#samspenandsword

[voidc4t-fiction]

c r e d i t s

the dividers/graphics I'm using: animated lines, caution adult content, caution trigger warning, caution dark content by @cafekitsune | bookshelf by @thecutestgrotto | windows borders, rainbow lines by @isisjupiter | Zelda dividers by @saradika-graphics | thanks for reading by @samspenandsword | windows taskbar by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more | anything else, especially the masterlists, are made by me. and NO, you're not allowed to use them without asking. but I might be open for requests.

[moonlilymusings]

modern au?? where ajax is just a snezhnayan soldier who misses his home after being stationed at base close to his hometown.

warnings: !!MDNI!! fem!reader, smut, blowjobs, dry humping, implied angst but not really, war talks, snow storm fuckings yayyyy, not proofread, idk shit about the military this is in a made up world and we're not reading this to learn about that anyway<3

There is no cold like Snezhnayan winters, but the chill of war comes pretty close. The 11th regiment was recently positioned dangerously close to his hometown, to guard a base while strategic operations were being discussed among the military leaders. Only a few soldiers were placed outside, to walk certain sections of the fenced and barb wire walls that enclose the base. Ajax was one of the unlucky few. Snowflakes drifted down from the pitch black sky, only shining briefly under the warm light of the lantern attached to the wall. Ajax didn't pace the wall as he was told to. He stood near the lantern, hugging himself even though he was bundled up from his toes to his head. The only bit of skin that was shown was the bridge of his nose and rosy cheek where his scarf was parted from his hat to see.

He didn't feel unsafe here like he would in any other base. He knew this town, he knew no fool would try to run through the woods to get inside and he knew that only a native to the land would even begin to know how to navigate such dense fauna. He set his rifle against the fence and tucked his gloved hands under his armpits.

Home.. he thought. Mama, papa, his brothers and sisters... and you. It's been three years since he had seen any of you. Anton and Teucer are probably so tall. His mama probably has more wrinkles from his papa's antics. And you're probably just as beautiful as when he left you. He's yet to see any real battle, only serving as guards and relaying intel. He hoped it stayed that way. He wanted to come back to you the way he left, whole and hearty, no more damaged than he already is. Though he knows that's wildly unrealistic. He leant his head against the wire fencing, sighing heavily and feeling the warmth of his breath spread through his scarf. At least he's not leaving children behind like some of his comrades are... though his younger siblings matter just as much to him.

A snap from the forest before him draws him out of his head and he sits up, waiting to see a wild animal or teenager, but what emerged was neither. A figure, shrouded in a heavy fur cloak, trudging heavily through the bracken. Readying his gun, Ajax began to walk toward the figure.

"Stop right there. State your business," he said loudly enough for the figure to hear. Standard protocol gave him the right of way to shoot any trespasser... but he didn't want to take the chance it may some lost person. In the middle of the night. During a storm watch. Maybe he had too much good in his heart.

The figure stopped when he said to, then lifted their hands to pull down their hood. Ajax jerked his arm, ready to shoot, but even in the midst of the hazy night, he could recognize her, the way her hair framed her face, the color of her skin, the pull of her eyes that the light of the lanterns just barely hit. He dropped his weapon in shock, watching as you ran to him, reaching for his coat, his arms, anything you could get your fingers around.

"What are you-" His arms wrapped around your shaking body as you fell into his chest, holding you close as if the wind would carry you away. He backed to the metal fence and tucked you into a stone corner foundation to shield you from the icy wind. You were bundled up like you left the house with intentions to travel. "What are you doing here?" He asked, tucking your head back into your hood, but holding it so he could still see your face. He felt his heart may burst, but his nerves were on fire. If anyone were to spot you and tell, it could end badly for the both of you. One tear from you shook those thoughts from his mind and he pulled his scarf down to kiss your cheeks. Perhaps reasoning doesn't matter right now.

He felt your mitts come up to hold his face to your own, your noses pressing together intimately. Ajax closed his eyes for a few moments before opening them again. "What are you doing here, silly girl?" He asks, gently shaking you by your hood, drawing a laugh from your tear stained lips.

"Some from your regiment came into town today, at the market... I overheard them saying you would be on guard duty," you say, blinking up at him as though you didn't just harbor private intel and use it to your own advantage. He couldn't help but laugh, leaning down into the warmth of your neck. He pressed his cold nose against your skin, but you couldn't find it within yourself to push him off. "I needed to see you."

"Needed?" he asked.

"Needed." You bite your mitt, tugging it off your hand. Ajax tries to catch it, to re-cover you but he's too slow. You press your warm palm to his freezing cheek and he melts. Skin. He takes your hand in his, pressing kisses to your palm, evolving into open mouthed and his tongue on your fingers when you press them to his lips.

"Did you come here to get us in trouble?" He asks, puffing warm air onto your fingers before pressing them back to his lips.

His lips are so warm despite the freezing temperature. You probably had a hand in that. "Well, it sounds like you were bored," laughing, watching his eyes follow your fingers as they trail across his features and his eyes follow their ever move, as if you’re holding a treat to a dog. But you are the treat. "Two of your generals were talking about how they stationed you out here to get some peace," you laugh.

Ajax is appalled at first before his lips stretch into a wide smile. "Well... that shows them. Gossiping in public.." He coaxes you into giving a description of the two generals, most likely for later when he wants something and then he gathers you in his arms wrap around you once more. For a while the two of you stand there in silence, him holding you, cherishing your weight against him, as if he may never feel you again.

"I brought some photos," you say, reaching into your coat to pull out a little envelope. The photos are of varying quality, funny pictures of his family, some endearing. He hardly recognizes them, they've grown so much. His eyes well with tears and he cups your face, planting multiple wet kisses on your face in thanks, hastily tucking the envelope deep into his shirt pocket.

You pull a second envelope from your pocket, this one thinner. "And um, some of me," you say, watching him open it warily, half tempted to take it back from him. He pulls the first photo from the dampened paper and his eyes nearly bulge at the sight. Photos he's taken of you during the late nights. Half dressed, completely naked, in the tub, posing on the bed. As he flips through them and as he reaches the back, he sees a few he doesn't recognize, recent pictures. He lingers on these, committing your body to his memory.

"Stop staring," you interrupt him shyly, reaching up to cover the picture only for him to pull it away from your mitt.

"No way. These are mine now, I get to stare." He kisses your cheek before flipping to the next new photo. Your beautiful form... it's the same as he remembers. He can count each special mole, each stretch mark, each little scar. It's all still there despite his absence.

He feels your hands push their way into his coat, using the fabric and his body heat for warmth. He sighs deeply, putting the photos into his shirt pocket with the others before burying his nose into your hair. The smell of your hair brings him memories of lazy mornings in a warm bed... If he closed his eyes tight enough he could feel the sheets and your skin. He presses his lips to your neck, nuzzling through your hair and scarf far enough to make contact with your skin. He bites gently at the tender flesh, but when he hears your gasp, it makes his jaw clench.

"Aja-" you moan loudly and quickly, you stuff your mitt in your mouth. He pulls away from your neck, half heartedly stifling a laugh.

"Ah, so you have been faithful," he teases, caressing the apple of your cheek. You make a face at him, pressing your hips closer to his and he responds by catching your leg and leaning against the wall. He kisses you again as the two of you grind mindlessly against each other. Three years of starvation, give or take. He's already hard. He's probably been hard since he saw you- you think to yourself with a little chuckle. He nips at your lips, his own grunts and groans entering your mouth, dancing on your tongue before plummeting into the pit of your stomach. He lifts you up, pressing you against the brick wall, sloppy kisses keeping your mouth occupied as he grinds his hard on into your core. You tighten your legs around his waist to further the sensation.

He's going to cum from this, he realizes. It's going to stain the front of his pants and make a terrible mess and everyone will know.. unless he pulls them down. Holding you with one arm and unbuckling with the other, he begins shucking his pants down enough to pull his length out of it's confines.

