#all those soft sweet moments and when he called her loyal and stuck up for her and was endeared by her and all those looks

[dollypopup]

the way i NEED a fight between Colin and Penelope when he finds out she's LW. the way i need to see him go absolutely nuclear on her. the way i YEARN to see Colin 100% angry. red in the face, nostrils flaring, voice tight, fists clenched, chest heaving ANGRY. not 'oh, okay, my feelings are kind of hurt here' but MAD. i wanna see him lose his absolute shit. i wanna see him pull the receipts. i wanna see him go 'and another thing' on her. for talking trash about his favorite sister. ruining his family like 6 and a half times. leaving Eloise heartbroken. that she published about Marina knowing full well she'd be pushed out of the ton. how she kept it all from him for 3 full years whilst making him feel like hot garbage over one (1) comment he made about her. i wanna see him go 'fuck this, i'm done' after they get in their fight and then turn RIGHT back around going 'actually, no i'm not, AND you put yourself in danger!' i want him to throw it all down. i want 'is this what you meant for your purpose to be? ruining people who lo- care about you?'

i want him to FEEL it. i want HER to feel how mad he is at her. and i want them to understand what shape their relationship has when they realize that it's only when you care about someone so so SO much that you feel that strongly when they betray you

[microposting]

Loyal

macro/micro, plot with porn, m/m, m/f

His shit job has given Kim one good thing─his beloved rescue tiny, October, who adores him like a god. But will their relationship survive when the tables are turned?

Chapter 1

The little package dropped onto his desk with a thunk and Kim shot up, bleary-eyed, gulping down saliva. He turned to the presence blocking out his decayed yellow ceiling light. Bob smiled back down at him, laugh lines rendered starkly in the harsh lighting, eyes oddly inexpressive. Kim blinked and grunted out a little animal mbuh . “Jesus,” he slurred. “M’so sorry, there-there was a cop car out my window all night, lights going the whole time, and─”

Bob laughed. “Don’t worry, I get it, you’re on your break. Just passing out some treats for end of semester. Go dogs!” 

He sauntered off. Kim glanced over to that package. Paper-wrapped, crumpled, boxy. He’d dropped one on Whitney’s desk too. Oh, yeah, all four of them got one. Kim unwrapped it and found a gorgeous little brownie, top flaking off, soft middle. Wow. Delicious. That was… really nice of him.

When Whitney returned to her seat, she was about as surprised. “Does he bake? Were these─ is he married, or something?”

“Don’t think so.” Kim smiled. “You think he’d be as weird with Ava if he was?”

She made a face. “Well. It’s a good brownie, and I guess it’s good that he didn’t scream at you for sleeping… but I still don’t have to like him.”

Kim laughed. They smiled at each other, for a moment.

“Well,” Kim said. “I should do my rounds.”

Ava was prepping syringes on the far end of the lab and gave him a toothy smiled and a wave when he entered. Kim returned a nod. She was… nice, he just did not have the energy to match her today. Jesus. 

The cages were stacked on the wall closest to the entrance. A foot across each and a little less shadow, but they still seemed plenty roomy for their occupants, as much as they loved complaining. Kim grabbed the two slates of syringes from the mini-fridge on the counter top. SAFETY TRIAL DITAX ONE on the side of one container, TWO on the other. 1.5μL per. Right. Perfect. He logged into the lab desktop and opened the data spreadsheet in one tab, the cage reference map on the other. He had it memorized, of course, but if Bob saw that he didn’t have it open, he’d have his head.

Kim tapped the PIN into cage A1 and its four inhabitants watched, bored, passive, as his hand reached in and grabbed the closest one. “Anything new?” he asked.

“No,” the tiny man droned. 41744 on his ankle tag. Kim wasn’t supposed to know this, but the other tinies called him Bingo. 

“Alright.” He typed one-handed. Kim picked up syringe A1-1, flipped Bingo around, tugged down his pants, and stuck him in the ass. 

It just went on. Day after day, jab after jab, depressive “no” after “no”. Maybe the occasional excitement of someone developing a stomachache. It got to him, honestly. The way the new ones squealed and writhed but the old ones barely tensed. Just laid on their bellies in his palm, eyes down, shoulders slumped. 

After a cage was finished, they did get their lunches. He could feel good about that. Even if it usually was some sort of slurry.

Then back to his desk to run data, then errands for Bob, then doing laundry for the tinies, and finally he was shoving his empty tupperware into his eight-year-old backpack and heading for the bus stop.

He’d developed a habit of beelining to his IKEA dresser the moment he got home. Inside the cage, little October sat on his knees in front of the glass, smiling up with those big yes-master, I-love-you-master eyes. He had a decade on his owner, but Kim could still only seem to think of him as cute. Obedient and sweet, easily excited, and overall just so… soft. Soft face, soft body, wavy dirty-blond hair that was maddeningly soft, like mouse fur. Kim unhooked the hatch on the cage’s top and let October hoist himself into the presented hand. He settled onto his bed, and October got comfortable on top of his pillow.

Kim cupped his fingers around his tiny back and stroked a thumb along the side of his face. “Hey, sweetheart,” he cooed. “Did you have a good day today?”

October nodded eagerly. “I finished Pokemon Platinum, sir.”

He grinned. “Really! How’d you like it? Do you want another game?”

“It-it was good, sir. I’d like to do some more reading, though. I─” October fell silent. His jaw went lax, his eyes unfocused, his shoulders slumped. Kim grimaced and dug the notebook out from under his bed.

October came to, saw him scribbling something down, and put his face in his hands. “No, no, no,” he grumbled. “That’s the third this week.”

“Calm down. You’re still trending down.”

He nodded. “I’m sorry, sir. But, I-I think I had more seizures today, while you were at work. When I was playing the game, it felt like I kept missing─”

“October.”

“Sorry, master.” He looked down.

“We can only track what we’re sure of.”

“Yes, master. Thank you for helping.”

In some attempt to salvage his mood, Kim retrieved October’s DS from the cage and talked through his defeat of the Elite Four, his final team, all his inspirations for their nicknames. Playing was a bit of a workout for October, he noted with amusement. He had to move back and forth between the two sides of the console and even the button presses took some effort. It was probably good for him, since he was cooped up in his cage so often. That was a bummer, sure, but it wasn’t like Kim could just give him free range when he was out. 

It was six before he knew it. He was starting to feel groggier─must be getting hungry. “You want anything special for dinner?”

“No…” October mumbled back. He was engrossed in the game again. Disrespectful of him, maybe, but Kim could find it in himself to forgive the little guy just this once. 

“Alright. Gonna pop you in your cage again. I’ll be right back.”

He let him re-situate with his DS and then latched the top shut. 

Instant mashed potatoes were an option. He thought he had some frozen broccoli and ground beef to go with that. Could make a sandwich, but October got pretty disappointed when Kim made something like that while he got scraps, even if he tried not to show it… but he still loved whatever he got. Probably anything was an upgrade from the lab slop, or sharing quarters with three strangers, or getting a daily ass-jab or being forced to swallow a massive pill, or developing absence seizures from one of those pills… Okay, well, they still didn’t know if that was from the BEV trial. But still. What else could it have been?

Kim grabbed the mashed potato box from his cabinet. He turned it around to refresh himself on the directions… goddamn, he just couldn’t focus his eyes. That grogginess─just getting worse, way past peckishness. Way more than… He blinked. The text got blurrier, and he swallowed down vomit, and collapsed onto the kitchen tile.

[litgwritersroom]

If you could rewrite the fallout of Dylan's lies, how would you change it?

FOR A MINUTE

Season 4 - 2400 words - Oliver / MC - Suz (MrsBSmooth)

In this rewrite, MC dumps Tom for not trusting her with Dylan, and for making her sleep outside. So when things kick off with Dylan in the kitchen, Oliver tries his best!

Oliver sat, staring into his breakfast, silently fuming. 

How dare he?

His first 24 hours in the villa had been hectic to say the least. He’d known from the second that Ellie had snuck into his box that she was something special. Their date had been magic. He found it so easy to open up to her. She was so kind. So thoughtful. So funny. She was so easy to talk to. He’d only ever dated girls that were his friends first. But… he already knew that he didn’t want to be friends with Ellie. She was something else. She was amazing. He wasn’t all that surprised that Dylan had tried to kiss her on their date. He seemed like the type to be a little pushy. But he was surprised at Tom’s behaviour. Tom had lost it. 

Oliver had liked Tom on TV. He’d seemed nice. A little insecure, but not the type to make rash decisions or get angry. But the moment Dylan had started putting lies in Tom’s head, he’d exploded. He’d accused her of sneaking around, called her names, and made her sleep outside. Ellie had been devastated. But she’d agreed. 

Again, how dare he?

Angie was furious. He was furious. A lot of people were furious at Tom. Oliver, Angie, Will, and Cora had all staged a protest, sleeping on the daybeds and loungers with Ellie. Oliver usually didn’t get involved in drama… especially not over people he’d met one day prior… but he was pretty annoyed at Tom. 

Oliver had seen Ellie on TV. She would never do something like that. She was loyal to a fault. Kind, but upfront. She would never lead someone on. She’d told James from day one that she only liked him as a friend, and they’d stuck together until she’d met Tom. She’d never done anything to warrant being banished outside for something she didn’t even do. If Tom was the one who wanted ‘space’, why couldn’t he sleep outside?

Oliver had woken up early, clearly still on surf time, and tried to think of a way he could make Ellie feel better. She’d mentioned on their date that she really liked Malaysian food when she’d had it… maybe… he could make her breakfast? Kaya jam! It was early enough that he’d have time to make it. He busied himself in the kitchen, pulling out eggs, brown sugar, coconut milk, and cornflour. He was a little surprised they had the coconut milk, and laughed as he stopped short of looking for pandan leaves. They definitely won’t have those. 

He found himself already a little homesick as he cracked the eggs. Usually, he had his kaya toast with a soft boiled egg, and he usually made an extra egg for Dandelion. Eggs were her favourite. He hoped she was okay without him. 

Eventually, Tom made his way down to the daybeds. Oliver frowned at him a little as he walked by, but he didn’t notice. He instead focussed on stirring the mixture on the stovetop, and eventually the familiar fragrance made him smile again. 

Youcef and Valentina came down, more early risers, and immediately took an interest in what he was doing. Unfortunately, they were followed by Dylan, who made his way into the kitchen, humming a happy tune. 

“So what is it?” Valentina asked. 

“It’s called Kaya jam. It’s like a coconutty-caramelly spread. It’s a Malay thing. You put it on toast.”

“Seems like a lot of effort just for a spread. Why not just use peanut butter or something?” Valentina asked. 

He smiled. “Yeah, but Ellie said yesterday she really liked Malaysian food. And she had a rough night, so I thought this might make her feel better.”

“That’s very sweet of you, Oliver. It’s nice that someone plans on treating her right.” Valentina cooed. Oliver noticed her grin at Youcef who raised an eyebrow back at her.

Dylan scoffed condescendingly, and Oliver furrowed his brow, ignoring him, not wanting anything to do with the lying, scheming idiot in stupidly small shorts. It wasn’t long afterward that Tom came back into the villa, clearly having been crying, and walked upstairs without a word. 

“Valentina, Youcef, would you mind stirring this for me? I want to go and talk to Tom quickly.”

They nodded, looking inquisitively over the pot, stirring it, as he followed Tom upstairs. 

“Tom… can I talk to you for a minute?”

Tom turned to face him. “She dumped me. Can you believe it? She dumped me.”

Oliver looked at him, furrowing his brow. “Yes. I can.”

Tom stopped, staring at Oliver in absolute disbelief.. “You can’t think she was right to?”

Oliver nodded. “Tom, she’s said it lots of times since she’s been in the villa. Trust is really important to her. You told her you trusted her. But you didn’t. And what’s worse, is that you made her sleep outside. You know that a lot of us weren’t happy about it.”

Tom frowned. “Well, it’s not like I was going to sleep outside. I didn’t do anything wrong.”

Oliver frowned back at him. “Neither did she”

They sat in silence. Oliver wondered if he had anything in common with Tom.

“So I suppose you’re going to try your luck with her, now, are you?”

“I like her, and I’d like to get to know her better, but she’s probably pretty hurt. I’m not going to rush anything.”

Tom sighed. “Why are you even up here, Oliver? Why did you come up?”

“I just wanted to tell you that I think what you did wasn’t okay. And to see if Ellie was.”

“Why don’t you just go and ask her yourself?”

