doesn’t know the answer.

“Free drinks at the Pony for life, a nice, cozy alibi, and your head on a pike instead of mine when Maria finds out.” he says.

Max laughs, the sound strained but genuine, his head thrown back to face the stars.