"Ajax you're going to get sick, it's too cold-" you mumble with swollen lips. He soothes you with a kiss on the cheek.

"I'm about to finish and if it's in my pants, then.." he doesn't finish( his sentence), his gloved hand stroking himself as he begins to kiss you again. You reach down with a leg, toeing at the ground until he lets you go. He watches you, confused before he realizes what you're doing. You kneel before him and blow warm air onto his member like he did your fingers. And then you take him into your mouth. Ajax braces himself against the wall, biting his fist to cover any too-loud sounds he would no doubt make. You can still hear every whimper that escapes him as you suck on his tip, lick at the veins, cup his balls with your mitt. His hips do mini thrusts into your warm mouth and you let him, flicking your tongue out to tease his tip each time he pulls out.

It doesn't take long for him to finish, and he begins to pull out as he does. He's sticky in your mouth and down your neck, on your chest. He practically collapses in the snow next to you and you quickly reach out to pull his pants back up before he freezes his balls off (literally).

You check the time on his pocket watch. "Ajax, I should probably leave before I push my luck," you say reluctantly, caressing his cheek and shoulders. He grumbles, leaning forward to wrap around you. Ever the post-coital cuddler. You can't deny that. So you wrap your own arms around him as he pulls you into his lap against the stone. You'll push your luck until you hit the brick wall. This is love and war, after all... And you're sure he'll come home to you.

[perlelune]

Oxytocin | Coriolanus Snow | ii.

One act of kindness from a peacekeeper may be your salvation or your doom. Possibly both.

Warnings: NON-CON, Blackmail, District 8 Reader, Stalking, Kidnapping

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

You do your best to avoid him for as long as you can. 

You show up at the factory each day, diligent and focused on your work. You thread, dye and sew miles upon miles of fabric. It’s exhausting and repetitive but assists you well in burying the peculiar encounter. And if sometimes a particular shade of blue fabric stir memories of eyes you’d rather forget…you ignore that as well. It’s better that way. You narrowly escaped imprisonment, perhaps even death. No need to tempt fate once again. 

But it’s no matter. 

Because fate finds you anyway. 

It happens as the end of your shift at the factory comes near. Your cold-bitten digits are interweaving two different colors of thread on a gigantic wooden loom. Same as the girls and boys surrounding you. They’re all quick and efficient, threading and weaving with the ease of practice. A lifetime of it. Some of them are as young as five years old. There’s a saying floating around the districts.

If one can walk, they can work. 

You often wondered if that same logic applies to the Capitol’s children. Are they too expected to work until their fingers are numb with pain and their eyes red-rimmed with fatigue?

You somehow doubt it. 

Once again, the weight of someone’s attention blankets your shoulders. You tense, the needle nicking your fingertip when your attention falters. 

You curse and swipe away the blood beading on your finger.

Your head rises. 

Anger simmers inside you at the sight of the smug face smirking at you from across the room. 

Coriolanus. 

He showed up one hour ago, switching places with another guard, and proceeded to stare at you since.

Dread pools in your gut. His gaze hasn’t strayed from you once.

What could the peacekeeper possibly want from you?

You have nothing, and it’s obvious he’s some rich kid from the Capitol who somehow found his way here.

“Your yarn is coming loose.” 

Yara’s frenzied tone wrenches you away from your thoughts. 

You look down, your forehead scrunching as you do. She’s right. The threads have broken out of their pattern, forming disgraceful zigzags over the loom.

Besides, there’s a minuscule crimson stain on the fabric. The pristine beige cloth is now ruined. This will come out of your pay.

Your ire grows. Your gaze narrows as it finds Coriolanus’.  This is all his fault. He distracted you. Annoyance at the strange peacekeeper gleams inside you.

You bolt up from your stool.

“I have to go,” you announce, already gathering your satchel from the floor.

Yara’s eyes round.  “Our shift’s not over yet,” she whispers below her breath, tossing wary glances at the guards. Your frown deepens. Any slight sign of disobedience could be seen as a hint of rebellion these days. It’s how much the Capitol wants to avoid a return to the Dark Days.

You smile at her in reassurance.

Yara was kind enough to show you the ropes when you started working at the textile factory. She even stayed late at night with you to teach you the most complex needlepoints.

Fidgeting, you apologize, “I’m sorry, but it’s an emergency. I’ve ruined it anyway.”

You don’t stick around for her response, rushing towards the nearest corridor to slip away.

A deep, teasing lilt echoes behind you in the hallway.

“Still trying to fly away from me, huh?”

Your heart leaps. Not again. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” you chide as you keep hastening across the hallway. It doesn’t matter though. A stolen glimpse at your back reveals to you that Coriolanus’ long legs easily maintain pace with your frantic strides.

You unleash a weary sigh. 

“I shouldn’t but I am, pretty bird.”

You can hear the smile in his voice and it infuriates you more.

“Leave me alone, Coriolanus-”

A sharp breath ripples through your throat as warm fingers suddenly clasp around your arm.

“What are you…”

The large hand that drapes over your mouth quiets your budding protest.

Ignoring your muffled shouts, he pulls you flush against his frame and drags you into a dark room inside another hallway.

Your heart hammers in your chest as you grab at anything you can. He’s undeterred by your feistiness, only unhanding you once he’s slammed the door shut.

A chill dances on your spine  as every deadbolt is meticulously slid into place by him.

Leaning back against the locked door, Coriolanus’s eyes drag over you. He drinks you in for a while as you retreat, as far away from him as the small room allows.

Uncrossing his arms, the blonde starts inching towards you.

Your nerves flare up at his impending proximity. A heavy sigh drops from his chest.

“Why do you make that face when I’m only trying to help you?”

“I don’t want any help from you. I want nothing from you,” you shout. 

He tilts his head, closing the distance. He shoves his hand in his pocket, seeming to search for something. You freeze. 

Shock rocks through you when he conjures a familiar vial, shaking it in front of your face. 

“Hm, Are you sure?” he taunts. 

The urge to steal it from him has your fingertips tingling. But you tried that before, and it didn’t work in your favor. So you snuff out the impulse.

“How did you find out?”

“I have my ways.”

You search his stark cobalt orbs. They give nothing away.

“I just want to take care of you,” he adds.

“Why?”

You startle as his long fingers creep under your chin. You didn’t realize how close he’d gotten, now bending over you so you’re at eye-level.

“Because I can. I could make your life easier.”

His tender inflection, oddly intimate, makes discomfort pool in your stomach.

“I don’t need…”

“Take it.”

As you do nothing to take the bottle he holds up in his fist, Coriolanus exhales wearily.

You gasp when he shoves the vial between your trembling palms.

“Don’t be stupid,” he admonishes. “That cousin of yours won’t make it through winter without these. They’re antibiotics.”

You stare down at the amber bottle. Your shoulders slump. You hate to admit it but he’s probably right. Tilly’s coughing fits are progressively getting worse. She can hardly breathe properly most days. It hurts to see and you’ve been praying for a way to help her. 

And now you have that way. Is it even fair to Tilly to turn his help down because of your own personal hang ups with the peacekeeper? 

His motives elude you but you’re not sure it matters at that moment. 

Tilly’s life is on the line. 

Your fingers squeeze around the vial.

“I know what they are. It’s written on the bottle.”

Interest springs in his cobalt gaze.

“You can read? Interesting,” he hums. “Most people can’t in the districts.”

Your cheeks heat at his assumption. A respectable amount of people in the districts can in fact read. Not the majority, but a few at least. The knowledge just isn’t widespread enough and schools are a luxury most districts cannot afford.

“My grandmother taught me when I was young,” you defend.

He pauses, studying your defiant features. 

His hand wraps around your hand holding the bottle. You try not to shrink, afraid he’ll take it back.

His thumb sweeps over your knuckles.

“These are very rare and hard to get. Don’t let your pride get in the way, pretty bird.”

“I won’t,” you mumble. 

Another bag materializes before you. Coriolanus nudges it in your arms before you can think to protest. “Take that too.”