“I don’t want to bother her if she’s upset.”

Tom shrugged. “She was fine, but nice to know you care so much about my wellbeing, considering I’m the one who just got dumped.”

Oliver’s face fell a little. Darn. He’s right. 

“I’m sorry Tom, you’re right, that was very rude. Are you okay?”

Tom looked surprised, but nodded. “I won’t lie, I’m pretty upset. She’s… I’m going to kick myself for letting this one go. Not like it matters now, anyway. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to have a shower. Make myself look a bit more presentable if I’m going to have to be cracking on with the other girls.”

Oliver frowned. How can he move on that fast? He shook his head, disapprovingly. He was glad to hear Ellie was more or less okay, though. He turned, leaving Tom, and made his way back downstairs. 

He thanked Youcef and Valentina profusely for helping him, and they waved him off. Once the Kaya jam was done, he poured it into an old jam jar, sealing it and putting it in the fridge to cool. Knowing Tom was a bit upset probably meant that Ellie was. He wanted to go and check on Ellie. But he didn’t want her thinking he was swooping in on her the moment she’d had a row with her partner. So instead he fixed his own breakfast, not really in the mood for anything other than yoghurt. 

He, Valentina, and Youcef sat silently, all off in their own little worlds. Dylan continued humming his annoyingly repetitive tune. Oliver took another mouthful of his breakfast, but almost choked on it as Ellie walked in hand-in-hand with Angie. He swallowed, hard.

“Oh! Um, hi, Ellie. Morning.”

“Morning, Oliver.” She smiled at him, letting her eyes meet his for a little longer than he thought would be normal for a regular ‘good morning’. He felt his cheeks go bright red. 

Dylan cooed at Ellie. “Morning, baby!”

Ellie frowned, and looked at Angie. “Did you hear something? It’s weird… I could have sworn I heard a sound coming from over there” she waved in Dylan’s direction. “But all I can see is a worm, and worms don’t talk”

Oliver snorted into his breakfast, and Ellie beamed at him. He was mesmerised by her smile. He felt a dopey, half-grin plastering itself on his face in return.

She’s so pretty.

Dylan whined at her “Hey, what was that for?”

Oliver looked at him, incredulous. “Seriously, Dylan? You have to ask?”  

“Oi, you stay out of this.” Dylan glared.

Oliver shrugged. “Just because it’s not my fight, doesn’t mean I’m not allowed to cheer from the sidelines.”

He snuck a glance at Ellie, who looked extremely grateful. 

Dylan scoffed. “You only care cos you’re soft on her”

Oliver blushed furiously. He wasn’t going to deny it. But he also wasn’t going to look at Ellie to see what her reaction was, either.

 “That’s neither here nor there. It doesn’t have anything to do with the fact that what you did was wrong. You’ve had a really poor attitude since we came into the villa, and you really just don’t seem like a very nice person at all. At least, from what I’ve seen”

“Oh yeah? And what is it you’ve seen, then?”

Ellie stepped in. “I’ll tell you what I’ve seen, Dylan. I’ve seen a giant piece of shit. I don’t know what your plan was, or if you thought I was dumb enough to fall for your negging, or your lies, but I didn’t. I never kissed you, I never told you I wanted to be with you, and Valentina and Tom were never sneaking around behind our backs.”

“I never said they were.”

“You implied it”

“That’s different to saying it” he said, with a disgusting smirk. 

Oliver shook his head. “You did everything you could to make life hard for Ellie. And congratulations, Dylan you did. But i think the thing that no one understands is why. Why try and break up her and Tom? Was it just to prove that you could? Because I know that it was never because you actually cared about her. This isn’t how you treat someone you care about.”

Dylan scoffed. “I’m an alpha. Oliver. And don’t ask me to explain what it means. You wouldn’t understand. Just know… women love it.”

Ellie scowled at him. “I can promise you, as a woman, we do not.”

Dylan smirked. “Agree to disagree”

Oliver slammed his spoon down on the counter. “Dylan, shut up.”

Everyone went silent, and Oliver scowled at him. 

“I’m sorry for yelling, but she’s already told you she’s not interested, and you’re not taking no for an answer. It’s not okay. You don’t get to tell girls what they do and don’t like, and you definitely need to apologise to Ellie, and to Tom, and to both Valentina and Bruno for meddling in their relationship. You’ve made an absolute fool of yourself.”

“I did Ellie a favour. Now she can see how little Tom trusted her.”

Ellie interjected. “You’re right, he didn’t trust me, so I suppose I can thank you for that. But where does that leave you? Why the fuck would I trust you, now? Now that I know you’re a liar, and you’re sneaky, and you’re just a colossal arsehole?”

Dylan wiggled his eyebrows at her. “Because I’m hot”

“You’re starting to make me really angry, Dylan.” Oliver frowned.

“Well what am I supposed to do? Suck up to everyone and be all sweet and cuddly like precious baby Oliver, then? What are you, five?” Dylan seethed

Angie furrowed her brow. “Fuck off, Dylan. You’re full of shit. No one gives a toss what you think. We actually want Ollie here. We don’t want you here. Next dumping, you’re gone.”

“You think I’m full of shit? I’m not just going to sit around being soft, making her breakfast so she feels better.”

Ellie’s eyes went wide, and she looked at him. “You… did you?”

Oliver blushed harder than he ever had before. “Um… well… it’s not….Valentina and Youcef helped.”

Valentina laughed. “We stirred it for like five minutes while you went and told Tom off. Tell her what you made her, babe.”

Ellie’s face lit up like he’d just made her day. He blushed about sixteen shades of magenta. 

“Well… You said yesterday that you liked Malaysian food… and there’s this breakfast spread we have on buttered toast that I thought might cheer you up, that’s all.”

“So he made it for you. Specially” Valentina cooed. 

Ellie dropped Angie’s hand, and started walking toward him. His eyes went wide, and he turned toward her, as he felt an immense panic rising in his throat.

Was she going to kiss him? 

He felt a wave of panic, hoping she remembered what they’d spoken about. And even though she wasn’t with Tom any more, he still didn’t want their first kiss to be in front of Dylan.

In a few steps, she was in front of him, and threw her arms around his neck in an appreciative hug. 

“That is so thoughtful, Oliver, thank you.”

He let his arms wrap around her waist, as he laughed slightly. 

“It’s just a kind of jam on toast, I guess. But I haven’t done the toast bit yet ‘cause I didn’t want it to get cold.”

She laughed into his chest. “How are you single?”

Dylan threw his hands in the air, “You can’t be bloody serious. What the hell has happened to women?” He turned on his heel, and started to storm off in frustration.

“Oh no you don’t!” Angie screamed, following him. “You don’t get off that easy. You get yer arse back here, Dylan, you nasty piece of human shit!!”

“Get him, Ange!” Valentina yelled. She and Youcef grinned at each other, following after Dylan and Angie. 

Oliver suddenly found himself alone, with Ellie still wrapped up in his arms. “I’m sorry for raising my voice. He just really gets under my skin.”

She chuckled. “Are you real? Are you actually this sweet?”

He blushed. “I’m not sure what to say to that, but… thank you? And… I spoke to Tom before, and he said…”

Ellie shook her head. “We’ve broken up.”

Oliver hugged her again. “I’m sorry, Ellie. Are you okay?”

She sighed. “Look, I didn’t want to say it in front of Dylan, but I think Tom and I were already on the outs anyway. Plus… I…” She looked at him, and smiled a little. “I had a really nice time on our date yesterday. A really, really nice time.”

He felt the dopey smile plastering itself on his face again. “So did I.”

She blushed.

He bit his lip, willing every drop of bravery in him. 

“Um… Ellie?”

“Yeah?”

“At the next recoupling…”

Her breath caught a little. “...yeah?”

“If Dylan and I get to pick first… can I pick you?”

She broke into a huge smile. “I would really like that, Oliver. And if it’s girls’ choice, I’d really like to pick you… if that’s okay?”

His heart did a flip, and he beamed at her. 

“I would really like that, too.”

He felt his heart racing in his chest as she stood closely to him.

God, he couldn’t wait until he could kiss her.

[fivelakesinwriting]

Hi love your Barry content ( he deserves all the love). Could you possibly write something about Barry only being soft for his girl and his girl only. Or even him being super protective over her when a kook/or pogue hits on her

Author's Notes: Thank you so much, lovely - the character of Barry is so interesting to me, and I'm so happy you enjoy my content surrounding him. If this was your request - I hope you love it xoxo

Warnings: Guns, Mentions of drugs, Swearing, Sexual references - Sexual innuendos, Violence.

Requested? YES! Requests for OBX are OPEN!

*My work is not to be transferred, copied, translated or reposted to any other sites without my permission. Please see my masterlist for all other works and warnings. Thank you! xoxo

Vulnerable wasn't a state that came natural to him. Perhaps as a child, but he didn't really remember back that far. He was a soldier and he had to be tough, show no emotion. Don't get attached, it's just easier that way.

Even when he came home he found he didn't attach himself to many people. Or perhaps, there just weren't too many people around he wanted to cling to. He always had his back up around people. If they didn't get to know him, then he didn't get to know them and then his heart never got broken.

Until Her.

There wasn't really a timeline for their relationship, or when she started coming around. If he was honest, it all started to blend together. One day she wasn't there and the next she was. On his couch, perched on his lap with her fingers in his hair and her sweet voice in his ear.

Barry thought she was the sweetest girl in the world. Too sweet to be hanging around with drug dealing scum like him. Too soft, sweet and all around precious to be hanging around with a guy like him. Tripping over a loaded gun every step she took. She would give him those gentle, knowing eyes after she had gathered herself.

I know this is who you are, baby.

It was her unwavering love, patience and support of him for exactly who he was that helped him break his own walls down bit by bit. The way she didn't mind that his house was messy, all types of people from different walks of life knocking on his door. Or how she let him rest his head on her chest after a particularly long day, her fingers twisting the loose lock of hair the hung in his face.

Barry, quite simply, felt like he would die for her if it came down to it. He wasn't sure why he would ever find himself that in position, or why his sweet girlfriend, content on spending her nights cuddled on the couch with him or buried between the pages of book, would ever put either of them in that position.

But he would go down in flames for his woman.

"Baby?" Her voice was soft behind him as he sat at the table out in the sun-room, weighing out bags. His heart skipped a beat, and he felt like a teenager getting caught with his first dime-bag of weed.

"Hey. I was just finishin' up in here. Won't be long." He muttered with a clear of his throat as he turned in his chair to see her standing in the doorway, fiddling with the hem of her dress.

"Are we still going for a walk on the beach today?" She inquired, so sugary sweet it was a shock to his system. He felt dizzy, lightheaded.

Barry stood up, his work completely forgotten at her question. He had promised her that he would take her to the beach. A simple request, but he preferred to say "low profile" and the beach seemed like the least low profile place of all. But if she asked him, he would oblige without question.

"Yeah. Can go now, if you want." Barry nodded as he wiped his hands off on the back of his shorts before he reached for her hands. No part of his life, his work, would touch her. He still didn't know why she chose a life with him, but he took it day by beautiful day.

She took the small steps forward so her bare toes touched the tips of work boots, her hands reaching for his to lace their fingers. Barry looked down at their feet, passed their hands interlocked, at her little painted toes. It would take him a while to admit out loud that the bright colours she painted her toes made him just a little bit weak. The way she curled her toes against his shins when they were in bed together, or even the gentle way she rubbed the flats of her feet against his own to stay warm at night.

It made him remember he was still alive.

Barry loathed the beach. So many tourists, unhappy kids and parents, sun burnt and drunk college kids who just didn't know when to call it quits. All of it was terrible, but he didn't seem to notice all of those distractions so much when he was with her. Playfully kicking water at her as they walked the shoreline, a soft kiss to her forehead now and then. He wasn't too fond of large displays of affection, they seemed grotesque to him. A kiss to the forehead, or the squeeze of the hand was more than enough for him.

The looks of the frat guys around them didn't go unnoticed by the soldier. He was acutely aware of everything that was going on around them. He knew the toddler at the top of the hill, near the food truck, was going to fall the minute it started run. He could see it in his brain before it happened. He saw the teen girls ahead, and to the left of them, battling over who got to take the photo to commemorate the day.

And he saw the group of Kooks, more than one of them could be called a regular customer, eyes zeroed in on Barry and his girl slowly walking down the shoreline. He could see their lips moving, but he couldn't hear anything. A Kook Goon Squad, clad in overpriced bathing suits and Oakley's. He hated them, every last one of them.

