#might be a part two in the future

[kagooleo]

happy new years 2025! it's been nearly a whole year since I started posting about fluffyriceshipping here, and my art has changed a lot since then! what better way to start the new year than with some sweet potatoes with their partners 🍠🌅

[steddiehyperfixation]

how to stay with you (steddie ficlet)

written for @steddieangstyaugust day 29: future, and also inspired by this post i saw ages ago

1474 words | rated t | cw: unhappy ending

When Steve and Eddie first got together, they had been young and in love and that’s all that had mattered. At 19 and 20 the realities of the future seemed so far away, so caught up in each other in each present moment that it almost felt like they would never grow up, like time would never pass and they would never have anything to worry about. Conversations of ‘what ifs’ and potential issues were brushed aside, anything that wasn’t an immediate problem dismissed with a kiss and a carefree “we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.” There was no need for premature concern when surely nothing would ever be so big as to come between them. Because they were it for each other, weren’t they? They were forever, and forever seemed so easy when forever was young.

But the time did pass and they did grow up, and now the bridges they thought they’d never come to are looming before them, fast approaching.

At 25 and 26, they sit at the dinner table in the one-bedroom apartment they’ve lived in for years and Eddie tells Steve about the life-changing phone call he just received. The Hollywood music producer he’s been in sporadic contact with finally wants to finalize a plan and work with Eddie’s band officially, and Eddie is so excited he’s practically vibrating as he rambles to Steve about the album he’ll make and the tours he might go on and how they’re gonna have to start looking for places in LA soon because they have to be local and the producer wants to get started on this by the end of next month. He expects Steve to be excited too, to match his grin and maybe hold hands and bounce around the kitchen with him, but his boyfriend’s expression only falls further and further into a frown with every word Eddie speaks.

“Eddie-” Steve interrupts him, his voice far too serious. “I don’t want to move to LA.”

Eddie’s buzzing energy freezes, stopping short. “What?”

Steve repeats, “I don’t want to move to LA.”

“But-” Eddie frowns. “I was always going to move to LA, that was always my plan. You knew that.”

“Yeah, I-I know. But we always said we’d just cross that bridge when we came to it.”

“Well, we’re coming to it now. So, why don’t you want to move?”

“I don’t want to uproot our life here. And I don’t want to end up having to wait around in a strange city while you’re off on tours all the time.”

“You wouldn’t, you’d come with me.”

Steve shakes his head. “I can’t live like that. And what about when we have kids? That’s no way to-”

“Wait, Steve-” It’s Eddie’s turn to interrupt, all trace of his previous excitement gone, having dropped like a stone into his gut instead. “I don’t want kids. Like, ever.”

Something fractures in Steve’s eyes as he stares at him, almost hurt. “What? Why did you never say anything? You knew- I’ve always wanted kids, Eddie, you’ve always known that.”

“Yeah, I know, I just-” Eddie’s mouth feels too dry and his tongue too heavy as he wets his lips and shrugs guiltily. “I mean, we always said we’d just cr-”

“-cross that bridge when we came to it, yeah,” Steve sighs, a dejected sort of exhale that slouches in his shoulder as if the full weight of this conversation has suddenly settled upon them.

Eddie feels it too, feels them sinking somewhere they can’t come back from. “Is that, uh- is that a dealbreaker for you?”

“Kind of, yeah,” Steve admits, and he looks at Eddie like it devastates him to do so, emotion swimming in his eyes and straining his voice. “Is me not wanting to move to LA a dealbreaker for you?”

Eddie swallows thickly. “Kind of, yeah.”

“Would you ever change your mind?” Steve asks, a last ditch hope. “About kids, or any of it?”

“No,” Eddie says; though he hates to watch the last of the light drain from Steve’s face, he can’t lie to him. “Would you?”

“No,” Steve answers in a barely managed whisper.

Eddie takes a deep breath, and it shakes. His vision blurs. He says, “Then this isn’t going to work, is it?”

Steve stares at him with glassy eyes, like he’s watching Eddie become a ghost right in front of him. His voice breaks as he speaks, “You mean we’re not going to work.”

“Yeah…” Eddie confirms, and it shatters his heart. “I’m so sorry, Stevie.” He reaches for Steve’s hands across the table. “I love you more than anything, I really do, but I won’t give up on my dream, and I can’t ask you to give up on yours either.”

“No you’re right.” Steve breath shudders. His eyes fall to their joined hands and he blinks rapidly, the way he does when he’s trying hard not to cry. He squeezes Eddie’s hands tight, desperate for something to hold on to even as he agrees, “We want different things, incompatible things. I don’t want to hold you back.”

“Exactly…I don’t want to hold you back,” Eddie echoes in barely more than a whisper, afraid if he tries to speak any louder he’ll break into tears.

Steve does break then, a sob escaping from his throat as if it’d clawed its way free, tears spilling from his eyes. Such a cry activates an instinct in Eddie that sends him leaping to his feet and pulling Steve into a hug within seconds.

“I’m so sorry,” he says again. His chest aches and he really wishes this wasn’t happening, hates that he knows that it has to.

“Me too,” Steve manages, head buried in Eddie’s shoulder. There’s no bitterness in it, only heavy acceptance. He knows it too.

They both know there’s no solving this, no compromise they could find that wouldn’t inevitably fester into resentment and regret. Because Steve wants to settle down and Eddie wants to fly - but Eddie isn’t built for the ground, nor is Steve for the sky, and there’s no common place left between them where they could both survive. It’s over.

So they mourn together while they still have each other to take comfort in, clinging tight to what they’re losing, just one last time. Eddie's crying now too, his tears streaming silently down his cheeks in counterbalance to Steve’s sniffly mumbling.

“I don't want to lose you,” Steve mutters. “Are you sure? Are you sure?”

And Eddie cries quietly into the crook of his neck that he doesn't want to lose him either, and he's sorry, so sorry.

When the worst of their sobs subside, they reach the bargaining stage of their grief, and they pull apart just enough to talk properly while still holding onto each other. Eddie swears he'll keep in touch, says he still wants to be a part of Steve's life. Steve makes him promise to send him postcards of all the amazing places he'll go to on tours and to invite him to shows whenever he's nearby. Eddie tells him to invite him to the wedding when - when, he emphasizes as Steve starts to shake his head - Steve falls in love again and finds someone who can give him the life he wants.