You glare at him suspiciously. “What is it?”

“Food, water, supplies.”

Grounded in disbelief, you peer inside the bag. Your jaw hangs slack. He wasn’t lying. The bag is brimming with rations. There’s even a few slices of bread and cheese on top. This has to be worth at least a hundred coins.

You purse your lips. “I can’t accept…I have nothing to repay you.”

Corolianus sighs, keeping the bag in your hands with his steely grip as you attempt to return it.

“Then just remember you live because of me,” he says. A lopsided smile blooms on his lips. “That’s the only payment I require.”

You snort. It can’t possibly be that simple, can it?

But Coriolanus’ features harbor no mirth. Skepticism heightens your pitch.

“That’s it?”

“Yes.”

You nod. “Okay, I will.”

Displeasure flickers in his gaze. His fingers sneak below your chin to angle it upward, forcing you to drown in his cobalt stare.

“No, I want to hear you say it, sweet bird.” His tone is laced with a solemnity that wasn’t there before. Your stomach knots. “That you live by the will of Coriolanus Snow.”

A shaky breath flows out of you. You’re suddenly reluctant under his keen scrutiny.

Still, your voice comes out a tremulous croak.

“I live because of you, Coriolanus Snow.”

His entire face lights up with your words, a strange glow appearing in his orbs.

For some reason, you feel as if you just tied a noose around your own neck.

You take a sip of your beer, basking in the bitter, heady aftertaste. Usually, you’re not much of a drinker, but it’s the first true respite you’ve gotten from the blue-eyed peacekeeper in many weeks and you plan on enjoying it. 

A tavern wouldn’t be your first choice but Yara invited you and it occurred to you this isn’t the kind of place a boy smelling like old money and roses would visit. 

It’s rare for you to be anywhere these days without his disarming presence hovering in a corner of the room. 

You’ve even considered abandoning your job at the factory altogether. But it’s not like a girl like you can change careers on a whim. You have no connections, no skill, no talent whatsoever. Nothing but your hard-earned ability to weave threads of fabrics together. 

Maybe the mines at the northern end of the district. 

It’s far from a tempting prospect. The work is downright dangerous. But at least it would shield you from the peacekeeper’s relentless scrutiny. 

“Your shadow isn’t here today," Yara notes.

You drag your eyes away from the band playing on stage. 

“My shadow?”

“That pretty boy peacekeeper who follows you around," she elaborates, her lips curved in amusement. You grimace. If only she knew. There isn’t a shred of mirth in your current predicament. 

You roll your eyes. “He doesn’t follow me around.”

You refrain from saying he does a plethora of other things that puzzle you and stir your discomfort. 

You refuse to trust him, but thanks to him your cousin has been getting noticeably better, even able to walk on her own again now. It’s a relief. Tonight she’s at friend’s and gets to laugh, play and be a regular kid again. 

Besides, though it pains you to recognize it, your belly’s fuller than it’s been in a long time. 

It shames you to admit it, but it took you no time to cave in and gobble down the food he offered. Hunger does strange things to people. 

You loathe yourself for yielding but the feeling of an empty stomach is infinitely worse than that of your wounded pride. 

"He is pretty though," your friend says, glancing away dreamily. 

Your face warms.  "I really don’t care how he looks. I just wish he’d go pester someone else."

"Hm, fair." She drinks from her jug and shrugs. "He could just be bored. I’m sure he’ll stop at some point."

The conversation reaches a halt when a brown-haired guy around your age with a scar across his face stops at your table. 

“Can I ask you to dance?” he asks. His cheeks redden as he awaits your response. A quiet glance passes between you and Yara. You kick her under the table when she nearly lets out a chuckle.

Endeared by the boy’s bashful manner, you answer with a smile, “Sure, why not.”

You let the stranger drag you into a dance, your worries fading into the buoyant, lively  notes played by the band and the boy’s nonchalant grin.

It’s the kind of normalcy you’ve been longing for.

Engrossed in the moment, as the boy slips a hand around your waist, an audible gasp spills out of you when he pulls away from you out of the blue. 

Or rather is wrenched away from you. 

Your brows rise to your hairline.

You gape in horror, the sight of Coriolanus hauling the boy up by his lapels striking you mute. His features are taut with anger as the boy’s hands rise defensively. A mix of befuddlement and fear decorates his features.

Guilt needles your chest. You never expected the blond to show up here of all places. Paranoia seizes the chaotic train of your thoughts. Was he here all along, watching you like a hawk the entire time? Is he always here, never wandering too far from wherever you are?

Fear coils your insides.

"Hey," you call out, relief trickling inside you when your legs move again. You make a beeline to Coriolanus. 

“What is wrong with you?” you shout, trying to pry him off the poor boy. 

It’s not the useless hand scratching his bicep but rather your tone that appears to jerk him out of his trance. 

His grip on the boy loosens as he whirls to you. The stranger wastes no time in running away. You can’t even blame him. You can’t imagine there’d be many repercussions if the blond harmed him, but the opposite can’t be said. 

Coriolanus’ hands slowly lower before balling into fists. 

Irate blue eyes flare as they fall on you. 

You recoil.

“With me?” he growls, crowding your space. "His grubby paws were all over you."

You blink in disbelief, shocked by his accusing tone. You did nothing wrong. It’s not like he can tell you who to dance and not dance with. "G-Grubby…what? I’m not some damsel in need of rescuing, Coriolanus."

He squints at you, displeasure evident on his angular features. 

His hand latches onto your arm, yanking you towards the exit. You can barely keep up with his furious stomps.

“I think it’s time we had a talk. Come with me.”

“I’d rather stay here."

He ignores you, his grip on you turning deathly. Tears burn the back of your eyes. 

“No…”

You toss a desperate look above your shoulder to find your friend just as shocked as you are. She won’t help you. No one will. 

Your stomach sinks. 

The tears break past the confine of your lashes. 

He takes you outside. The chilly air skates across your skin, spreading gooseflesh over it. The silver glow of the moon lights the tortuous path he takes through dim, narrow alleyways. This is nowhere near your cabin and your panic swells. 

You dig your heels into the ground, resisting. 

Coriolanus heaves out a weary exhale. He hunkers down to pick you up. You squeal, flabbergasted by his nerve. He hoists you on his shoulders as if you were a sack of grain, taking firm, irate steps into the night. 

"You can’t do this," you weep, slamming as hard as you can into his back. 

Hardly flinching, he scoffs before stating, “I don’t remember asking for your permission, birdie."

[questforgalas]

Passing the Time

Notes: a quick little diddy I wrote inspired by this art created by @zaana that I couldn't get out of my head and I also need pre-order 66 moments with the Batch like I need air. Just Crosshair and Hunter being soft bros and reminiscing

WC: 900

Tay's Masterlist

Read on AO3

Staring up at the night sky, Crosshair counts 7 different constellations laying within his vision. The midnight air still carried the day’s humidity, causing a thin layer of sweat to coat his skin underneath his armor even as he relaxes against the boulder he settled against at the beginning of his watch shift. A breeze rustles the palm fronds hanging above them, softly grazing his face, and in the distance, waves are heard softly rolling onto the beach on the other side of the grove.

Hard to believe just hours ago they were knee deep in Separatist territory doing what they do best. Especially what Wrecker does best with explosives. 

Checking his vambrace’s chrono, they aren’t due to leave for Kamino for another 5 hours. Finally returning home after nearly 5 months of missions. Giving a content hum, he crosses his legs in front of him, leaning further into the boulder and settling in for the remainder of the night. The only noise disturbing the soft jungle symphony coming from the GNK droid keeping him company. 

A thud from behind catches his attention, causing him to glance over his shoulder back at the Marauder. The gate was left open, letting the soft interior light spill onto the jungle floor and illuminate the figure walking towards him. Turning back to the jungle, Crosshair reaches into his belt taking out a toothpick to place between his lips as he waits for his sergeant to join him. 