"Here. Think that ice cream truck over there has that ice for little kids you like. Take this, I'll be right there." Barry grumbled as he reached into the back pocket of his shorts and pulling out his wallet.

"Super Hero ice cream is not for little kids, Barry." She scoffed, but graciously accepted his wallet with a peck on his cheek before she took off with a run through the water, splashing up her thighs.

Barry ran his hand over his chin as he made sure his love far enough away before he turned on his heel and stalked over to the Kooks beneath a beach umbrella, attempting to tap a keg.

"...too hot for him, though. I met her at this party a year ago but no deal. She's loyal as shit to him, dude."

The conversation made Barry vibrate with anger. She had told him about that party and how some guy had been unruly with her, would not leave her alone.

"The only way he could have been closer to me is if he had been inside of me. He was so creepy."

Barry clenched his fists as he made the last few steps up to the group of Kooks, ready to strike. He pulled his fist back, the blood in his head blocking out any other sounds than the pure rage he felt at the disrespect they were speaking about his girlfriend.

Barry pulled his elbow back and connected his fist with the Kook's jaw, unannounced. Not the most fair punch he's ever doled out, but he didn't think that hitting on another man's girlfriend was exactly fair either. He wasn't sure if it was the sheer force of his punch, or the fact that it was unexpected - perhaps a bit of both - but the Kook was knocked off of his feet, and onto his back.

"So, you like hitting on girls with boyfriend's? Being persistent? Man, if I was as persistent as you, I'd probably having my fucking money from your ass by now." Barry growled as he crouched down in the sand beside the boy as he groaned, clutching his jaw.

"Leave my girl alone, asshole." Barry spat as he stood up, glaring at the friends that stood helpless around the Kook writhing on the ground.

Barry walked away from the rich kids with too much time and money to spare, and found his girl at the front of the line for ice cream. He let out a deep breath as he wiped off his raw, bloody knuckle on the underside of his shirt.

"Hi, baby. You're just in time. I got stuck behind a group of like, ten kids. Do you want something?" She smiled as he walked up behind her and gently placed his hands on her hip as not to scare her.

"Nah. Share yours." He replied softly as he leaned in to press another kiss to her forehead.

"See? Super Hero ice cream isn't just for kids."

Hotties:

@vintageobx @starkey-babie @fashion-fasting @barrysjumpsuit @babeyglo @rottenstyx @pogueslandia @whcclxr @soph0864

@beauvibaby @plutooryectors @sodasback

*tag list is open, please let me know if I forgot you or you would like to be added/removed from particular posts. I've removed the people that don't pre-populate :(

Please let me know what you think if you have a moment! Thank you so much xoxo

Requests for OBX ARE OPEN!

[itsany62]

SteveTony - Superfamily

Here are some Superfamily fics that I love. Don’t forget to leave kudos and nice comments in every fic!

What We Learn?, by nannersmelo, 1 k >, Fluff.

“Who is this?”

“That doesn’t matter. What matters is that we have your husband, so you will listen very closely-”

“My husband Tony? Tony Stark?”

"...Yes?”

“Oh well,” Steve laughed, “good luck with that.”

Intruder, by wordscorrupt, 500 words.

Steve and Tony face a rather tiny, adorable intruder in the middle of the night.

the privilege of loving you by starklystar, 7 k > words.

“Why won’t you let me touch you?”

It’s a desperate plea, half-shouted and half-whispered, Steve’s voice cracking at the end. Tony stops in his tracks, halfway to the stairs. He doesn’t dare to turn back, and he really doesn’t want to fight, or to leave, to spend the last month of his life away from his husband and their son. But Steve can’t know, can he?

-x-

Or: Tony has palladium poisoning, but he doesn't tell Steve and Peter

ah-choo by starksnack, 3 k words, Hurt/Comfort.

Peter catches a cold at the park while Tony is away for work. Steve is all out of sorts trying to care for a sick child on his own.

The Sign by nightwalker, 2 k > words, Adoption.

Tony hadn't slept the night before and he knew Steve hadn't either. They'd just laid there, side by side, listening to each other breathe and thinking their own thoughts. Somewhere around dawn Steve had rolled onto his side and splayed his fingers over Tony's heart.

Bellflower (unwavering love) by S_Horne, 1 k > words.

“Aw, man.” Tony shook his head at himself as he finally broke. He bent down and tucked his hands underneath Peter’s armpits, hoisting him up onto his hip with a practiced ease. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“No m’not.”

Tony shook his head, straightening Peter’s shirt out where it had bunched up around his chest. “You’re in one of those moods today, aren’t you?”

Peter shook his head sagely and Tony huffed a laugh. “Not. You’re just mean.”

“I swear,” Tony said, blowing out a sigh, “if your Pops walks in and you turn into an angel, you’re grounded until you’re 50.”

a little lemonade by tonystarkssnipples, 1 k > words.

Tony came downstairs after putting Piper to sleep to find Steve with about 10 pounds of lemons spread across the table. At Tony’s footsteps, Steve looked up at him with wide eyes. “The recipe says a cup of lemon juice per gallon.”

“And?”

“I don’t know how many lemons make a cup of lemon juice.”

--or--

It's summer and Steve wants to help their daughter with a lemonade stand.

Distracted by a Dime by happyaspie, 56 k > words, Homeless Peter Parker.

Peter Parker thinks he has everything figured out. Where he can eat, sleep and make a little bit of money. What he needs to do in order to continue attending Midtown High and being Queen’s friendly neighborhood Spider-man. How to keep his entire situation under wraps and most importantly, who he can trust.

Then, along comes Tony Stark with an offer he can’t refuse. The plan is to remain professional, to not get too close to the Stark-Rogers’ family. Not getting comfortable means not slipping up and saying anything that he can’t take back.

...but for Peter- things rarely go as planned...

one makes me want another by parkrstark, 12 k > words, Adoption, Angst with a Happy Ending.

Steve and Tony adopt Peter when he's 6-years-old and 10 years later, he still thinks he's living the best life with two father doting on him. Until they tell him about the new baby they're bringing home and suddenly, the attention is all on her.

steve rogers-stark: full time dad/husband, part time spider relocator by parkrstark, 1 k > words, Spiders, Fluff.

"Love, what's wrong?" He called out, waiting for a reply.

"Steve!" Tony instantly screamed back. "Come here! I need you!"

Steve quickened his pace slightly, trying to keep himself calm so he didn't worry Peter. Babies could sense that stuff. "Where is 'here', love?"

“Bathroom!"

come morning light (we'll be safe & sound) by parkrstark, 14 k > words, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending.

After a strange mission, Steve, Tony, and Peter find themselves trapped in their own living nightmares. Some memories of their past, some they hoped to keep from even each other, and some of the worst 'what if's their minds can imagine. All they have is each other until they wake up...but is that enough to survive until they figure out how?

Gelid Feint by geekymoviemom, 21 k > words, Fluff and Angst.

Gelid: icy; extremely cold

Feint: a deceptive or pretended blow

Steve Rogers’ world had completely changed since he was discovered in the Arctic Ice. Not only had he led a team of actual superheroes to defend New York against an alien invasion, he had also found love, and the family he’d never dared to dream he could have.

So when Nick Fury asked Steve on a simple mission to retrieve materials from a hidden bunker, Steve thought nothing of it.

Until the demons he’d thought he had buried within the Red Skull’s airplane suddenly reappeared, and he was forced to face the one enemy he’d thought he had vanquished.

He had cut off one head, but now two more had taken its place.

love lives on by parkrstark, 6 > k words, Teacher Steve Rogers, Alternate Universe.

Steve doesn't like picking favorite students, but when he gets Peter in his class, he can't help it when this sweet little boy becomes his favorite. He shouldn't be surprised when one day his father picks him up, and Steve realizes that he's the son of Tony Stark...the love of his life he let go back in high school. Steve wants his second chance, even if Tony doesn't want anything to do with him anymore.

maybe love is the reason why (we're seeing it eye to eye) by parkrstark, 134 k > words, undercover as a family, Fake/Pretend Relationship.

"I'm sorry. Repeat that again." Tony leaned forward in his seat from across the table. He even stuck a finger in his ear as if he was cleaning it out. "I don't think I heard you right."

Fury rolled his eyes-- or well, eye. "You and Rogers need to go undercover as a married couple in a community out on Long Island."

--

After Civil War, Tony and Steve are sent on an undercover mission as a couple to try and find Hydra informants. Somehow, they end up with Peter as their undercover son who decides to play matchmaker even if the two of them are doing their best to ignore their feelings after Siberia.

little moments like this by parkrstark, 1 k > words, Domestic Fluff.

Steve grabs the blanket and covers himself. "Stop it! My husband will kill you!"

It takes Tony only a second to realize what Steve thinks is going on and he laughs. "Steve, it's me. Tony." He tries to take the blanket off, but Steve doesn't let him.

"Don't-- take advantage of me! My husband will kill you!"

Or, Steve is loyal to no end. Even after a night of drinking Asgardian mead.

Trapped in the Shadows by geekymoviemom, 97 k > words, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Parent Tony Stark.

All Steve Rogers wanted after a lifetime of war was to immerse himself in quiet, and solitude. Opening a bookstore seemed like the perfect answer. He could escape to any world that he desired, all while keeping his past firmly behind him, where it belonged.

Until the day Peter Stark walked in.

anytime by complicationstoo, 714 words, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Established Relationship.

Steve is there, holding Tony's sleepy one year old against his chest and stirring scrambled eggs on the stove with his free hand. He's murmuring quietly to Peter, low enough that Tony can't quite make out the words, but there's a soft smile on his face as he talks.

Tony wanders further in, sneaking up behind him and wrapping his arms around his waist. He buries his face into Steve's hair, and he can hear the grin in Steve's voice as he says, "Good morning, dear.”

How To Change A Diaper by writerstrash, 1 k > words, Established Relationship, Fatherhood.

Steve and Tony deal with a wriggly, crawly baby Peter who enjoys keeping his parents on their toes.

[dottiechan]

ICEBREAKER Pt. 7

Read on AO3 (link in bio)

Part 1 | Part 2&3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

Pairing: Crosshair x Reader x Hunter

Wordcount: 2325

Summary: Bracca is nothing more than a blur. But in the midst of this chaos, there are flashbulb memories, vivid snapshots of moments that will be etched into your mind for the rest of your life.

Warnings: cursing, anxiety, injuries

You're sitting in the corner, mute. Everyone is tired, exhausted beyond belief in the belly of a rusting Republic warship, decommissioned just like you should be. You're all waste, fighting for scraps of individuality in a world that only values witless cooperation. Tech once called the Empire "the very death of critical thinking," and you wonder if he meant it literally. If he meant himself too, and his army of identical brothers, those ticking time bombs with switches sewn inside their heads. If he meant Wrecker grabbing him by the throat before trying to kill you. If he meant Crosshair's blind obedience to an Empire that could never love him back as you do.

Your hand glides over your tender arm, and you wince. You will be bruised, the imprint of Wrecker's hand will bloom purple on your skin, like a strange flower. Your back will be painted blue and black and purple too from where it kissed the ground after he threw you across the med bay. You don't know how many times you will be traumatised before you can find some semblance of peace in this godforsaken Galaxy.

And when you look at Omega - sweet Omega, struggling not to fall asleep, holding Wrecker's hand, hoping the man who tried to kill her a mere hour ago would wake - you somehow manage to feel even worse.

...

It takes time, for them all to undergo surgery. You look at their shaved heads, their confused faces as they look around. They won their own freedom, fought for it too. You want to imagine him here too, in the middle of this quiet victory over the unconscious, silver hair shaved on one side, shaking fingers placing a toothpick between soft lips, uncertain eyes searching for yours amongst his brothers. You want Wrecker to put an arm around those sinewy shoulders only to evoke a scowl on that beloved face.

Wrecker gazes back at you sadly when he notices you staring.

"On your feet, soldier," Hunter extends a hand to you with a small smile on his face. But you know him well enough now, and you see through his façade. You know just how shaken he is, shaken down to his very core. You take his hand and let him help you up. "Are you going to be okay?"

"Yeah, don't worry about me."

"You know that's not something I can do."

"I'm fine, I promise. Completely functional. I'm not the one who's just had surgery," you tut gently, taking his bandana from him when he tries to put it back over the bandage on his head. You're as careful as you can be, ignoring the stabbing ache in your arm as you fix Hunter up, gently brushing his short pieces of hair in the front back over the red fabric once you're finished tying a knot. "There. Good as new."

