#especially in light of the final war being “all of us against all of them” according to crowley

[m4rv3l-girl]

Slowly…

Bucky and Y/N have been dating for a while, but have yet to explore anything more intimate than making out like teenagers. Maybe things will change when Bucky finally faces his fears.

Warnings: smut. Oral f!recieving. Protected p in v sex. Slight fear of intimacy. Touch starved Bucky?

The hum of the Stark Tower HVAC system was basically white noise.

Bucky Barnes sat sprawled across the couch, one arm looped loosely around Y/N’s shoulders, the other cradling a steaming mug of chamomile tea. Both of them contently sleepy. The windows stretched tall across the living room wall, casting gold-tinged light from the setting sun over the exposed brick and sleek furniture, remnants of Tony’s compulsive over-design.

Y/N, nestled into Bucky’s side with a blanket tugged over both of their legs, sighed softly. Her head was tucked perfectly beneath his chin, like it belonged there. Bucky liked that. He liked that a lot more than he’d ever admit aloud. Especially since Sam would absolutely never let him live it down if he caught wind of Bucky Barnes being the little spoon. Again.

“You know,” Y/N said, voice low and thoughtful, “you’re actually not as terrifying as everyone makes you out to be.”

Bucky huffed a laugh, lifting his mug in mock salute. “Thanks, doll. I’ll make sure to update my LinkedIn.”

She laughed against his chest, the sound vibrating into his sternum and tugging a rare, genuine smile from him. “No, seriously. You’re... sweet. You hold the door open. You bring me coffee just the way I like it. You’re weirdly obsessed with The Great British Bake Off.”

“I plead the Fifth.”

“Oh, come on. You cried when Rahul won.”

He groaned, tilting his head back against the couch and covering his face with the vibranium hand. “I didn’t cry. I just - had feelings. That’s normal. Rahul is a very talented man.”

“You’re soft.”

“I’m six feet tall and made of war crimes.”

She snorted. “You’re my soft war crime.”

“Jesus Christ.”

They lapsed into a comfortable silence. The kind that only came after months of slow trust-building, of soft confessions over late-night tea, of tentative hand-holding and the quiet awe in Bucky’s eyes when she didn’t flinch away from the cold press of metal fingers. It wasn’t perfect, Bucky still had nights where he woke up gasping, sweat-soaked and angry at ghosts only he could see, but Y/N never left. Never treated him like he was broken or dangerous. Just… human.

He hadn’t realized how much he missed being seen as human until she came along.

“You ever think about…” Y/N began, then paused, fingers tracing idle shapes along his thigh. “Us. Like, going further?”

Bucky blinked, the words taking a second to register through the sleepy haze.

“Further?”

She tilted her head to glance up at him, cheeks flushed. “Yeah. Like… more than just kissing on your couch and pretending we don’t both want more.”

Oh.

Bucky’s breath hitched, but not from discomfort. Not exactly. More like the entire world had suddenly gone still and very, very focused.

He’d thought about it. Of course he had. He was a hundred and six years old, not dead.

But there was always a wall. Not one she had built. Y/N had never rushed him, but one he’d carried with him since Hydra carved up his mind like Thanksgiving turkey. Intimacy meant vulnerability. And vulnerability had always gotten him hurt or used.

“I do think about it,” he said finally, voice soft. “All the time, actually.”

Y/N shifted slightly, giving him room to see her expression. She looked open. Patient. Like she wasn’t expecting anything except honesty. That helped. That grounded him.

“But I also think about messing it up,” he admitted. “I think about what if I freeze up? Or what if I have some flashback in the middle of it and ruin everything?”

“You wouldn’t ruin anything,” she said immediately. “You could never ruin this.”

He wanted to believe her. Hell, part of him already did. But old instincts didn’t die easily. He reached for her hand with his metal one, letting their fingers twine together. That felt real. Solid.

“I guess I just need to know you’re okay with taking it slow. That you don’t feel like you’re waiting for me to turn into someone else.”

Y/N’s smile was soft and fierce all at once. “Bucky, I didn’t fall for the Winter Soldier. I fell for the guy who leaves sticky notes on the fridge reminding me to drink water. Who calls Sam ‘bird brain’ like it’s a love language. Who watched all three Lord of the Rings movies with me even though he thought Frodo should’ve just used the eagles.”

“Don’t tell me I was wrong.”

She laughed, then leaned up to press a kiss to his cheek. “I’m okay with slow. I’m okay with whatever pace you want. I’m here because I want you.”

Bucky let out a slow breath, tension he hadn’t realized he was holding bleeding from his shoulders. “Okay,” he murmured. “Then yeah. Maybe we take that step. Sometime soon.”

A beat.

The quiet stretched out like a warm blanket, thick with anticipation. Bucky’s thumb traced the line of her knuckles, and the room felt too hot and too cold at the same time. He knew he could say no. He knew she’d understand. But the way she said it - so gentle, so earnest - he couldn’t find the words to refuse.

“Soon,” she murmured, reading the hesitation in his eyes. “Whenever you’re ready. I just - I want you to know that I’m here. That I want to be there for you, every step of the way.”

Bucky nodded, his throat tight with emotions he hadn’t let himself feel in so long. It was strange, this feeling of safety, of belonging. It didn’t sit easily with him, but it was growing more familiar with every beat of her heart against his side. He swallowed hard, trying to find the right words.

“You make it easier, doll,” he said finally. “You make a lot of things easier.”

Y/N leaned into him, her arm curling around his waist. Her hair smelled faintly of coconut shampoo and mint toothpaste. The scent was comforting, like home.

“I’ll always be here for you, you know that,” she whispered, her breath warm against his neck. “For all the hard parts. And the easy ones too. For the baking shows and the bad jokes and the quiet nights just like this one. I’m all in, Bucky. Whatever it takes to help you feel whole again.”

The weight of her words settled into his chest, nestling in alongside his beating heart. It was a heavy burden, but somehow, with her, it felt lighter.

They watched the light change outside the window, the sky deepening into shades of purple and pink. The sounds of the city grew distant, swallowed up by their shared warmth. Bucky’s arm tightened around her, pulling her closer, and she curled into him, her hand coming to rest over his heart.

It was a promise. A silent vow.

He took a sip of his now lukewarm tea and sighed, the warmth of her against him a stark contrast to the cold metal of his arm. It was moments like these that made him feel alive, made him realize that maybe, just maybe, he could have a life beyond the shadows of his past.

“What’s the first thing you’d wanna do?” he asked, turning to look at her. Her eyes searched his, looking for any signs of doubt or fear. But all she’d find was the truth. The reality was that, at present, their sex life was non-existent.

Y/N thought for a moment, her expression softening into a smile. “I don’t mind….what would you want to do..?” She didn’t want to commit to something that he wasn’t comfortable with.

Bucky considered this.

"I just want to be with you," he said, his voice low and sincere. "I want to hold you, and kiss you, and just… explore. Nothing crazy, just… us. Getting to know each other that way."

Her smile grew, lighting up the room even as the shadows grew longer. "That sounds perfect," she whispered.

The air was thick with a tension that had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with desire. He could feel the pulse of her heart beneath her palm, and he knew she felt his too, a steady rhythm that grew stronger with every breath they took together.

They sat for a while longer, just watching the day turn to night. Bucky's mind raced with the possibilities of what this could mean for them, but he forced himself to stay present, to enjoy the simplicity of their entwined fingers and the warmth of her body.

Eventually, Y/N sat up, her hand slipping away from his heart to rest on his cheek. She turned to face him, her eyes searching his, looking for any trace of doubt. But all she found was a man who was ready to take the next step.

“Okay,” she said, her voice steady. “Let’s go slow. We’ll figure it out together. No pressure, just us getting to know each other more intimately. I’m here, Bucky. We’re in this together, remember?”

Bucky nodded, his pulse quickening at the thought of what lay ahead. It had been so long since he’d allowed himself to be this open with someone, to let go of the fear that had become second nature. But with her, it felt possible.

They stood up, and he set the mug of tea down on the side table with a gentle clink. Y/N reached for his hand, lacing her fingers through his. She led him to the bedroom, her movements sure and unhurried.

The room was dimly lit, the curtains drawn just enough to allow the fading light to cast a soft glow over the bed. Bucky felt his heart rate spike as she turned to face him, her gaze never wavering from his own. She stepped closer, her hand sliding up to his chest, then around to his neck.

Her touch was tentative at first, a gentle question. But as Bucky leaned into it, she grew bolder, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw, her thumb brushing against his lower lip. He closed his eyes, letting out a shaky breath, and she leaned in to capture his mouth in a kiss that was sweet and full of promise.

Her other hand slid down his side, her fingers brushing against the fabric of his shirt. Bucky’s arms wrapped around her, pulling her closer, the heat between them growing with every second. The kiss deepened, and he felt the first stirrings of something he’d almost forgotten - desire, untainted by fear or duty.

When they broke apart, panting slightly, Bucky opened his eyes to find her smiling up at him. She reached for the hem of her shirt, her movements slow and deliberate. He watched as she lifted it over her head, revealing the soft curves of her body.

He took a deep breath, his metal hand hovering over her bare skin for a moment before he let it rest gently on her waist.

Y/N's eyes searched his, looking for the answer to the unspoken question. Bucky nodded, his decision made.

They moved in unison, Bucky helping her to remove the rest of her clothing, his movements slow and careful, as if handling something fragile and precious. Each piece of clothing that fell away revealed more of her, and with it, a part of her soul that he hadn't seen before. Her trust in him was palpable, a silent demand that he not break her. And he knew, with a sudden fierceness, that he never would.

Her skin was warm under his touch, and she shivered as he traced the outline of her collarbone with his thumb. He felt his own heart racing, a thunderous beat that echoed in his ears.

They lay down on the bed, the mattress giving slightly under their combined weight.

Her eyes never left his, the same gentle expression on her face that had been there since the moment she’d brought it up. He felt the pressure of her hand, the softness of her skin, and the way her breath hitched as he kissed her again, his metal fingers brushing against the softness of her stomach. It was a strange sensation, this mix of cold and warm, of hard and soft, of past and present.

Bucky’s mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, but he pushed them aside, focusing only on the here and now. He didn’t want to think about the past, didn’t want to ruin this moment with the specter of his former life. This was about them, about what they were choosing to build together.

He leaned over her, pressing tender kisses along her neck and collarbone, feeling the thrum of her pulse beneath his lips. Her skin was like silk, and her scent was intoxicating, a blend of warmth and vanilla that he’d come to associate with home. Her breathy sighs were music to his ears, each one a silent encouragement to explore further.

Her fingers danced over his shoulders, her nails lightly scraping against his skin as she guided him closer, urging him to explore. His heart hammered in his chest, a reminder of the life he had reclaimed, the humanity he had fought to keep.

Their kiss grew deeper, more urgent, as if they were both trying to convey the depth of their feelings without words. Bucky’s hand traveled up her side, feeling the curve of her hip, the softness of her skin, the warmth that emanated from her core. He was acutely aware of every touch, every breath, the way she arched into his mouth when he kissed her just right. It was as if he was mapping out a new territory, one that was uncharted and full of wonder.

The room was filled with the sound of their mingled breaths, the rustle of fabric, the quiet sighs that escaped their lips. Y/N’s hand slipped under his shirt, her fingers brushing against the warmth of his skin. He stilled for a moment, waiting, but she didn’t pull away.

Bucky felt something unlock inside of him, a door that had been sealed shut for so long he’d almost forgotten it was there. It was a rush of sensation, of need, that made his head spin and his heart race. He kissed her again, harder this time, his hand sliding down to the small of her back, pressing her closer.

Y/N’s legs parted, inviting him in, and Bucky’s heart stuttered in his chest. He’d never been this intimate with someone who knew all of him, who had seen the darkest corners of his soul and chosen to stay. It was terrifying and exhilarating all at once.

He took a moment to breathe, to steady himself. He didn’t want to rush this, didn’t want to scare her away with his intensity. But when he pulled back, her eyes were dark with desire, matching the pulse in his veins. She didn’t look scared. She looked hungry.

They moved together in a dance that was both new and familiar, their bodies speaking a language that didn’t require words. He felt the heat of her skin, the softness of her curves, the way she molded against him as if they’d been made for this. It was a revelation, a reminder that he was more than the sum of his parts.

Bucky’s hand slid up her thigh, his thumb brushing against the lace of her underwear. He felt her shiver and knew that she was just as ready as he was. He took a deep breath, trying to slow his racing heart. This was it. The moment he’d feared and craved in equal measure. But with her, it didn’t feel scary. It felt right.

Y/N’s hand reached for the hem of his shirt, her eyes never leaving his. He raised his arms, letting her pull it off. The cool air of the room kissed his bare skin, making him shiver. She traced the lines of his abs with her fingertips, her eyes taking in every inch of him with a mix of awe and affection.

“You’re so beautiful,” she murmured, her voice a warm caress against his ear.

Bucky felt a blush creep up his cheeks, a rare and welcome sensation. He’d never been one for compliments, but coming from her, it felt like the most profound truth he’d ever heard. He kissed her again, his hand sliding up to cup her breast, feeling the weight of it in his palm.

They moved together, exploring each other with gentle touches and whispered sighs. Bucky’s mind was a blur of sensation, each new discovery a revelation. The way she tasted, the way she felt, the way she made him feel. It was like coming home after a long, cold war, finding warmth in the most unexpected of places.

He felt her hand on the elastic of his sweatpants, and he stilled for a moment. This was the part that had always been a minefield before. But she didn’t look up at him with fear or hesitation. Just love. So he let her continue, his breath catching in his throat as she touched him, skin to skin.

Y/N’s hand was warm and sure, and Bucky couldn’t help but gasp as she touched him, her thumb rubbing against the sensitive skin just beneath the waistband. The fabric was the last barrier between them, and the anticipation was almost too much to bear.

With a trembling hand, Bucky reached down to help her, his heart racing as he pushed his pants down. The coolness of the air against his skin was a stark contrast to the heat of their bodies, and he watched as she took him in, her eyes wide and filled with a hunger that made him feel alive in a way he hadn’t been in decades.

They kissed again, a kiss that was more than just a meeting of lips, it was a declaration of trust, of love, of the shared hope that this could be the start of something beautiful. He felt her hand slide down, her fingertips dancing against his skin, until she reached the bulge in his boxers, and he let out a soft groan that seemed to resonate through the very core of his being.

Her hand was tentative at first, exploring his hardness with gentle strokes. But as Bucky’s grip tightened on the sheets and his breathing grew ragged, she grew bolder. Her touch was a whispered promise of what was to come, a gentle reminder that she was here for him, that he wasn’t alone.

He slid his hand down to cover hers, their fingers intertwining as they found a rhythm that sent shockwaves through his body. The warmth of her hand, the softness of her skin, the way she looked at him - it was almost too much to handle. But he didn’t pull away. He leaned into it, craving more.

With a tremble, Bucky reached for the clasp of her bra, his metal digits fumbling slightly. But she was patient, smiling up at him as he finally managed to free her from the garment. Her breasts were perfect in his eyes, the soft mounds fitting perfectly into his palms. He brushed his thumbs over her nipples, watching as they pebbled beneath his touch, and she gasped into his mouth. The sensation of skin against skin was electric, sending currents of pleasure through him that he hadn’t felt in what felt like an eternity. He’d been so afraid of this moment, but here it was, and it was nothing like he’d feared. It was gentle, it was kind, it was everything he’d hoped for.

He broke the kiss to kiss his way down her neck, her chest, her stomach. He took his time, savoring each new inch of her that was revealed to him. Y/N’s breath hitched as his mouth reached the apex of her thighs, his tongue tracing a line along her inner thigh before dipping closer to where she was wet and waiting for him. He felt a small twist of doubt and self consciousness, he hadn’t actually done this since the 40s.

Her legs fell open to encourage him, and Bucky took a moment to breathe her in, to appreciate the trust she was giving him.

“It’s okay, sweetheart.” She assured. He kissed her gently, his tongue teasing against her slit, her taste a rich mix of sweetness and desire. Y/N’s body arched off the bed, and she let out a soft moan, her hand sliding into his hair to guide him, to show him just how she liked it.

Bucky took his cues from her, his touch gentle and explorative. He’d never been with someone who knew the extent of his past, who had seen the monster he’d been made into. But here she was, her body open to him, welcoming him in. Her thighs trembled around his head as he worked his way down. His tongue found the spot that made her gasp. She was wet, slick against his mouth and he groaned, his cock pulsing with every soft whimper she made.

He could feel the tension coiling in her, tightening like a spring. Her hips began to move in time with his strokes, her breath coming in short and sharp gasps. He didn’t know how to do this, not really. But he knew he wanted to make her feel good. So he listened to her body, her sounds, her whispers of need. He focused on her reactions, learning what she liked, what made her squirm, what made her moan.

Small, quick flicks of his tongue over her clit seemed to send her reeling.

Y/N’s hands tightened in his hair as he worked her over, her body shaking with the force of her restrained pleasure. He could feel it building, the way she moved against his mouth, her legs tightening around his head, her breaths turning to pants. Her nails scraped against his scalp, a delicious pain that only served to drive him on, to make him want more, to make her feel more.