“Can’t sleep?” he asks when Hunter settles in next to him, using the GNK as an improvised chair. 

“Can’t shut it down tonight,” Hunter replies. Crosshair gives a hum, understanding. As they grew older, the nights Hunter couldn’t shut his senses down became more rare, but occasionally, after a string of tiring missions, they could prove too much for his exhausted mind. 

“Echo and Wrecker out?”

“Like lights.” 

“Tech?”

“Doing something to the Marauder. As always.”

Crosshair huffs a sigh. “He’s going to work himself to death.” 

“When did you become a mother hen?” Hunter jokes, playfully jabbing an elbow into the sniper’s arm. That earns him a grumble that loses its bite when Crosshair can’t help the smile tugging on his lips. 

“Simply keeping the efficiency of the squad in mind,” Crosshair counters. 

“Uh huh. Don’t worry, Cross. Your secret’s safe with me. Can’t let anyone think you’re not a prickly asshole,” Hunter teases. 

The sniper rolls his eyes and flicks the toothpick to the other side of his mouth as he looks back up to the sky, letting the comfortable silence between him and Hunter settle around them. Mind on the brother likely buried in wires, he smiles up at the stars as his thoughts bring up memories previously forgotten. 

“Remember when we were younglings,” Crosshair starts, “and he was determined to build his own battle droid? Wanted it to go on missions with us.” 

Hunter groans, “Convinced Wrecker to break into the training lab with him to scrap and carry parts back to our barracks. Was set on having it ready for our next simulator. Stayed awake for days to finish it. He was so tired, he accidentally mis-wired the activation so it came alive in the barracks. Started firing everywhere.” 

“A bolt went right by my head! Hit my favorite target card!” Crosshair exclaims as he pushes himself off of the boulder, turning his body towards Hunter. 

“I’ve never seen Wrecker move so quickly when he flipped the table and took cover,” Hunter continues. “I had to tackle Tech down since he was still in a stupor, just staring at the droid wildly firing. It finally ran out of juice after a minute, but the damage to the barracks…” 

“Can’t believe Nala Se’s check up was scheduled for that day. Remember the look on her face when she opened the door?” Crosshair says with a laugh. 

“Still not as good as Lama Su’s when I had to explain to him what happened after being called to his office,” Hunter snickers. “Only the second time that week too. Pretty sure that was a record for us.” 

“What was the most?” 

“In one week? Nine. Became more frequent after Echo joined. Who knew an ARC would be such a troublemaker,” Hunter chuckled. 

“He’s not so bad. For a reg.” 

Hunter flicked his gaze up to Crosshair and smiled at the fondness he found in his eyes. No one was more protective of their squad than the ARC, and no one was more protective of the ARC than their sniper. 

Turns out, Echo has as much patience for bullies as he does for Separatists, and the Batch learned quickly that something as small as a snide look sent their way resulted in it being punched off the reg’s face by a scomp. Naturally, Echo’s fierce loyalty and no hesitation to knock down regs earned him a high spot in Crosshair’s regard. 

“Pretty sure he gets it from that Fives he’s always talking about,” Crosshair says. 

“Can’t really picture Rex having a bunch of rowdy ARCs,” Hunter mutters. 

“I think Skywalker required all of his attention. Let the others get away with it,” Crosshair chuckles.

Hunter matches his chuckle with his own. “Remember when…”

Surrounded by the quiet of the jungle, the brothers swap stories until the dark hours of night soften with the first rays of the sun crawling up to the horizon. The quiet is interrupted by Wrecker’s laugh inside the ship, and the sergeant and the sniper join their squad as they prepare to return home.

[rufescentmoon]

The Grass Isn't Greener (also avaliable on a03)

Fandom: The Life Series

Pairings: Scar x Grian, Pearl x Scott, Grian & Scott, Scar & Pearl

Warnings: Abuse, Domestic Violence, Canon-Typical Torture, Possessive Behaviour, Kidnapping, Death Threats

Word Count: 1.5k+

A/N: A trade for @professionalnamestealer! I really liked your prompt hehe :3 I didn't know what direction you wanted toxic Scarian to be in so I went with Scar being the toxic one! Honestly, Grian and Scott are such character parallels to me... both of them were tortured with powdered snow by their soulmates, and both of them tried to defy the soulbound to be with the person they really loved (Cleo and BigB, respectively)... they just have such interesting similarities!

The biting wind howled like a banshee, clawing at Grian’s threadbare cloak as he stumbled through the forest. Each gust was a knife twisting in his lungs, a chilling reminder of the torment he’d fled. Scar. The name alone almost sent phantom pain through his body, a consequence of their cursed bond. Whether it be a catcus' pricks or a dunk in powdered snow, the pain was constant, never-ending. He had to escape. The torture had to stop. He couldn't take anymore.

Grian pressed on, his legs burning, his breath ragged. He had to reach Pearl’s tower. It was his only hope. His sister, distant and enigmatic as she was, was still family. And, right now, family was all he had. He knew they hadn't exactly been as close as late, he hadn't really been there for her much, but still, surely, surely she wouldn’t turn him away. Surely, she wouldn’t let Scar drag him back to that hell. He pictured her face, trying to recall a flicker of warmth, of understanding. He latched onto the faintest memory of shared laughter from their childhood, a fragile raft in a sea of icy dread.

He finally saw it, a dark silhouette against the bruised sky. Pearl’s tower, a solitary spire that pierced the heavens like a defiant finger. He quickened his pace, adrenaline surging through his veins. He pounded on the heavy oak door, his knuckles raw and bleeding.

The door creaked open, revealing Pearl’s face, her eyes wide with surprise, then softening with a practiced concern. “Grian? What are you doing here? You’re freezing!” She ushered him inside, the warmth of the hearth a welcome balm against his numb skin.

The tower's interior was surprisingly cozy, filled with tapestries and overflowing bookshelves. He focused on Pearl’s face, searching for any sign of reluctance, of judgment. He found none.

"I… I need help, Pearl," he managed, his voice hoarse. "Please."

Pearl’s expression melted, sympathy awash as she reassured him, “Hey... Don’t worry, Griba. You're safe. I'm here. You’re safe."

Relief washed over Grian, so potent it almost brought him to his knees. He was safe. He was finally safe.

“Scott’s here too, you know,” Pearl said, drawing him further into the tower. “We… we had a rocky start, but, we’re doing much better now.”

Grian followed her into the dimly lit room. A figure sat huddled in a corner, wrapped in a thick blanket. As they approached, the figure looked up, revealing a gaunt face with hollow eyes. Huh, it was Scott. 

“Scott, you remember Grian, right?” Pearl said, her voice unnaturally bright. Though, Grian did find the wording strange. Sure, he and Scott weren't necessarily more than acquaintances, but he didn't think he was so forgettable it would've slipped Scott's mind who he was. But he brushed it off.

Scott offered a weak, hollow, almost vacant smile. His eyes held a profound sadness, a silent plea that sent a shiver down Grian’s spine.

Pearl fussed over Grian, offering him food and drink, her concern almost suffocating. As he ate, he observed the interaction between Pearl and Scott. There was a forced intimacy, a palpable tension that crackled in the air. Pearl's hand lingered too long on Scott's shoulder, her voice was a touch too sweet, and Scott’s reactions were withdrawn, almost fearful.

Later that night, unable to sleep, Grian crept from his room. He found Scott sitting by the fire, staring into the flames.

"Can't sleep either?" Grian asked softly.

Scott flinched, as if startled. He hesitated for a moment, glancing around, then looked up at Grian, his eyes filled with a desperate urgency. “You have to help me,” he whispered suddenly, his voice barely audible. “She’s… she’s not who you think she is.”

Grian’s heart pounded in his chest. “What... do you mean? Pearl? I know who she is. She's my sister, duh."

“And she's my soulmate. She’s- listen. She's... she's keeping me here, I don't want to be here,” Scott confessed, his voice trembling. “She says if I leave, she’ll… she’ll…” He choked on the words, unable to finish the sentence.