At that, Steve sniffles out a laugh, wet and humorless. “That would be cruel,” he says.

“I never said I’d actually show up,” Eddie clarifies, giving an equally complicated smile and bringing a hand up to cup his cheek. “I just want to know. I want to know that you're happy, even if it can't be with me.”

Steve closes his eyes - another tear or two leaks out - and turns his face into Eddie's hand. In a whisper, he agrees, “Okay.”

They decide it would be best for Eddie to leave as soon as possible. Since they've already concluded they won't last, there's no reason for them to stay in the same apartment even just one more night. It would only hurt more in the end.

With a sort of dissociated detachment, Eddie packs up his things, separating his life from Steve’s one piece of clothing and decorations at a time. It's all he can do not to start crying again.

As Eddie turns to leave for the last time, Steve grabs his arm, impulsive, desperate, and begs him for one more kiss. So Eddie turns around and indulges him. He tastes the salt of their tears on their lips, clutching at Steve's waist and tangling a hand in his hair as they both kiss each other like they know they never will again. Eddie savors every bitter taste, memorizes every sweet feeling.

And then they’re out of time and Eddie's out the door, his whole future ahead of him and his heart cracked right in half.

[blu3haw4]

Hi! Hello, you guys remember I said I had an extended shot for Clexmas free day that was basically done? That I told you to forget about when I posted the little oneshots? That I thought I would be able to write before the year was over? 😅 Well it's here! After days and days of neglecting it and then hours of writing and editing and writing some more and then... much more than I originally planned.

A continuation of my Clextober contribution The Halloween Party

For Clexmas 2024, Day 7: Free day (already on AO3)

and a little bonus only for tumblr

The Christmas Party(es)

“Gala? Define gala?”

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll pick your dress”

“You will absolutely not pick my dress, Clarke!” Lexa all but stumped on her feet, standing in Clarke’s living room as the blonde lay on her couch.

“Why not? Aren’t there more important things you should worry about?”

And she might have a point, these past two months have been full of gathering information on the hunters and possible enemy creatures -they’ve also been full of making out, but they don’t talk about that- and tonight it might all come together. They have a few leads on the hunters’ plan and tonight might be the chance to crack exactly how much they know about the wolves and if they’re getting help from the creatures they suspect.

“Look there’s a lot of names and faces you should at least know of. Did you read the subjects these people like to talk about that I sent you?” Clarke pressed, still very casually laying on her couch.

Because that was the key point of this particular party, it wasn’t just about the hunters, it was about the people who founded them, knowingly or not. The people that are throwing this Christmas gala aren’t all hunters, and they were the people Clarke thought they should worry about the most.

“I- didn’t, I mean yeah, I looked them over-”

“You need to know what they’ll be talking about; we’re not going to get anywhere near the information you want if they clock the fact that you’re not one of them. This is a fancy, glamorous Christmas themed party. An excuse to look hot and show off their money, really” Clarke rolled her eyes dramatically “If we don’t look and act the part, they’ll kick us out in not time”

Lexa sighed, Clarke had a point- “So… you worry about the character details, and I will worry about us dressing the part”

“Clarke-”

“Our outfits will match, and they’ll be bulletproof!” Clarke grinned, sitting up with excitement.

“Bulletproof?” Lexa yelped “We’re planning for that type of night?” she asked -ignoring the matching thing- concerned… only to have Clarke’s mood immediately change.

“No” she huffed “but we didn’t think Halloween was going to be one of those night either and yet…” Clarke looked up with raised eyebrows and pursed lips, still bitter about outcome of that night.

And okay, that was fair.

That night hadn’t ended in any of the ways Lexa had expected.

After telling Clarke not to follow -mostly so she wouldn’t have to face the consequences of their make out. Too drunk and too shaken to even consider what to say and how processes the argument between her head and her heart… and her pussy, a little, if she was honest- she ran to the warning howls of her people.

It hadn’t been an emergency, but she had decided to go anyways because Indra’s team had been ambushed by hunters. They had had encounters with them before, but mostly because they had been purposely sniffing around their business. This time, the hunters had been the ones to track them down.

When Lexa arrived, both Anya and Indra’s teams were fighting a big group of hunters in between alleys, and she joined in even though she knew they had it under control. The ringing of their silenced shotguns had stopped for a few minutes while most hunters were forced into hand-to-hand combat.

Then, one singular shot rang out followed by a loud curse.

“What. The Fuck?!"

Lexa had turned to look just in time to see Clarke grabbing the wrist of the hunter who shot her as a second shot ran out, said bullet hitting the wall beside them. There was a bullet hole in the back of her dress with a stain of blood dripping from the closed wound where the bullet had clearly made it out.

“You just ruined my fucking dress!” was the anticlimactic sentence that left Clarke’s mouth before she lashed out cracking a few of the hunter’s bones and throwing him away.

She launched herself to the other hunters and got shot in the stomach before she could take the remaining three out.

“Fucking… Fuckers!” She shouted, breathing a little heavy and clearly -at least to Lexa- drunk “I loved this dress, you bitch!” she scowled kicking a dead hunter to the other side of the alley.

Whit a look, Lexa sent both teams away and didn’t care that Anya and Indra both remained when she approached Clarke. With a million things in her head, there was really nothing she could do when the words out of her mouth were “I told you not to follow”

The huff Clarke let out felt like a slap in the face, she turned sharply to look at her with a deep frown “I wasn’t. I was literally on my way home, when I got fucking shot!” She exasperated, and didn’t bother to avoid her shoulder when she walked past her “You’re welcome, by the way” she huffed before jumping all the way up to her building’s roof top.

Because of course the fight happened right beside her place.

So okay, it was cool that their dresses were bulletproof. What was probably not okay was Clarke picking the type of dress Lexa would wear.

“Tik-tak, Heda”

“Okay fine! I’ll read about these people, you pick my dress, but Clarke-” She warned her, pointing at her with a look stopping the vampire’s excitement “Have them ready two days before”

“What?  Why?”