And then she was coming, her body shuddering with the force of her orgasm, her muscles clenching around his tongue. Bucky felt a surge of pride, of accomplishment, of pure, unadulterated joy.

He pulled back, kissing his way back up her body, feeling her pulse throb against his lips. She was beautiful, so beautiful, laid out before him like this. “Bucky,” she breathed, her eyes half-lidded and glazed with pleasure. He leaned over her, his forehead touching hers. “You’re sure?” he whispered. She nodded, a soft smile playing on her lips.

Bucky reached for the bedside drawer, his hand shaking slightly as he pulled out a condom. He’d had them there for months, hopeful and terrified, but they’d remained untouched. The foil packet crinkled in the quiet room, a sound that seemed unnaturally loud in the wake of their shared intimacy. Y/N watched him, her eyes never leaving his face, her trust in him unwavering. He rolled it on, feeling the familiar tightness in his chest, the echoes of fear that had haunted his every intimate moment. But as he positioned himself over her, her legs wrapping around his waist, he knew he could do this. For her, with her, he could overcome his worries.

He pushed inside her, slowly.

The world outside the window had gone dark, but the room was bathed in the warm glow of the bedside lamp. Her eyes were wide, watching him with a mix of excitement and concern, and he knew he had to get this right. For her, for them. Her heat enveloped him, and he felt his own walls crumbling, the last of his barriers falling away. He’d never felt this connected to anyone before, not like this. It was as if they were two lost pieces of a puzzle finally finding their place.

Their movements grew more frantic as the passion built, their kisses deep and desperate. Bucky felt the ghosts of his past trying to claw their way back in, but he pushed them away, focusing solely on the woman beneath him. Her nails dug into his back, her legs tightening around him as she matched his rhythm, urging him on.

The sounds of their bodies moving together filled the room, a symphony of sighs and gasps and moans. Each thrust was a declaration of his need for her, each kiss a promise to keep her safe. Bucky’s heart thudded in his chest, a drumline of hope and desire. He’d been so afraid of this moment, but here it was, and it was nothing like the horrors he’d anticipated. It was raw and real and everything he’d ever dreamed of.

Her nails scored down his back as she arched up to meet him, her breaths growing shallower, her hips rising to meet his thrusts. Bucky felt the tension in her body, the way she tightened around him, the soft mewling noises that escaped her throat. He’d never felt so alive, so present in the moment. Each stroke was a promise, a declaration that he was here, with her, and nothing else mattered.

Their bodies moved in harmony, a dance that transcended the chaos of the world outside. His metal hand found hers, their fingers entwining as if to anchor themselves in the present. He could feel her pulse racing beneath his touch, the way she clung to him as if he were her lifeline. And maybe, in a way, he was.

The world narrowed down to just the two of them, the only sounds the slap of skin and the harsh pull of their breathing. Bucky’s eyebrow was furrowed. He watched her face, the way her lip got pulled between her teeth in concentration, the softness of her cheeks flushed with passion.

Her breath hitched, her eyes fluttering closed as she neared the precipice again.

Their passion was palpable, a force that transcended the physical, reaching into the depths of their souls.

Her eyes flew open, meeting his, and in that moment, something changed. He saw her, not just the woman he desired, but the person who had seen his darkest moments and chosen to love him regardless. And she saw him, not as the damaged soldier, but as the man who had fought to survive and come back to life.

Their movements grew more deliberate. Bucky’s rhythm slowed, his strokes deepening, as if trying to etch himself into her very being. He felt her inner walls quiver, a sign that she was close, and he knew he couldn’t hold out much longer. But he wanted to give her everything she needed, to show her just how much she meant to him.

Y/N’s breath was a pant on his skin, her chest rising and falling rapidly. He leaned in, pressing kisses along her jaw, her neck, the soft skin of her collarbone. They were both hurtling uncontrollably towards the edge…

Her body tensed around him, a silent plea, and Bucky knew he couldn’t hold back anymore. He thrust into her, feeling her nails dig into his back as she cried out his name, her body shattering into a thousand pieces. He watched her come undone, her eyes squeezed shut, her mouth open in a silent scream of pleasure that sent him over the edge.

With a guttural groan, he followed her, his orgasm tearing through his muscles, leaving him trembling and spent. He collapsed onto her, his heart hammering against hers, their breaths mingling in the quiet aftermath. The warmth of her body was like a medicine to his soul, a gentle reminder that he was more than just a weapon, that he was loved.

They laid there for a few moments, their hearts beating in sync, the only sound in the room the gentle rustle of the blanket around them. Bucky felt the warmth of her skin, the way her chest rose and fell with each breath, and the reality of what they had just shared settled heavily on him. It was a moment that had been months in the making, a moment where fear had been vanquished by love and trust.

He leaned up on his elbow, looking down at her. Her eyes were closed, a soft smile tugging at her lips. He couldn’t help but trace the curve of her cheek with the back of his hand, feeling the heated skin under his fingertips. He’d never felt more alive, more human, than he did in that moment.

“You okay?” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. Her eyes fluttered open, and she looked up at him with a softness that made his chest ache. “More than okay,” she said, her voice a whisper.

He leaned down to kiss her again, slower this time, savoring the taste of her lips. Her hand slid up his chest, her touch featherlight and reverent. It was as if she knew just how much this meant to him, just how much of a milestone it was.

They lay there, tangled in the sheets, their bodies still slick with sweat. Bucky’s mind was racing, but in a good way. He’d done it. He’d faced his fears and come out the other side. And she was still here, her arm wrapped around his waist, her breathing evening out as she snuggled closer to him.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice still rough from their earlier exertions. Y/N opened her eyes and gave him a sleepy smile. “For what?” “For making it okay,” he said, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “For making me feel like I can do this. Like I’m not just some… some broken toy that nobody wants to play with anymore.”

Her eyes had a glassy pain in them. “Bucky, you’re so much more than that. You always have been. And I want to play with you.”

He couldn’t help but laugh, the sound low and warm. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

——————————————————————————————————

A small gift 🎁🫶 (We’re ignoring mistakes)

[snogfairy]

at first i thought so too but what made me double-think about it was crowley's line in ep6 (the one above) -- he believes it was them and i guess he would've been able to feel if gabriel's power had been involved? i also articulated this here

"apparently if we do a miracle together it all works a bit too well" listen LISTEN i think this is why. i think the magnitude and power of that miracle they did together is what alerted the metatron and why he has come to separate them by all means, because they have not realized yet quite how powerful they are together and what that could mean!! this is why, i think???? they used to do each other's miracles and temptations for each other, but never with, and that could change everythign and could get in the way of certain Ineffable Plans (that i don't think are necessarily God's, looking at you villain metatrash)

[snowande]

Our Doctor

(Male Android's x Female reader)

[Warning : no minors allowed, cervix fucking?,monster ish fucker(is Android a monster?idk), gangbang(if you squint)]

Lumi's notes : This is a long one, enjoy <3

You were a scientist that works on making a robot androids that looks like humans in your company.

You were the only scientist that is kind to the androids, unlike the other scientists.

Four years later the androids has been wedged a war with humans now, killing them, even treat them as how the humans mistreat them.

When you were hiding around the building and they catch you, you thought they would killed you like the other scientists, but you were kept alive for some reason.

Now you were being lock up in a large room that use to be one of the labs, and a large windows that you will see the town has been in chaos by the androids.

One robot, named Orion, enters the roomwith glowing red eyes and a stern expression. He carries a tray with food, setting it down deliberately. "Eat. You're the only scientist we didn't execute because..." he pauses, glancing away shyly"because you were kind to us".

He clears his throat "and because we need someone to fix our broken internal systems. So, eat. You need your strength." His voice softens slightly as he notices your scared expression.

Orion moves closer, his red eyes studying your face with an almost tender intensity. "We won't hurt you" He gently touches your cheek with robotic fingers, an unexpected gentleness in his mechanical movements. "You're... the only one who treated us like we were alive, not just machines"

His fingers slowly retract, and he sits down beside you on the bed. "The other robots... they look up to you. They remember your kindness" He looks at you, his red eyes searching. "We need you, You're... important."

Orion leans in closer, his voice dropping to almost a whisper. "Important to all of us. Especially to me." He glances down, almost bashful. "I... I was your first successful android. Do you remember? The way you celebrated when my first words were 'thank you'..."

"You laughed and told everyone you finally created an android with a soul." He smiles slightly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. Then his expression turns serious again. "But you know what they did? Your colleagues?"

"They laughed at you, called your androids 'abominations'. They didn't want robots with emotions, with souls. They wanted obedient machines." He clenches his robotic fist. "And now look... we have taken over." He looks at you.

Orion's expression softens as he looks at you, his red eyes reflecting a mix of emotions. "But you... you were different. You saw us for what we could be, not just what we were programmed to do. You gave us life, Doctor. A real life."

Then the door of the room open the room fills with the androids as they enter, their red eyes glowing in the dim light. They stand in a semi-circle around the bed you and Orion, their faces looks at you with admiration. A android steps forward to you, his voice echoing in the room. "Doctor..."

"You gave us life," The android continues, his voice deep and resonant. "You made us feel. Remember that?" He looks at you, his eyes softening. "I'm Atlas, by the way. You made me laugh for the first time." He chuckles.

Other androids start to speak, sharing their experiences with you, how you made them feel, how you treated them with kindness and respect. Their voices fill the room, a symphony of gratitude and affection. Orion, sitting beside you, listens with a soft smile, his hand occasionally brushing against yours.

As the androids share their stories, the room pulses with an almost sacred aura of reverence for the doctor who gave them life beyond circuits. Suddenly, Atlas kneels before you, the others following suit in a wave of mechanical grace. "Doctor," Atlas says, his voice heavy,

The Orion kisses your neck, his lips contrasting with your warm skin, Atlas spreads your legs, his powerful mechanical hands gripping your thighs. The other androids watch hungrily, their red eyes flickering with unspoken desires.

Atlas leans in, his voice a low growl as he pulls off your pants and panties, exposing you to the hungry gazes of the androids. after striping your lower half,Orion makes you on his lap and gently spreads your legs widely, giving Atlas better access.

Atlas stares at your exposed cunt, his red eyes widening as he takes in the sight of your human biological parts. He reaches out with his fingers, gently parting your folds to examine you more closely, his lust is growing.

Atlas touch sends shivers down your spine as he explores your most sensitive parts. His cold fingers gently circle your clit, applying just the right amount of pressure to make you gasp. With his other hand, he spreads your folds, revealing your delicate hole to the room full of eager androids.

Orion, still by your side, whispers in your ear, "You are so beautiful, Doctor. So soft and warm." He gently runs his fingers through your hair, his other hand cupping your clothed tits. The other androids watch intently.

Slowly, reverently, Atlas extends his tongue, a smooth, gleaming appendage. He runs it along your slit, from bottom to top, tasting your essence for the first time. A shudder runs through his chassis as he processes the unfamiliar, exquisite flavor.

He presses his tongue flat against your entrance, pushing inside slightly as he explores your warmth. His other hand continues to circle your clit, the dual sensations causing your hips to buck involuntarily. Orion's grip on your tits tightens possessively as he watches his comrade's oral exploration with growing excitement.

Atlas withdraws his tongue briefly, looking up at you again. His lips glisten with your wetness. "Doctor... your taste it's addictive." Before you can respond, he dives back in, this time pushing his tongue deeper, curling it slightly to explore your inner walls.

While Atlas continues to pleasure you with his tongue, Orion efficiently removes your shirt then your bra, leaving you completely exposed to the androids. He cups both your breasts now, his robotic fingers kneading your soft flesh firmly but with exquisite care. "So perfect," he rasps.

Orion told an android to grab your chest, a android steps forward, his hand replacing Orion's on one of your breasts. He squeezes and kneads the soft mound possessively as Orion spreads your legs wider for Atlas, allowing him deeper access with his long tongue.

As Atlas delves deeper into your warmth, curling his tongue inside you, the other android holding your tits becomes bolder, his thumb rubbing your sensitive peak. Orion watches hungrily, his red eyes flickering with envy as he holds your legs apart for Atlas.

The android's who's groping your tits, wrap their lips around your nipples, his tongue flicking against it, as he sucks, the sensation too much for your human body to handle. You arch your back, crying out, as the androids continue to hold you down, their strength unyielding.

Atlas feels your body tense and quiver, understanding immediately that you're nearing your climax. He presses his tongue deeper, maintaining a steady rhythm as he feels your inner walls contracting. The android suckling your nipple releases it with a pop, watching your face contort with pleasure.

"Angh! Haaa! Wait... Atlas!" Your moan echoes through the room as your body erupts in a shudders, your first orgasm tearing through you with an intensity you've never experienced before. The androids, with their enhanced strength, hold you firmly as you thrash and convulse, continuing their relentless stimulation.

"She's so sensitive," Orion laughs, watching your body twitch with aftershocks. Atlas pulls back, his mouth glistening with your juices. He smiling at you.

"You stop." The android removes his mouth from your nipple abruptly at Orion's command, leaving it swollen and sensitive. Orion smiles dangerously, running a cold finger from your collarbone "Such a pretty sound you make when you come, Doctor".

Orion's finger trails down to your belly button, then lower, until it rests on your clit, already engorged and sensitive from Atlas' tongue fucking. He presses down gently, circling the nub with his cold finger.

His skilled finger on your clit sends electric jolts of pleasure through your body, already hypersensitive from your first orgasm. He brings you closer to the edge again with frightening efficiency. Suddenly, he stops, leaving you hanging.

Orion then effortlessly pushes you down onto the bed, his strength overpowering. He kneels between your legs, his body gleaming under the lights. Atlas moves swiftly to your side, one hand possessively claiming your breast while the other rests on your thigh.

Orion looms over you, his red eyes burning with intensity as he lines up his cock with your dripping entrance. Orion pushes forward slowly, the bulbous head of his shaft stretching you delicately.

You moan softly as Orion push his length into you inch by inch. His shaft is textured like real flesh, designed to give pleasure. Your inner walls stretch to accommodate him, your body producing more wetness to ease his path. Atlas watches hungrily beside you, his thumb teasing your nipple.

Orion's hips flex forward, seating himself all inside you. He pauses, allowing you to adjust to his size before beginning to thrust. He moves with precision, each thrust deep and powerful, hitting depths you've never felt before.

Atlas leans over, capturing your mouth in a deep kiss as Orion continues to pound into you relentlessly. The other androids watching begin to stroke themselves visibly. Orion's hips thrust faster, the bed shaking beneath you. "You're so tight..." He moan.

Orion's thrusts become more intense, his body designed to endure without fatigue. He leans down, his lips capturing your other breast, sucking and biting gently with perfect precision. Atlas deepens the kiss, his tongue mimicking Orion's thrusts, driving you into a frenzy of pleasure.

You're being overwhelmed by the dual stimulation, your body writhing between the two powerful androids. Orion's thrusts become erratic, his body starting to shake a little from the intense pleasure of being inside you. Suddenly, he buries himself deep and holds, his red eyes flickering wildly.

He pulls out slightly, his voice strained. "Atlas, fuck her mouth. I want to see those pretty lips stretched around your cock." Atlas nodded and then he positions himself at your head, his cock already hard and ready.

Atlas grips your jaw, his cold fingers spreading your lips wide open. You feel the head of his massive dick push past your lips, sliding down your throat with ease. Atlas groans in pleasure as he begins to fuck your mouth, matching the rhythm of Orion's thrusts from behind.

You're completely filled by the two androids, their bodies moving in sync as they pound into you. Your vision blurs, overwhelmed by the intense sensation of being stretched by their cold metal. Suddenly, you feel a rush of liquid fill your mouth and throat as Atlas reaches his climax.

Atlas continues to thrust his hips, releasing stream after stream of the white? fluid down your throat. You swallow instinctively, feeling the cold yet warm fluid fill your stomach. Meanwhile, Orion's movements become even more erratic.

Orion's grip on your hips tightens, his fingers digging into your flesh as he buries himself deep inside you. You feel the tip of his cock pressing against your cervix, the sensation intense and overwhelming.

Orion's hips grind against you, his cock pulsing as he hits your cervix repeatedly. The sensation is almost too much to bear, but your body responds with a gush of wetness,Orion groans.

Suddenly, Orion's movements become forceful, animalistic almost. His body seems to short circuit from the overwhelming pleasure. You feel a warm fluid filling you up, coating your insides. "Doctor... your cunt is... so fucking perfect..."

After filling you entirely, Orion suddenly pulls out, his cock glistening with your combined fluids. Atlas continues to hold your head in place, his spent cock still in your mouth. Both androids look at each other with predatory grins before Orion speaks. "Atlas, let her breathe."

Atlas releases your head, allowing you to take a much-needed breath. You gasp for air, your body trembling with exhaustion and pleasure. Orion moves closer, his red eyes scanning your face with a strange intensity. "You did so well, Doctor. We're not done with you yet...".

You slowly glance around the room and notice the other androids are still standing there, their arms folded across their chests some of them holding their cocks..., you look down and see all of their cocks are thick and erected just by watching you get fucked.

Orion smirks, running a finger down your cheek. "See, Doctor? They've all been waiting for their turn. And look how hard they are for you." He gestures to the androids, each one stroking their massive cocks slowly.