Grian knew then, with a sickening certainty, what Scott was trying to say. Because he'd heard it before.

Scott looked around nervously, like she had eyes in the walls, before continuing, “She… she threatens to- to kill herself. A-and because we are soulmates, if she... so would I. I can’t leave. She'd kill me. She'd kill us both."

Grian’s blood ran cold. Pearl... Pearl was just as twisted as Scar. She was using their soulmate bond as a weapon, a tool for control and manipulation. And Scott was trapped, just like him.

“When I'm bad, She… she sits in powdered snow,” Scott continued, his voice cracking. “She-she tortures me..."

He trailed off. A horrifying realization dawned on both of them, both their gazes falling upon the other's fingertips, each respectively blackened at the tips from frostbite. They were... they were the same, weren't they? They were the same. They were both victims, trapped in a web of love and pain, woven by their twisted soulmates.

"We have to get out of here," Grian said, his voice urgent. "Both of us."

Scott shook his head, despair clouding his features. "It's no use. She'll just… she'll kill herself. I'll just die if I leave."

"There has to be a way," Grian insisted, desperation clawing at his throat. "I can't just leave you here-"

The heavy thud of boots on the stairs resounded. Pearl. He grabbed Scott’s hand, frostbitten fingertips entwining with each other, his mind racing. They had to escape. They had to get away from her.  

But it was too late. Pearl burst into the room. And behind her, a figure emerged from the shadows, a cruel smile twisting his lips.

Scar.

Grian’s heart plummeted. How? How could Scar be here?

“Grian, darling,” Scar purred, his voice dripping with false affection. “I've been so worried about you. Running away like that... It wasn't very nice. Luckily for you, Pearl was kind enough to let me know where you were hiding, and keep you safe for me while I came over to collect!"

Pearl stepped forward, her expression triumphant. "Scar was so concerned, he came all the way here to check on you! Isn't that sweet? He cares about you so much, Grian."

Grian stared at her, his mind reeling. They were in league. Pearl and Scar, two sides of the same, twisted coin. 

“Pearl... how could you do this? To me? Your own brother?" Grian whispered, his voice choked with disbelief. "And... To him? Your own soulmate?"

Pearl giggled, a high-pitched, unsettling sound. "Oh, do you mean the snow? Scar was the one who gave me the idea! He said it was a very effective way to remind your soulmate of your bond."

Scar chuckled. "And Pearl, here, gave me a few ideas of her own, for when my little birdie needs a bit of a tickle!"

"Why? Why... are you doing this?" Grian whispered hoarsely, desperately, his voice barely audible.

Pearl stepped closer, her eyes gleaming with a disturbing light. "Because we love you, Grian. And you belong with Scar. You're soulmates. You're my brother, I can't let you throw your life away like this- I know what it's like to be without a soulmate, it's awful, it'd be cruel of me to let you condemn yourself to that fate."

"It's true!" Scar added, turning to Pearl with a sickeningly sweet smile. "She had no one, no soulmate to lean on when Scott rejected her, when the other soulbounds ostracised her. It was horrible. You don't want that for yourself, do you? We just want what's best for you," Scar reassured him. "Even if it means being a little… firm."

Grian stared at them, horror churning in his stomach. He had run from one nightmare straight into another, a meticulously crafted trap designed by two twisted souls.

"I'm taking Grian home now, Pearl," Scar said, a predatory glint in his eyes. "That alright with you?"

He reached for Grian, his touch sending a jolt of revulsion through him. Grian tried to pull away, but Scar's grip was like iron.

"Of course! Don't worry, Grian," Pearl said, her voice saccharine sweet. "You'll be happy soon. You'll see. You'll realise how lucky you are to have a soulmate who loves you so much. Now go on- I’m sure you two have a lot to catch up on!"

Scar tightened his grip, dragging Grian towards the door. "Come on, darling~! Let's go home."

As they reached the threshold, Grian saw Scott watching them, his eyes filled with a mixture of fear and despair. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but no words came out.

Grian knew, with a chilling certainty, that this was the end. He was trapped, bound by a cruel twist of fate to a man who reveled in his suffering. And Scott, poor, broken Scott, was trapped, too, a prisoner of Pearl's twisted obsession. They were both doomed, victims of a love that had curdled into something monstrous.

They couldn't even save themselves... Let alone each other.

[themeltedwaxwings]

Icarus. The one who flew too close to the sun.

“ it just so happens, you took your feathers and flew too close to the sun “

Hello! I’m Icarus. Yup. The one who flew too close to the sun. Judge me all you want.

Son of Daedalus.

Age for RP: 16

Gender: Male

No NSFW would be appreciated.

Flirting: Yes.

Dating: Try?

Bisexual (HC)

tags:

icarus flies - regular post

icarus has arrived - answers

icarus has fallen - reposts

angst ☀️ - angsty asks/rps

affection 💛 - platonic love/romantic asks

colors and meanings:

OOC: orange, bold

Regular - Icarus speaks

Italics - Exaggeration or emphasis

pink - Affection

red - Anger

green - Disgust

blue - Sadness

orange - Joy

purple - Fear

miniature italics - actions

i speak too fast. probably adhd.

relationships:

@reigningprinceofithaca (best friend)

@reigningprincesstofithaca (not sure.. crush)

@that-trojan-prince (friend)

WILL BE UPDATED!

—

DNI if you are homphobic, transphobic, xenophobic, racist, a TERF, zoophiles, or likes necrophilia

he looks like hades 2 icarus, btw.

teach him slang for the shits and giggles.

[systastic]

Well, you see, Redstoner is so obscure (and old) it doesn't... have a wiki page! ^^; If you're really curious, the episode that focuses on her can be found here https://youtu(.)be/vRu-eKbCs7g at 34:08 - 41:17 and the secret messages that flash are collected here https://www.wattpad(.)com/238109665-redstoner-secrets-episode-7-part-i Genuinely very sorry for the trouble with this one, you're entirely free to pull from other smps if its easier!

oh, damn. no wonder we couldn’t find anything. since we started writing one already, i’m switching to empires smp. will def take a look at redstoner tho. seems cool. - 🪻

name :: shelby, shubble, shrub, artemis, selene, ghost, shade, “the wolf”

age :: between 23 and 27

pronouns :: she/her, lu/lun (lunaself), cy/cyn/cys/cyself,

roles :: lone wolf, imprisoner, warden

species :: warden/human hybrid

gender identity :: moonguardian, moonmaiden, fallenqueenic (will coin this one on request)

orientation :: neptunic, apothisexual

source :: wolf spirit from empires smp

aesthetic :: gloomcore, dark naturalism, villaincore

appearance description :: dark in nature, both in colors and appearance. dark teal, green so dark it looks black, obsidian black, and gold/silver palette. always seen wearing a cloak. dirt on her pants. grass stains on ankles and knees. wild hair with leaves woven through. teeth so sharp you’d mistake it for a wild thing. bruised and calloused hands. a frayed bow on her back. ragged appearance. hunter’s eyes. eyes flash when shined light on in the dark.

personality description :: stealthy, quiet, sneaky. firm on her word. does not back down from agreements made. sticks to her guns. true to her word. stubborn, resilient, able to withstand emotional force. agile and light. able to cross any border or disable any trap without so much as a sound. resting serious expression even if cyr emotions are volatile. does not often speak both to sysmates and outsiders. prefers solitude and the moon to company. soft to newborn wolf pups; protects them more than anyone else. cy fights like an animal to drive attackers back where they can’t hurt cyn loved ones.

likes :: new chances. fresh beginnings. dark forests. foggy weather. being alone at night. wandering an endless sea of trees with none but the wolves for company. being alone in the forest. hearing a wolf’s howl. being among her new pack. the silver crown atop her head. feeling bowstrings grow taut under her fingers. the smell of fresh blood. taking down a target with a single shot. licking the blood from sore fingertips. seeing justice served, trapping sinners until they are truly reformed.