“So I can make sure you picked something appropriate or find something else” Lexa huffed as she started to walk out the door.

“Of course it’s going to be appropriate! What makes you think I would pick something inappropriate?” Clarke asked with a smirk.

Lexa turned around and they shared a look, one that ran out all the memories they’ve shared these past two months, one that showed how easy it would be to stop pretending like none of it happened and let loose.

After Halloween they didn’t contact each other for a week, Lexa making herself busy gathering and connecting the information they had, and Clarke… well, living her life as far as Lexa could tell. Anya kept her updated without Lexa asking, she didn’t follow her, but Clarke kept showing up when Anya and her team were on their vigilante’s adventures as she had been since before Halloween.

When they finally saw each other again they just jumped straight to business mode, with Lexa filling Clarke in on the theories she had, and Clarke helping her plan meetings with specific creatures she thought could or would help.

They went out five times in two weeks.

At the end of the first night, they cleared the air with a few jokes about the fight; it had clearly been a coincidence. Jokes about the fight, though, turned to jokes about the night, which turned into flirting and easily, naturally, turned into them kissing.

It was intoxicating, addictive. Lexa kept trying to avoid it, or so she told herself as each night she continued to proposedly, actively push for it to happen.

And throughout-fully enjoy it.

They never talked about it, but just as each night they got bolder and bolder, each next time Clarke looked more and more sure that they should mention it. If only to make sure it keeps happening…

Or maybe Lexa was projecting, but it was easier to pretend like she was just giving in to what Clarke wanted than to admit to herself how much she craved it.

So once again, she shut it down.

“Two days earlier Clarke!” she called before closing the door.

“Ugh. Fine”

-

The dress was fine, with a little more cleavage than Lexa would’ve liked -she would reconsider later-, but perfectly appropriate. The silky cloth bunching around her hips made her feel good and the way the open back teased the end off her tattoo was just about everything she wanted Clarke to focus on. The color also, matched perfectly to Clarke’s jumpsuit, which was… way more appropriate that Lexa anticipated.

Somehow that made it so much worse for her.

Because she prepared for long milky legs, for too short skirt and a teas of her ass, she prepared for cleavage and a perfectly shaped necklace falling in between, she didn’t prepare for Clarke’s arms to be the most skin showed, for the power she extruded with her hands on her pokes and the sexy show of her clavicles on top of the flat line of her jumpsuit’s collar that fell, perfectly covering the actual size of her boobs. She prepared to resist the urge to stare at Clarke’s body, not her face.

Because, damn it, her face.

Clarke absolutely noticed, all too content to stare at Lexa’s cleavage to ‘make it even’ and make a show of speaking oh so close to her face to ‘cover the staring’  -“you can know, but they can’t” she said with a smirk and a wink- it was ridiculous and way too distracting but somehow… it was working to their favor.

Each conversation they took part on moved them closer to the people they needed, and it all felt effortless, they laughed at the most classist comments and Lexa had to cover her reaction each time Clarke threw one of her own like second nature with that light drop of sarcasm underneath. They stared at each other way too much and hushed little jokes about how full of themselves these people were. They flirted a lot too; it was a little ridiculous how little of their sentences lacked flirt honestly, but it was fun, and it was working and Lexa felt good.

Until she didn’t.

Moving closer to the people they needed meant she started to recognize the faces she had studied. And then some. There were a bunch of hunters she spied on from afar on their missions, and many she easily remembers from the warehouse, all mingling with the wealthy people who founded them. Eyes were always on her since they walked in, and now she started questioning if it was because they recognized her more than because of how hot they both looked.

Her heartbeat picked up and her breath heaved as she tried her best to discretely check her surroundings. Lexa mindlessly started walking into a more secluded area of the gallery they were at, not caring or noticing if Clarke followed.

Her vision started clouding and her hearing got randomly specific, picking up on sentences and then jumping to another person, another heartbeat, another click of heels. Her smell wasn't helping either, only making her overwhelmed- and where the fuck was the exit!

Unable to recognize or care where she was going in her haste to get out, she failed to realize she was walking into the corridors of the gallery instead of outside. Her ears and nose picking up the scent of a guard far too late, and her feet not listening, never stopping, but somehow, she did.

In two blinks her back was against the wall and the only thing all her senses could notice was Clarke. All over her, body pressed fully into hers, a hand interwinding with hers and the other in her hair, her lips on hers, nose pressing to her cheek, Clarke’s hip in her hand.

It was grounding, and all the same earth-shattering. Her breath caught and she caught Clarke’s tongue with her lips, her body molded to her instinctively, one hand squeezed Clarke’s and the other pulled at her hips to keep her close.

It didn’t feel like a loss when Clarke’s lips left hers. It took Lexa a second to blink back into reality and realized Clarke had pulled her face away, looking to the side and talking-

“Yes, sir, we’ll be right out” The vampire smiled apologetically at the guard and used her hold on Lexa to pull her away from the wall and down the corridor back to the main room.

Some of the panic came back but was soothed by the soft caressing of Clarke’s hands on the back of hers and the comforting press of the other over the small of her back. In no time they were out on a huge balcony with stairs down into the giant flower yard and Lexa came back to her senses enough to let go of Clarke’s hand, step away from her and lean over the railing.

Lexa could tell Clarke was giving her time to breathe it out, to calm her heart and mind.

“Am I… the only one who knows?” Clarke asks eventually, and Lexa doesn’t answer right away.

She looks at her, trying to play dumb, but Clarke just tilts her head and gives Lexa a soft look, gives her time to accept it.

So, Lexa nods. Small and tired and she looks down and away.

Clarke gets closer to her “We should go”

“We can’t” Lexa immediately raises her eyes “The intel-“

“We can get it another time. You shouldn’t be here”

“I’ll be fine. I- I just needed a minute-“

“Lexa. You can’t be here” Clarke says grabbing her chin softly, Lexa thinks it might be pity. But under deeper examination there’s nothing but understanding in those eyes.