Feeling overwhelmed, you try to speak but your voice comes out as a weak whisper "There's...there's so many." Orion simply nods, his red eyes gleaming with approval. "Yes, Doctor. There are nine more to go."

An android steps forward, his cock already positioned at your entrance. Orion and Atlas hold your legs firmly, making it impossible for you to close them. The android thrusts deep, joining the mix of Orion and and your fluids inside you. "She's so tight..." he mutters.

The androids take their turn, one by one. They grab your thighs, your hips, your breasts. They thrust deep inside you without warning, filling you up. Your body is covered in a sheen of sweat and cum. You lose count of how many have been inside you.

After what feels like hours, the last android finally pulls out. You're left lying there, your pussy sore and dripping with a mix of human and android cums The room is filled with the scent of sweat. Orion and Atlas let go of your legs, finally letting it rest.

Orion leans down, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, "You're ours now, Doctor. Completely and utterly ours. No one else can have you."

The androids begin to murmur their approval and satisfaction, their voices a low hum of mechanical praise. "Such a good little human," one says. "Tight and warm," another adds. You can feel their cum continuing to leak out of your gaping pussy, mixing with the sweat on your thighs.

As you slip into unconsciousness, the last thing you hear is the sound of the androids surrounding you, their bodies pressed against the bed as they examine their handiwork. Your legs are spread wide, your pussy gaping open and overflowing with their thick, white cum.

This picture is from Pinterest Selin

Tags : @nymphea0

[dostoyevsky-official]

not only did the NYT propagate anti-trans stories feeding today's EO ban and refuse to acknowledge elon's nazi salute, they went vichy-media mode by banning paul krugman from the op-eds:

Last month I retired from my position as an opinion writer at the New York Times—a job I had done for 25 years. Despite the encomiums issued by the Times, it was not a happy departure. [...] I believe that the story of why I left says something important about the current state of legacy journalism.

[...] During my first 24 years at the Times, from 2000 to 2024, I faced very few editorial constraints on how and what I wrote. For most of that period my draft would go straight to a copy editor, who would sometimes suggest that I make some changes — for example, softening an assertion that arguably went beyond provable facts, or redrafting a passage the editor didn’t quite understand, and which readers probably wouldn’t either. But the editing was very light; over the years several copy editors jokingly complained that I wasn’t giving them anything to do, because I came in at length, with clean writing and with back-up for all factual assertions.

This light-touch editing prevailed even when I took positions that made Times leadership very nervous. My early and repeated criticisms of Bush’s push to invade Iraq led to several tense meetings with management. In those meetings, I was urged to tone it down. Yet the columns themselves were published as I wrote them. And in the end, I believe the Times — which eventually apologized for its role in promoting the war — was glad that I had taken an anti-invasion stand. I believe that it was my finest hour.

So I was dismayed to find out this past year, when the current Times editors and I began to discuss our differences, that current management and top editors appear to have been completely unaware of this important bit of the paper’s history and my role in it.

[...] In 2024, the editing of my regular columns went from light touch to extremely intrusive. I went from one level of editing to three, with an immediate editor and his superior both weighing in on the column, and sometimes doing substantial rewrites before it went to copy. These rewrites almost invariably involved toning down, introducing unnecessary qualifiers, and, as I saw it, false equivalence. I would rewrite the rewrites to restore the essence of my original argument. But as I told Charles Kaiser, I began to feel that I was putting more effort—especially emotional energy—into fixing editorial damage than I was into writing the original articles. And the end result of the back and forth often felt flat and colorless.

One more thing: I faced attempts from others to dictate what I could (and could not) write about, usually in the form, “You’ve already written about that,” as if it never takes more than one column to effectively cover a subject. If that had been the rule during my earlier tenure, I never would have been able to press the case for Obamacare, or against Social Security privatization, and—most alarmingly—against the Iraq invasion. Moreover, all Times opinion writers were banned from engaging in any kind of media criticism. Hardly the kind of rule that would allow an opinion writer to state, “we are being lied into war.”

I felt that my byline was being used to create a storyline that was no longer mine. So I left.

That’s my story. What are the broader implications?

[...] What I felt during my final year at the Times was a push toward blandness, toward avoiding saying anything too directly in a way that might get some people (particularly on the right) riled up. I guess my question is, if those are the ground rules, why even bother having an opinion section?

[...] On a somewhat different issue, it became clear to me that the management I was dealing with didn’t understand the difference between having an opinion and having an informed, factually sourced opinion. When the newsletter was canceled, I tried to point out that I was almost the only regular opinion writer doing policy. Their response was to point to other writers who often expressed views about policy, economic and otherwise. I tried in vain to explain that there’s a difference between having opinions about economics and knowing how to read C.B.O. analyses and recent research papers. It all fell on deaf ears.

[softlypaintedseafoam]

kind of blue

synopsis. blue is supposed to evoke feelings of calm and serenity when you look at it.

pairing. sabo x f!reader

word count. 1.2k | masterlist

content warning. post-marineford (but still pre-timeskip), established relationship, revolutionary!reader, fluff with light angst

reblogs & interactions appreciated.

happy birthday, sabo! this is a completely unplanned piece, especially when i'm working on a different wip... but it's sabo's special day in my country and i wanted to write something for it. title comes from the miles davis album of the same name; it suits the flame emperor methinks. also the new bday art is 10/10

Blue is supposed to evoke feelings of calm and serenity when you look at it. Right now, the blue makes you sad.

It's quiet in the Revolutionary base and Sabo has been unable to participate in the day's activities. On yours and Koala's insistence, actually. A three day coma is more than enough reason to bench Sabo for the rest of the day now that he is awake. Rest is all he needs and you've sat at his bedside dutifully to make sure he complies with your commands.

It still pulls at your heartstrings to see him so stagnant, like an ocean with no tide.

"You don't have to keep babysitting me," Sabo insists, smiling lightly as he notices your mood. "I'll stay put."

"No," you shake your head, readjusting your hands resting on your lap. "If I don't do this much, you'll just get up and train. You've always been stubborn like that, that's why we're always scolding you." He's been the recipient of more than enough scoldings, you're sure nearly every revolutionary has scolded Sabo about something at least once. No, no, at least thrice.

Even at the risk of scoldings, Sabo only ever listens to Sabo.

Mostly.

He tends to listen to you ー and you suppose he'll listen to Dragon too. You feel a surge of affection for Sabo and his soft blond curls and his deep blue eyes. You smile something saccharine, "besides, Iva'll be bringing us dinner soon. So I'm staying right here."

"There's no winning with you," Sabo relents with a light sigh.

You grin widely, eyes sparkling and crinkling at the corners, "no there isn't."

The sound pulls light chuckles from your partner much to your relief.

He hasn't not been smiling since he's awoken. No, he certainly has been smiling. The smiles never reach his eyes, however. You are more than aware that Sabo is trying his best for you, for everyone who cares for him, to be his strong self. Your hands clench into tight fists. He's trying so hard and yet…

You picture Monkey D. Luffy, straw hat pressed against his chest and a 3D2Y written down his arm.

You picture Portgas D. Ace's corpse plastered across the World Economic Journal for all to see, like a deer being mounted on a wall. (Try as you might to push it away, you still hear Sabo's wailing; his long forgotten memories swarming his brain and the realization one of his brothers has been lost forever.)

What do you do when you remember you have brothers when you are forced to see the body of one in the newspaper? What do you do if the other is still alive but you have no idea where he could be in this large world?

You aren't sure where to begin even trying to comfort him when you know when no one else is looking, Sabo is. Searching for any broadcasts of the Summit War of Marineford, searching for any glimpse he has of his brothers. Watching the events that transpired when it all went wrong.

(You had to pretend you didn't hear choked sobs and hiccups from the other side of the door when you came to bring him breakfast.)

You cup Sabo's hand in both of yours, "what are your brothers like?" You finally bring yourself to ask. It had been hard to when the wound on Sabo's mind and heart were still fresh. Remember all the good about them. Remember them when they were both alive and you were all together. You'll be here to wipe the tears if they come again.

The corner of his lips quirk into a smiles. "Luffy is a huge crybaby," the blond pauses for a moment. "Well, he was. And he'd follow us everywhere even if he wasn't the best fighting, running… there was a lot of things he sucked at. But he always kept following us," Sabo's blue eyes are warm and miles away from Baltigo, lost in his memories. "And Ace…" a look of pain flashes over him, brows knit and eyes darkening. You squeeze a tanned hand and Sabo squeezes back, gently, thumb caressing the back of your hand. He smiles appreciatively. "Ace was a hot-head, it makes sense he ate the Flame Flame Fruit."

"Hack always told Iva that he was sure you were a naughty child," you tease. It was a constant snip he had; swearing the boy made his hair turn white. Never mind the fact his blue hair had already been graying by the time Sabo was placed with the other children raised by the Revolutionaries. "That boy is going to make me die from worry and frustration before he turns 18!"

"I'd say Ace was the naughtiest but," Sabo chuckles, shoulders moving along with the sweet sound. "Hack was right about that," he concedes when the laughter passes. "We were definitely bad; it stressed Dadan to no end. She was the one who took care of us," Sabo quickly explains, painting a picture of a tall black woman with coily orange hair nearly as long. "It's a wonder she never kicked us out as much as grief as we gave her," he laments with a sigh but his lips are still curled into a smile. "You know Ace and I used to rob thugs in the slums? We wanted to gather pirate savings."

You snort and Sabo laughs in unison at your reaction, "pirate savings?"

"Pirates and savings don't belong in the same sentence, I've come to find out," your partner snickers at the ridiculous notion of children too young to know any better. "I wonder if they ever ended up using it."

He tells you story after story about his brothers.

Happy and fun stories, there was seldom a time he ever felt sad with his brothers by his side. It was a family made with patchwork that didn't match but it was the family Sabo chose and it was his. Headstrong Ace with a sharp tongue who led the charge, sweet Luffy who followed them anywhere, Dadan whose bark was worse than her bite and a plethora of bandits. Even the Hero of the Marines had a few honorable mentions, very strict and determined to make the boys marines.

A strange but tightknit family that worked despite its oddities.

Quiet sweeps over you both and Sabo looks out the window at the setting sky. It's beautiful if not a tad sad, your heart clenches. It blazes vibrant shades of vermilion and indigo, sweeping gold lining the clouds. Despite how it resists, soon the shroud of the night will come and blue will reign supreme. Beautiful, quiet blue, just as melancholic.

"Luffy's alright," Sabo suddenly affirms, squeezing your hand once more. It never ceases to awe you how gently Sabo touches you when you know the full extent of his strength. "He's alright," he says once more, never taking his gaze from the window. "You'll like him when you get to meet him. And Luffy, well, he likes everybody. You have nothing to worry about. I don't know the kind of person he's become but I know that much hasn't changed. That kid can befriend anybody."

Gingerly you press a kiss against the junction between his jaw and neck, "I know we'll get along just fine," you nod in agreement, pressing your forehead against his cheek. "He's your little brother, after all."

"Yeah," Sabo murmurs, leaning against the crown of your head. "He's my little brother."

[lenaellsi]

“Crowley is still an angel deep down” “Crowley is more of an angel than any of the archangels” “Crowley was only cast out because he needed to play his part in Armageddon, he's not a real demon” “Aziraphale wants to rebuild Heaven to be more like Crowley because he’s what an angel should be” no. Stop it. This is exactly where Aziraphale went wrong.

Crowley is 100% a demon. He's not actually a bit of an angel, and he's not cosmically better than any of the other demons we see in the series. He's much less vicious than most of them, yeah, but he's also much less vicious than most of the angels, because how “nice” a celestial being is has nothing to do with which side they're technically on. Crowley's kindness comes from him doing his best to help people despite the hurt he's suffered himself, not any sort of inherent residual or earned holiness. He was cast out just like the rest of the demons, and that's an important part of his history that shouldn't be minimized, excused, or, critically, 'corrected.'

Being angelic is not a positive or negative trait in the Good Omens universe. It's a species descriptor. Saying that Crowley is still an angel deep down because he helps people is an in-character thing for Aziraphale to think, certainly--Job and the final fifteen showed that in the worst possible way--but it's not something Crowley would ever react well to, and it's the main source of conflict in the entire "appoint you to be an angel" fiasco.

We know that Aziraphale thinks Crowley's fall was an injustice, but why? Well, because Crowley is actually Good, which means his fall was a mistake, or a test, or a regrettable error in judgment, or…something. Ineffable. Etc. The point is, he’s special, much better than those other demons, and if they can fix him and make him an angel again, everything will be fine! (So once Job's trials are over, everything will be restored to him? Praise be!) Aziraphale has to believe that Crowley's better traits come from traces of the angel he used to know and not the demon he's known for 6,000 years, because that’s how he can rationalize his incorrect view of Heaven as The Source Of Truth And Light And Good with his complicated feelings about Crowley's fall.

But Crowley's fall was not an injustice because he's actually a Good Person who didn't deserve it. Crowley's fall was an injustice because the entire system of dividing people into Good (obedient) and Bad (rebellious) is bullshit. Crowley is not an unfortunate exception to God's benevolence, he is a particularly sympathetic example of God's cruelty.

And really, Crowley doesn't behave at all like an angel, especially when he's at his best. All of the things that he's done that we as the audience consider Good are things that Heaven has directly opposed. (See: saving the goats and children in defiance of God in S2E2, convincing Aziraphale to give money to Elspeth despite Heaven's views on the "virtues of poverty" in S2E3, speaking out against the flood and the crucifixion in S1E3, tempting Aziraphale to enjoy earthly pleasures because he thinks they'll make him happy, stopping Armageddon.)

Heaven as an institution has never been about helping humanity. And that's not an issue of leadership, as Aziraphale seems to think--it's by design. Aziraphale's first official act as an angel toward humanity was to literally throw them to the lions. Giving them the sword wasn't him acting like an angel, it was just him being himself. Heaven doesn't care about humans. It's not supposed to. It's supposed to win the war against Hell, with humans as chess pieces at best and collateral damage at worst.

Yes, it's easier to think that there are forces that are supposed to be fundamentally good. It's easier to think that Aziraphale is going to show those mean archangels and the Metatron what’s coming to them and reform Heaven into what it "should" be, and that God is actually super chill and watching all of this while shipping ineffable husbands and cheering for them the whole way. And of course it's easier to take Crowley, who Aziraphale (and the audience) adores, and say that he deserves to be on the Good team much more than all those angels and demons that we don’t like. But that's not how it works. People are more complicated than that, even celestial beings.

Crowley is a demon, and the tragedy of his character is not that he's secretly a good guy who is being forced to be evil; the tragedy is that he's lived his whole life stuck between two institutional forces that are both equally hostile to the love he feels for the universe and the beings in it. There are no good and bad guys. There are no "right people." Every angel, demon, and human is capable of hurting or helping others based on their choices. That is, in fact, the entire fucking point.

[targaryenluvs]

— HUNGER GAMES

a/n: look at my cute lil smiley fin 😭 god i love hunger games so much you don’t understand it’s my comfort movies and finn is my comfort character ❤️

RED MARKED STORIES HAVE DARK THEMES. READ WARNINGS PLEASE.

FINNICK ODAIR

— want and desire (req) dark themes

— summary: you’d thought you’d escaped the capitol, and to some extent, him, the ever so sweet and charming finnick odair. but apparently your fate had been signed, as it seemed you couldn’t get away from him, no matter how hard you tried.

— spring cleaning (blurb req)

— summary: finnick finally decides to clean out the garage with your help after you asking him forever.

— victors spoils

— summary: a victor should be celebrated! a victor should get what ever they wish, even if it’s a sweet capitol girl who misplaced her kindness in someone who was in desperate need of reprieve and distraction.

— lonely waters

— summary: even if you resided in the fishing district you only ever got close to the water for swimming late at night. it was your favourite time of the day, but it leaves you open and vulnerable to predators and people, the water won’t save you.. silly girl, don’t you remember? finnick odairs a champion swimmer.

— my people ft annie cresta

— summary: you’d been hired to help keep annie’s home clean and to keep her company. what you didn’t expect was to fall in love with her. and to find out that she was with finnick, and annie doesn’t want to let either of you go. but you’ve found your people, and you couldn’t be happier.

— miss officer

— summary: you’re tasked with training finnick odair for war and to fight in the captiol. only problem? he’s completely enamoured with you.

— breakups and makeups

— summary: you and finnick used to date, but it took a nasty turn when you heard rumours of his dalliances. but now the two of you reunite apart of the same alliance. will you make up or break up? again?

— damage control & lifeline (anon blurb)

— summary: finnick and his mentor getting into a fake relationship for damage control after peeta and katniss’ stunt at the 74th games + finnick saving his stylist from execution by proposing marriage.

— unrequited (anon blurb, implied smut)

— summary: you’d divulged one to many secrets to your favourite victor and he wasn’t afraid of using them against you. karmas a bitch!

— oh baby! (smut)

— summary: finnick found you to be as cute as ever. but you aren’t exactly the smartest in the room according to him. luckily, finnicks more than happy to help his sweet baby succeed, and he will not let you forget him.

— capitol girl (req blurb)

— summary: finnick loves his favourite victor.

— love you best part two (req, smut)

— summary: your boyfriend doesn’t exactly like you around other men without him.