He catches your hands before you could withdraw them, and upon realising that most are distracted by Rex's and Echo's conversation, he holds them to his heart for a little while. His forehead comes to rest against yours gently, but at first you're not sure if he meant to do that, or if he just bowed under the great weight on his shoulders. But his eyes are searching your face now, and his breath ebbs and flows in harmony with yours. You've seen many soldiers do this before, brothers sharing a peaceful moment together before facing death on the battlefield. The Mandalorians call this a Keldabe kiss. But in his mind, Hunter just simply calls it arriving home.

"We'll be okay," you swallow thickly when he pulls back, placing a hand on the side of his face.

"We'll be okay," Hunter echoes, pressing his cheek into your palm, but if there's anything he's learned today, it's that he can never truly be sure of that.

...

"This is it, boys."

Rex almost looks reluctant, as if being around the Bad Batch has rekindled fond memories he's not eager to part with. This used to be his life, being surrounded by his brothers, saving the day. And while he feels satisfied, this victory leaves a bitter taste in his mouth when he realises that in the grand scheme of things, he's barely changed anything. One family saved, but countless others lost. Like his own brothers, for instance; his own stupid, stubborn, loyal brothers, buried on a bare rock of a moon. Their loss left a hole in his chest bigger than the crater their crashed ship indented on the planet surface, and saving your squad is like a bandaid over a blaster shot to the heart.

He allows his gaze to linger on Echo for a while, the last man he's known well to survive, the last nail in the coffin of his grief. He looks so different now, and yet for a moment he expects Fives to materialise behind him. Dominos attached at the hip, his very own double trouble, the dual curse that followed him everywhere. He used to grumble about how they behaved all the time. But he loved them, he loved his little brothers with all his heart. And look where that love got them.

Fives is not here, of course. Rex never dared ask where they buried him. He's heard rumours of unmarked clone mass graves, but he was never brave enough to accept that truth. That's why he and Ahsoka buried their own dead with dignity, marking an extra grave along the rest, empty but reserved still.

His gaze finds you then, eventually. The only one who isn't a clone here in this rusting medbay, the sore thumb sticking out, the lost one with sad eyes who's seen too much for a civvie. He saw the way Hunter held onto you just now, how you shared a quiet moment in the corner when you thought no one was watching. He promised himself he would do this for Fives, that he would tell you if he ever saw you again that he talked about you even months after that one night at 79's. That he called you the one that got away, that he jokingly said he was saving himself for after the war when he could ask you to marry him. Fives was always full of shit, and no doubt half of what he said were just jokes, but he knows he cared about you still. It's apparent that you're a remarkable person, easy to grow attached to, but twice as difficult to forget.

He wants to do this for Fives. He wants to tell you, he wants you to know that the man who ultimately saved the ones you love loved you in turn. But you already seem like you've been through enough and he hasn't the heart to put you through this as well.

You catch him looking at you, and you muster a small, tired smile. "Take care, Captain."

"Ma'am."

I'm sorry, Fives, he keeps repeating over and over in his head as he turns to leave.

...

The deck is about to collapse. It is the only way you even have a slight chance of survival, you know that. And yet you feel stuck in this very moment, unable to move, deer in the headlights, shaking from head to toe.

The squad is whole again.

You'd like to believe you wouldn't know what would happen if you approached him, if you tried to pry his helmet off and look into his eyes. You'd like to believe he'd let you, you'd like to believe he would listen to your pleas, that he would stop this madness. Order his troops to stand down. Come home with you.

You'd like to believe. But all you can think about is Wrecker, out of his mind and yet still so terrifyingly present somehow, grabbing Tech by the throat and throwing him against the wall before coming for you.

And you know Crosshair would gun you down without hesitation.

"Crosshair... Please don't do this. We can help you." The plea escapes your lips before you could stop it, however. Crosshair tilts his head towards you, and even though you can't see his gaze, just knowing that his eyes are on you is like being struck by lightning. How long was it since you last saw him? How long was it since he last gazed at you, and you at him? He seems almost as frozen for a moment as you, and you allow yourself to believe he's still in there, raging against the control of the Empire. You don't know what it was that you two shared back on Hoth, but you know it meant something. It had to. And judging by his consideration, and the hesitant way he shuffles a step closer to you, you know he must remember too.

But he moved too quickly for Hunter's liking, and he's by your side, trying to shield you as much as he shields Omega. Whatever moment you and Crosshair just shared is over. You can tell, by the tightening of his shoulders, by his stance turning defensive once more. You got through to the real Crosshair for a second. But the menace - like some demon possessing his body - is back in control once again.

"Crosshair, wake up! You're being controlled by an inhibitor chip." Hunter's reasoning falls on deaf ears now. It is over. You should accept it, but you can't. But at least you're not the only one who can't admit defeat.

"He's telling the truth. The Kaminoans put chips in all the clones. Remember what I told you in the brig?"

After Omega's spoken up, a stretch of silent tension follows. You're all nervous, weapons aimed, caught in a death trap with no way out but down. And yet you're holding on, you're still holding on to that last shred of hope that your words will finally get through to him. That you can finally put down the cross you've been bearing and rest.

"Aim for the kid."

You don't know how many times you can be traumatised before you finally give in. But you make room for one more, and the day is far from being over yet.

...

You're going to be sick, but you know you can't be. You've treated a thousand gruesome injuries before, but somehow a partial blaster burn to the chest will be your final straw, you can already tell. You gingerly lay the bacta patch across the scorched patch skin and flesh as your fingers tremble like a new recruit's. The internal damage was thankfully minimalised by his armour, but this is still going to take some time to heal from.

You don't know how long it will take for you all to heal from leaving Crosshair behind once more. From losing Omega.

When your breathing starts bordering on frantic, Tech nudges you aside and takes over, but you can't leave. You sit on the edge of the cot, and clutch Hunter's hand in your clammy ones. You can't lose anyone else, you can't, you heart wouldn't take it.

When he finally comes around again, the look in his eyes are so hurt you finally give in to the urge to cry.

"I guess I can't hold the mission on Bracca against you anymore," Hunter rasps through his pain, trying to ignore how choked up and panicked the thought of losing Omega makes him.

"No, you really can't," you agree quietly, wiping at your eyes as you try not to let your anxiety get the better of you. Not when you're supposed to be Hunter's comfort, when you're supposed to reassure him.

"This is the only thing I ever want to wake up to," he whispers, a weak hand reaching up, longing touch ghosting along your features. He's dying a little inside every time he fails, swallowing the shards of every heart he breaks as atonement. They're jarring his insides, leaving him breathless every time he moves. And yet he keeps pushing on, even now, even when he feels worse than he's ever felt - all because of you. You're his only remedy in this fucked up world, the only person who still makes him believe there can be a happy ending for you all. He loves his brothers, but they're just as guilty and cynical as he is. He understands why he can't pin all his hopes on a child, but for some reason, he can't make the same exception for you. His voice is quiet, but it's obvious his head is clear when he speaks next.

"Cyare."

A little to the side, Tech finishes checking the medical scans for the last time. Hunter's condition has been stabilised, and for now, all he can do is look into the bounty hunter who took Omega. He casts one last look at you and Hunter, hand in hand, eyes glued to each other's face, and he sighs.

"How's Hunter?"

"He'll live," Tech answers, placing a hand on Echo's shoulder. "We've been through a lot over a rather short period of time. I think they've earned a moment of peace alone though, wouldn't you agree?"

Echo's face rarely reflects the emotions inside him, but now an endless kind of sadness perches itself on his features as he nods and follows Tech to the cockpit.

"They deserve a lot more than that. Hell, we all do."

...

Crosshair would agree with that sentiment now as he's patched up at the medbay of an Imperial flagship, alone aside from the medical droids. His head is killing him, his thoughts are sluggish, but the pain in his chest is not only from his injuries. He keeps remembering you, over and over again, your beautiful face, the way you said his name as if he mattered, as if he still belonged to you. And you left him behind anyways again.

If he heard Tech's and Echo's conversation now, he'd agree. He deserves better too.

[umai-town]

~ Pinky Promise ~

A Rui x Fem! reader Story

[Demon Female Rader]

Warnings -

Blood, Killing/Death of more than 1 person, Slight Violence, Its weird [if ya take it any way], and Just read at ur own risk. Its a bit Mature to.

You were admiring the night sky in silence. Feeling the breeze from the night air blow your hair softly. You were on a rooftop of one of the many houses in this small village you found about 2 weeks ago on this mountain. You listened closely to the silence…waiting for the smallest sound. A sound you loved more than anything in this world. The sound of someone’s footsteps.

Why, you ask? Because that meant someone was breaking the rules. Walking outside at night was strictly forbidden in this town and everyone here knew it. This rule is what kept people safe from Demons who lurk outside…Demons like you~

But you were smarter than most demons around this area, you always had a plan. You had strategy to your attacks, Methods to disposing of whatever you didn’t eat, more importantly skills to avoid what ever threatens you. And because of that you have been able to make 7 kills in the 2 weeks that you have been here. More than enough to most, but to you that was just a snack.

Then…you suddenly hear that sweet sound. Footsteps just a few feet from your location. You smiled giggling lightly as you slowly walked to the edge of the rooftop you were on. You looked down to see 2 young guys walking slowly through the streets. You smiled to yourself as you prepared to make your move. This is going to be sooo~ Easy~ you thought.

Until….

They both looked up at you. They knew you were watching them. How? This caught you off guard. One of them yelled out and then they pulled out swords. Katanas? It doesn’t matter!! You were confused and shook at this, so you quickly turn to run in the opposite direction. But as soon as you did you heard more footsteps as 2 others were now running at you. They all lookedthe same. The same clothes…no uniforms…they are Demon Slayers!

You ran as fast as you could at this point. Doing everything you could to avoid the 4 slayers that are now after you. You ran until you reached the edge of the town and you were sure that would make them stop chasing you. But as you exited the town they kept coming after you. What do I do now! They are going to kill me at this rate! I’m to young to lose my head! I haven’t even killed 10 people yet! I’m so close please! You cried to yourself as you ran into the woods outside of the town. As you did the slayers slowly got closer to you. What was slowing you down!? Your covered in it at this rate! Its sticky and annoying! Its-

…

Spider webs?

…

As you noticed this the sound of footsteps went quiet. Why? You stopped running behind a tree and looked behind you. The slayers were standing together in a circle and ready to fight. What else is there besides me? Is it because of all the webs? Do they not want to get stuck in them? Scared of spiders? Many thoughts filled your head.

You watch closely, then before you knew what had happened. One of the slayers was sliced into small bits, another was pulled into the air by a unsee force and bulled apart. The other two tried to run off but both were pulled back by the same force and into the trees. You didn’t see them all you saw was a big splash of blood from the trees. Nothing more.

You took a moment to breath and relaxed a bit. They were no longer after you, because their all dead, but that’s not the point. But…what killed them? You imminently feel a presence like no other. It was a demon, But MUCH Stronger than you. You freeze in place. You couldn’t more because of this feeling. You could feel its strength as it grew close to you. You tightly close your eyes fearing the worst.

…

“Hey…You are indeed alive, correct?”

I am? What is with that voice?

You open your eyes to see the one who bears all that strength. You were correct it was a demon. But not what you imagined him to look like. You were expecting a big, strong elder demon much greater than yourself. But what you got was…This small boy, white and pure looking with dark red marks all over his face. His Kimono had the Pattern of Spider webs and he had no shoes on. But what got you was those ice blue eyes, full teal lashes, and the symbol in his eye. It was a kanji. “Lower rank 5” What does that mean you thought.

He looked at you with such a soft gaze. He was just standing there playing with the small webs connecting his fingers. He looked like a kid. You were the same Hight as him, same size, and figure. Weird…

“I saved your life…” He stated bluntly

“That was you!? That was amazing. I thank you for helping me…” You smiled at him and he looked at you the same. No emotion on his face, this is awkward.

“You are alive because of me…You understand that…yes?”

You were confused what answer did he want from you. You simply nod at him.

“You now owe your life to me…Don’t you agree?”

What! No way, he can’t be serious! He’s joking right! You stood there with a slightly confused look on your face.

“hmm…you look confused did I not say it clearly enough for you?” He then pulled on the webs he was playing with. This made your body tighten up, it hurt. You looked down to see he had webs on you. Wrapped all the way around your arms and legs. How did-When did he do this?! In fear of your own life, you gave him the answer he wanted. “YES! I owe you! I’m thankful you saved me from those slayers!” With that the webs stopped.