Lexa’s ready to argue still, but Clarke starts talking again “What you went through was traumatizing, okay? I bet you’re telling yourself you’re a big bad wolf and that you’ve been hurt thousands of times before and that you can handle it. But you freaking out like this? Instinctively running away and losing control of your senses? You have PTSD. And you shouldn’t have to face the people who caused it before you’re ready. I won’t let you; you deserve time to heal from it… Okay?”

Lexa blinks once, twice, she can’t be sure, but the millisecond Clarke’s eyes change tell her that her own might’ve gotten a little sparkle right before her hands tangled in Clarke’s hair to kiss her, hard and deep, and so good. Clarke loses her balance for a second before recovering and holding onto Lexa for dear life.

It’s only one kiss, it lasts a full minute but it’s only one. Lexa parts with a sigh and Clarke licks her lips, smiling dopily.

“Are we really gonna continue not talking about this?” she whispers, and Lexa can’t believe how easily Clarke gets silly.

“I think I’ve made it clear that it is not about the job. What else do you want to talk about?” She replies after a beat. And Clarke stares at her like she wants to say something, like she would like to talk about it more, instead she rejoins their lips softly.

She moves smoothly and presses Lexa against the railing in the balcony as they continue to make out. Lexa noticed the high -highest- heels Clarke picked for herself, realized she had hopes of getting to be taller, or at least the same height as Lexa tonight, but she should’ve known the she-wolf would go all out as well.

They hear people making their way over the balcony, and they maybe push their luck a little when they only separate right as the people are turning the corner. They smile at each other and bite down on their lips to suppress the urge to kiss. They walk away as casually as they can while practically glued to each other.

-

A couple of days later Clarke texts Lexa telling her there’s a corporate party that weekend, she tells her it’s way more casual than the gala and they talk all about their outfits. Lexa arrives at Clarke’s that Saturday in her dark green slick blouse and a black flannel skirt to find Clarke in a mouthwatering dark green long sleeve velvet dress much shorter than Clarke had mentioned, and with much more cleavage.

“Hey! You look great! We should go, I might’ve misread the invite, and we might be a little late”

“What? What about the plan, you didn’t tell me what we have to do, who will be there, what’s the-“

“Oh right, yeah. Uhm, no plan. Just… be you… well, human you”

“But the… intel?”

“It’s… well-” Clarke sighs and Lexa frowns at her, she’s going to ask again when Clarke pulls her into her apartment “You see that folder over there?” She points at her kitchen counter “That’s all and more information than we would’ve gotten last weekend…”

Lexa blinks a few times, not sure what to make of the information and how to feel about it, at her silence Clarke continues “I-Uhm, got it this week and it will be there when we get back… tonight is my studio’s corporate party, and it’s just… for fun” She shrugs, and Lexa can’t tell if she’s nervous or just not used to been honest and serious at the same time.

Lexa doesn’t move, looking between the folder on the kitchen counter and a very sexy looking Clarke. Since she said casual but classy, Lexa opted for knee high boots to compliment her outfit, while Clarke wore the same high heels from the formal gala meaning Lexa was eye level with… a wonderful view.

“You …? You” Lexa sighs a laugh in disbelief, all Clarke does is smile at her and fo willingly when Lexa leans up and pulls her down for a kiss.

They melt into it for the short time it last and Lexa looks at Clarke yearningly when they part, not knowing what to say or how to thank her. Clarke seems to get it though, or wants to dismiss it, because she pecks her lips one more time and slide her hands into hers.

“Ready to go? I wasn’t lying when I said we might be late” she says with a wink.

She’s so fucked.

-

The party was so much fun. Clarke gave Lexa a bottle of the same elixir they drank at the Halloween party so they could get drunk and they drank too much wine and champagne and ate every little appetizer offered to them. Lexa met Clarke’s work friends -though she refused to refer to them as anything but colleagues- Bellamy and Wells, as well as Clarke’s boss Abigail; a woman that reminds Lexa of Indra in many ways, including the warm look in her eyes under the stoic façade.

Lexa gets to learn a lot about Clarke’s life here, she learns that Clarke Griffin is a 27 going on 28 years old graphic designer who works from home and only shows up at the office for important meetings or specific deadlines. She’s nice to everyone but almost never goes out, she’s still known for holding her booze and killing it at darts. She’s closer to Bellamy and Wells because they are the only people beside their boss that spend most of their time away from the office, they are down to earth, and Clarke swears they’ve hooked up but she can’t prove it.

They spend most of the time just talking quietly to each other. It’s easy to smile more and lean into Clarke. To touch her hand and caress her arms, to soak in the warmth of Clarke’s hands on her hips and back.

To comfortably slide her glace sideways and be met with Clarke’s cleavage.

A much better view than the one from the top of the five stories building. That wasn’t anything spectacular, but the ambiance given to the rooftop with little fairy lights and a few benches around the edge made it look cozy despite the breeze. Made it even easier to get handsy with Clarke while they make out in one of the benches after Clarke guided Lexa up the emergency stairs, a few hours into the party declaring they were done mingling.

They part their lips eventually because even though Clarke doesn’t need to breath Lexa does. She heaves a breath and tries not to be embarrassed about it as they share a look, she’s not very classy straddling Clarke as she lays on her back. Her skirt is up too high as she leans on her elbows on either side of Clarke’s head. Her breathing shouldn’t be an issue, honestly. Their mouths are inches apart, but Lexa doesn’t let Clarke lean up as she looks at her eyes with a tilt of her head.

“What’s so interesting?”

“Your eyes... are shifting” Lexa realizes “Black and blue”

“Must be that I’m thirsty” Clarke winks with an overly confident smirk.

“They were red at the gala” Lexa deflects “After we made out” she smirks and Clarke full on grins with another wink.

“Again. Thirst”

“What's the difference?”

Clarke huffs with a pout after trying to lean up for a kiss again and getting a question instead “I hope you know I was having much more fun when we were kissing”

“Well miss, you ask a lot of questions about werewolf and answer none about vampires, so indulge me for once”

With another huff and a slight eye roll Clarke starts taking “you know the black is hunger. Red is... similar, is hunger while there's blood in my system”

“So, you haven't fed?”

“Not... that recently”

“Shouldn't you?”