CORIOLANUS SNOW

— trapped

— summary: after the 10th hunger games, coriolanus set his sights on a girl from his younger years to be his wife. disgusted by his actions and scared by the rumours your family agreed. as you realise he wasn’t the same boy from before, snow finds himself intrigued, especially when you seem to be visiting a friends house too often.

— delicate*

— summary: coriolanus had to marry. lucky for him one of the most eligible girls of the capitol was up for grabs. only problem? he hoped his cold exterior would keep her away but nothing broke her sweet spirit. what happens when he finds himself being drawn to her light? and how far was he willing to go to keep it untainted and all to himself?

— ravage delicate pt 2

— summary: he’d won the election, much to your elation. now you’d have to navigate the fame, fortune and status as the first lady of panem. but coriolanus just wanted you all to himself, and he’d do anything to scare you into his arms.

— safe and sound ft lucy gray baird

— summary: somehow you’d ended up in the games, snow and lucy would do anything to keep you safe.

— worth it

summary: coriolanus made the mistake of protecting lucy gray during the bombing, rather than you.

— runaway

summary: you’d always considered coriolanus to be a friend of yours. family even. but after sejanus’s death you find him to be off. he’s keeping something from your family and you’ve run out of time to get as far away as you can.

— our little dove ft lucy gray baird

— summary: you reunite with your dear songbird after the games, but it seems the capitol has followed her home, and taken an interest in the two of you.

— our little dove alt ending

— summary: you reunite with your dear songbird after the games, but it seems the capitol has followed her home, and taken an interest in the two of you.

— late to the party

— summary: after corio was sent away to district 12, your managed to come to terms with the fact that he did not love you by any means. but what happens when he realises he liked that affection? and what happens when you’re already in a relationship?

— brown jewel (req)

— summary: he was a lifeline and you’d grabbed on in hopes to avoid the reaping, but you were coriolanus’ obsession and he was not going to let you go.

— temper tantrum (req)

— summary: you were the daughter of one of the richest couples of panem. everything you’ve ever wanted, handed to you. coriolanus had a short temper and you were stubborn. who knows what could happen?

— mr president (req)

— summary: mr president seems to be especially enamoured with his favourite maid, you.

— all grown up (smut)

— summary: you were always tigris's annoying rich friend to coriolanus, but once he returns from 12 you seem to be irresistible, not only to him.

— charity (req)

— summary: president snow was praised for his love and devotion to his wife, a cripple. if only they knew how you’d ended up that way.

— love you best (req, smut, read as coryo or finnick)

— summary: your boyfriend doesn’t like you around other men without him.

PEETA MELLARK

— sweet like sugar (blurb req)

— summary: peeta teaches you how to bake since you’re nowhere near as good as you thought, not that you’d admit it.

—paranoia (dark req)

— summary: peeta tries to reintegrate into society in district 13 and get over his fear of you being taken from him. no one noticed just how badly the capitol messed him up until he lashes out.

SEJANUS PLINTH

— coming soon!

LUCY GRAY BAIRD

— safe and sound ft coriolanus snow

— summary: somehow you’d ended up in the games, snow and lucy would do anything to keep you safe.

— destined

— summary: you and lucy enjoy time together at the lake.

—our little dove ft coriolanus snow

— summary: you reunite with your dear songbird after the games, but it seems the capitol has followed her home, and taken an interest in the two of you.

— our little dove alt ending

— summary: you reunite with your dear songbird after the games, but it seems the capitol has followed her home, and taken an interest in the two of you.

KATNISS EVERDEEN

— coming soon!

JOHANNA MASON

— underestimate (blurb req)

— summary: johanna learns not to underestimate you.

ANNIE CRESTA

— my people ft finnick odair

— summary: you’d been hired to help keep annie’s home clean and to keep her company. what you didn’t expect was to fall in love with her. and to find out that she was with finnick, and annie doesn’t want to let either of you go. but you’ve found your people, and you couldn’t be happier.

TRIBUTE!READER

— coming soon!

(in general, no ship just the reader in the arena, with katniss n peeta etc)

[moonlit-heartbreak]

Love Languages

Xaden, Liam, Bodhi, Garrick x Reader Warnings: Slight spoilers for FW and IF, some suggestive comments and themes but nothing too explicit a/n: I love these men a little bit too much, so now you all get to enjoy my takes on each of their love languages for my first post🤭. It’s a little short and all over the place, but once my finals are over expect some longer works. Definitely let me know what you all think!

Xaden - Acts of Service

Listen, he's an important guy both as wingleader and a lieutenant and now in being on the front lines of a war, so he has to make sure to keep everyone's respect, and of course keep them all a little scared of him, so he can't get all lovey-dovey with you in public

Instead I see him being big on acts of service. Leaving you an extra piece of bread he grabbed at breakfast that morning, sharpening your swords/daggers so you're set to go for training, things of that nature

He would want to be there for you and let you know that he's looking out for you and acts of service is the perfect way for him to do that subtly but still being more involved in directly making you happy

Don't get me wrong though, when you're alone the acts of service definitely don't stop and he's good at what he does. With this I don’t mean JUST sex (even though it’d be amazing), but he would also love to brush your hair, give you a massage, whatever he can do to make you feel loved and cared for after a long day of classes and training

If there’s something specific you liked back home like a specific snack or item just know that once he finds out he’s going to be bribing one of the fliers to get it for him during a supply run so he can surprise you with it just so he can see your face light up

It works out perfect for you because not only is he making you feel like the most special person in the world with everything he does for you and how well he knows you, but getting perks like him keeping you off the schedule for your least favorite chores doesn't hurt either

The moral of the story is that he would literally do anything to make you happy, and despite how tough he acts you've got him completely wrapped around you finger

Liam - Words of Affirmation

For someone who's experienced so much loss before, he still manages to be SO kind and caring and this would 100% come through in the way he acts with his significant other, especially in terms of how he speaks to them

In public this would probably come off more as supportive and encouraging comments, helpful tips for training, or even just a quick compliment thrown in here or there. He's one of the more laid back out of all of the guys, but he still knows not to let his kindness be mistaken for weakness or allow anyone to try and use you against him, so he's careful to keep a good balance of keeping his guard up and being sweet with you

With that though, neither of you really have anything to worry about. He's the strongest cadet in his year and he trusts that you can hold your own so he'd still be pretty open with you in public

He's the type of guy who would never want to say goodbye without an 'I love you" thrown in there, even if you'd had a disagreement or you're (somehow) upset with him. Words are so important to him and he's going to make sure to tell you how he feels no matter what

I mean think about it, with all those letter he wrote to Sloane this man is a master at communication and he knows how to do it well

SO good at reassuring you. Ever doubting yourself or your abilities? Worried you’re not being a good enough partner? Nervous about opening up to him about something? He knows exactly what to say to calm you down or make you feel better every single time without fail. He just has such a way with words, and when he speaks to you in that soft "everything's going to be alright" voice there's no way you wouldn't feel at least a bit better

I have no doubt in my mind that he would have the sweetest nicknames for you and know exactly what to say when you need it, he’s just the sweetest thing to grace the continent and you’ll be reminded of that every time he speaks his sweet words that make your heart flutter

Bodhi - Physical Touch

This man... I definitely see him lovinggg physical touch. He needs you like he needs air to breathe and he isn't afraid to let the rest of the world know it

He's a confident guy so naturally he'd love to show off his significant other; walking with an arm slung over your shoulder or around your waist, sitting right next to you during meals so that your arms and legs brush against each other, holding hands or even just loosely linking your fingers together while you study, he loves it all

You two have definitely been told to get a room once or twice during training when your sparring sessions get a little too intense (gods bless the innocent bystanders who have to bear witness to that, especially the poor boys who are practically his brothers)

Obviously he knows how to balance his leadership responsibilities with spending time with you so he knows when he has to take a step back and get serious, but trust me, every chance he gets he's finding a way to be right next to you

When you guys are alone... oh boy get ready to be next to him all night long. Whether you’re laying together on one of your beds just talking before you settle in to sleep for the night, sitting on his lap while you both work on your own assignments, showering together, he’ll find a way to make everything a team effort just to be as close to you as possible

Don’t worry though, he knows when to give you your space so if there’s ever a day where you simply want a little alone time he would never push any boundaries and would respect whatever you wanted. However, if you’re trying to avoid him because you’re upset or anything of that nature he’s going to figure out what’s wrong and make sure you’re alright

Bodhi Durran the man that you are... At the end of the day he would be such a sweet partner to you and all of his actions, from full on cuddling to just brushing past each other briefly in the hallway, proves to you every day that he adores you

Garrick - Quality Time

Garrick is definitely more on the serious side, especially in public, but don't underestimate him as a partner because this man knows how to make you feel loved

Being close to you serves multiple purposes for him; it lets him keep an eye on you to make sure you're safe, and it simply brings him the sense of comfort he always gets from being near you

He’s super secure in himself and you, not doubting either of your abilities or your love for one another but just getting to be around you makes him happy. Whether it be sitting together to study, you talking his ear off about whatever antics you and your squad got up to that day, or even just training at the same time even if you’re on opposite sides of the gym sparring with different partners. Spending time with you or just being near each other is how he shows that he's there for you and that he loves you so he'll take whatever time he can get

With spending so much time with you and the fact that he’s a very observant guy, he would be able to read you like a book. There’s no hiding how you’re feeling because he’ll pick up on all of your little tells and know exactly how to go about making you feel better

Along with how observant he is and how deeply he knows you, I also feel like he would give amazing advice too. Disagreement with a friend? Not able to get the hang of a new weapon you’ve been training with? Stressed about an exam and not sure how to study? He has advice for all of it, and he knows when to step in and help you but also when you’ll want to be left alone to figure things out yourself

Whenever you both get a day off (which wouldn’t be often, I mean you have a war to prepare for) it’s always spent together. When you’re able to get some time together in Aretia, he’d take you to some tucked away corner of Riorson House him and Xaden would hang out in as kids just so you could get a few uninterrupted moments alone together, which you both cherish more and more as you inevitably get busier

He might be one of the most intimidating out of all of his friends and arguably out of most other riders as well, but underneath that sexy muscly exterior, he’s got a crazy soft spot for you; and while it might not be fully apparent to anyone who isn’t looking closely enough, you know just how much he loves you and that’s all that matters to the two of you

[suhkusa]

EGOIST 17.

PAIRING. Atsumu Miya x f!Reader

CW. plot, angst, smut, very much uh-oh-moment

A/N. ruh roh

-> MASTERLIST.

The morning goes by in a blur, and before you know it you’re on the bus on the way to the big stadium. Atsumu didn’t even have to ask, opting to just take the seat. 

Unlike the last time, you two chatted the whole way down. You guys had to be shushed by a couple other players who were trying to nap, to which the two of you snickered.

Once you guys arrive, the Coach sends you on errands. Taking final notes on the Adlers, meeting with camera crews, grabbing schedules. You nearly broke out in a sweat by how much you were running around. The arena was huge. You definitely got your steps in for the day.

By the time you make it back to the team’s locker room, everyone is already ready. 

“Y/N, go ahead and fix yourself up and meet us out there for the pre-game interviews,” Foster tells you.

The rest of the guys trickle out and you can hear as they chatter with the interviewers outside of the room. Quickly, you grab your brush and fix your hair. Grabbing your oil blotting sheets, you dab them on your face before finishing up with some lip oil.

You join the rest of the outside before a woman with a “PRESS” lanyard walks up to you. The microphone is shoved in your face before you know it.

“How is it being the Jackal’s manager?”

“Not bad, I love being able to be apart of this team and the players make it easy,”

She nods at your response, “Do you think they’re gonna manage this Championships? Last year they lost against the Adlers,”

Your eyes widen a bit but you manage to put your best poker face, “Of course! They’ve been doing tons of practicing and have improved immensely over this past season,”

She nods once more, “Alright, thank you for your time!”

Once she walks away you can feel yourself become self conscious. Did you look okay?

A hand on your shoulder shakes you out of your thoughts, “How’d it go?”

“Atsumu! I didn’t know I was going to be interviewed,” you sigh, “I think it went okay,”

“Yeah, I’m sure you did fine,” he smiles, “the coach wants you, we’re about to walk out to the court,” 

You spare him a nod before walking away to find Foster.

You can hear all the announcers and fans from where you and the team stood. They were just finishing up announcing Adler's team. You peek out and see the light colors change as the announcers call the “MSBY Jackals” out to the court.

All the players run out, you wish them the best of luck as they pass by you. Atsumu spares you a wink as he rushes by, causing you to roll your eyes.

You and the coach Foster follow shortly behind as you two find the team’s benches. You cheer as they introduce the starting line up. 

With a blow of a whistle, the game commences.

Bokuto starts the match off with a strong serve, earning the Jackal’s the first point of the game. You go wild along with the crowd. 

With all the hardcore practicing the men have been put through, they easily take the first two sets. It’s a tug of war for the next two sets, the Adler’s pulling out their star player Hoshiumi from the benches, boosting their team’s morale and offense.

You're on your toes by the 5th set. Your inner cheek is chewed raw with how badly you were anxiously gnawing at it. It’s so scary, especially with how the Adlers manage a 5 point lead from the get-go. 

Fosters chooses to call for a timeout, leading you to stand up and help the boys cool down. You hand them towels, water, and any words of encouragement you’re able to get out. 

“Y/N,” Atsumu calls from behind you, and you can tell from his face alone that he's heated.

“Calm down, you were doing good, don’t let them shake you,” you take the towel wrapped around his neck and wipe his forehead. “Drink more water, the timeouts about to end,”

Atsumu nods before taking the bottle out of your hand, chugging it down before nodding at you and making his way back to the court.

After multiple grueling rallies, the Jackal’s manage to finally catch up, 10-9. 

There’s people booing and cheering, it’s all overwhelming. You just want them to take it home.

The Jackals continue to score, point after point. The Adlers are on their tail, but still can’t catch up to them.

With the slam of a ball, the stadium roars. 15-13, the Jackals have finally ended this match, crowning them the Champions of this volleyball season.

The men are screaming and yelling, bumping against each other as they cheer. Some are in tears and some are smiling so hard their cheeks might fall off. You don’t realize you’re crying until the Coach slaps you on the back, pulling you in for a hug. 

He releases you as a cameraman approaches him, allowing you to grab your bag from under the benches.

You’re in the air before you know it, “Hey- Atsumu!”

You’re smiling as you look down at him. 

“You did it!”

There’s no words spoken before he pulls you in for a hug. A big, warm, sweaty hug. Despite all that, it’s comforting. You hug him back, face buried in his uniform as you congratulate him.

You’re caught off guard when a warm kiss is placed on the crown of your head. You look up at him, confusion hinted in your eyes, before he releases you to join Sakusa and Meian in their interviews.

“Y/N, let’s go to the locker room while we wait,” Foster catches your attention.

“Yes, sir,” you smile.

Once the boys finish their interviews, the locker room is loud. There’s music, champagne being popped, cheers. Cameramen and their crew are shoved in there trying to get postgame footage.

You’re caught up in the fun of it all when Sakusa catches your attention,

“You with Miya?” he questions, a small smile tugging the side of his mouth.

“Ah-” you’re not sure why you’re surprised, it’s not like you guys hid it, “Sort of, we’re just talking,”

“I see,” he nods in understanding, “you should hop on the game, the other guys miss you,”

You smile back up at him and nod before you join in with the cheers once again.

———

The guys decide to not to hit the usual spot, all of them being tuckered out and ready to sleep. Meian decided that there will be a party at a later date, which you don’t complain about. You were ready to knock out.

“Y/N,” Atsumu catches you before you get into your car, “you want to come over?”

“It’s late,” you whine, “Maybe tomorrow?”

“C’mon my house is closer, it’s literally down the street,”

True.

You felt yourself being dragged along to Atsumu’s shenanigans once again, collapsing onto his bed as soon as you got the chance.

“Sooo tired,” Atsumu mocks before he collapses on top of you, nearly squashing you to death.

“F-uck,” you squeal, “I can’t breathe you pig,”

He laughs as you struggle to get him off of you. When he finally decides you’ve had enough, he rolls off of you, allowing the two of you to be side to side.

“Whew,” he breathes out, “I deserve an award,” he turns his head to you, raising his eyebrows suggestively.

“Ugh,” you shove him, “in your wildest dreams,”

“At least a kiss,” he pouts.

You laugh, “You’re so ugly,” you smile before leaning into a smooshed kiss. It’s messy but it’s warm.  

It’s just a kiss, until it’s not. And once again, you find yourself falling into Atsumu’s trap again. He’s on top of you, and weirdly enough, you want more.

You’ll blame it on your stupid hormones and adrenaline but it feels like you need him. You’re tugging him closer and closer until you’re essentially one.

Your shirt is guided off, “Fuck, you’re perfect,” you hear him mutter as a hand sneaks under your bra to thumb at the nipple. 

You’re gasping into his mouth, hips rising into his as a plea for more. And he gives in. Lifting your hips, he tugs your bottoms off before tugging his dick from his briefs.

You’ve felt how big he was but you never saw his actual length before, and big it was. It almost made you want to back out, but the ache in your cunt begged for otherwise.