“hmm…good. Because you now owe me… I have an idea set for you; do you accept?”

He walked up to you. He was in arms reach if only you could move away from him. You were scared what did he mean by “set for you” it was terrifying the things that popped into your head. As he got closer you freaked out a bit. You looked down a bit but nodded feeling you had no other choice.

“Good…What all do you know about being a little sister...”

A Little sister? Are you serious right now. You spoke with slight confusion. “Not much. I don’t remember much of my former human life, but I do know I was an only child.” He looked at you with the same blank face. “Well then…That means you will be learning from scratch…That makes things a bit easier…” He moved the web between his finders, and you were released from the webs. You almost fell on your knees, but he grabbed your hands holding you steady. Suddenly his gaze was no longer just blank rather it felt warm and welcoming. He stood you back up straight and held on to one of your hands. I am Rui…But you soon will be able to call me Big brother…” He stated with his soft tone. “Follow closely now~” He said with a small joyful tone. Barley enough to tell it was there but you caught it. It made you smile a bit yourself. As he began to walk forward, you followed in suit.

He led you to a run-down looking house further into the woods. As you approached it more demons began to show their faces. They all had similar features to his, white skin, red face marks, or some resemblance to a spider and so on. Was this his real family? You thought. Then you were sat at an old table with broken eating utensils, plates, and bowls, all empty and dusty. All the other demons gathered around and sat down all looking at you. No one spoke, no one dared moved out of place. All was silent. He sat in the seat next to you. He had a very faint smile on his face. It made you feel warm inside somehow. You noticed One of the other demons was now holding a bowl of what looked lake water. She held it close to him not making any form of eye contact with him. He Used his small webs in his fingers to cut his own hand, bleeding into the bowl, Turning it all dark red. He then grabbed it from her and held it in front of you.

“As of now…You are a part of this family, when you drink this…My blood…you will be one with us, You will be My little sister.” He handed you the bowl and you looked into it. Seeing yourself as you are now. Your big (E/C) eyes, your soft (S/T) skin, and your (H/L) (H/C) hair flowing in your face. You felt different now it was sudden and strange. He wanted you here, he could protect you, he didn’t have to save you, yet he did. So, you took a final breath before raising the bowl to your lips and drinking his blood. Once done you sat the bowl down in front of you. Looking into it, its now empty and you can no longer see yourself. Then you closed your eyes for what felt like a mere second and all you remember from then…

Is pain

…

Once the pain went away you opened your eyes to see his hands on your face. He was holding it ever so softly. His hands were cold but that didn’t bother you. You felt safe suddenly. He smiled down at you. “Congratulations You are now a part of our family” you smiled lightly and in the corner of your eye another demon was holding something. He gave it to Rui and he held it up to your face. It was a small slightly broken Mirror. In it you did not see your old self. You saw….Rui. Or was that really you. You looked just like him. Your markings seemed to match up with his, just there were like flipped onto the other side, opposite of his own. Your eyes were the same, yet you lacked in the Kanji he had in his. Your hair was much like his now just much longer. You looked up to him with a small smile on your face. You were part of this family now…you felt safe and warm. He smiled back and grabbed your hand placing one of his small webs around your pinky finger.

“You are now home. You are special and I know it…So I made you into the perfect image… You are now part of me…as my little Twin Sister.” He smiled at you as you did to him. You giggled “is this a pinky promise?” he nodded “pinky promise”

From then on you two were inseparable, you were loyal to him, the string always connected you two and because of this you two hardly ever separated from one another. Darning battled and such he was by your side, that string always being your guide to him. You were with him for many years. He treated you different from the others as well as you did to him. You loved him as he did you. He was your everything as you were to him. You were happy for once in forever.

As...

🕸~His Little Twin sister~🕸

Enjoyed the Story? Go Here to Enjoy the Extended version!~ and make sure to Like and Follow for more KNY Fan Fictions!~

[love-toxin]

a/n: in which darling can’t bear to spend a moment apart from the person she loves the most. 

warnings: post-canon/set in the future, yandere reader, female reader, quirk kink, roleplay, oral, cum eating, pet names, yandere/yandere, unrequited love, rejection. 

word count: 1.6k

"H-Here...I brought it."

You always looked so cute when you paid a visit to the hideout. You liked to tuck the thick envelopes you brought with you in your coat, and the little vials stuck with a cork packed safely inside your pocket. She'd only seen you for a month or two, but you were her most eager customer...and, fortunately for you, her favourite. 

As much as she liked the freedom of villainy, it didn't exactly pay the bills all of the time. Stealing could only get her so far, and there were few other options she could turn to after burning so many bridges throughout the years...but lucky for her, there were plenty of freaks out there, and plenty more who would happily save up their pennies for a chance to cherish someone they would never have otherwise. Though there were very few that were as bold as you, or half as cute. 

"Look at this! Nearly twice as much as last time…"

You held out the packages to her with a bland expression on your face, your hands shoved back in your pockets while she twirled the vial between her fingers and thumbed through the cash that padded the envelope. 

"You really like this guy, huh?"

Your features grew sour when she spoke up though, and she could tell she hit a nerve. 

"It's none of your business." 

Toga stuffed the envelope in her breast pocket and popped the cork open on the bottle, the blood still warm and bitter on her tongue in a way that she had quickly gotten used to. This was a weekly occurrence at the least, so she was naturally prepared for the outcome--that didn't make the transformation any less amusing to her, though.

"I think it is, actually. After all, your business is my business, sweetheart…"

Her voice changed first, her sweet, chiming tones growing low and gravelly--and after that the transition was quick, her blond hair puffing into soft spikes and her chest shrinking into a washboard of hard, sculpted muscle, while her blood started to boil beneath the surface and she felt the need to grit her teeth and release all her tension in a fiery shout. But that would be less than preferred in the dingy warehouse side of the hideout, where someone might hear and come investigate...and there were other ways that you wanted to spend your money than getting caught by the heroes with a villain. 

"You just gonna ignore me, kiddo? I'm not gonna take that from some brat."

Her heart beat ferociously in her chest at the sight of you looking up at her, your eyes wide and a soft blush warming your face. She advanced on you until she could slam her hand against the wall just next to your head, and chuckled as you flinched and found yourself trapped by the body that loomed over you. She knew you so well, she knew you were already ready to give yourself over completely. 

"...I love you, Ground Zero…"

Your voice trembled in a soft whisper, each word a betrayal of the façade you put on day after day. You were icy to the touch, and you pushed people away before they could even think about getting close to you--she knew you were that way. And she knew that there was only one person who would ever have the chance to slip past those towering walls that you built up. Well, maybe two.

"Speak up! Don't fuckin' mumble at me."

She papped you on the cheek, not enough to hurt, just to get your attention--but you were quick on the uptake, her wrist caught in your grip as you scowled and bit back with twice the venom dripping off your tongue. 

"I said you're mine, Ground Zero."

You yanked her in, your pull aided by your precious fingers curling around her collar--and your kiss felt even more possessive than your words, lips claiming hers so feverishly that you even bit down on her tongue. Not that she minded, though…not when it was you. 

"Nobody else can have you. I'll slit the throat of anyone that gets near you…"

Your muttering into her ear made her heart flutter--was this how people felt when she spoke those same words? It couldn't possibly feel as good as when you did it though, your hand wandering between her legs to grab at something she could still be a little clumsy in using. The cock in her tight pants twitched at your touch, moving on its own as if it knew you desired it, and she let her pleasure slip in a moan that made you shiver visibly and your grip grow even tighter. 

"Little freak.."

Toga's mind raced, for once feeling like the man whose body she had possessed was speaking right through her. But even if it was involuntary it seemed to work just fine, considering the fact that you'd already snuck your hands beneath her zipper and started feeling around for what you had been craving all week. Her cock stiffened the moment your wrapped your fingers around it, and once you pulled it out to meet the prickle of the cool air, she had a sense that she wouldn't need to do much as you sank to your knees in front of her. 

You looked so cute like this. Your little body fit so perfectly beneath this one, your palms sweaty as you worked her up and your face perfectly positioned to meet the tip as it bobbed in front of you like a treat. You looked like a puppy in her eyes, not just because of how eagerly you accepted her touch--but because of how loyal you were to this little fantasy, and so willing to have it played out again and again and again. 

"Tell me you love me, Ground Zero, or I'll cut your fucking thing off." 

The drag of your hands on her cock slowed, your lips plushy and soft as you gently mouthed at the head before pulling away. She wasn’t wholly sure if this was part of the fantasy, or if you were calling her out for getting wrapped up in your touch--but she laid a strong hand in your hair and gripped it tight, the facade not yet broken as she yanked you forwards and let your mouth cushion every inch that she humped inside you. 

"You've got a dirty fucking mouth, princess. Let's wash it out, huh?" 

She growled with a smirk plain on her face, and the way you let your eyes drift back into your head as she sank into your throat made all the difference. It wouldn’t usually matter to her customers if she came or not, but it did to you, and you had already adapted to the new shift by cupping her sensitive balls in your soft hands and squeezing them in time with the tease of your tongue on her veins. Toga had never had a wish to be a man even when she transformed into one, but the way you slobbered all over this cock that wasn’t hers made her wish she had been born as such--no, actually, that wasn’t it. She wished she had been born as Ground Zero himself, so you would lavish all this love and attention on her instead. 

“A-Already gonna cum, hah...you’ve been practicing, haven’t you, princess?” 

She moaned out what she intended to sound as gruff and forceful, but the pleasure of having you suckling on her so sweetly caused her breath to hitch and her blond spikes to sway as she threw her head back. Your grip grew stronger and your tongue even faster, but in turn hers became weak enough that you could slowly pull off of her cock inch by inch, before you popped off with a lustful slurp and replaced your mouth with an equally skilled hand. 

“Yeah. I’ve been fucking some stupid, slutty villian while you’ve been busy...that good enough practice, Katsuki?” 

She groaned out something absolutely intelligible, her mind blanking as you returned to lapping at the tip and sucking off every drop of precum that leaked out. Both her hands came to rest against the wall just to hold herself up, since she couldn’t even get a word out anymore--you totally dominated her senses with barely any effort, and before she could warn you of anything she was cumming deep into the hot recesses of your tight little throat. Spurt after spurt you swallowed in stride, each one even hotter and thicker than the last, that by the time she stopped trembling and her breath came unstuck from her chest, she finally realized that her cock had shrunk to almost nothing and her body was returning to its normal state. You got to your feet unperturbed, a few pearls of her cream dribbling down your chin that you wiped with the back of your hand--and when you spoke up, she had to reply with a “huh?” before she realized that you had mentioned that you’d met Ground Zero the other day. The real Ground Zero. And did she want to know what he said to you? 

“...He told me I was a fucking creep.” 

Your expression betrayed no emotion, but she knew at once that your heart had been broken from within. She could only imagine how angry you must have been at your obsession rejecting you...she knew that same pain all too well, even though she had now absolved herself from that terrible time. 

“I’m weak, too. Too weak to try and change that. So guess what that means for you?”

She wasn’t sure where you were going with this, or if you were just spilling your feelings in the afterglow to someone that would never tell a soul. At least, that’s what she thought, until she caught a glimpse of some shiny silver handcuffs slipping out from your coat pocket, and a knife dropping from its hidden place in your sleeve and into your grasp. 

“If I can’t have Katsuki...then I’ll just take the next best thing.” 

[searenbound]

HELLLLLO I’ve wanting to ask you for a long time on if you can do a omega Bakugou with alpha reader where he feels insecure that alpha loving him and if stills even alpha still loving him so I was just wondering if you can possibly do Comfort for baby that Alpha still loves him maybe he’s just a tad bit jealous but if you will be so kind to write this thank you but I never force anything on upon anyone so it be ok if you didn’t write it. ( hope this isn’t to much I just got so exited)

Jealous baby, jealous baby, jealous baby! God I love writing jealousy, it’s so much fun and with acbrat like Bakugou it’s even better

Warnings: swearing, insecurities, jealousy, omegaverse

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x reader

When someone thought about the term Alpha their was an image that would come to mind. Someone aggressive and strong. A bold personality with a territorial need to be above anyone else in their pack. Confident and cocky.

Someone like Katsuki Bakugou.

However, when you looked to Omegas it was like the opposite side of the coin. Sweet and demure. Someone who found purpose in taking care of others especially their mate and pups if they had. A calming personality that would put anyone at ease.