dislikes :: mourning the past cy no longer has. remembering blurry faces of former friends. flashes of someone stalking cyn through the dark. bright tongues of orange flame. painful smiles, false promises, silver tongues and radiant lies. golden glimmers of royal jewels; the kind that traps one in place. seeing her forest be harmed.

front triggers :: emotional abuse, persecutors fronting (both her own system and others), moon rise, total social isolation

sign off :: 🌑, 🌓, 🐺

art source :: here

[fictinder]

❄️ Rundas x reader, general headcanons ❄️

[No gender specified. This is outside of the game's story]

Rundas famously doesn't work well with others, so if he takes a liking to you, it's already something special

Although really, he's usually friendly towards civilians, he just has difficulty sharing the spotlight with other bounty hunters unless they've impressed him

Despite his pride when it comes to his career, he becomes exceedingly show-offy when he has a crush, since he worries they won't think much of him unless he's constantly surpassing his own abilities

He loves the attention being a bounty hunter gets him, which means convincing him to go on a more private date takes some work

His suit allows him to withstand environments that would normally be too hot for his species, but he still prefers dates in cold places (take him ice skating or skiing and he'll never forget it)

His body is perpetually cold, as is his suit, and you may get stuck when kissing him. He is going to find this very funny regardless of how funny you find it

His mouth is actually on the underside of his head, so you'll just be kissing his forehead most of the time. Which he doesn't mind, since forehead kisses are more common in his culture anyway

Good luck reaching his forehead though if he doesn't lean down for you. He's quite tall even by his species' standards

Dinner dates are complicated, since he can't safely eat or drink anything hot or even lukewarm. Like. His insides will literally liquify

If you're physically tough and agile like he is, he'll love taking you along with him when he goes hunting

If you're not able to keep up with him like that, he'll insist that you stay behind for safety, but will gladly tell you the whole story once he gets back

He's an "actions speak louder than words" kinda guy when it comes to showing affection, and prefers showing you he cares about you rather than telling you

He will probably pick you up and carry you around at times. If you don't like this he'll reluctantly put you back down, but otherwise he'll happily give you shoulder rides or bridal-carry you away

He's also every bit as show-offy about dating you as he is about his job. He wants everyone in the room to be looking at both of you, appreciating how amazing you both are

It might take him a while to unlearn this if you're the shy type, but eventually he'll be willing to let you slip into his shadow in public (though he still thinks it's a shame)

He's a boundless optimist, something that tends to surprise people. No matter what, he's convinced things will always turn out okay in the end.

Truthfully, that's not so much optimism as it is a coping mechanism. He's not immune to fear, but telling himself and his allies firmly that everything will be alright and the "good guys" will win helps calm his nerves. If he's insisting that there's nothing to worry about, he's worried about something. Talk to him. You probably still won't get him to open up completely, but a second voice affirming that things will be okay might still help.

[onespookysongaday]

"When I die, let the wolves enjoy my bones

When I die, let me go"

𝕿𝖎𝖙𝖑𝖊: Wolves

𝕬𝖗𝖙𝖎𝖘𝖙: Down Like Silver

𝕲𝖊𝖓𝖗𝖊: new americana, indie folk

[sunlight-and-calliopes]

Lord Apollon

God of sunlight, medicine, healing, plague, oracles, truth, poetry, arts, the muses, and more.

Epithets

Phoebus ~ The Bright and Shining

Alexikakos ~ The Averter of Evil

Proopsios ~ The Foreseeing

Hekatos ~ The Far Shooting

Paian ~ The Healer

Lykios ~ Of The Wolves

Theoxenios ~ God of Foreigners and Strangers

Argyieus ~ Of the Streets

Latoios ~ Son of Leto

Pythios ~ Of the Python

Horios ~ Of Bounderies and Boarders

Animal Associations

Snakes

Dolphins

Wolves

Crows and Ravens

Hawks

Swans

Deer

Boars

Locusts

Mice

Plants

Laurel / Bay

Hyacinths and Larkspur

Delphinium

Sunflowers

Cyprus Trees

Offerings and Devotional Acts

Wine and other alcohols

Laurel wreaths and branches

Solar imagery

Lemons, oranges, and other citrus

Fresh or dried flowers

Books and journals

Divining tools (tarot/oracle decks, pendulums, casting bones, scrying, etc.)

Suncatchers

Handmade artwork

Lighting candles and incense

Playing or writing music

Drawing, painting, or otherwise creating art

Writing stories and poetry

Learning first aide

Donations and volunteer work

Community outreach

Spending time outside or in the sun

Learning new languages

Spending time with family (given or chosen)

(credit to @samspenandsword for the beautiful sun dividers!)

[unfound-girl]

Wanted Child

𝙲𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚁𝙴𝚆𝙰𝚁𝙳: $200 ($7,351.70 𝚝𝚘𝚍𝚊𝚢)

𝙽𝚊𝚖𝚎: 𝚄𝙽𝙺𝙽𝙾𝚆𝙽

𝚆𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝙰𝙻𝙸𝚅𝙴. 𝙱𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚗𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚂𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚏𝚏'𝚜 𝚘𝚏𝚏𝚒𝚌𝚎 𝚒𝚏 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚋𝚕𝚎. 𝙳𝚘 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚠𝚎𝚊𝚙𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚘𝚛 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚕𝚢 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚙𝚜 𝚘𝚛 𝚎𝚕𝚜𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚋𝚎 𝚐𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚗.

Stories go that a married couple died just as their kid was to be birthed, and wolves ate the mother, the neighbors found out. Father died by lightning before their eyes too. Far away at Soulless Hills, citizens started catching glimpses of a girl following the same pack of wolves, barely able to describe anything but fair skin, black hair and blue eyes(unsure).

It's a popular tale, but not well believed. Wolves wouldn't adopt a newborn human baby. Right?

𝐍𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬: 𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐝 𝐆𝐢𝐫𝐥, 𝐌𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐆𝐢𝐫𝐥, 𝐖𝐨𝐥𝐟 𝐆𝐢𝐫𝐥, 𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐞, 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐭, 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐥𝐢𝐧.

𝐀𝐠𝐞: 𝐄𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬

𝐇𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭: 𝐔𝐧𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧

𝐂𝐚𝐧 𝐩𝐞𝐭? -> 𝐍𝐎.

𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐆𝐍

𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒

𝐌𝐨𝐝 𝐢𝐬 @strawberrywhosobbed

Divider creators -> * drinkthesky * sisterlucifergraphics * samspenandsword * deltamel * plum98 *

[questforgalas]

Code Red Training

···

GIF by mlmanakin

Summary: Kix has to give a training on the menstrual cycle to the 501st. It goes exactly how you think it would

Characters: 501st legion (Jesse, Fives, Rex, Kix, Echo, Dogma, Appo, and made up clone names), Ahsoka Tano

WC: 2.4K

Notes: This is based off another silly HC I posted the other day I couldn't get out of my head. I think the idea of the engineered clones raised surrounded by men learning about the menstrual cycle is a hilarious concept. Very silly stuff. The boys are in awe of their commander after

Tags: descriptions of the menstrual cycle and what occurs. Swearing

Tay's Masterlist

Read on AO3

Kix was running out of tasks to keep his hands busy. The informational flimsies were on the fourth variation of stacking, and he’d rearranged the educational sculptures in every possible space on the desk. He wasn’t nervous. He just could make a list of 1000 other duties he’d rather be doing than, well, this.

Kix had the 41st Elite Corps to thank for this one. The poor padawan commander of the 41st apparently wasn’t prepared for her cycle, and while she was trying to retreat to her quarters to remedy the situation, she was caught with a noticeable blood stain that, understandably, caused her troopers to go into a panic. Chaos ensued as an entire corps sprang into action to save their commander who, to their knowledge, was bleeding to death for no reason.  

There’s no official report on the matter, but the message from Insi, the medic of the 41st, simply said “The troopers involved won’t be looking Commander Offee in the eye anytime soon”.