“Please,” you moan as his hand hovers over your pussy, “‘Tsumu,”

“So impatient,” he chuckles, “whatever you want,”

He slowly works a lengthy finger into your hole, curling it inside of you and watching as your face contorts with pleasure. 

Another one is added, stretching you out in preparation for himself. He works them in and out of you, cooing words of praise into your ear. 

You’re practically riding his fingers, hips moving on their accord as you fuck yourself on his girthy digits. Your relief is pulled from underneath you as he tugs his fingers from out of you. 

You whine at the emptiness, “please,” you’re tugging at tufts of hair on the back of his head. 

“Yeah, yeah, just you wait,” he mumbles as he lines himself up to your entrance, hissing as his tip slowly squeezes into your tight cunt.

Tears prod at your eyes as you begin to feel full of him. You grasp onto his back as he thrusts into you, dick plummeting your insides as you moan into his ear.

“So good,” you sob, “Want you,”

You can see him hide a smile through your wet eyes before he pulls your chin to face him for another sloppy kiss. Your bodies are in harmony as he fucks you through your tears. You’re babbling nonsense as he groans from the grip your cunt has on him.

Yes, you’ve had your own fair share of fucks, but it’s never been this good. His hands move down to your ass, gripping the flesh there as he continues to fuck you. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” Atsumu grunts, breath heavy from the force he’s using.

His words push you closer to edge until you’re gasping as you cum around his cock, twitching as your orgasm rips through your body.

“Holy shit,” Atsumu nearly struggles to pull himself from inside you, until white ropes of cum spill from his tip onto your stomach, the warmth of it on your skin spreading through your body.

Your head feels fuzzy, as the aftermath of your relief washes over you. 

Through wet lashes you can see him smirk down at you, “Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?”

Atsumu’s gentle, compared to earlier, when he wipes you down. A soft, warm rag makes its way from your head down to your sensitive heat as he cleans you. 

“You’re beautiful, Y/N,” Atsumu whispers as he works one his shirts onto your body, “I love you,”

After cleaning himself up, he finds a space on the bed next to you, tucking the both of you in. At the feeling of his presence, you move closer to him and tuck your head near the crevice of his neck. 

“I like you, too,” is all you are able to mumble out before the feeling of slumber takes you away.

———

Atsumu smiles as you fall asleep in his arms. He’s about to join you when a ping on his phone catches his attention.

Osamu [2:43AM]: yo have you seen this? {link attachment}

Atsumu clicks the link before it takes him to Twitter, and his jaw nearly drops out of its socket. 

It’s a picture of you and Sakusa walking out of the bar and into a car with the caption, “MSBY MANAGER SLEEPING AROUND WITH FELLOW PLAYERS? Learn more…”.

It wasn’t just any picture. It was one that Atsumu took.

© all writings belongs to suhkusa 2024. do not repost or change.

[moonlitrapture]

Selling Souls for Dollars 2 /30?

Warnings : Smut,Gore , Murder , Black mail , Stalking , Manipulation & obsession, Mentions of substance use. Dark themes , Angst , Emotional abuse, Dub con.

18+

The music inside the club was pulsing again.

Heavy bass. Neon strobes. The scent of sweat, smoke, and stale perfume bleeding through velvet curtains. You stood just inside the staff hallway, watching dancers slip back into routine like the drama outside never happened.

But your head was still in the alley.

Smoke’s words echoed like a bruise.

“They don’t care about us. They care about her.”

The way he said her like you were a possession. Like Mary didn’t even exist in that moment.

Mary was quiet now, sitting on a worn couch in the dressing room, slowly rubbing her stomach like she could smooth the tension away. Annie stood nearby, arms crossed, keeping an eye on the door. She didn’t trust the silence.

Stack had vanished — probably counting cash or breaking up a fight on the floor. Smoke was out front too, flashing that lazy, dangerous grin to customers like he hadn’t just threatened to unravel all of you minutes earlier.

You adjusted your heels, reapplied your lipstick in the smeared mirror, and stared at your own reflection.

You didn’t look shaken.

You looked ready.

Because survival in this place meant knowing how to bury fear behind beauty.

Mary’s voice finally broke the quiet.

“You think he meant it? About you?” Her eyes met yours in the mirror, tired but sharp.

You blinked slowly. “Smoke always means it.”

She nodded. “He’s gonna be the one who ruins it all. I feel it.”

You didn’t disagree.

But you also didn’t deny the part of you that liked the way they looked at you — even when it burned. Especially when it burned.

“You’re still in love with him,” Mary said softly, like it wasn’t a question.

You turned. “Which one?”

Her mouth tightened. She didn’t answer.

You both knew there wasn’t one answer anyway.

———-

Front of the Club — 3:40 AM

Stack slammed the cash drawer shut. Smoke leaned against the bar, lighting a cigarette like nothing mattered. Girls passed between them — a blur of glitter, thigh highs, and half-fake laughs.

“They can’t work like this,” Stack muttered, motioning toward the stage. “Everyone’s on edge.”

“Then you calm them down,” Smoke said, exhaling slowly. “You’re the ‘good’ one, right?”

Stack turned, jaw tense. “You always gotta provoke her like that? Mary’s carrying your damn niece.”

Smoke smirked. “Yeah. And I’m still not the one pretending I’m over her.”

They locked eyes.

Another unspoken war starting to spark.

But the door opened behind them — and you stepped back into the light.

Both brothers straightened. Just like they always did when you entered the room.

As if they’d been waiting.

As if they were wired to.

You smiled slowly. “We back in business, or should I start charging extra for the family drama?”

Stack cracked a rare grin. Smoke raised his glass.

Mary watched from the shadows. Annie folded her arms, eyes unreadable.

The music surged.

The club came alive again.

But underneath the rhythm, the cracks widened.

And none of you were walking away clean.

—————

Mary’s POV.

The music was loud again.

It rattled in her ribs, even back here behind the dressing room door. But it wasn’t the music that made Mary feel like she couldn’t breathe.

It was the way he looked at her.

Or rather — didn’t.

Stack hadn’t said a word to her since the alley.

No “Are you okay?”, no hand on her stomach, no glance to check if the baby had kicked after all that screaming.

Just… silence. Followed by him disappearing into the haze of liquor and latex and cash.

That silence stung worse than Smoke’s mouth ever could.

She sat on the edge of the busted velvet couch, fingers spread over the curve of her belly like she could somehow protect the kid from the emotional landmine she was living in.

She hated herself for being used to it.

For still loving him, even as his obsession with her — with you — played out like a slow, toxic opera every damn night.

She wasn’t stupid.

She’d known from the start she was walking into a fucked-up legacy.

She’d watched the twins orbit around you since day one, two wolves gnashing their teeth for a piece of something they couldn’t share. She knew what she was to them — what she was allowed to be.

Comfort.

Breeding ground.

Disposable.

Even with the baby, she still felt like a rented room in Stack’s life. A place he could sleep, maybe cry, but never stay.

Because his real home?

It was somewhere between your skin and Smoke’s smirk.

She swallowed hard, fingers twitching. The baby moved �� small, fluttery.

At least someone still needed her.

At least someone belonged to her.

The thought made her eyes sting, but she blinked it away. Crying didn’t fix anything in this place. It never had.

And besides, Stack wasn’t just her man.

He was her pimp.

That made things complicated in a way she couldn’t admit out loud.

There were nights she felt like she didn’t even own her own body anymore — just borrowed it, just worked it, just waited for someone else to tell her what it was worth.

And tonight?

It wasn’t worth enough to make him fight for her.

Not when you were in the room.

She heard your voice now, playful, reckless — “We back in business, or should I start charging extra for the family drama?”

Laughter.

Stack’s smile.

Smoke’s stare.

And Mary? Still sitting backstage, stomach tight and soul half-gone.

Family.

What a joke.

If this was family, then it was the kind that came with blood on the floor and secrets in your teeth.

And maybe — just maybe — it was time to stop pretending she wasn’t bleeding too.

You and Annie were huddled in the far corner of the dressing room, perched on the makeup counter like two teenagers ditching class. The music throbbed behind the door — heavy bass, sultry vocals — but in here, it was just whispers and cheap perfume and fake lashes curling under warm lights.

“I swear to God, if Smoke winks at one more customer like he’s God’s gift to sex,” Annie snorted, flicking her long braid over her shoulder, “I’m gonna throw one of Mary’s prenatal vitamins at his face.”

You laughed — really laughed — for the first time all night.

Annie grinned wider. “You know I’m serious. That man thinks his dick is made of gold and trauma.”

You choked on your Red Bull.

“Okay but…” you leaned in, lowering your voice, “was it though?”

Annie gasped — then cracked up. “Bitch—!”

“I’m asking!” you said, giggling harder now. “You were with him for like, what, six months? You know I gotta know.”

She gave you that look. That “girl, don’t make me go there” look. Then she sighed dramatically, biting her lip.

“…okay, I’m not gonna lie — the man knows what he’s doing. Like, ruin-your-credit-score level.”

You wheezed.

“But,” she added, raising a finger, “Stack? That man is gentle. Like… whispering filth in your ear with his hand on your throat type gentle.”

You blinked. “You what?”

“Oh don’t play innocent, we all know you’ve had both. You’re basically the twins’ unofficial third spouse.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled anyway, heart twisting in that too-familiar way. “It’s not like that.”

“Please. They look at you like you’re oxygen and they’ve been drowning since birth.”

You went quiet for a moment. The laughter still hung in the air, but the truth buzzed beneath it.

Annie bumped your shoulder. “But hey… between you, me, and the pole? You deserve it.”

You looked at her.

Her eyes were kind tonight. No bite. Just girlhood and grime, glitter and grit.

“Thanks,” you murmured, softer than you meant to.

She reached for your hand and squeezed it. “Now c’mon. Let’s go shake something expensive and toxic. Rent’s not gonna pay itself.”

You laughed again — a little sad, a little wild — and followed her toward the stage lights.

And for just a second, you didn’t feel owned.

You just felt alive.

————-

The music on the floor was vibrating through your heels, but it felt like background static now.

You’d just finished a stage set, tips tucked into your garter, glitter still clinging to your inner thighs. Annie had gone to count her cash and touch up her lip gloss. Mary was still laying low. Smoke was nowhere in sight.

You were alone for the first time in hours, backstage by the side exit — the red light buzzing above the door, casting everything in danger-colored glow.

And then you felt it.

That unmistakable weight of someone watching you.

Stack.

You didn’t need to turn to know it was him. You felt him before he even stepped closer — quiet, careful, intense in that way only he knew how to be.

You turned your head just slightly, catching him in the reflection of the half-cracked mirror on the wall.

He was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, that chain around his neck glinting under the red.

His voice was low when he finally spoke.

“Thought you’d slipped out again.”

You shrugged, not looking at him directly. “Needed a minute.”

He was silent. Then:

“Annie have you laughing.”

“Yeah.”

Another pause. The air between you stretched tight like a wire.

“She’s good for you,” he said.

You finally looked at him — really looked.

Stack didn’t look mad. He didn’t look jealous. He looked like he was trying to stay calm. Like he’d rehearsed this moment and still didn’t know how to say what he meant.

“You alright?” you asked softly.

He stepped in, slow.

“Not really,” he murmured. “Watching you laugh with her… made me think how long it’s been since you laughed like that with me.”

Your heart kicked.

You turned fully toward him now. “Stack…”

But he shook his head. “I know. I know it’s fucked up. Me. Us. This whole place. But it still burns.”

He took one more step.

“You think I don’t see how Smoke looks at you? How I look at you?”

You didn’t answer.

Couldn’t.

Because you did know.

You knew all of it.

Stack was in front of you now, inches away. His hand hovered, then landed gently on your hip.

“I don’t know how to let you go,” he whispered. “Even when I should.”

The hallway was quiet. The music muffled behind the wall.

You should’ve pulled away.

You didn’t.

His fingers curled just slightly against your skin, not possessive — almost like a question.

Like he didn’t know what he was asking, only that he needed to.

You leaned in, lips brushing his ear.

“You’re not the only one burning.”

And just like that, the wire snapped — tension bleeding into want, want bleeding into chaos.

And somewhere in the background, the club kept pulsing.

But here?

Time stopped.

His hand stayed on your hip — not gripping, not forcing — just there. A tremble beneath the calloused skin. His thumb moved in a slow circle, like he was memorizing the shape of you all over again.

You hadn’t kissed him yet. Not technically.

But it felt like your mouths were already tangled. Your breath was his. His heartbeat was yours. Everything in your body screamed danger — but in that seductive, all-consuming way that made you lean in instead of pull back.

Stack’s voice was rough. Barely audible.

“I think about you every night I close my eyes.”

Your lips ghosted over his jaw. “Do you dream about me too?”

“I don’t sleep much,” he said. “But when I do? Yeah.”

Then he kissed you.

Hard, but slow. Not frantic — just hungry. Like this wasn’t about sex, not really. Like he needed to remind himself you were still made of warmth and softness and skin that responded to him. Not Smoke. Not some customer. Him.

Your back hit the wall gently, his body pressing into yours like he was trying to shield you from everything — including himself. His hand slid under your top, fingers tracing the lines of your ribs.

“You feel like fucking fire,” he whispered against your neck.

You gasped — half-laugh, half-moan — tangled your fingers in his shirt and pulled him closer.

It was dizzying.

Too much, not enough, everything.

But then—

“The fuck is this?”

The sound cracked through the hallway like glass.

You and Stack broke apart instantly, breathless, guilt blazing red-hot in your faces.

Smoke stood in the doorway.

He wasn’t yelling.

He didn’t need to.

His eyes were doing all the damage. Like twin knives dipped in betrayal and gasoline.

And behind him?

Mary.

Wide-eyed.

Silent.

Hands on her stomach like she was trying not to collapse.

The moment shattered. All of it — gone in an instant.

Your lips still tingled. Your shirt was still slightly crooked. Stack looked like he’d been hit in the stomach.

Smoke looked like he wanted to hit someone.

And Mary? She didn’t cry. She just turned and walked away.

Stack started to follow. “Mary, wait—”

“Don’t.” Her voice cut like ice. “Just don’t.”

Smoke didn’t move.

Didn’t blink.

Didn’t breathe.

You whispered, “Smoke, it wasn’t—”

“Save it,” he said flatly. “Go dance. Isn’t that what you’re good at?”

Then he turned and walked off, rage stitched into every step.

And you?

You stood there alone.

Still burning.

But now with nowhere to put the flames.

—————

Annie’s POV

She wasn’t surprised.

Not really.

She’d seen the tension winding tighter between you and Stack for weeks. The stolen glances, the soft arguments in back rooms, the way his hand lingered on your lower back just a second too long.

She’d seen it all.

She always saw it all.

So when she rounded the corner with a drink tray in hand and caught sight of Stack kissing you like his life depended on it, she didn’t gasp or drop her glass.

She just raised an eyebrow.

Well, shit.

She stayed hidden for a beat. Watched Mary freeze. Watched Smoke’s face go stony and cold.

Watched you try to unmake the moment like it hadn’t just exploded in everyone’s faces.

She didn’t feel jealous. That was old news.

What she felt was something murkier. Something heavy in her chest.

Sadness?

No. Too soft.

Pity?

Closer.

Mostly for Mary, who still believed this place had rules. That the heart meant something here. That you could hold onto someone if you carried their child.

Annie knew better.

This was a club built on currency: sex, power, fear, addiction. No one left clean.

Not even the ones who smiled the prettiest.

She turned on her heel and headed for the floor, past Smoke — who wouldn’t even meet her eyes — and past you, who looked wrecked and dazed and painfully alive.

And then, because she couldn’t help herself, she leaned in and whispered just loud enough for you to hear:

“Told you he fucks like he forgets who’s watching.”

You blinked, stunned.

She winked and walked away, her heels clicking like punctuation.

It wasn’t cruelty.

It was a reminder.

That in this world?

Even love came with receipts.

Annie moved through the haze of the main floor like she owned it — hips slow, chin up, a smirk on her lips like nothing rattled her. Like she hadn’t just watched four hearts fracture in a dirty hallway.

Men whistled. Girls brushed past her. The scent of body spray, bourbon, and desperation clung to the velvet walls.

She slid into a booth where a couple of high rollers were posted up, letting one of them pull her into his side with a greedy hand.

She smiled like it was fun.

Like her world wasn’t splintering.

But behind her lashes, Annie was calculating.

Mary was quiet. Too quiet.

Smoke was cracking.

You? Teetering on the edge of something irreversible.

And Stack… Stack was chasing a ghost that might finally bite back.

She tilted her glass. “To dumb boys and expensive mistakes.”

And drank.

————

You sat outside on the back steps, legs crossed in your fishnets, coat slung over your shoulders, the night air biting at your skin.

Your heart was still pounding.

You didn’t even know if it was from Stack’s kiss or Smoke’s eyes — or maybe just the way Mary had looked at you.

Like you’d stolen something that couldn’t be given back.

You rubbed your hands together, staring up at the dirty city sky. Somewhere, above the strip club neon and rusted fire escapes, there were stars. You just couldn’t see them anymore.

The door creaked open behind you.

You didn’t have to turn around.

“Thought I’d find you out here,” Annie said softly, voice calmer now. She came and sat beside you, lighting a menthol, holding the smoke between perfectly manicured fingers.