Someone nothing like him.

And yet, here he was. A surly aggressive man who happened to be an Omega. Every bit of his personality was in contribution to how Omegas were seen and he hadn’t had any problems with it before. He was even proud of it.

It only added to his ego to see others, especially Alphas, chock on their dammed words when he showed them up. Loved how intimidated of him they were. How easy it was to stomp all over their ideas of what an Omega was.

He found the sneered responses of jaded Alphas with their bruised feelings and pride hilarious. It didn’t matter to him if they said he’d never find an Alpha if kept acting like that. He hadn’t even cared about courtship in the first place and if he did find someone that was worth it, then they wouldn’t care about him having an attitude.

Right?

He assumed so, but he never really gave it thought. He hadn’t had any reason to so why bother?

(Yn) (Ln) was why.

She had managed to do the one thing other Alphas hadn’t.

Actually respect him and treat him like an equal. She didn’t try to put him in his place as an Omega, but never hesitated to call him out on his behavior. Wouldn’t let anyone else say anything negative about his dynamic either, pointing out that they just like little crybabies pups that felt uncomfortable about being shown up by an Omega and it wasn’t his job to make them feel comfortable about anything. Most importantly to him, she encouraged him to be him and no one else.

It didn’t seem to matter to her if he wanted to take the lead on certain things in their relationship. Just that he was comfortable and and happy in it. Taming him was the last thing on her mind and it amazed him how she singlehandedly changed his mind about courting.

He was sure that despite his younger self’s beliefs that he didn’t need an Alpha that he needs her. So, he shouldn’t feel like this should he?

Shouldn’t feel a burning lump stuck in his chest or the heat creeping its way up his throat. Leaving it feeling dry and tight with a bitter acidic taste stinging in the back of his mouth.

He was happy being with her, but was she? Did she really love him or had she just thought so and now felt trapped? Was he a regret to her? Was all those things about him being too aggressive for an Alpha to truly love actually right?

Did she want someone softer than him?

A person like her tends to attract a lot of friends. An Alpha like her was like catnip for an Omega. He knew that at least one of them had to have feelings for her, but he hadn’t thought about it much. She was loyal to him after all.

But recently, the more time she spends with those cutesy little Omegas friends she has the more he couldn’t stand it. It made him wonder if he was even good enough for her.

And naturally, Bakugou being Bakugou. He avoided her and refused to admit something was wrong. No it didn’t matter that he smelled of badly burned caramel and was obviously distraught, he refused anything was wrong. Refused to talk about it just in case he got an answer he wasn’t ready to handle.

(Yn) couldn’t take it anymore though. Her Omega was hurting and it was her duty to at least try to fix it wasn’t it?

“D-did I do something wrong Tsuki? I’m sorry if I made you mad, but I can’t fix it if you don’t talk to me so please?” she spoke in a coo, pumping out as much comfort pheromones as she could, taking note of the soft purring that he tried to hide. That had to be a good sign right?

“I’m not… I just…just. Why the hell do you even care? Don’t you have someone else to go bother for the day instead of me” he felt stupid trying to explain himself. Wasn’t sure if he was even ready to talk about it. So he tried to deflect and brush her off, hoping she’d just drop.

A stubborn person like him doesn’t attract a pushover though. She’s long sense learned to read between the lines of his words and had a suspicion she knew what this was about now.

“Katsuki, Omega can you look at me? Please, Love?” she purred at him, taking his hands in hers when he reluctantly did. “I love you and no one else ok? I’m sorry I made you feel like I wanted someone else” just like that burning weight started to cool and lessen.

“Whatever it’s fine, just don’t make me worry like that” he huffed trying to turn away to hide the pout he was sure had formed on his face only to have her hands cradling his cheeks. “It’s not fine! You were upset about it and didn’t feel comfortable telling me! That’s not fine Katsuki, I want you to feel like you can tell me anything so please if I do something that upsets you, even if it’s small, tell me so I can fix it”.

“Fine, but you better do the same got it!” He snapped and she sighed, agree with a smile. She knew he was reaching his limit for talking about emotions and she didn’t want to push to far so for now she was happy with just addressing the need for communication.

They could talk about more when he felt better prepared and calmer. At the moment she just wanted her Omega to feel secure in the fact she loves him dearly. “Can you scent me? That way I’ll smell just like you and-whoa!” she didn’t even get to finish her sentence before he dragged her into his nest.

It was incredibly rare for an Alpha to allow their mate to scent them the same way they would scent others. Normally it was just an Omega rubbing their wrist over them or returning clothes they wore, but almost never scenting them to the degree that they practically only smelled of their mate.

He wasn’t letting this pass him.

“You’re excited, huh?“ (Yn) giggled as a pair of strong arms wrapped around her and pulling her snug against him. A weak hiss, that definitely couldn’t be mistaken for a purr, was his only response as he began to lavish her neck in attention. Pressing his cheek against like she done to him so many times before and taking the opportunity to kiss and nip at her scent glands when she let him get away with it. Only stopping once he was satisfied that she smelled strongly like him.

She had gotten so into it that almost whined about it until his lips were on hers. Surprisingly soft and tender. Like it was the first time they had kissed all over again.

“Don’t ever let any one else do that or else” he sighed when they broke away.

“I would rather die then let someone take your place ‘Mega, I love you”.

“You fucking better”.

“Katsuki”.

“I love you too”.

[conaionaru]

Sigurd Snake-in-the-eye Oneshot

Such a lovely bride

Even covered in dirt and messy hair, she was breathtaking. Grinning at him from her spot under him, soft chuckles leaving her lips. "You didn't have to trip me."

"Why? I like seeing you like this." He teased back and kissed her cute little nose, snorting when she crunched it up. She threw him off and looked up at the hill that they tumbled down.

She wanted to be chased, and as the nice guy he was, he agreed. It wasn't his fault they fell down the hill, really. He tripped on a root, and if he should fall, so shall she. Sigurd would do anything to spoil Korra rotten. He was a prince, a son of Ragnar Lothbrok. All those riches and fame would finally be for something good.

"You are staring again." She teased with raised eyebrows.

"I made you another song." Sigurd pulled his oud out, but she dragged him over to the sand and the lake. Pulling off her shoes, Korra ran into the water, not caring if her skirts got wet.

Watching her twirl in the cool water was like watching a Nymph or a faerie. Sigurd could watch her for hours if it didn't look so creepy. Ever since he first saw her, he felt a pull towards Korra.

At fifteen, she stumbled into him from behind, dressed in her brother's clothes, carrying a basket of fish. Instead of apologizing as other girls would have, she called him rude and stuck her tongue out. He could still hear his brother's laughing at his starstruck expression and his stupid smile whenever he thought of her. But it was all worth it when he brought her flowers, and she giggled for the first time.

It was like the loveliest melody, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't create one as lovely as hers. So Sigurd vowed to hear it every day from now on. And no matter what Ubbe said about fading love, Sigurd was sure he would marry that girl. No matter how wild and untamed she might be.

"Well? Aren't you going to play for me?" She asked, looking at him over her shoulder with her cute grin that was a mix between teasing and challenging. So he picked up his oud and played the song that he wrote just for her. It took him a fortnight to make it perfect, and the smile that she flashed him was worth it. But the kiss on his lips when she crawled out of the water was even better.

Laying side by side and watching the clouds pass by as they held hands was bliss. The peacefulness was a nice change to the usual chaos of his family. "That one looks like a goat."

"No, it doesn't."

"Yes, it does. It has the same beard like you." Sigurd looked at her strangely while she cackled at her own joke. Rolling over, he hovered over her and tickled her side till she trashed under him and begged for mercy.

"Stoooop. Siguuuurd! Stop it! I command you!"

He chuckled and looked into her blue eyes with a silly smile. "Who are you to command a son of Ragnar Lothbrok, huh?"

She rolled her eyes and brushed his shaggy hair behind his ear. "Korra, the fisherman's daughter. I have been called the most beautiful woman out there. I think it a lie, but he insisted."

"Pesty, isn't he?" He leaned closer till their lips brushed against each other, blue eyes meeting green.

"It's lovable, really." They locked lips in a sweet kiss and laid back down, this time Korra rested on his chest in silence. Sleepily drifting off till the sun went down and they had to return home.

Returning to the Great hall to dine with his family was like a punishment after the moments he spent with Korra. Ivar parading Margrethe around like a won prize was laughable. Especially after the thing, the slave confessed to him.

"It makes me so happy you are with a woman," Aslaug told her youngest and then turned to her other children.  "The rest of you should already be married. Ubbe, you should have children."

"I probably already have." They all chuckled, but Aslaug wasn't amused by them.

"Just because you are the sons of a king does not mean you can be irresponsible. It's important to find a woman and settle down."

He couldn't help but scoff, glaring at his mother. "I thought I had found a woman. But you forbid me from asking for her hand."

"You don't have to love the woman. As a king's son, you can have as many women as you like... But you need one to breed with."

"Why bind some other woman to me when I already have one that could give me children if I just asked her."

Aslaug shook her head and waved him off. "Korra is not wife material."

"Why not?"

"Because she is crazy." Ivar laughed.

Sigurd's gaze snapped over at him. "Shut your mouth, Boneless!"

"She runs around dressed as a man and talks to herself. She is always dirty and has no manners, brother. I am just saying that she is not good for you."

"What do you know of women, Ivar, huh? If it weren't for Ubbe, you would have never seen one naked. Besides the mother, of course. No other woman would ever love you. And she doesn't even love you; she pities you. We all do. Sometimes we wish she just left you to the wolves."

"Sigurd, that is enough! I know your feelings for this girl. But she does not befit a prince. If you really care for her, I will find her a good match that fits her more. A nice boy who will treat her nicely."

"Kora doesn't want to marry anyone! Especially not a stranger that you chose for her! She would throw herself off a cliff before marrying him!"

"That's a shame then. She would've made such a lovely bride."

"What a shame she's fucked in the head," Ivar said, and the next moment, Sigurd threw himself on top of him, and a fight broke out.

He met Korra at the hour of the wolf. Her standing there with her hair messy from sleep, covered with a shawl for extra warmth. He pulled his fur cloak around her shoulders and flattened down her hair. "What happened to your face?"

"I fought with Ivar."

"So, the usual. What was it this time? Did he wreck your hairbrush? Mess with your oud?" She teased and danced closer to him, but it did nothing to lift his mood.

He sighed and took her hands in his, looking at her with soft eyes. "It was about you. Mother is pushing us into marriage, and when I suggested you, he said some things."

Korra smiled at him and nodded, tears gathering in her eyes. "He called me crazy, didn't he?"

Sigurd tried to lie to her, but he just couldn't when she looked so heartbroken. "Don't lie, Sigurd. Everyone says so. And maybe he is right. I mean, I am sure your mother doesn't approve either."

"It doesn't matter what mother or any of them think! We can run away and marry in secret. We could get a little cottage far away from all the eyes and responsibilities, with little goats and a lake nearby."

Korra shook her head and smiled at him sadly. "You know that would never work. Father was right; it wouldn't last."

"It won't if you just give up, Korra! Just say yes, and I will take you away from here! I will make you the happiest bride in all of Norway. Just say, yes!"

"No." With a tearful smile, she dropped his hand and walked away, trying her hardest not to look back and fall into his arms. She wanted to tell him yes so badly. But he was a Ragnarsson and a prince. It wasn't right to keep him all to herself and abandon all the glory that awaited him in the future.

After the proposal, she accepted Aslaug's suitor and let their mothers plan her wedding to a man she never met before. Her heart longed for her sweet Sigurd and his songs and kisses and hugs. He grew angry and fought with his brothers more than before.

No matter how many times he tried to seek her out and talk to her, she avoided him like the plague and concentrated on her upcoming wedding. After both Ragnar and Aslaug died and Ubbe married Margrethe, she though Sigurd would focus on getting revenge on the Saxons.

But he was always so fiercely loyal to her. So when she saw him standing there on her wedding day, it broke her heart once more. It was like a cruel riddle - who was more hurt? Her with her unhappy marriage or him all alone and angry.

Her new husband wasn't ugly or cruel. He was sweet and kind, patient above all else. But he wasn't the one she wanted.

"I swear." He said confidently, smiling down at her encouragingly to repeat the words.

"I swear." She echoed with a shake of her head, letting her new husband kiss her. Her eyes subtly drifted to Sigurd's retreating frame in the distance. Tears trailed down her cheeks, but she told him that they were from happiness.