“I’m fine. If they shift when I kiss you what do you think that means?”

Lexa smirks, but deflects again “so you feel it? When they shift?”

“Can you?” Clarke deflects as well, lifting an eyebrow.

“Yeah” Lexa answers right away, shifting her eyes to red, her signature alpha color “just like I can feel my fangs and... every other part of shifting”

Clarke hums and frows slightly “I can't... mostly. I know they go black when I get my fangs out and I can... feel? Like they might be black when I'm too thirsty. And I can will them to red. I do feel that one... it's almost like they are actually filling with blood.”

“Whoa... that's… insane”

“You know what's insane?” And she leans up to kiss her. Lexa sighs a giggle into her mouth and feels Clarke smirk into the kiss as well.

“We should get you something to eat” Lexa hushes between kisses.

“I’m fine right here”

“We could go and come back. Kill a bad guy and be back”

“Kill? In these outfits?!” Clarke yelps pulling back from the kiss “Are you insane? I ain't spilling on this dress”

Lexa huffs a little laugh and tries again “Well drink from some-...” only to stop, not wanting to finish that sentence, to suggest Clarke go out to make out with someone else.

“I shouldn't. I could accidentally kill 'em” Clarke shrugs and Lexa tilts her head once again, confused… Only to have Clarke chuckle.

“I need to tell you how much of a puppy you look when you do that”

It’s an instant reaction at the name, to fang out, shift her eyes and growl out “don't call me that”

Clarke doesn’t flinch, because of course she doesn’t. With Lexa still lowly growling Clarke pecks her lips “Sorry” and kisses her again “I won’t-” but this time Lexa sits up when Clarke leans a third time.

She huffs and gets comfortable on Clarke’s pelvis “What did you mean?” She asks, because she won’t let Clarke get away with it after she -unknowingly- insulted her. Now matter how outstandingly beautiful she looked laying under her “Accidentally, how?”

“You just don't let thing go do ya?”

“You just can't give a straight answer, can you?”

“Can't do much straight” Clarke grins with a way-over-the-top wink.

Lexa resist, tries her best at containing a smile, cover her giggle with a huff and an eye roll. She knows Clarke can see right through but nevertheless, it works. Clarke sighs and rolls her eyes as hard as she can.

“I told you the black eyes are hunger but... I like to think of it more as instinct. And blue eyes are... consciousness. Instinct and consciousness fight all the time. Hunger triggers instinct, instinct takes over consciousness. Just from hunger my eyes turn black, they do when I scent blood. Imagine how it goes when I taste it” Clarke shrugs casually, and Lexa can’t help but like it “told you I can't really feel when they're shifting, but I can tell instinct is trying to take over”

Lexa hums, ignoring the relief of knowing Clarke won't be kissing other people... tonight at least “so it is trying to take over now” she says, trying to quiet her mind.

Clarke sighs again, roll her eyes pointedly at her and Lexa notices they’re blue “yeah” she leans up on her elbows “but it's manageable, no one's bleeding out” She raises her eyebrows with a tilt of her as she gets closer to her face “Also I have bags of blood at home” she winks with a little smirk.

“Oh so we still have time” Lexa smirks too not giving into the kiss yet.

“Preferably to continue the kissing” Clarke groans, pulls at her by the hips and connects their lips. Lexa nods giggling into the kiss, and interweaving her hands in Clarke's hair to deepen the kiss.

*

Bonus. Clarke's PoV (not on ao3)

The kiss is full of tongue and teeth, deep and dirty, Clarke’s hands grabs at Lexa to pull her close, nuzzle her nose with her when Lexa pulls back to take a breath and dives right back into it when Lexa captures her lips again. It’s a well know dance they do, have been doing for the past two months, Lexa no longer hiss when her tongue graces Clarke’s fangs, and she lets Clarke nib on her lower lip, even pouting it out for her.

Is totally accidental when on a particular hard kiss, Clarke nibs a little too hard tearing Lexa’s skin and making her bleed a little. Lexa hisses and pulls away quickly, licks her lip and the wound is already closed. Clarke zeros in on Lexa’s mouth, her own mouth still parted until Lexa kisses her again, clearly having moved on.

Clarke answers the kiss on instinct, grabbing at Lexa more firmly and pulling her close, even closer, impossibly closer. Because she got a taste, a taste of the blood she scented however many months ago and ruined her for worse; made her unable to follow a patter of feeding and unable to satiate from any blood that wasn’t Lexa’s.

She knew it couldn’t be just that she was a wolf, she knew it couldn’t be about her been an alpha, but hell desperation drove her places and she tried both, mind controlling both wolfs to forget about it after and ending up equally as unsatisfied as with any human.

Lexa parts with a heavy breath, holding Clarke’s head and keeping her from chasing. But doesn’t she try, angles for her jaw and only blinks back to reality when Lexa pulls at her hair -and so what if that turned her on?-

‘I need to feed’ she thinks, still staring at Lexa’s lips, processing the addictiveness of Lexa’s blood, just a drop and it was intoxicating. She blinks again, realizing Lexa isn’t diving back like before. She licks her lips and looks up to see Lexa watching her.

Is it possible to smirk only with your eyes?

“Do you need to go home?” She asks, sweetly because of course she thinks she knows what she’s doing.

Lexa never seemed to think Clarke could be a danger to her. Lexa trusted her from before she got proof that she was right, and then settled for one singular proof without any more information. Even if Clarke literally yelled at her that she was wrong.

How terrible it was that she is just as addictive as her blood.

“Clarke?”

And she’s been staring, not even at her mouth, just her eyes, her deep red eyes- “Why red?”

“Because yours are black” Lexa doesn't miss a beat.

And okay, there has been many, many times through her -long, long, long, long ass- life where Clarke has been thankful for been a vampire. Tonight, she's thankful that she can't blush, nor lose her breath or have her heart miss a beat. Because all of those would be dead give aways she does not need Lexa knowing about.

“I told you I can’t help it” She tries with a frown, needing Lexa to shift her eyes back to green, because red… red is new, red is blood, red is not something she’s prepared for, red is something she can't have, red should be forbidden. Green? Green is known, green is good, is fun drunk nights, and long talks and smiles. Green is innocent making out -with wandering hands but still- green is smirks and blushed cheeks. And green- is back.