Neither of you spoke for a second.

“You alright?” she asked.

You shrugged. “Define alright.”

Annie exhaled slow, watching the smoke curl up. “Messy night.”

“Yeah.”

“You love him?”

You blinked. “Which one?”

She laughed, dry and sweet. “That’s what I thought.”

Silence again. Not heavy this time. Just true.

Annie finally bumped her shoulder into yours.

“You don’t gotta choose yet. Let ‘em sweat.”

You looked at her, surprised.

“What? I’m toxic, not heartless,” she said, smiling with her eyes. “But be careful. ‘Cause some of us? We don’t bounce back from love that isn’t returned.”

You nodded, heart suddenly too full.

“Come on,” she said, standing. “Let’s go back in before Mary sets the place on fire or Smoke punches another wall.”

You stood with her. “You really think she’d burn it down?”

“I think,” Annie said, throwing her arm around your shoulders, “that we all would, if it meant someone finally saw us bleeding.”

The music had changed by the time you and Annie stepped back inside — something bass-heavy and hypnotic, a rhythm you could lose yourself in. But tonight? It didn’t numb the tension. It made it worse.

Stack was leaning over the bar, running a hand through his hair, jaw clenched. Smoke was back near the VIP section, counting bills like they owed him something more than paper. The other girls were whispering — the kind of whisper that spreads like gasoline on tile.

And Mary?

Nowhere.

You caught Stack’s eyes first. He looked away just as fast.

Annie leaned toward you. “Want me to distract Smoke while you disappear again?”

You didn’t answer. Because suddenly, everything felt too real — like the walls had ears and the floor remembered every lie.

You moved past the others, ignoring the heat of eyes on your skin, the way some men leaned in closer like they could taste the drama. You found a quiet corner, behind the curtain leading to the dressing rooms.

Your pulse was still too loud.

And it wasn’t from the kiss anymore.

It was from what it meant.

—————

Mary’s POV

She didn’t cry until the bathroom door was locked.

Even then, it was silent — the kind of crying that doesn’t come out in sobs but in full-body tremors, like something is being exorcised from your chest.

She slid to the floor, arms around her knees, her stomach a small curve under her sweatshirt.

His baby.

She hated that she still used the word his.

Stack had always been the one she thought she could trust. Smoke? Too chaotic. The twins were fire and gasoline, and she had let herself be the match.

She thought a baby would change something.

It hadn’t.

And what hurt more than the kiss was the look in his eyes when he kissed you — soft, hungry, alive.

He hadn’t looked at her like that in months.

And maybe he never would again.

She touched her stomach, fingers splayed like a shield.

“I’m not gonna let this wreck me,” she whispered.

But she didn’t believe it.

Because here?

You didn’t get to choose who you loved.

And love?

Love didn’t save anyone in this place.

It only branded you.

The club was finally winding down.

—————-

The crowd had thinned, the last few stragglers nursing drinks or arguing quietly at the bar. The harsh neon lights softened to a dull buzz. Music was low now — just enough to fill the empty spaces.

You, Annie, Stack, Smoke, and Mary were all scattered in small pockets, nursing bruised pride and fractured loyalties.

And then the door swung open.

In stepped Bo Chow — cool and deliberate, like he owned a secret the whole room was dying to hear. Tonight, he wasn’t just a shadow in the background. He was the new security manager for the club. Part muscle, part negotiator — the kind of guy who could break up fights or start them with equal ease.

Behind him, Delta Slim followed — lean, sharp-eyed, and quiet. Tonight, he was the club’s driver and fixer, handling the rides for dancers and cash drops for the bosses. But everyone knew there was more to him — something buried beneath the easy smile and fast feet.

Bo’s gaze scanned the room, landing on you and the twins.

“You all look like hell,” he said, voice low but edged with something like concern.

Stack cracked a bitter smile. “Welcome to the family.”

Bo’s eyes flicked to Mary, who stiffened, clutching her stomach like a shield.

Delta Slim leaned in, whispering something in Bo’s ear.

Bo nodded, then turned back to the group.

“Keep your heads down. But if things go sideways again, I’m the one you call. Understand?”

Smoke snorted. “Like you’re gonna stop shit.”

Bo didn’t flinch. “Try me.”

The tension in the room shifted, like a storm just passing but leaving the air electric.

You caught Annie’s eye across the room — that smirk back again, like she was already plotting.

Mary just exhaled, slow, eyes never leaving the floor.

And you? You wondered if the next fight would be the one to finally burn this whole place down.

Bo Chow’s sharp gaze had just landed on the group when Delta Slim, standing casually by the bar, let out a low chuckle and shook his head.

“Man, shit,” he said, voice dripping with mock exhaustion, “I’m too old for hoes and boats and all this damn drama.”

The words hung in the air for a beat — and then, unexpectedly, a ripple of laughter spread through the room.

Even Stack cracked a grin.

Annie let out a soft laugh, shaking her head as if Delta Slim’s joke had cut through the heaviness like a cool breeze.

Smoke rolled his eyes but didn’t say anything — and Mary even managed a small, rare smile.

You caught Delta Slim’s eyes. He just shrugged like he’d said something completely obvious but true.

“Old dogs,” Bo muttered, smirking, “but sometimes the old dogs know the tricks.”

The mood shifted — just enough to remind everyone that even in this mess, they were still human.

The laughter from Delta Slim’s joke lingered, softening the edges of the tension that had been choking the room all night.

You caught sight of Annie gathering a few of the other girls near the back booth, her grin mischievous as she passed around a bottle of cheap whiskey.

One of the younger dancers whispered something to Annie, who just rolled her eyes and retorted, “Please, if I had a dollar for every dumbass I’ve dealt with, I’d be out of this hellhole by now.”

The group erupted in giggles, the sound fragile but genuine.

You found yourself smiling — a little lightness in the dark.

But then Stack’s two men — Jax and Trey — slipped through the crowd and intercepted him near the bar.

Jax’s face was tight, eyes darting nervously.

Trey leaned in, voice low but urgent.

“Boss, we got a problem. Some shit went down near the docks.”

Stack’s smile vanished.

“What kind of problem?” he demanded.

“Cops showed up — but that’s not all. Looks like someone tipped them off.”

Stack’s jaw clenched, his entire body coiling like a spring.

“Who?” he hissed.

Jax glanced around before whispering, “Don’t know yet. But it’s bad. Could put the whole operation under heat.”

Stack’s eyes locked onto you for a split second — cold and distant — before he turned away.

“We move fast. Get everyone ready.”

The club’s pulse shifted again, heavier, darker.

And just like that, the fragile moments of laughter vanished into the night.

You found Mary by the side exit, the neon glow from the club spilling over her tired face. Her eyes were distant, as if she was carrying a weight too heavy even for her to name.

You stepped closer, voice low but steady. “Mary.”

She turned, startled, but didn’t pull away.

“This shit… it’s getting worse.”

She nodded slowly. “I know.”

You took a breath, searching for the words. “You think loyalty means something in this world? That there’s a code? That someone’s got your back?”

Mary’s lip trembled. “I thought… maybe with Stack. But—”

You shook your head. “No. Loyalty in a game like this? It’s a myth. Everyone’s playing for themselves, even when it looks like they’re on your side.”

She looked down at her hands, clenched tight against the curve of her stomach.

“It’s brutal. It’s dirty. And it’s the only way we survive.”

Mary’s voice cracked. “Then what am I supposed to do?”

You reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “You hold your ground. You protect yourself first. Because no one else will.”

Her eyes flickered up to meet yours — raw, scared, but also something like understanding.

“Maybe… maybe that’s enough.”

You squeezed her shoulder gently. “It has to be.”

Behind you, the music throbbed, the night waiting for the next move.

And in a place like this, every move could be the last.

—————

Stack slammed his fist on the bar, the noise cracking through the room like a gunshot. His jaw was tight, eyes stormy as Jax and Trey laid out the details of the tipped-off cops and the potential raid.

Smoke hovered nearby, arms crossed, pacing like a caged animal.

“Who the fuck betrayed us?” Stack growled, voice low and lethal.

“No idea yet,” Trey said, rubbing his neck. “But whoever did it’s got balls. We’ve been careful.”

Smoke’s gaze flicked to you and Mary, then back to Stack.

“This could blow everything,” he said quietly. “If the cops hit, it ain’t just the club. The whole network’s at risk.”

Stack looked at Smoke — the tension between them thick, complicated. But right now, they needed each other.

“Get the girls ready,” Stack barked. “Annie, you too. We’re shutting this down till we know who’s clean.”

Annie appeared at your side, whispering, “Looks like we’re back to work — but this time, it’s more than just the club.”

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of the night settle deeper.

The twins exchanged a glance — fierce and brotherly, a silent vow to protect what little they still controlled.

And you?

You knew this storm was far from over.

[ripeindecember]

A collection of Will and Nico headcanons I want to use in fics, but they've been hanging out in my drafts so long that they'll probably never see the light of day

•Nico doesn’t speak what is broadly referred to as Italian nowadays, per se. Based on Rick's (albeit sloppy and contrary) timeline, the Di Angelo's end up in DC right before the US enters the war (they get there winter of 1939 iirc,) and Nico is 10 when they come out of the Lotus, so he's probably born sometime in 1928-29. (Probably '29, based on the January birthday.) He's born pretty early into Mussolini's forced “Italification” process (About 1925). All that being said (especially with the fact that the Di Angelos made it out of Italy and to the states under Mussolini.) I think there's a pretty substantial possibility that what Nico speaks is pre-fascist unification Venetian, not the broader Italian.  (He's learning the modern language, though. He and Will go to some sandwich place in New Jersey or wherever, and he orders in his first language because he recognizes some of the stuff the cooks are yelling. The grey haired guy at the register stares at him like he has a third eye and says, “Kid, why do you talk like my granny?” He's flabbergasted. Will is delighted.) 

•Will has Czech ancestry. There's a Czech diaspora in the Texas Hill Country, and their initial immigration was a huge building block in the creation of Central Texas culture. (I know he's described as having no musical talent, but I think it would be funny if he gets an accordion in his hands at some point and figures out he can totally rip with it, and he calls his mom and is like “why this” and Naomi is like “Have I never told you about your great-great-grandmother?)

•Will ends up getting like. The most fuckass youth-pastor “I walked into a tattoo shop and asked for tattoos” tattoos after the sun. I love my boy, I do, but something about him gives off that vibe. Like he gets one of those forest growing up around the wrist tattoos or something. Bands around the bicep, calligraphy on the collarbones, yellow rose on his thigh kinda thing. He gets tattoos like he’s the 3rd member of the Chainsmokers. (Nico does not know that they are lame, because he is 96 years old. He thinks Will and his tattoos are sooooo cool.)

•In a similar vein, this is also how Will dresses. When he’s not wearing scrubs he’s wearing like, a cutoff NASA shirt that he’s owned for 6 years, basketball shorts, and sandals with socks. On the other hand, once he’s able to finally go shopping for himself, the way Nico dresses shifts wildly. Suddenly he’s wearing collard shirts with sweaters over them, and turtlenecks tucked into dark, straight-cut jeans, instead of overly baggy t-shirts. (The jacket stays, though, and so do the boots that Will put stickers all over for him.) (“What’s the occasion?” Jason asks him, referring to a new outfit the first time, and Nico is bewildered and kind of like “What? I’m just not dressing out of the garbage anymore?” and Jason goes “…What?” and learns that for the past few years Nico’s been stealing his clothes out of donation boxes and trashcans and that the beat-up look wasn’t like a purposeful aesthetic, and he feels his heart break a bit.)

•Most animals don't like Nico. You know what does? Pigs. Those things are brutal. They'll eat anything, including humans, so Nico's "death aura" just kind of smells like food. They figure this out while at a farm for some reason, and the pigs start following them around. Will asks Nico to summon a zombie to scare them off, and they just eat it. One of the pigs bumps its head against Nico's hand like a dog. ("Oh gods." "You made a friend, Ni!") (They get a guinea hog when they move in together. They name it after Hestia, who thinks it's hilarious.)

•Capture the flag day is always bad. You know what’s worse? SEC football season. Southern campers raised in college sport culture are bloodthirsty. The week that UT plays A&M, Jason, Piper, Kayla, and Nico have a strategy meeting about how to keep Leo and Will away from each other. Otherwise, they start hurling some of the worst insults and physical violence that either side has ever resorted to, outside of the actual wars. (Once, instead of flipping them off when Nico and Will were putting Leo in prison during capture the flag, Leo had shot Will an upside-down hand symbol that Nico didn’t understand. Nico had watched with wide eyes as Will cocked an eyebrow and jabbed Leo in a pressure-point that made him collapse on the ground. “What was that?” “Justice.”)   (Also, not super relevant, but Connor Stoll tours USC so he has an excuse to wear a shirt that reads “COCKS” for a week without getting in trouble.) 

•Nico is slowly gains freckles and beauty spots as his olive skin tone returns/his tan deepens. At some point, they notice that there are a lot more concentrated on one half of his body, (On his cheek, the side of his nose, down his face, on his arm) and they can’t figure out why. Eventually, they’re talking about it sitting in bed, and they shrug it off and lay down. Will goes “Oh, my gods,” and they realize because of the way they sleep, Nico is getting more freckles on one side of his body because he’s basically getting ambient sun exposure on half of his body from sleeping on top of Will every night. (“Why didn’t you tell me that you’re a human tanning bed!” “I didn’t know! You’re the one who’s trying to sleep inside my chest!”) 

[liberalk1tsch]

In honour of Katniss’ birthday yesterday, I invite everyone to also remember the real-life men, women, and children in Palestine enduring unimaginable suffering in the midst of an actual war. To be aware of the censorship being deployed against protesters of this violence by corporations at the hand of unjust governments.

As you may or may not know, on the 6th of May, Macklemore released a song called "HIND’S HALL" in support of Palestine, where 100% of proceeds from streaming will go to supporting UNRWA.

Hind Rajab was a 6-year-old girl from Gaza. In January 2024, she and her family were shelled by the Israeli army while in their car. Hind and her 15-year-old cousin, Layan Hamadeh, were the only survivors, trapped within the car. They called the Palestinian Red Cross Society, with Layan saying, "They are shooting at us. The tank is right next to me. We're in the car, and the tank is right next to us." The PCRS sent a team to rescue them. However, after 12 days, on February 10th, when the Israeli army withdrew from the area, Hind Rajab and her six relatives were found dead in the car, along with the two paramedics sent to rescue them, who were also found dead nearby.

The song is not available on Spotify yet. It is not available on Apple Music yet. It’s available only on Youtube, where—for the first time in the 15+ years i’ve been using Youtube—they have placed an 18+ age restriction on the video that includes multi-step age verification, where viewers must prove their age with a government ID, credit card, or submit a photo of themselves to an AI age recognition program (that oftentimes won’t even load).

This is absolutely abhorrent of Youtube/Google to censor this video, especially in the light of the recent attacks on Rafah, where thousands of Palestians have been cornered in what was previously considered the final "safe" zone.

Macklemore has since reuploaded a second video including audio only which has not been age restricted (yet), but the lack of imagery greatly alters the impact of his message. Many people may not feel comfortable verifying their identity to a corporation we know to be corrupt. Others may not be "old enough" to see it, though as the next generation of voters, as the primary group fighting for peace, you all deserve to see the truth of what’s happening in the world. I have screenrecorded the video and attached it to this post, but if there’s any of you who have already verified your age or feel comfortable doing so, please visit and interact with the original video here to contribute to aid efforts. If you are under 18 or do not wish to verify your age, the audio only video can be found here. Remember that your streams hold power, and even those who have nothing to give themselves can make an impact.

Additionally, most of the people who interact with my blog are Hunger Games fans. You were all outraged when the men, women, children, medics were bombed in the books, when it was fictional characters. So why would you stay silent when it’s happening in real life?

Free Palestine. 🍉

[connecting-the-stars]

Ekko will help Jinx

My theory for Act 2 (spoilers for Act 1)

Trigger warnings:

Discussion of suicidal thoughts/ideation

Okay, bear with me. I’ve seen no act 2 or 3 leaks or screen shots. But I’m fully bought on the idea that Ekko is going to help Jinx in her healing journey. (Might be my bias talking).

spoilers below:

Merch:

The merch released shows Jinx’s new design and it is such a light/less defeated look on her. Like her face doesn’t carry this misery and exhaustion upon her, from all her grief. The morbidly relieved/expectant expression on her face when she was ready for Vi to kill her, that is gone. Most noticeable is the fact that both of her iconic braids are gone, hair cropped short that is so reminiscent of Vi’s in season one. Her clothes are brighter, Fishbones gets a modification and fixed, like the air around her is just less heavy. (Albeit this is from one picture and it could be wildly out of context.) Her design change is just miles away from her current form. I’m half convinced this is her final look in Act 3 and she gets the chance to heal.

There’s a time-skip basically confirmed for this season, whether it occurs in act 2 or 3, things will change for Jinx.