She was a married woman now, her husband, a respectable merchant. Rich but not too much and gentle. Korra expected to forget about everything and live a happy life with many kids. A year into her marriage and Ubbe returned to Kattegat with his brother Sigurd. When she saw him get off the boat, her heart leaped, and she fought back a smile. Her husband, of course, ignored it, too focused on his work to notice her.

In the night, the hour of the wolf especially, she found Sigurd in their usual spot. He looked at her with sad eyes and tried to leave her alone. But something in her screamed out for her to stop him, so she did. "Why did you two come home alone? What happened to your brothers?"

"We fought."

"So, the usual." She smiled shyly as he laughed and nodded. The awkwardness all gone, as if they never split apart.

"This one was more serious. Nearly got an axe to the chest."

"What?" Korra shrieked out and pulled his tunic back to see the damage. True to his word, a thin scar on his chest was a bit above his heart. She stared at him awestruck, worried for his life. How close she was to losing him. Even though he was no longer hers.

"I am fine. I swear." She teared up and pulled back, cradling her hands close to her heart, still feeling his warmth by her. "How are you?"

"Married life is a bliss. He is very nice and kind. Patient and everything your mother promised he would be. We never hunger or fight... I should be happy and content..."

"But?"

"But... I am so lonely."  She sobbed out and looked back at him to see the same expression on his face. "They were all right, Sigurd. I am no wife material. I am so void and empty while he tries so hard. He wants children, and all I can do is nod along with like some broken little pathetic creature."

He strode over to her and pulled her into his arms, whispering into her ear how much he loved her and how perfect she was. For the first time in a year, she felt happy. Despite the tears and guilt she felt, she finally felt whole and content. Maybe it was wrong of her to do this; she was a worried woman now. Had a reputation to protect and a man to be true to. And yet she kissed him and liked it. She fell for Sigurd when she was just a child, and never would she stop loving him. She fell, and so did he.

[artpharos]

46. "What if I told you I’ve been in love with you since we were kids?", requested by @takoyakicorn

2,904 words, Lonashipping

Figured since I took so long I may as well make it as worth it as possible 8′D

Prompt List from waaaaaay long ago lmao 

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ 

Moon loves the unpredictability of Alola. 

It comes about from living so close with nature, with the jungles and seas teeming with Pokemon. The Tapu's blessings flit in and out between every boulder, every tree. No day is exactly the same. And with each one, new challenges and new friendships are just waiting to be discovered. 

Being the Champion, she's the one that the people call on for dealing with tough and unexpected problems. It's a role she's grown into since she was twelve. Adults would turn to her for guidance after she proved herself capable, time and time again. And now she looks forward to every moment of it- knowing full well that every day, something new will surprise her, catch her breath, steal her heart away. Be it the sun, the moon, the stars, or even something beyond. 

But in between all the turmoil, all the chaos, there are a few things that Moon likes because they never change. Predictable, solid; an anchor in the swirling excitement that fills her days.

Gladion is one of those things.

Sure, at first he stuck out like one of the many many unpredictable things of Alola. Even more so, with his black clothes and dour attitude in the midst of the cheerful colours and Alola's sunny disposition. But ten years on, Moon knows Gladion- how he's loyal to a fault, how he cares deeply for the people and Pokemon around him. How sweet he can be when he offers her a malasada, or how his rare, gentle smiles always sets her heart aflutter.  

How he will always command Silvally to land a super effective hit on Decidueye when he's desperate.

"Multi-Attack!"

Silvally caws, leaping into the air. Gladion's trained it to be faster, stronger- and now its movements are too swift for the eye to follow. Decidueye just can't keep up, and there's a victorious glow of the Fire Memory in Silvally's eyes. The flames sear around its claws as it strikes. But Moon sees the attack coming a mile away. 

"Pivot! Synthesis!"

Decidueye spreads its wings, shimmering in the light of the setting sun. It's ungainly on its feet, but it turns just enough to avoid the brunt of Silvally's attack, the flames just barely scorching its cloak. Then it's wrapped in a glow of brilliant green, and when the light fades-

"Not a scratch, huh." Gladion winces. He's long ago outgrown gripping his hand every time he battles, but his fingers still twitch at the failure of his plan. His green eyes betray a hardening frustration. "Silvally, back up-"

"Don't let him! Spirit Shackle!"

Decidueye lets out a raucous cry as it takes to the air. Energy gathers at the tip of its bow, and it fires. Silvally is fast, but it can't outrun the arrow. 

"Silvally!"

The chimera braces, its claws digging into the ground. As the dust clears, its eyes still remain fixated on Decidueye, and Moon wonders if her estimations are off. Then, it sways, and with a final trill, Silvally falls to the ground.

When a battle ends, there's a moment when time hangs in the air. When Moon can see across the field and feel her heart pounding with the exhilaration, the thrill of battle. The triumph of the moment seeps into her skin and her soul. Then the dust settles, and her breath catches in her throat. 

The sight's familiar- the frustration of defeat in Gladion's eyes across the field, the momentary twitch of his fingers. It's followed by his shoulders relaxing and his gentle exhale, skittering across the translucent floor. Then, he lifts his chin, meets her gaze with his own. His green eyes are filled with a warm respect, a small smile gracing his features. 

In that moment, Moon's stomach always flutters- silhouetted by the fading light of the sun, Gladion glows calm and warm despite his sharp features and black clothes. It always steals her breath, and she stays still, trying not to yell out the feelings that have remained in her heart for all these years. Instead, she schools her own posture. He recalls his Pokemon and steps forward to her with an open hand.

Ten years on, she's never told him how he always makes her feel like this. How she always treasures the quiet, stolen moments she has of him. After all this time, it'd just make things awkward between them, and as much as she likes unpredictability, she still likes the solidity of Gladion's presence, his touch. 

She takes his hand. The handshake is firm, steady. Expected. His grip is neither tight nor loose. Warm, his callused palm is a welcome sensation against her own. 

"Still have dirty tricks up your sleeves, I see." His words are sharp, but they're mellowed by the easy tone of voice, the familiar smile. 

Moon arches an eyebrow, feels the usual, teasing smile pull at her cheeks. "You're too predictable." 

Gladion lets out a soft huff. His hand drops away, and Moon laughs as he turns away.

And like every other time before, he glances at her through his bangs, his fingers twitching slightly before he holds a hand out to her again. 

"Malasada?"

Moon chuckles. She takes a moment to still the butterflies in her stomach, and smiles as she threads her fingers between his own. 

"Always."

_ _ _ _ _ _ 

Their favourite shop is at Melemele island's port, a stone's throw away from Moon's home and the ferry back to Aether. They buy their favourites- Moon's, a spicy Malasada, and Gladion's, a sour one. Then they sit at the docks, watching as the ships anchor and rest. The remaining Wingulls fly back towards land, and the stars begin flicker up overhead. 

Today, they make it just in time to catch the moonrise. Her namesake slowly crests above the waves. The glowing half-orb of luminous blue casts a silvery light upon the waves. Surrounded by the dusting light of the stars across the purple sky, it's beautiful.

She realizes she's staring when Gladion catches her eye, a faint smile gracing his cheeks. 

"What?"

"Nothing." He turns away and takes a bite into his malasada. "Some things never change. You always stare at the moon as if it's Arceus's greatest gift to mankind. Or Tapu Lele's, depending on the legend."

"Careful, that's sacrilege." Moon lifts an eyebrow. "Wouldn't want the Tapus to hear you calling their feats as mere 'legend'."

"Duly noted." Gladion keeps his face stern. "After all, wouldn't want you reporting my bad behaviour back to Tapu Koko."

Moon laughs, and that is enough to crack his feigned veneer, the ghost of a gentle smile shining through. 

She loves that look on his face. The way he always looks warm and exposed and soft around her. It's almost enough to keep her entranced, to let her drown into the depthless pool of his beautiful green eyes.

She clears her throat, takes another bite of her malasada. Turns her attention back to the sky.

"It's just... back in Kanto, the city lights would have drowned out the stars and the moon." She giggles. "Here, it's so bright and beautiful. Growing up, I could never imagine it. No matter how many times I look at it, it always surprises me."

"Hmm." Gladion acknowledges her explanation with a thoughtful nod. Then, his expression changes back to a familiar smirk. "Unlike me?"

Moon pouts. "You make it sound like that's a bad thing."

Gladion laughs. It's a simple sound, but accompanied only by the soft crashing of the waves, it sounds beautiful. He smiles as he turns to her, leaning closer ever-so-slightly. 

"Champion, you are the first person who has ever called me unsurprising."

Up close, his smile is warmer, his eyes brighter. Over time, it's easier to resist the urge to lean closer, and instead, Moon rolls her eyes. "That's because people expect a posh businessman when they're looking for the Aether president. Not someone just out of his teens who has a fondness for black hoodies."

"And the black hoodie doesn't surprise you?"

"Maybe it did, at first, but... it's been ten years, Gladion." Moon grins. "You wake up, work yourself silly. You go to Battle Royales on Wednesday specifically because that's when Royal Mask fights. And then you show up at the League every Friday at 5pm to battle. You're as predictable as the tide."

Gladion's eyes widen, and Moon wants to remember the look on his face- the mild parting of his lips, the small crinkle of his eyes. But too soon, Gladion huffs and turns away. He doesn't retort, instead settling back to his original position. But his shoulders are relaxed, his breath calm. He continues to eat his malasada in peace.

Moon chuckles and bites into her malasada as well. She's not one for silence. But sitting here, next to Gladion, with only the stars and the sea around them and a companionable quiet surrounding them... she doesn't really mind. She looks forward to the nights like this, a routine part of her life and a man she's grown to love.

And yet sometimes she wonders what it'd be like to reach over, to tell him...

She cuts off that thought. Finishes chewing the last remains of her malasada. Tries to stifle the now-familiar pang of sadness that twinges in her chest. 

"You done?"

Gladion scarcely waits two seconds after she dusts the remaining sugary powder off her fingers when he turns to her. He's watching her, waiting.

Moon chuckles. Routine dictates that she should go home and sleep, prepare for tomorrow. Dream of green eyes as she sleeps. "Guess this is goodnight, huh?" she asks as lightly as she can. 

"No."

"Huh?"

Gladion gets up, and holds a hand out to her. She stares up at him, silhouetted by the night sky, at the hand so close that she can remember the warmth of his touch. 

"How about we do something different for once?"

"I know what this is." Moon arches an eyebrow with a grin. He looks so confident, so eager to prove himself, that it makes her heart warm. "What do you have in mind?"

He smirks. "I'm told you like surprises."

Moon laughs. Without a single mote of hesitation, she takes his hand.

_ _ _ _ _ _ 

He leads her down the familiar paths of Melemele, away from Hau'oli and towards the wilderness they both love. The moonlight filters through the large palm leaves, and when she looks up, Moon can still see fragments of the night sky; the stars and the milky way. All around her, the trees are like a comforting blanket. It enshrouds them in a gentle darkness, scented with freshly fallen rain and barely-trodden soil. Gladion's hand holds hers throughout, the faint smile on his face guiding her on through the dark. 

Eventually the familiar trail lights a spark of curiosity. This turn from Route 3, this scent in the air- Moon says nothing, doesn't voice her questions. Then Gladion guides her to the hilly overlook where the Melemele meadow stretches out in front of them. 

Moon gasps. 

She's been to the Melemele meadow at night before. The moonlight shines upon the yellow flowers. Now they're illuminated, almost glowing with a gentle blue. There's nobody else here this late at night, and the air is scented with sweet honey. A gentle, brisk breeze flutters through the sheltered field. But what truly steals her breath is the sight of the Cutiefly, dancing among the flowers, sparkling motes of light following their every movement. They form a trail of sparkles across the field, a web of light that Moon's never seen before. 

Truly, something new that catches her by surprise. 

"Figured we'd be just in time to catch the Cutiefly." Gladion watches her with a small, triumphant smirk. 

"How'd you know they'd be here?" She can't keep the awe from her voice as she watches the Pokemon dance, their little chitters filling the air with a pleasant song. 

"I'm President of Aether." He shrugs in response. "Learning about Pokemon behaviours is part of what helps our conservation efforts. And I learned a while back that the Cutiefly tend to be active during the half-moon. I hadn't seen it myself, but I figured you hadn't either, so..."

Even though his face is stern as usual, there's a faint colour on his cheeks, a warmth in his eyes. His hand grasps hers loosely, so easily, that Moon feels a swell of affection towards him. 