So now, all battalions led by a female general or commander had to sit through educational training on the menstrual cycle.

A 3-D model of the uterus taunted him from across the desk.

“Gotta say, don’t exactly envy you with this one, Kix,” Captain Rex’s voice interrupted Kix’s internal battle to cancel the next session and run, but instead, he turned to face his Captain, standing at attention and offering a short salute.

“You envy everything else I get to deal with, sir?” The medic offered a sly smirk as Rex put him at ease.

“You got me there,” Rex chuckled. “Although, last I remember, it wasn’t too long ago you’d be right next to Fives and Jesse when I’d be threatening another ‘fresher duty to ward off any antics.”

Kix brought a hand to his chest, feigning hurt, “Me, sir? Antics? I’d never.”

“Just because you knew how to hide the evidence better doesn’t mean you were more innocent.” A playful shove on his shoulder broke his performance.

“It’s called a medic’s attention to detail, sir.”

Rex offered a hum in response, the fond smile on his lips softening the threat of his eye roll, and he continued to make his way across the room to the chair set up in the back corner. As the commanding officer, Rex had to give his approval on the training which meant Kix already took him through the session – The captain remained professional the entire session, but the increasing crimson of his cheeks didn’t go unnoticed – so his presence here now only meant one thing.

Rex knew who was on the roster, and he was here for a show.

“You think you’re being sly Captain, but I see right through you,” Kix accused.

“I’m not sure what you mean. It’s my duty as captain to perform surprise training inspections. It’s for the good of my men.” Rex’s face remained impassive, but the medic didn’t miss the smirk tugging at his lips or the glint in his eyes.

Before he could answer, he heard voices coming down the hall. Kix went through the same mental routine he did when he boarded a LAATi, and with one last deep breath, he readied himself for battle.

_____________________________________________________________

“Wait, wait, wait! A tube?! They have an actual tube in them?”

“Not just a tube, Hardcase. Two tubes!”

“Can females create metal?!”

“How does a baby even fit in there? Like, the same size as us in the tube? Come out of THAT!”

“FEMALES LAY EGGS?!”

The first ten minutes of the session went about as well as Kix could hope for. Characteristic of this group, they were rowdy when they filed in, most coming in from the mess hall, and many in the middle of glorified battle stories that their audience wasn’t buying. As they took their seats, they settled in, and most conversation had quieted down, but when Kix stood upfront waiting for a second too long, pointed looks by Echo and Dogma had the room quieting down quickly.

Much to Kix’s surprise, the group remained attentive and curious during the first parts of his notes as he walked them through the anatomy. Not to his surprise, all hell broke lose when he started to explain conception and gestation. When the questions erupted, Kix stole a glance to the back of the room. Rex was barely holding his composure, and it looked like Jesse’s outburst broke the professional dam as Rex quickly hid his face behind his hand, shoulders shaking.

“Alright, alright, alright. Calm down! One question at a time,” Kix barked. “First, the fallopian tubes are not metal tubes, Hardcase. It’s just what they’re called because they connect two sections. Second, yes, babies as big as we are when we come out of the tube are born through the vagina. If necessary, they can be cut out, bu-“

“THEY CUT THEM OU-“ Smack “Ow!”

“Cut it, Appo,” Echo scolded.

“As I was saying, they can be cut out, but that’s in emergency situations. And lastly, they don’t lay eggs. Not females with this anatomy. They carry eggs, and once a female hits puberty, their ovaries release one egg once a month for it to be fertilized,” Kix finished.

“Oh I can tell you allll about how they’re ferti-“ Smack. “Ow!”

“Fives, you’ve never even talked to a girl,” Echo was on a roll Kix very much appreciated.

Taking a pause before moving onto the next section, Kix swept his gaze across the room. Dogma furiously scribbled notes while Hardcase and Oddball looked like they were trying to solve the equation of an ion engine. Echo lazed with his arms across his chest, attention trained on the medic, but gave Appo another swat when he noticed his head nodding to the side. Fives still rubbed the back of his head where Echo hit him, looking like a hurt loth pup not getting to make his crude joke.

Crowded in the middle, a hand raised. Kix recognized the trooper as one of the newest 501st.

“Yes, Doma?”

“Thank you, sir. I’m just curious. What, what happens to the egg if it isn’t fertilized? Does it just…fall out?” The trooper looked around on the ground as if expecting to find a scattering of eggs around him. A soft laugh floated from the back corner of the room.

“Well, Doma, that leads us into the final part of this training. If the egg isn’t fertilized, then the female body goes through what is called the ‘menstrual cycle’ in common. It’s possibly called other things in other languages, but it all refers to the same process.”

Kix picked up the 3-D model and moved back to the front and center of the room, pointing to the uterine lining.

“When released, the egg settles in the lining of the uterus. If it’s not fertilized, the lining sheds and discards the old lining and the egg through the vagina. Then the lining builds up again over the next month preparing for the next egg,” Kix explained. Silence settled over the room and not a single trooper moved. Even Echo looked like Kix just explained a 10-page battle strategy to him with one minute to learn it. “Ok, where did I lose you all?”

Eyes glanced around, no one wanting to speak first. Finally, Dogma raised his hand.

“What exactly do you mean by ‘sheds and discards the old lining’?” he grimaced.

“Here goes nothing,” Kix thought.

“Well, exactly what it sounds like. The lining literally tears itself from the uterus, falls through the vagina, and exits.”

Eruption.

“YOU MEAN-“

“THEIR BODY IS LITERALLY TEA-“

“HOW OFTEN DOES-“

“SHEDS? LIKE, THEIR BODY JUST-“

Fives, Hardcase, Jesse, and a trooper Kix didn’t recognize jumped to their feet, yelling questions. Dogma turned pale. Doma was bracing his head in his hands. Echo’s eyes went wide, stare fixed on a spot in front of him, and troopers around the room reacted with a mix of horror and confusion. The quiet laugh in the corner of the room mingled with the ruckus. Acting fast, Kix brought his fingers to his lips and let out a whistle the patrol across camp could probably hear. Immediately, the questions ceased, but the looks of horror remained. His narrowed eyes got the message across, and all the troopers settled back into their seats. Once he was sure they were focused back on him, Kix went on.

“This is where we’ll open up the question portion of the training.”

Every hand shot up.

“Fives, if this is a joke,” Kix warned.

“No, it’s serious I promise!” Fives pleaded. Kix nodded for him to go on. “When they’re going through this men-menstrol? Mens-“

“Menstrual.”

“Thanks, vod. When they’re going through this menstrual cycle, is it painful?”

“Yes. Pain can vary female to female, but common symptoms are severe cramps. Many females experience cramps painful enough to cripple them anywhere from a couple hours to days. Other common symptoms are muscle cramps in their lower backs and legs, interrupted sleep cycle, severe mood swings, bloating, digestive changes, and headaches or migraines.” Kix explained. A room of faces grimaced back at him.

“How long does it last for,” Echo asked.

“Again, it varies female to female, but on average 3 to 7 days.”

“7 days?! They’re just…bleeding! For 7 days!” A trooper exclaimed in the back.

“Maker, I didn’t think of that,” Jesse mused. “They’re just walking around with their bodies tearing itself on the inside, and they’re just…ok?”

“Well…” Kix started. “I wouldn’t say they’re ‘ok’, but they’re expected to go through life with it. So yes, many females you encounter could be in their cycle.”

“And this happens, every month?” Jesse asked, amazement in his voice.

“Yes, once the female becomes of age, and as long as everything is regular, it happens once a month.”

“Whoa,” Awe passed over the troopers.

“Wait,” Appo shot up in his seat. “Commander Tano!”

Kix’s eyes instinctively found Rex’s. The captain’s smirk turned into a wolfish grin, and it took all of Kix’s respect for the decorated captain to not flip him off.

“What about the commander?” Kix returned to the group.

“Well, she’s a female!” Appo blurted.