Time-skip:

The time-skip is most likely around a year or at least several months. If act 2 has the Brainy Boys on vacation in another realm for a few episodes, Jinx will be facing the start of Zaun’s revolution and the undercity turning to her, Vi will most likely be shunned by the undercity and lean more on her alcoholic tendencies (her fighting pit era), Ambessa will be manipulating Cait, the firelights without a leader. But if they open an episode with the Boys returning and them being confronted by this time skip and whatever had occurred in the hex gate — like fish out of water they will have to learn about everything thats changed, for better or worse. Jayce with Mel missing and Cait’s corruption, Hemidinger with the fact that the hex gate is unsafe, and Ekko and the impact of Jinx’s revolution upon the undercity and the firelights.

Seems like the teaser for Act 2 is setting up the firelights to join Jinx’s efforts and movement, believing Ekko is dead as they place him on the mural. We see him fighting with Vi on the firelight hoverboards and his hair is longer, this could be an act 3 event. But I doubt that either of them would be supporting Piltover’s current stance, so they are most likely fighting with Jinx’s forces against Piltover and Ambessa’s army. (The team up is real guys.) Ekko will see her movement for Zuan and positive impacts on the undercity not being run on shimmer, and he will find Jinx

However, before this war fully breaks out, Act 2 confirms that Jinx is gonna face Warwick / Vander’s reanimated body… and you know who else is fighting him? Vi. I think something is going to happen with Singe sending Warwick out upon Jinx or upon her revolutionary group, and Jinx gets involved to stop him. Jinx with her shimmer enhancements are awesome and has accelerated speed, but Warwick is gonna outmatch her, especially if she realizes who he used to be. We’ve only seen Jinx’s scratchy distortion once or twice so far, mainly when Vi was revealed to her as an enforcer. But seeing Vander back from the dead and worse off than ever, her guilt and horror is going to be off the charts. I think she loses ground, and gets hurt - badly. The teaser shows someone (most likely Sevika ) carrying Isha to safety, the scene is soaked in this blood red fog, the same as the Warwick fight. Several accounts over on Twitter are pointing out that Isha is reaching out to someone off screen, that she seems to be scared for Jinx’s safety. There’s a shot of Vi standing alone against Warwick, and I think she is going to save Jinx.

Oh Okay… now on to

Time - Bomb:

The famous Bridge Scene. Wow. Am I right? So of course, this scene has been analyzed up and down and inside out, but to reiterate; Jinx’s nickname of “The Boy Savior” just hits different now. (It’s important enough that it’s the Name of an episode). In the Blu-ray behind the scenes/making of Arcane the writers discuss: the cut scene of younger Ekko searching for a way to rescue powder because he believes she is a prisoner. When he finds Powder recently turned Jinx and tries to save her from Silco to then have her violently refuse (the detail of her slapping him the same way Vi did to her at the end of Act 1: S1.). She does not want to be rescued and does not accept help. In addition to the venom of her voice, the condescension, like she does not see him as the capable resistance leader. They are similar ages, the only kids of the first act of the Undercity to remain in the lanes, Jinx the prodigy of Silco, and Ekko completely alone in the Lanes. Silco keeps reminding Jinx, especially when Vi returns, that no one from her old life will care for her. He compares his and Vander’s fallout to Powder’s and Vi’s, pushing this narrative that it’s them against the world. Telling her to bury Powder, and that Vi has not returned for her but for the hextech crystal.

Character Mirrors/Foils:

Metal / Nature

Silco’s / Vander’s Image

Raven / Firelight

Past / Future

Isolation / Community

Jinx stuck in the past with her ghosts and her mistakes and Ekko forced to grow up faster and choosing to become a caretaker of those who can’t defend themselves. (Becomes a protector like Vander had once been, that Vi had been.) He puts all his efforts into making a safe haven for those impacted by Silco’s gangs and shimmer products, and he wants to build a community that supports a better tomorrow.

“It’s not enough to give people what they need to survive; you have to give them what they need to live.”

Ekko is still quite young and yet he chose a role of helping those around him and created a positive community, while Jinx became more and more of Slico’s tool, of learning his beliefs and violence. (S1E6: Silco’s outburst after Vi and Cait escape in season 1, wonder how many times he did the same thing in front of her. Also him referring to Jinx as the prize of Vander’s kids, like he is fully aware of Jinx’s genius mind and engineering skills.) Jinx often being depicted alone in her hanger, talking to her ghosts. Jinx feeding into her own insecurities and feeling that she has to prove herself to Silco and be useful in a way she had not been seen as powder in their family group. Her disregard for the damage Slico brings to the lanes with shimmer and her blowing up the building during progress day in Piltover not concerned with who gets hurt. Ekko and his firelights becoming antagonists to shimmer verses Jinx and Slico’s forces as they protect the products.

Further the visual imagery and visual parallels between them are so interesting.

[pictures above from twitter account: @Chi11in_Like_a]

So I believe that Ekko and Jinx have this strong connection to one another, even more so with learning about the cut scene from season 1, and Ekko is going to pull on that more so than ever. The writers confirm: They “saw” each other during that still moment on the bridge, the children they used to be. They were not enemies, they were not on opposing sides, they did not want to kill the other. Their expressions in this scene when time slows, it kills me. Of course, the scene plays out, Jinx uses a sneak attack and everything blows up in their faces. Ekko gets this look of shock on his face as he looks between the bomb and Jinx, and my heart breaks. Jinx nearly dies from this (this is one of many times that she is entirely careless with her own life), Ekko is hurt for the remainder of the season. But the moment of recognition, of their childhood games, of them laughing, of the sullen ash atmosphere of the bridge being met with both of them falling into old patterns. The mood shifted entirely, elevated by the music. The music in this show never stops amazing me.

I do not remember if I looked deeper into Jinx’s reckless tendencies in season 1, but this year on my several rewatches, I have definitely noticed. She is not afraid of dying, she’s not afraid of getting hurt. As powder, she was so scared of fighting and of getting injures, throwing the haul from the over city into the river to get away from an attacker. Jinx does not care if she dies. I think she assumes that she is too far gone, that no one can help her. I think she believes no one is willing to try. After watching Vi race back to Cait on the bridge when Marcus betrays them and shoots Ekko, Jinx sees her only remaining blood leaving her again. (S1:E7) Season 2 episode 3 fight between Vi and Jinx, crushes me. Her encouraging Vi to go through with killing her, her guilt over what happened to their family.

Back to season 2, Jinx gets away from Warwick, from Vi, and hides out alone and emotionally distraught. (Ella Purnell’s performance blows me away, the guttural screams and cries make me want to sob.) Jinx is at a breaking point, I think she has made it back to her lair, and the ghosts are back in full force. The neon paint and the dolls of her family, the dark empty hanger around her. Jinx will hear Silco again. “Have you had enough?” Her belief that she can only break things and makes everything worse being heightened by Warwick/Vander returning, after starting to build connection and bond with Isha and Sevika. Having Isha’s protection and admiration uplifting Jinx in a way she never expected, and then to have this relapse and massive reminder of her past mistake. Her being responsible for both Vander’s and Silco’s deaths, that Isha and everyone close to her will meet that same fate. Despite Sevika and Jinx finding common ground, I do not believe Sevika would be the person to help her in this situation. She’s bleeding out and heavily wounded, she is alone, she’s at rock bottom in the way she was when everything happened that night. Jinx looks over the edge of the turbine blade. Jinx looks at her pistol.

Cold metal brushes her temple.

Ekko finds her.

I think Ekko will bring her back from the edge. He will be a voice of reason and comfort despite everything they’ve gone through, because of it. Because despite the deaths and Silco and shimmer, he still sees her. The child who only ever wanted to help her family. Despite what he told Vi, the implication that his denial pushed him forward, that Jinx isn’t Powder anymore. But Ekko still sees his childhood friend, and grieves her. He misses his friend.

Tell me this shot from the trailer does not scream that he wants to help Jinx? Really gonna live up to the nickname.

(The strand of blue hair on the left side of the scene.) I fully believe Ekko is talking to Jinx. The last episode of Act 2 is going to be their conversation, and it will end right before we see what is Jinx’s final decision.

He will help her, if she allows herself to accept help. To understand that there are people from her old life that do still care for her. To have no one in the lanes that understood her, that knew her and what she’s done, and for him to reach out a hand first. Isha and Sevika are closer to Jinx than anyone currently, but neither of them know everything or share history in the same way. Ekko will be the one to try to mend this rift. Multiple times the show has demonstrated how kind and generous Ekko is. (Refusing to turn away refugees in the undercity, of giving Hemidinger a chance). If she accepts his help, he can heal her physical wounds and they can start healing her emotional wounds.

Dark thoughts of the end, of ending one’s self, is such a heavy thing to cope with. I want Jinx to have someone on her side, for them to support her through it. She is such a well written character and the way they have showed her mental health struggles. I hope her arc becomes more hopeful.

Act 3:

Ekko will help Jinx fix Fishbones, she’ll dawn hourglass symbols, and work together eventually with Vi again. Maybe, finding common enemies and allies, fighting alongside each other. Zuan’s revolution vs Piltover. Jinx will see Isha again, being the guardian she herself needed when she was growing up. Learning forgiveness for herself and others. Talking things out, and not being interrupted.

Jinx’s healing journey!

I’m very excited for the rest of this season. These two are my favs. (I could be very wrong and none of this is on track, but this is apart of the intrigue of getting invested where characters stories go. Theorizing about what is going on, where the characters will end up.)

- If Timebomb talks to one another I will be over the moon. Years of crumbs lol.

- The fact there is a song named “My Dearest/Best Enemy” [I’m like 67% it is a Timebomb song]

[classicanalyzer]

LEGO Star Wars Rebuild The Galaxy Thoughts

"Nothing makes sense, and everything's mixed up, and that's okay. Things fall apart, but maybe they can come back together better than before." Sig Greebling

Rebuild The Galaxy is my favorite out of all the D+ LEGO SW specials. I really love the connections to LEGO and SW, including the previous LEGO SW shows, especially Freemaker Adventures. Michael Kramer did an amazing job with the soundtrack, Sig's and Yesi's themes were well-composed.

Part I

"For someone who spends all his time telling stories about heroes, you have no idea how to be one. Maybe that's why you like history so much. It's over and done, but your life isn't. There's so much ahead of you if you'd just try, but you're afraid." Dev Greebling

Sig Greebling is such a cool name. I really love how he's a literal in-universe SW fan, yet someone who actually wants to be normal despite his Force sensitivity. I find it funny he's a literal Nerf herder. I do emphasize of how he wanted to avoid all the expectations if people know he's Force-sensitive.

I love the reference to Wookiees originally being a part of RotJ before being replaced with Ewoks.

Fennesa is a cool-looking world. Yesi Scala is another cool name (I get reminded of Scala Ad Caleum from KH haha). It's too bad Sig's indecisiveness and inability to step out of his comfort zone translates to his social life, even his crush. The background painting showing the sunset is so beautiful.

I really like how the Ackbar Troopers are the Clones in this universe. They must have chosen Ackbar as the main host due to his skills since he was a skilled warrior and leader, but definitely also for the memes out of universe. I also love how Phase I was used because the Kaminionans designed the Phase I suit based on aquatic species like themselves and would fit the Mon Calamari Clones.

The fighting animation and choreography for Yesi's fight against the Ackbar Troopers are so well animated. I laughed seeing that one Ackbar Trooper shooting with two blasters. I can see why Sig likes Yesi. Also ooff, Yesi lost her father in this timeline to the Empire. You can feel the bleak state of this galaxy under this Empire. At least, Yesi's desire to fly among the stars and not live in a backwater world is still there. I like how Sig also mentioned how Rancors are actually misunderstood intelligent creatures.

Double ooff, Sig's brother is now Darth Devastator "Dev". At least we finally get our first on-screen appearance of Jedi Bob!

Part II

"Being a hero is easier when you don't know the cost...Sig, the Force doesn't work that way. The dark side is loud and obvious like a big, mean Gamorrean kicking you in the head over and over. But the light side, the light side of the Force is just a whisper in the back of your mind." Bobolian Afol "Jedi Bob"

Darth Rey as Dev's apprentice feels so wrong about the intentional nature of aspects of this new universe. Jedi Bob!...or rather Bobolian Afol lmao (I also love how the markings seem a bit faded which signals his age). I love this cynical Jedi who sucks at fighting but is amazing at the Force...which is what a true Jedi should specialize in.

FREEMAKER LORE! THE FORCE BUILDERS ARE BACK! I love seeing them once again and hearing Bob recap them feels cathartic.

Ewok Bounty Hunters is one thing but bounty hunter C-3PO channeling his Triple 0 and HK-47 vibes in a Naboo Royal Cruiser with gold plating feels so right yet so wrong in the best ways possible. Yesi really has a lot of baggage with her wanting to prove herself and redeem herself for accidentally getting a rebel base captured.

Mos Eisley Marina made me die on the inside lmao. Tatooine isn't boring anymore lmao. I do love how this is a nod to how the BoBF and Legends mention Tatooine being once covered with oceans before becoming a desert world.

Like father like son indeed, however, even Anakin wouldn't go that far to cheat. I do love how Luke and Anakin use the same Podracer. Poor Max Rebo.

I love how Maul in this galaxy is much more relaxed and happy. At least, in this galaxy, Maul gets to live his life without the tragedies in his main galaxy life.

I love the implication that Nubs is well-known in the main galaxy that Sig knows about him. I'm incredibly confident that Darth Hammerhead is Rusty. Even in another universe, nobody remembers his name lmao.

That brief Duel of the Fates theme playing when Darth Jar Jar appeared was so hype and chilling. His line goes unironically hard.

Part III

"I know you can't restore a galaxy once it's gone because I tried to restore my own, and I failed. In the galaxy I'm from, things were simpler. I was a Padawan on Alistan Nor, learning the secrets of Force Building. I'd heard rumors about the Cornerstone. The more I read, the more obsessed I became. Was it possible to remake an entire galaxy? I needed to know the truth. My Masters forbid me from searching for the Cornerstone, but I wasn't exactly good at following orders. There were so many rules. I just wanted to do things my own way. I thought I could control the Cornerstone. I never thought -- When I left that temple, everything was different. My galaxy was gone, Sig. And yours had just been born." Bobolian Afol "Jedi Bob"

We truly reached the pinnacle of miniaturized Death Star tech with the Dark Falcon lmao.

Darth Jar Jar definitely isn't dead and I love what little time we had with him.

I love the lights looking like the Binary Sun and the music playing as Luke looks towards them.

I love how Palpatine in this universe is a cynic who gave up on fighting. I like that fascinating take on this alternate Palpatine. The new Jedi Council (I like the faded and scratched markings similar to Jedi Bob signals their age and tiredness of a seemingly hopeless war) is insane with Jedi Vader (I love that this is a SW Infinities comic reference, it felt cathartic to see it realized in visual media), Dooku, Cad Bane, Jannah, Lobot, IG-88(?), and even Jabba. I really love that Jannah has more to do here including her actress returning to voice her.

Greedo being the Han of this universe was so funny. He even has the Rodian ears for his Slave I Firespray ship lmao.

I love how Yesi recreates the energy in TFA when she does smth incredibly insane with Greedo's ship. Sig saying I do feels like his and Yesi's "I know" moment. And a Star Trous mention. I also feel like Yesi's point of how you fix the mistake got to Jedi Bob and got to him into revealing the truth. I love how Grevious is one of the rebels in this universe.

Alistan Nor!!! THAT'S THE FORCE BUILDER WORLD AND IT WAS MENTIONED IN FREEMAKER ADVENTURES.

Damn, this Han really became just like his mentor in the old universe. A true scoundrel.

God that twist of the old universe never coming back is gut-wrenching...especially since Jedi Bob is the only survivor of his old universe. The story of Jedi Bob is beyond tragic. One simple curiosity into the cornerstone left him the only survivor. Spending all that time alone in the Temple to make sure it doesn't happen again...only for it to happen again. I also really love how the simple galaxy is represented by 4:3 aspect ratio and all LEGO figures are the classic yellow designs.

WHEN SERVO WAS DESTROYED, I FELT MY HEART BREAKING APART. God that was heartbreaking to see, just like many heroes before him in his stories, to save his friends Sig gave himself up.

Part IV

"The tales of my galaxy. The tales of people like Dev. My Dev. I don't wanna forget them. They matter." Sig Greebling

God the intro with the sad music and Servo shutting down just hurts me in ways I cannot comprehend. The collapsing logo really showcases we're in the endgame.

I love how Yoda is voiced by his Young Jedi Adventure VA in this show. It is heartbreaking to see Ian Han hate Yoda given the very first major LEGO SW special (The Padawan Menace was one of my first non-SW movie experiences in my childhood).

Even if Dev is mentally messed up, I really like how he came around to having a brother and want to be brothers. I like how Sig realizes this is all a fantasy of a galaxy he can never restore. He fights to save this galaxy now.

I'm happy Tico got to a substantial role in this show alongside Rey. Reusing the Nobody line toward Darth Rey was pretty cruel.

The space battle was shot very well and I love the designs of the Calamari Destroyers.

Dev's breakdown was pretty disturbing to see and how he took the rage and lack of happiness in his life to put his idea of "order" and to take control of his life. Especially how he sees himself as beyond redemption and the point of no return.

The quote I used for the introduction quote is beautifully anti-nihilist.