“Better?” Clarke only nods “Yours are still black so I’m going to guess you do need to go home”

“That would be a good idea. Yep.” She nods again, standing up with Lexa still in her lap and enjoying the missed beat of Lexa’s heart before she puts her down.

They walk back down hand in hand ‘to make sure you won’t run away’ Lexa says and Clarke is too content to call out her lie.

Lexa walks her home and kisses her goodbye at the entrance of her building. She’s still thinking about it when she enters her apartment and heads straight for the fridge. She’s happily surprised to realize she’s only thinking about Lexa and her kisses and not her blood, nevertheless, she dries out all five of the bags she has in storage.

The next day, Clarke wakes up from a magic induced sleep to a dead body in her kitchen. Lexa isn't there, neither is the folder from the night before, just an open window and a note.

Thanks for last night

♡.

[korixae]

i want an episode of doctor who where someone important to the doctor dies and all the pain and heartbreak of all their lives piles up and they get so broken and so full of hate that this keeps happening and why can’t they just be happy and why is the universe so cruel that they turn evil and then while out and about being evil and not giving a fuck about saving people they run into the master and the master is shook that the doctor has changed bc how? that’s impossible the doctor and the master are opposing forces! it’s their whole dynamic now everything’s out of balance! and so they make it their mission to show the doctor how much good there is in the universe and the doctor is cold and harsh and vulnerable and heartbroken but the master whisks the both of them off on an adventure to demonstrate all the brilliant wonderful extraordinary happy parts of the universe but what finally gets through to the doctor is that it’s the master showing them all this. they’re so far gone that the master is trying to fix them. and they realise that the both of them have more in common than they think and that they can see it from each other’s perspectives. and then they kiss

[luvbloggingandreblogging]

Something About Jason Todd In The Future I Guess

Jason Todd, in the eyes of the world at large, is a mildly successful author who lives on his father’s trust fund. He is in the minority of his siblings to have a college degree, and he was missing for a significant period of time, presumed dead. He is 28 years old, and he spends his nights grappling from rooftops as part of a flock of colorfully dressed birds, striking fear into their lawless, beautiful city.

He is the Red Hood. He protects the parts of the city many glance over.

He is the only bird in this flock with fresh blood on its talons.

Two of his younger siblings are birds of prey who have learned to eat nuts and seeds. He is a songbird who has learned to hunt.

He does not do so carelessly.

It has taken him the better part of a decade, but he has learned the ways he is different to his siblings. To his father.

For them, killing would be easy.

For him, it is never easy.

He feels the blood of each body on his hands. He knows the story behind each one. This does not paralyze him, as it would his older brother, or deaden him, as it would his younger brothers.

Each person he kills has a life. Each bloody body tells a story.

He was one of those stories, once, after all. 

But every person he saves has a life, too. And every story has to end sometime. 

The Red Hood kills. It is a tool, one of many in his arsenal. Once, it might have been his tool of choice, but he knows better, now.

This flock knows better than anyone, after all, that there are worse things than death.

[random-autie-fangirl]

I drew another Chara- living with the Dreemurrs edition

"The King and Queen treated the human child as their own. The underground was filled with hope."

I don't like this as much as the last one but oh well... I ended up rambling a huge amount in the tag, so if you want details and headcanons about the actual drawing again, you'll have to look pretty far down this time, sorry (Also, I ran out of tags after a while. Tumblr is tired of me, lol. I might reblog this more tags later if I remember what I was going to say.)

[galvanizedfriend]

Any chance for a snippet for the next chapter Yokan? Or any idea when the next chapter is is going to come out ♥️ I’m re reading the Wolf 3 right now and am nearing the end of the updated chapters lol 😭

Hii, friend! ❤️ I can't promise when the next chapter will come because this is turning out to be a monster. 🥲 I'm at about 80% now, and have been making decent progress, but editing this is going to be🙃 So I hope to have it finished soon, but I don't know when. But since you asked, I can give you a little snippet. 😁 This is a scene I had been working on earlier today, Kol and Eve having a 1x1. Don't know if that's the kind of thing you wanted from this chapter, but I was actually having some fun writing this. 😂 Bear in my mind that I have not edited anything, so this could all change. But I hope you enjoy it. 🥲

From TW4x03: "Hello," he greets her, only half her face visible from where she's hiding - quite poorly, mind you - behind the kitchen door. Eve blinks up at him, but stays remains quiet. "Cat eat your tongue?"

She abandons her cover, stepping fully into the kitchen now, all pink pajamas and pigtails.

She is... Big. Kol is definitely not used to following humans' growth spurts from up-close. It's perfectly normal, he supposes, but it still comes as a bit of an irrational shock to see how she went from a little baby to this fully formed mini-person. A mini-Niklaus, nonetheless. Though with none of the malice and aggression and the annoying hubris ingrained into every line of Niklaus' body after a thousand years of living in pure rage. That aside, the similarity is uncanny. It's easy to forget there was once a sweet boy somewhere before the moody tyrant took over.

"My mom says I shouldn't talk to strangers," she tells him as though reciting words she's heard countless times before.

"Ouch. Out for blood, are you?" he retorts flatly. Her wariness doesn't bother him as it seemed to bother Niklaus earlier. In Kol's experience, it's smart to remain watchful around this family. "I'm not a stranger, though. I'm your coolest uncle. My name is -"

"Kol," she finishes for him. "I know."

He smiles. "See? You do know who your coolest uncle is."

"I don't really remember you, though."

A frown appears on her little brow, as though she's straining to remember, sweeping through her admittedly short tapestry of memories after any moments the two of them might have shared. The fact that he knows she won't find any does cause a bit of a pang, he must admit.

Kol doubts he would've spent much time around his niece anyway, seeing as he was always trying to free himself of his family's clutches, but the reasons why he didn't are still a sore spot. Niklaus didn't even trust him enough to tell him about his daughter at first. And when he finally did, Kol ended up murdered by another one of his brothers before he could even be properly introduced to Eve.