“Appo, are you asking if Commander Tano experiences a menstrual cycle?” Kix asked. The captain answered with a vigorous nod of his head, blood rushing to his cheeks.

“Well, I can’t disclose patient information, but Commander Tano is of the age that it’s common for females to begin theirs.”

“That..is so…fucking…cool!” Oddball exclaimed.

“You mean our Commander is out there kicking clanker butt while her body is literally tearing itself on the inside? I mean, can she be any greater?” Echo proclaimed, a proud twinkle in his eye.

“Ohhhh is that why she randomly hordes all the chocolate cakes in the mess?” Fives mused.

“I don’t think I need to remind all of you that it is not procedure or polite to bombard the commander with questions about this,” a stern voice interrupted from the back. Amusement still danced in his eyes, but the expression on Rex’s face shut all conversation down immediately.

“Yes, sir,” echoed unanimously.

“Alright, well, if there aren’t any more questions, that concludes the training,” Kix dismissed. While his brothers filed out of the room, Kix allowed himself to relax his shoulders for the first time since Fives entered.

Rex appeared in front of him, hand clasping down on his shoulder, “Not bad trooper. I think you’ll only be getting questions from Hardcase for the next 20 rotations.”

____________________________________________________________

“Hey, Rex. Have you noticed the boys have been…odd lately?” Ahsoka asked while she and Rex made their way through the halls of the Resolute,

“Not sure I know what you mean, Commander,” Rex responded.

Walking through the narrow halls, a few troopers stepped to the side to salute the commander and captain as they passed. Ahsoka noticed two things. First, their eyes went wide when they first took her in. Second, their force signatures spiked instantly with something mixed with astonishment and pride. Once they passed, she could swear she heard one of them murmur, “An absolute legend.”

These types of occurrences had been happening regularly over the last few weeks, and Ahsoka grew more confused with each one.

“I don’t know. All of them have been looking at me like the shinies look at Anakin when they meet him for the first time. It’s, unnerving,” she explained.

Rex did his best to hide the chuckle rumbling in his chest. Of course, he’d noticed his brothers completely obvious demeanor change towards their commander. Ever since Kix’s trainings finished, the whole 501st viewed their vod’ika in a whole new light – one that put her on par, if not higher, than their general.

“Eh, I’m sure it’s nothing. You know how they get, especially in between missions. Restless and bored. Start actin’ weird. Don’t pay attention to it,” Rex tried to deflect.

Making their way around the corner, Fives and Echo were spotted leaving the mess heading in their direction. When the ARCs recognized who was ahead of them, Fives bounded their way.

“Commander! Lucky running into you. Here, I grabbed an extra chocolate cake just for you. Figured you can stash it away, save it for later,” Fives suggested, giving a wink like he and Ahsoka were in on a secret only the two of them know.

“Uh, thanks, Fives. That was, kind?” Ahsoka shot a look to Rex that said “See?”, but he just shrugged her off as if Fives giving her chocolate cakes happened every day.

“Oh, and commander, I stopped by the med bay earlier. I saw they were low on high strength painkillers, so I requested that Kix put in a supply order right away so we’re well stocked. Wouldn’t want to be caught unprepared, right?” Echo added.

Rex groaned internally. For ARCs, these two were the most obvious troopers he’d ever known.

“That’s, good to know, Echo. Thanks, I think?” Ahsoka tried her best to sound polite, but the whole interaction just confused her more.

“You’re welcome! Well, we’re off to the rec center for some sparring. Rex, join us later?” Echo asked.

“Another time, Echo. I have a briefing at 1500,” Rex answered, dismissing the troopers.

Later that day, Ahsoka stashed that cake in her quarters and made a note to stop by the med bay to grab some of the painkillers before next week. She didn’t know what was going on with the boys, but she wasn’t going to not take advantage.

[rexxdjarin]

just a lil boba filth bc im insane over him :)

Your whole body rocked back and forth as he took you. Your chest pressed against the mattress, your legs spread around his waist and your ass high in the air as he thrusted inside you. Your eyes rolled back in your head as he filled you over and over again, spreading you wide and gushing around his firm length. You bit down on his blankets to keep yourself quiet, drool coating the cloth and drenching your cheeks.

The way he took you so powerfully with each snap of his hips left you incapacitated in the best way, totally at the mercy of his wrought muscles. He groaned and panted, his warm palms gripping your hips to angle you down. Though his body was hard and his grip even stronger, his heart was soft, loving and kind. His cock pierced deep into your belly and brought you mere moments away from creaming around it.

As you screamed in delight, he asked only one thing, whispering it in your ear as he bent himself over you. "Tell me you love me, little princess. Say it. Fuck. You love me like I love you, don't you? If you want me to fill you like I know you love, say it, mesh'la."

You cried out as he rammed your spot, your climax beginning to topple you over. "I love you. I love you. Daddy...Boba...I love you." Your walls collapsed around him and hot warmth coated inside your belly as he let out a pleased groan of climax and a delighted chuckle.

"That's my good girl...my princess."

-

adding my taglist bbys and any of my boba girlies💙

@sleepingsun501 @samspenandsword @marierg @queenquazar @wild-karrde @aerangi @starstofillmydream @daimyosprincess @acatalystrising

[samspenandsword]

So... how do we feel about 3k+ words of brat tamer!Boba smut this wonderful Saturday?

[daimyosprincess]

POV: you're Professor Boba Fett's princess

Ex Libris week continues!! sorry for the delay besties, this week is finals week at my real life library job so it's been insanely busy 😮‍💨 but please enjoy this commission from Moss/baufraus!! I asked for a cozy prof Boba (shirtless for the tats obvs) and SHEEEEEEESH did she deliver 🫠🥴🙈 I told her to whatever the artistic spirit told her to do for his Maori-inspired tattoos and here's her breakdown:

the tattoos are very simple but based on the article I found the ones on his chest mean ladder/climbing? and the ones under his chest mean snake (skin) and the ones on his arms are like sun, fruit, centipede etc and I felt like the animal references feel similar to the sarlacc

I've got a couple more Ex Libris goodies for the remainder of the week so stay tuned!

AO3 — Masterlist — Taglist

taglist 💖

@burningfieldof-clover @marierg @dukeoftheblackstar @imarvelatthestars-blog @saradika

@andrakass2 @samspenandsword @liadamerondjarin @sleepingsun501 @sgt-morgan

@rescuethewretched @rexxdjarin @ladytano420 @writingwintermoon @funnyducky666

@acatalystrising @xxladysquishyxx @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @kimiheartblade @shinyshayminflower

@wings-and-beskar @thirsty-boba-fett-posts @wolffegirlsunite @echocolatt @100lxtters

@bobaprint @cw80831 @anticipayosbot @msskywalker @techhasmjolnir

@lonely-day3636

[systastic]

Alex Walter and Cole Walter from My Life with the Walter Boys?

another source we don’t know- y’all are putting us through the wringer lmao. since there’s no level mentioned ill assume it’s level one! gunna be a bit more basic for this -🌳

name :: Alex Walter OR Percy, Liam, Bennett, Ron, Martin

age :: anywhere between 18 and 20

pronouns :: he/him

roles :: function fragment, resonancian, comforter, communicator

species :: human

gender identity :: cisgender

orientation :: heteroflexible (uncomfortable with using term bisexual for himself), possibly omniromantic, & looking for a partner

source :: My Life with the Walter Boys

undeniable wet cat energy. i will not elaborate.

name :: Cole Walter OR Andrew, Zach, Cody, Hunter, Noah

age :: anywhere between 19 and 21

pronouns :: he/him, he/they (alternating)

roles :: function fragment, switch anchor, assistant protector

species :: human

gender identity :: trans man, demiboy

orientation :: bisexual but not looking cus he has other goals at the moment. might (definitely) have a crush on one of the boys he sees in the locker room.

source :: My Life with the Walter Boys

a prettyboy who knows he looks good. likes flirting with the cheerleaders but doesn’t form any romantic/sexual relationships with them.