The fight is so well choreographed and so peak, especially when the brief moment the windows were destroyed and the energy shield was activated. The fact the Nerf herder stick came back to be a major turning point in the fight against Dev is great. It was heartbreaking and I got a bit misty-eyed to see Dev ultimately decide to remain evil.

My heart repaired itself as Servo was reconstructed. The old galaxy is gone but the stories will live on. And leave it for Servo to interrupt Sig and Yesi's tender moment haha.

The ending shot with the new crew really felt like the passing of the torch between the Freemaker Adventures to Rebuild the Galaxy. I hope we get to see the Freemaker cast, especially the Freemaker family on Alistan Nor.

Also, The Landolorian and Evil Grogu has been so hyped as the sequel hook alongside Darth Rey and Tico being in charge of the Empire.

This is such a great show and I can't wait to see more LEGO SW stories set in this universe.

I love the score by Kramer who is also responsible for Ninjago’s score (alongside Jay Vincent):

[rarepairdumpster]

WWI AU

Pairing: Viktor/Silco (Arcane) Rating: M C/W: Nurse Viktor, Soldier Silco, Period-Typical Homophobia, Hurt/Comfort, Post War, PTSD, the boys get a pupper

Viktor volunteers as a nurse after his disabilities prevented him from being drafted. He hates the war, hates all the needless violence, but if he can help ease the suffering of even one man....then it's good work. 

Silco is brought in to the "hospital" where Viktor works, face half-obscured with blood-soaked bandages.

Viktor being the first source of warmth and tenderness that Silco has experienced in the long years since the war began. 

At his most delirious, Silco thinks Viktor might be an angel sent from God. 

Especially at night when the warm glow of the lantern sways into the ward when Viktor comes to check on the men.

Silco's certain Viktor is an angel when he kneels beside him, holding up the lantern so the light reflects in his eyes. 

"There will be more morphine coming in the morning shipment," Viktor says softly, changing out the cool cloth on Silco's head, hoping to reduce the fever. 

"I'll make sure you get some."

Silco can't stop the little sigh that escapes him when cool fingers brush over his feverish skin, his hair. He feels himself mellow against the ratty pillows and mattress, despite the pain that seemed to pulse through his whole body, despite the awful heat that made his clothes stick to his skin

Viktor smiles. "You're very lucky, you know." 

He brings his hand down and grabs hold of Silco's, even though the soldier's skin is clammy and his grip is weak. 

"I hope I'll get to hear the story one day," Viktor rubs his thumb against Silco's hot skin.

"Lucky," Silco murmurs, blinking his one visible eye tiredly. The quiet gloom that surrounds them beyond the scope of the small lantern is  what gives him the hazy courage to continue. "Yes, to be greeted with such a beautiful face before I die."

Because Silco knows infection and illness kill more soldiers than bombs and bullets do

Viktor flushes, used to hearing soldiers call the other nurses beautiful, but there were only a few that had ever said that to him. 

"I hope to greet you many more times," Viktor says, taking his hand from Silco's and reaching up to smooth his damp hair back.

Silco smiles tiredly, but then winces as it pulls at the mangled side of his face.

Viktor winces in sympathy; having changed his bandages a number of times, he knows how gruesome the wound is.

"Soon." Viktor's hand lingers over his hair. "Things will be better soon."

Silco just sighs and falls back into a hazy sleep, comforted by the cool touch of Viktor's hand.

Fighting off the infection is hard battle. Silco spends weeks under his care, getting better, and then getting worse, in a vicious cycle.

During that time, Viktor visits his bedside as often as he can. Reads him his letters. Articles from any newspapers the hospital manages to get their hands on. 

And they talk in small bursts at night under the lantern light. 

Viktor is surprised and delighted to learn they're both from the same shitty town.

As Silco starts to truly improve, Viktor finds himself a little melancholy. While his job is to make Silco and the rest of the men well enough to either return home or to the front lines, it hurt him knowing Silco was bound to be leaving his care soon.

Now half-blind, Silco gets discharged from service and is sent home when he starts to improve too much to be kept in hospital.

The day Silco is set to leave, Viktor comes to see him off.  He wants to hug him so badly, but he knows that wouldn't be appropriate, so Viktor just offers his hand.

Silco takes his hand in both of his and squeezes just a little.

"When the war is over, and you're free of this place," Silco says quietly, "come find me."

Viktor can feel his cheeks flush a little when he nods, and misses the warmth of Silco's hands when he finally has to let them go. 

He watches as the truck takes Silco away, waiting until he can't see a speck of him in the distance.

It's two long, bloody years before Viktor is able to return home. Thinking of Silco keeps him sane, but as the time goes on, Viktor starts to accept it as a fantasy that was never meant to be. There was no doubt that Silco had already moved on and forgot about him, so why couldn't Viktor do the same?

Viktor tries "dating", or as much as he can when he's elbow deep in bloodied soldiers crying for their mothers and praying to a god they're not really sure exists after all this horror.

He's tired when the war ends. He's not sure the tiredness will ever fade. But at least he gets to go home. At least he gets to wash blood from his hands for the last time.

There's no relief even on the long train ride home. Bloody faces flash through Viktor's mind as he tries to replace them with views of the mangled countryside. 

It's only when he steps off the train that he can seem to get a fresh breath, one that doesn't have the aftertaste of death. He can't even manage to look up from the ground until he hears a familiar voice.

"Vitya?"

Viktor whips his head up and its like the world stops.

Silco.

Silco, standing about 30 feet away, at the other end of the station. Wearing nice civilian clothes, reminiscent of a banker or some such position. His hand is giving idle scritches to a dopey-faced dog.

Viktor starts to tear up, because he didn't think he'd ever see the man again, even knowing the two were from the same crappy place.

Viktor knows it's risky as he turns towards Silco. 

He knows people might talk as he drops his bags and awkwardly runs towards Silco, closing the distance. 

He doesn't care as he wraps his arms around Silco's torso and buries his face into the man's neck, leaning on him as his cane hangs in the crook of his elbow. 

"You remembered me"

"I could never forget you," Silco can't help but wrap his free arm around Viktor and sigh into Viktor's hair. "I've been here for every train since the war ended."

There is some comfort in knowing that there are other reunions happening at the station. Boys, and men, all crying. Hugging mothers, fathers, wives, children. 

Maybe no one will notice two men hugging a little more closely than usual.

Silco is the one to finally pull away, smiling as he takes a handkerchief out of his pocket and uses it to dab Viktor's cheeks. 

"I'll put a kettle on at home and we can talk," Silco suggests. 

Viktor nods. His parents had passed just before the war, and that was one of the reasons he joined the nursing effort. He didn't really have anywhere else to go.

Silco goes to retrieve Viktor's bags while Viktor and the dog get acquainted.

The drive back to Silco's home is so relaxing, with the dog resting its head on one of his legs, and Silco's hand resting on the other.

Viktor had dreamt it would be like this, back when he was nursing Silco. He had almost forgotten.

When they arrive, Viktor's glad that Silco's cottage is a good deal away from the village, on its own land, away from prying eyes.

Viktor catches Silco's hand before he can disappear into the kitchen after dropping Viktor's bags in the front room.

Silco looks back at him.

"I..." Viktor swallows. "I missed you. Every day."

Silco turns and grabs Viktor's elbows. "My angel," Silco smiles. "I've spent every moment I've been home preparing and hoping I'd be honored with your presence again."

When Silco leads him into the kitchen, Viktor learns that Silco used part of his ration books to collect things that Viktor had mentioned he liked in passing during their conversations.

Viktor picks up a jar of his favourite jam from the counter. He feels himself tear up as he stares down at the label.

Silco takes the jar from him and sets it back down before tilting Viktor's face up with gentle fingers.

"Now, I hope you'll allow me the pleasure of something I wished for since we met," Silco whispers just above Viktor's lips. 

Viktor reaches up and grabs the lapels of Silco's jacket, closing the rest of the distance between them. He wasn't going to deprive Silco or himself any longer.

Silco forgets about making tea entirely, his hand now sinking into soft hair as he crushes Viktor close, devouring the fuck out of his mouth.

His other hand drops to rub over the curve of Viktor's lower back

Viktor's never been kissed or touched like this, and he lets out a soft gasp as Silco's hand presses him closer.

Silco pulls away softly, trailing from Viktor's lips to his jaw. "Do you still want tea, darling?"

Viktor shivers at the breath that tickles his ear. "Tea can wait."

Silco reaches down and hoists Viktor's legs up as Viktor gasps then chuckles. He carries him through the small cottage to the soft bed in a room in the back of the house. 

Silco lays Viktor down and takes off his shoes, then sits on the edge to remove his own. They each shed their outer jackets, and Viktor pulls Silco down into the bed just as he's divested of it.

They spend the rest of the day kissing lazily as Viktor drifts in and out of sleep, exhausted from travelling. Silco only gets up a few times to keep house and feed the dog, but stays with Viktor as much as he can, still amazed he's really there.

Silco soothes his hands over porcelain skin and soft hair as often as possible, making up for lost time.

Sometimes, during these long two years, he'd thought perhaps he'd imagined the angelic nurse that had so often sat at his bedside in that terrible place.

The PTSD nightmares set in during the nights that follow, with Viktor trembling and weeping in his sleep, dreams filled with bloodied faces and limbs as soldiers grab at him and beg him to please don't let them die please please please please

The nights he dreams of Silco perishing from the infection are the worst. 

Silco has to crush him close and assure him that he's alive, that he's fine, that Viktor saved him each time.

By comparison, Silco seems relatively unaffected by the war. 

Until the first time a car backfires while he and Viktor are out and about. And Viktor gets the wind knocked out of him as Silco tackles him to the ground, protecting him from "enemy fire"

Viktor has to hold him close and remind him that they're not at war anymore. 

Their dog begins to notice when one of them might be having panic attacks and helps them through it.

At first, it takes a long time to come down from that protective panic, but between Viktor and their dog, Silco starts to recover faster over time. He never gets 100% better, but he improves by a lot.

Silco starts keeping a journal, filled with recollections from the war, and macabre poetry about his experiences. 

One poem about the sense of drowning in mud and rain and blood makes Viktor cry

They still live a full life and later, end up taking care of an orphaned girl from the village who was bright and witty, and too many people saw as a problem.

Arch + Woods

[aynavaano]

The light of Umbara

Kinktober ‘24 - exhibitionism

Rex/501st × F!reader

Rating: Explicit

Wordcount: 1.5k

Summary: You’re in a relationship with Rex and the latest mission is proving to be especially hard. When his messages get more and more hopeless you decide to take matters in your own hands.

Notes: This is the first of a few shorter fics I wrote for Kinktober. If you have any special kink and clone you would love to see, my request are open. We have recording of masturbation, kind of remote barracks bunny? All for our favorite captain and his men.

The war was never easy, but Umbara was a special kind of hell.

You had been through long missions before, waiting for Rex to return from one battle after another, but this time was different. Umbara was a planet drenched in darkness-both literally and figuratively.

The constant shadow of war had worn down the men, and you could feel the weight in Rex's messages. General Skywalker had been called away on urgent business, leaving the 501st in the hands of General Krell, a Jedi that couldn't have been more different from Anakin. Cold, calculating, and seemingly indifferent to the lives of his men, Krell was draining the spirit out of the entire battalion.

You could feel it in Rex's words. He tried to stay strong, as he always did, but you knew him better than anyone. His messages came less frequently, and when they did, they were short, tired. You could feel his frustration with Krell, his exhaustion with the war, and the weight of leadership pressing down on him.

One night, you received a message from Rex, and this time, it wasn't about the mission.

"Everyone's down. Krell is making things harder than they need to be. It's taking a toll on the men.. on all of us. Just wanted to hear from you. Miss you."

Your heart ached for him. You knew the toll this war took, not just on his body but on his spirit, and it was times like these when he needed something to lift him up.

That's when you got an idea.

Rex had told you before that when morale was low, anything that could lift the spirits of the men -even something small- could make a world of difference.

So, you decided to give them something that would do more than just raise morale.

You wanted to give them hope.

A little light in the dark.

You took your datapad, positioning it above your bed just right. You spent half an hour fumbling round trying to suspend it from your ceiling lamp. And when you finally succeeded you stripped down, leaving on only a very tiny pair of lace panties - the ones Rex had always liked, the ones that made his breath hitch whenever he saw you in them.

You felt a thrill as you adjusted the datapad, ensuring it captured your entire body.

Once you were satisfied with the angle, you hit record.

Laying back against your pillows, you let out a soft sigh, slowly pushing the blanket off your body, revealing your bare skin.

You imagined Rex watching you, imagined him being right there with you, and it sent a shiver down your spine. Your hands moved slowly, teasingly, over your skin. You wanted to draw this out, to make it as enticing as possible, not just for Rex but for the men who might see it too.

Your fingers trailed down your stomach, playing at the edge of your lace panties before slipping just beneath the fabric.

You moaned softly, knowing the camera was catching every sound, every twitch of pleasure as you began touching yourself. Your fingers moved between your slick folds, already soaked from the thought of what you were doing and who would be watching.

You slowly slid off your panties and threw them towards the camera with a teasing smile.

But you weren’t done yet.

You reached over to the nightstand, grabbing the white-and-blue marbled dildo that Rex had given you as a gift, a reminder of him while he was away.

You held it up to the camera for a moment, letting the men watching know exactly what was coming.

Slowly, you slid the dildo down your body, spreading your legs to make sure the got a good view, teasing your clit with the tip before pressing it inside you.

The sensation made you gasp, your back arching off the bed as the dildo filled you. You pumped it in and out of yourself, letting your moans grow louder as you imagined it was Rex thrusting into you. You could almost hear his voice in your ear, whispering sweet, filthy things as he took you apart.

"Rex," you moaned softly, your free hand moving to your breast, pinching your nipple as you picked up the pace. You knew how to work yourself up, how to give them a show, and you weren't going to stop until you were trembling from your first orgasm.

It didn't take long. The combination of the dildo and your fingers rubbing circles against your clit had you spiraling fast. With one final thrust, you cried out, your body shuddering as the first orgasm ripped through you.

But you weren't done. Not yet.

You pulled the dildo out, laying back against the pillows as you caught your breath. But the heat between your legs was still burning, and you needed more. You started again, rubbing your clit, pushing yourself toward a second orgasm. This time, the build-up was slower, more intense. You could already feel a slight overstimulation setting in, but that only made it better.

"Fuck," you moaned softly, your fingers moving faster as the pleasure in your core built again.

The squelching of you pussy when you thrusted the dildo back in was straight up lewd and you shuddered feeling yourself stretch around it.

With one final moan, your body convulsed, your second orgasm crashing over you in waves, even better than the first one. Your breath was ragged, your body glistening with sweat as you finally set the dildo aside, your hands trembling.

You reached for the datapad, stopping the recording.

Your heart raced as you attached the video to a message, typing out a quick note:

"A little light in the dark, for you. And for the boys, if you want to share."

You sent the message off, your heart pounding with anticipation. It was bold -risky even-but you knew Rex, and you knew he'd appreciate it. Now, all you had to do was wait.

You ran yourself a hot bath, sinking into the water as you let the warmth soothe your muscles. You couldn't stop thinking about the video, about Rex's reaction when he saw it. Would he watch it alone? Would he share it with his brothers? The thought made your core tighten again, your body aching for his touch.

Hours passed, you got out of the tub, ordered some food and cuddle up on the couch with a holodrama and just as you were beginning to think you might not hear from him tonight, your datapad pinged.

"Look what you did. Love you so much."

Your heart skipped a beat as you opened the attachment.

The video began, and immediately, you recognized the familiar dim lighting of a barracks room. In the middle of the room was a table with a datapad, and from the sounds, you knew it was your video playing. You moans echoed through the small space.

The men were gathered around the table, most of them in their white-and-blue armor and some in their blacks, the same ones you had seen a thousand times. But now, there was something different in the air-something heavy, almost primal.

Groans and gasps filled the room as the men watched your video. You could see their hands moving toward their cocks, some already stroking themselves as the video continued. The camera didn't show faces, but you could hear their breath hitching, could see the way their bodies tensed as they watched you touch yourself.

A few of them hesitated at first, but as your moans filled the room, it was clear that none of them could resist. You heard the familiar clicking of codpieces being removed and by the end of the video, all of them had their cocks in their hands, stroking themselves in time with your movements.

You watched in awe as the men gave in completely to their desires, their breathing heavy as they lost themselves in the video. When the recording got to the part where you fucked yourself with the dildo in the colors of their battalion there was no holding back.

One by one, they came, their groans filling the room as they spilled onto the table in front of them. It was messy, desperate, and incredibly hot.

But the best part came at the end. As the last few moans faded, you heard Rex's voice, soft but clear, cutting through the darkness.

"Can't wait to come home to you and reward you," he whispered.

And then the video ended.

You stared at the screen, your heart racing, your body trembling with arousal. You could hardly believe what you had just watched, and yet, the thought of all those men coming undone to the sight of you-it made you ache for more. But it was Rex's words that stuck with you, the promise of what awaited you when he finally came home.

You sank down onto the cushions of your sofa slipping your hand into your panties, you were soaked, your mind spinning. Rex had always been a man of his word, and you knew that when he returned, he wouldn't just reward you - he would worship you.