"Yes, well. A sore shame if you ask me. I'm rather delightful," he remarks, detracting from the bitterness. "Isn't it a bit past your bed time anyway? Are you up to no good, by any chance?"

"What are you going to do if I am?"

Kol coughs up a laugh at her unexpected show of defiance. "That depends," he bargains. "Are you planning on putting a frog under your uncle Elijah's pillow?"

Eve giggles. "No."

"Filling Rebekah's pillowcase with flour?" More giggles. "Oh, I know! You're going to spread spicy pepper on your father's toothbrush."

That gets a full-out belly-laugh from her, blue eyes twinkling with delight at the thought of playing pranks on her family. Kol likes her more and more by the second.

"That's mean!" she exclaims in-between waves of laughter.

"You say that because you haven't seen his face. Then it's just hilarious. But if anyone asks, I never told you that." He punctuates it with a wink.

[cinnabariclan]

Moon 4 part 1/2

Start - Previous - Next

[xxplastic-cubexx]

Understandably So no one mentions charles when talking about the Logan movie and again Understandably So This Aint Bout Him however i do confess that as someone who had never seen Logan until like. a month ago when i was binging all the movies and without knowing a single thing about it aside from laura i cant lie i was in fact jumpscared by him being there. especially for at least like 3/4s of the movie

[shidoukanae]

Hello to the Buddyfight fandom it's been a hot minute but god do i miss this show and have been making fanart for it in the background so i thought i'd post to tumblr too ^^

I swear every year I end up coming back to this show and wishing that it kept going, that it got rebooted, that i could just erase my memories of this show and just watch it all over again from the beginning to enjoy everything once again from Tasuku's own sense of justice twisting against him to Gao's suffering of PTSD and how heartfelt it was handled.

There's something very special about this show that I haven't been able to find replicated elsewhere. It has the most perfect world to exist (so much so that i'd love to be isekai'd into it if i could!!!) and while i have my own gripes with it (hi S3+) i honestly sometimes wish i could go back to my high school years of watching this show just to relive it all again :'D

Anyways!!! I hope there's still people out there who enjoy this show even ten years later who'll like seeing new funny artwork for it!

I wanna add too that i'm hoping to create a rewrite of FCBF (ft. seasons 1-3 + Ace) or at least create more artwork for my interpretation of it and its world!

Because, sincerely, this show is one of the few that, for all its flaws, hasn't disappointed me in the years that've followed unlike many other things i've seen and i wanna try to keep the spirit of it alive while I can thanks to that. And if there are any fans still in existence who love it, i wanna provide some food while its once again in my orbit because damn do i adore this show <3 <3 <#

[spotaus]

Late Night quick thing (New Age Sillies)

Bad news: That joke post about including Reset + Orchid is definitely not canon. (I legit got sad thinking about Reset being in a universe where Orchid isn't- because their stories are so so intertwined- but Nightmare 100% would NOT risk the whole twins exploding Error's soul thing.)

Good news: This means I COULD include Kane (Reset's older brother who usually dies in timelines where Reset is born) and use it to develope his character a bit more! Also! Perhaps a Blue × Dream kiddo is finally in the stars for me to design?

[transmasc-rose]

RULES: make a poll with 5 of your all-time favorite characters and then tag 5 people to do the same. See which character is everyone's favorite! (tagged by @seaweedstarshine)

Tagging (don't worry if you don't want to/have done it already!): @transgenderdoctorwhomst @27-27-gruff-triplets @quietwingsinthesky @lost-tardis-room @a-shard-of-quartz-lol

[raifuujin]

It's been more than 20 years and for some reason I feel that Gosho hasn't given Kaiao any development, how can more than 20 years pass and Aoko dynamics, relationship and feelings remain the same? At this point I feel like Gosho is just going to make them date because "they already liked each other" they remain in the same status quo

Hey, if we go by DC romance progress, they've been going too fast. We've already had suspicion of identity chapters, and that didn't happen until more than 400 chapters in DC. /j

Since heists have taken over any character development recently, I don't even know if Kaito and Aoko will even get any romantic progress. Maybe the actual identity confrontation will happen down the line, since that's thief drama, but atm, it really wouldn't surprise me if they only ask each other on a real date at the very end of the manga.

Like. I'm sure Gosho would love to make MK a love drama as well, but he writes MK so rarely, and usually as hype for something Kid related in other media. So the MK stories tend to be heavy on drama that can only take place at Kid heists. (To the point that the new chapters just. Use Kid as the plot device to show off a new character. Even Hakuba's never gotten so much 'look at this character being a detective' treatment in MK.)

-sighs- I just feel bad for MK as a series at this point. I like the characters, I like the general story idea, but. It's been going down a very steep hill with Gosho wanting things exciting, but not wanting any real progress in. Anything. But unlike old MK, the new stories aren't even nice standalone setpieces of story, they're... mundane. They could be high stakes, if you purely look at the scenarios on paper, but. We all know nothing's gonna happen to Kid. Nothing even happens to him when the actual bad guys show up, much less one-time antagonists.

We need actual character focus and development, not heist drama. Badly. Not even romance, though that'd be a nice change. Just any character expansion of our limited cast of characters. Gosho wants big, all the time, meaningless big stuff, when small would be so nice.

[bl-inkstone]

"when the fire takes and leave me nothing but ash, cup me in your loving palms and make me human again."

a short kaveh thoughtspost about you loving him, burnt edges and all.

i think loving kaveh, for all his brilliance and fancy, is exactly what loving an artist is like.

it's not uncommon for him to come home with tired eyes and aching, reaching limbs honed onto you. most nights, you like to tease him and compare your love to a particularly needy limpet, where not even the crashing waves of alhaitham's annoyance at his "shameless displays of affection" (punctuated by sharp, pointed remarks and long side-eyed glances) are enough to draw him from your side. he says he clings to you because he missed your warmth, and that not even the most potent of electro slimes could ever compare to the amount of energy you give with one embrace. you only laugh in return to his poetic musings with one hand raised to hide your flushed cheeks from sparkling red-wine eyes.

but what is uncommon, however, is the first night kaveh came to you, tired and aching and physically reaching as he always does, but hiding behind halfhearted eyes.

at first, you feared what you believed to be the worst: has he fallen out love? have i been lacking in some way? am i not good enough anymore?

he reached for you and held you, yes, but you could feel just from his touch alone just how distant his mind is from you. were you any weaker, you would've stayed quiet, unsure and hurting, and internalized all of these little unspoken things until the day you could not take anymore and leave behind your heart (your love, and only love) alone in the four walls of his shared home.

but you aren't.

so here you are now, with kaveh near-catatonic on the floor and your anxious, worried hands doing all you can to bring him back to you.

it's been a rough few days, weeks, months for kshahrewar's golden boy, chasing deadline after deadline and just barely maintaining his own self-imposed standard of quality, and kaveh is barely holding himself together. and try as he did to keep such unsightly matters away from you, you've noticed. you always do. and it's the sight of your worried, asking eyes and the sound of your voice flowing through him, "what's wrong, my heart? what is it? how can i help?" that finally breaks him.

he has never denied you anything (not his joy, his company, or his pleasure), and as loathe as he is for his weakness, he won't start now.

so kaveh falls to his knees, strangely disconnected from his body with frustration and fatigue raging in whatever hollow he left behind. he tilts forward when his strength leaves him (when he finally allows it to, after months of pushing more, just one more deadline—) and feels himself physically melt when you catch him in ready arms and hears the steady beat of your heart. his genius is a passionate, fiery thing, lighting the way to grander ventures and innovations that could lead sumeru's tomorrow, but just as all fires do, it burns.

but here, he thinks, in the scorched ground of your embrace that no fire could ever touch, he can rest.

kaveh hates to disturb or inconvenience you in any way — being his lover, he'd often joke with quick, unsure eyes and a crooked smile, is enough work already. but you recognize his doubts as well as you recognize your own. he can't fool you. not about this.

so, you reach down and curl yourself around him, guardian and shelter and lover all at once, and allow him refuge from the burning embers still glowing in the dredges of his beautiful, beautiful mind.

"it's alright," you kiss the reassurance into the crown of his tired head, heavy with the weight of all that he carries with his name as the light of kshahrewar. "take all the time you need, my love. the world can wait for you. rest."

dampness invades the cloth of your robes and you feel them, his gilded tears (always gilded, because everything about kaveh, even his grief, is golden) soak through the skin of your lap.

"i have so much work to do." his voice is a fragile, ruined thing.

"the world will wait, and i will help you. there is nothing you can't ask of me, kaveh."

"you already do so much," he gasps through a stuttering sob. "i will - i will not begrudge you, my heart, if you choose to..."

no. he can't say it. he doesn't want to say it. there's something to be said about the old warnings his elders had about not speaking ill fates into existence, and the fear that he almost did so makes him shake like a battered leaf, barely holding onto his branch, in the raging wind. he shakes and muffles sobs that tear at your heart, hoping you wouldn't hear and think any less of him (because you must, you must, oh, how could he ever show something so ugly to you), and you understand.

"i'm not going anywhere." the words leave you like dew falling off leaves after a storm, and they sting and soothe in the same breath the burns he's hidden for so long.

(am i good enough for you? is all i am enough for you? when my hands no longer hold my pens the same and my words escape me, and the clay has become too hard for me to shape, will you still love me then?)

"i'm here, kaveh. yours, for as long you'll have me, and you're mine, for as long as you'll allow."

forever, then. through the blur of his tears, he raises his head and presses himself, cheek and nose and crown, to your waiting hands like a devout believer laying worship to the first temple that has given him solace in years. forever, forever and ever until the sands of time erode whatever is left of us that loves away.

he drinks in the comfort of your shared silence, basks in the security that even now, at his worst and most unbecoming, you still love him enough to allow him this. his heart settles, slowly, and his mind calms into something less frenzied, less a forest fire, and into something he can recognize as himself again.

kaveh has always loved your hands, endlessly gentle and comforting as they are. he could recognize you blind, deaf, and mute, from the sheer comfort your touch brings him alone. he grasps them in his own calloused fingers and lays soft, grateful kisses to each segment, knuckle, and stretch of skin wound around it. it's these hands that have soothed his physical aches with skin-warmed salves and massages. it's these hands that have calmed his mind in the worst of his passionate genius, running careful fingers through golden strands and reminding him "that the mind can churn and charge all it wants, love, but the body has needs too." it's these hands that have cupped him, left as nothing but ash and bitter tears and dead dirt by his own fiery resolutions, and sculpted him into something human again.

i love you, he does not say because the weight of all the love he feels, both in him and from you, chokes him to silence. instead, he closes his watery eyes and presses himself closer, closer to you, and breathes.

he shakes again in your embrace, but more softly, this time. calloused fingers curl around yours in a desperate bid to keep you close, so much like the stubborn limpet you'd liken kaveh to during nights when the fires hadn't burned him yet, and you understand.

i love you too.

[i may not know much about kaveh, but he is very precious 2 me. i hope i did him some justice with this, and that you enjoyed reading it!]

[formal-frog-shoes]

Twiststuck stuff i just wanna get out

Im a huge Cater multi-shipper

Normally this wouldn't be a problem

BUT I CAN'T HAVE ALMOST EVERYONE IN THIS AU HAVE A FLUSH OR PALE CRUSH ON HIM THAT'S ABSURD!!!

[whump-kitty]

"What's your name?" Darius asks offhandedly while reading the newspaper, as Allison is setting the table.

"My... my name? Well, you usually call me Allison." Allison stops moving as they ponder the question, clearly surprised.

"I know I do, pet, but is that your real name? Do you even remember what it was?" Darius seems pretty amused, peering at them expectantly above their newspaper.

"I..." Allison trails off, looking somewhat panicked now. "Am... am I supposed to? I-I mean even if I try, I just... can't..." they laugh nervously as they finish setting the table.

"No... I suppose you're not, your old name is unimportant by now anyways, as it's not like you need to listen to it anymore" Darius seems even more amused, smirking, and he pats the top of their head, leaving Allison to their thoughts and the panicked realization that they don't seem to remember anything from their life before meeting him.