She leans against him, giggles as the wind blows fairy dust around them. "Thanks, Gladion. It's a very nice surprise. Maybe you're not as predictable as I thought."

He huffs and turns away. The angle hides his eyes, but his fingers twitch against hers. He says nothing at the close contact, doesn't move away nor react. 

"You're predictable too, you know."

He doesn't meet her eyes. His words, soft on a breath, sound... different. Reverent, even. Intimate. And even though she's used to his moods, his curtness, it's not a tone of voice she's familiar with. 

A shudder runs down her spine. But instead of laughing, instead of pretending she doesn't love him, doesn't love how close he is right now... she threads her fingers into his hand. He doesn't pull away. 

"You wouldn't hesitate to help anyone in need." Gladion smiles when he looks at her then.  "You're always up early in the morning, because you're eager to live the day. You laugh, even when you're upset. You love everyone- humans, and Pokemon alike. And even though you treasure your unpredictability, I know exactly what goes on through your head."

His green eyes pierce into her soul. His hand burns against her skin. And quietly, she asks, "Is that so?" 

"Yeah." Gladion nods, and his chuckle sends goosebumps down her arms. "You're happy right now, aren't you? That we're here together, watching the Cutiefly. That it's something that reminds you how much you love Alola."

Moon shivers. He's so close that she can feel his breath against her cheeks. Feel the intensity of his beautiful stare. Almost imagine that, just this once, maybe- 

"Moon?" He leans in close with a frown, and she realizes she's been quiet, too quiet. 

But Gladion's always gentle, always kind, always honest and bright and she loves him and maybe... having him surprise her like this, having him being unpredictable, wouldn't be that bad a thing. 

"You're half-right, you know." She licks her lips, searches his face for any hint of repulsion, rejection.

But instead he smiles, soft and sweet. "Yeah?" 

And Moon takes a deep breath, takes a chance.  

"What if I told you I’ve been in love with you since we were kids?"

The fairy dust flutters around them. The moon continues its upward climb. The moment holds. The Cutiefly flit about the glowing flowers, and the meadow sways in a gentle breeze. 

Gladion's breath catches. His green eyes widen. He says nothing. In the moonlight, his beautiful, angular features may have been cut from stone. 

Disappointment swirls in her chest. His touch burns, his proximity sending a sharp pulse through her. She moves to pull away-

Then his fingers thread with her own. 

"Gladion?"

Green eyes search hers. He inches forward slowly, and his free hand lifts to graze along her cheek.  

"Have you really?"

His bangs are like a curtain against the moonlight, shielding them from the field. He runs a thumb across her knuckles, and he holds her closely, so intimately, as if...

"Yes."

His lips are softer than she imagined, pressed against hers. Warmer, too, far warmer than her dreams. He pulls her flush against his body, his arm wrapping around her back. She shivers at the closeness of his touch, the warmth that floods her body from his kiss, her legs trembling. But he braces her, holds her close- kisses her, until she realizes that this is very very real. 

"Moon." He whispers her name as they part, the flush on his cheeks as warm as her own feels. A small smile dances across his face, and he looks so buoyant, so happy, that it stirs a soft giggle from her lips.

"Did I surprise you?" she whispers.

"It's a good surprise." His thumb brushes her bangs aside, leaving a warm trail on her skin. He chuckles. "And here I thought I had you all figured out."

"Likewise." Her smile is shy, but it makes him hold his breath and widens his eyes once more- and Moon has barely enough time to register the reaction before his lips are on hers once more. 

She pulls him closer, tugs his head down towards hers. His laughter bubbles against their lips, and when she looks at him again, he watches her with a warmth so pure, so bright, that she's sure it's a sight nobody's ever seen before.  

It catches her breath. Steals her heart away.

"Come on." He pulls away with a smile. He's barely a few paces away before he turns to her, holding a hand out to her once more. 

Without hesitation, Moon takes it. Threads their fingers together, secure. 

Gladion grins. The look on his face is bright, beautiful. He tugs her towards the meadow, where they're surrounded by the glowing flowers and the dancing Cutiefly. And when the moon rises to its peak and the fairy dust swirls around them, they dance, hand in hand, laughter and joy filling every inch of Moon's heart.

[renjunsbabygirl]

Cheesy - Qian Kun Imagine

Warnings: mentions of cheating, implied smut

non-idol au, best friends to lovers au

-

"Mother fucker!" Kun angrily shouts in his mother tongue, storming into your apartment, looking for the five foot ten Korean man.

"You cheated on my best fucking friend?" he shouts once he spotted a mortified looking Doyoung sitting on the couch. Before Doyoung even has a chance to respond, Kun swings his fist into his nose, feeling slightly satisfied when he hears a crunch sound. Doyoung screams in pain, instantly grabbing his now broken nose.

"Answer me!" Kun shouts grabbing the poor man by the collar of his shirt, dragging him up into a standing position, shaking him aggressively.

"Yes!" Doyoung shouts back, tears seeping through his eyes. "Yes, I cheated on Y/N."

"Why?!" Kun shouts again. "She's been nothing but loyal to you, and you go fucking around with some other girl, for what reason?!"

"We were fighting, and then I went to the bar and got drunk-"

Doyoung didn't get to finish his sentence before Kun swings his fist at him again, this time knocking him to the floor. Kun doesn't stop delivering his punches to Doyoung's face until he sees Doyoung couching up blood.

Kun stands up with a heavy huff and stares at the nearly unconscious man in front of him in disgust. He picks up Doyoung's phone from the couch, surprisingly the phone still recognises Doyoung's face even after he's been beaten almost to death. He dials the police, giving the operator his address before hanging up without further detail.

"You'll get to live, shithead," Kun spat grabbing a tissue from its box to wipe his bloody knuckles. "But if you ever come near her ever again, I'll fucking kill you."

With nothing more to say, Kun leaves the premises, feeling more satisfied than ever.

When he gets back to his own apartment, he quietly enters, not wanting to disturb your peaceful sleeping figure on his couch. He goes to the bathroom to treat his wounds, hissing and wincing at the stingy feeling when applying alcohol. When he's done he wraps his hand up in a cast and changes into his pj's. He checks on you one last time before heading to bed and before he knows it, he's out like a light.

The next morning he wakes up to the smell of coffee. Checking his phone, he sees it's almost noon. Standing up and stretching the slumber out of his body, he heads into the kitchen to see you pouring yourself a cup of coffee.

"Good morning," you greet him, taking a sip of the hot liquid. "Want some coffee?"

"Sure," he responds, yawning afterwards and rubbing his cast covered hand over his face. "What happened to your hand?" you question setting his coffee in front of him. He shrugs it off saying he cut his hand while cooking but you knew he was lying. "Don't lie to me," you said. "We're best friends, now tell me what really happened."

He sighs before telling you how he beat Doyoung's ass to a bloody pulp. You would give him a lecture about how he didn't have to do that and how you could take care of yourself, but at that moment, you were too busy being flustered. No one has ever stuck up for you like that before, let alone beat someone up for you.

"You did that for me?" you whisper slightly smiling. You didn't know why but you all of a sudden got the butterfly feeling in your stomach like a little school girl seeing her crush. "Of course," Kun whispers. "No one gets away with hurting you as long as I'm around."

You couldn't help but blush at his statement. "Thank you, Kun," you whisper pulling him into a hug. His eyes widen in surprise as you're not the type to be very affectionate. "I love you," you added audibly enough for him to hear. Kun sweetly smiles, wrapping his arms around your waist. "I love you, too," he replies burying his head in the crock of your neck.

~ Six Months Later ~

You had moved in with Kun shortly after he confessed to beating Doyoung up. He didn't want you being near him, so he offered you to stay at his place until you found a place of your own. You accepted his offer without hesitation. You would be lying if you said you haven't developed a small crush on Kun since you've been living with him. He'd help you cook, clean, watch a movie you like even if he wasn't interested in it, help you out if you're in a tough situation. Just all of the above. He was without a doubt the only man ever.

"No, no, no," he said taking the knife from your hold. "Like this," he said cutting the garlic in small cube-like figures.

"Does it matter?" you asked dumping the cut garlic into the pot of stew. "I mean it's going to come back out either way."

"Could you not make jokes about taking a shit while we're cooking?" he laughs dumping the remaining pieces of garlic into the pot before stirring it up.

"Someone's gotta be the cool friend around here," you remark taking a sip of the wine in your hand. Kun sends the middle finger your way making you nearly choke on the wine. "Hopefully that's not the only thing you choke on," he smirks sending a wink your way before turning his attention back to the stew, leaving you in a blushing state.

After dinner, you took the initiative to wash the dishes. Kun offered to help, but you sent him to the living room to pick a movie out for you two to watch. After washing the dishes, you quickly dried them off and placed them in their correct spot. You noted that Kun keeps his pots at the very top of the shelf, and not wanting to fall off the chair like you did last time, you called him into the kitchen to place it there for you.

"Kun?"

"Yes?"

"Could you help me, please?"

You heard him get up from his spot in the living room. He walks into the kitchen seeing you with the pot he used to cook in your hand. "Would you mind?" you ask pointing to the shelf. He nods coming up to you, taking the pot out of your hand and placing it on the top shelf. "Thank you," you said. "The struggle is real," you laugh.

"You're welcome, shorty," Kun laughs along with you. "You're so cute," he adds pinching your cheeks. "I hate you," you chuckle swatting his hands away. He briefly chuckle, just staring into your eyes after he stops.

"Y/N," he whispers cupping your cheek. "Can I kiss you?"

Too caught up in the moment, you nod your head in confirmation. He closes the gap between you two, pressing a soft gentle kiss to your lips. He pulls away shortly after, much to your disliking. His wide eyes stares back at yours in panic. "I-I'm sorry. I couldn't-"

"Shhh," you shushed him, placing your hands on his delicate face. "I liked it."

You pull him back into another kiss. This time a bit rougher. Kun sighs in content wrapping his arms around your waist pulling you closer to him. You move your head, deepening the kiss. Kun opens his mouth, running his tongue across your wet lips, asking for entrance. You granted him his wish, opening your mouth ajar, letting his tongue glide against yours.

Without breaking the kiss, Kun lifts you onto the counter, standing in between your legs, caressing your sides. You run your hands up and down his tone arms before removing his shirt completely, breaking the kiss for a split second before resuming back to where you were. You moan in the kiss, now running your hands throughout his chest and down his abs. Kun shivers at your touch, moaning as well when you go to palm him. His hands find the hem of your shirt, lifting the soft material from your body, exposing your royal blue lace bra to him. He grunts beginning to leave a trail of hot, wet kisses down your neck.

"Kun," you moan his name raking your nails lightly over the skin on his back. "Make love to me, please."

He pauses his actions lifting his head from your neck, his lips pink and swollen. He scrutinizes your face to see if you're serious about this as much as he is. "Are you sure?" he ask gently. "I don't wanna pressure you."

"I want this. I want you," you said running your hand through his black locks. "Please, Kun."

He nods his head leaning down to kiss you some more before wrapping your legs around his waist and carrying you to his bedroom. He gently lies you down in his bed, stripping you from the rest of your clothing and doing the same to his pants afterwards. He ask you one last time if you're sure about all this. You nod your head in desperation crashing your lips onto his. He lines his tip to your entrance before slowly pushing in giving you time to adjust before being told he could move.

He made sweet love to you that night. Whispering the sweetest praises in your ear as the both of you clinged to one another. You never felt so loved and protected than you do with Kun. Not even Doyoung made you feel this type of way. You both climaxed together. Moaning each others name against each other lips before riding out your highs. Kun slowly removes himself, collapsing beside you breathlessly, pulling you into his embrace.

"Y/N," he whispers rubbing your cheek with the pad of his thumb. "I really love you, and not as a best friend either."

You look at him with those big doe eyes that he loves so much. "You really mean that?" You ask a smile breaking out on your face. He nods placing a kiss on your temple pulling you closer to him so there's no space between the two of you. "I fell for you in freshman year of college, but you and Doyoung started talking so I kept my mouth shut."

You run your hand through his locks making him lean into your touch. "That's so cheesy," you say making the both you chuckle. "Wow, I'm over here confessing my love for you and you're over there call me cheesy," Kun laughs tickling your side making you squirm a bit. "Well, it's a good thing that I love cheesiness and you too," you smile pecking his lips burying your head in his chest.

Kun smiles petting your hair. "Y/N?" You let out a "hmm" sound in response. "Will you be my girlfriend?" "No," you began making his smile drop. "Because I'm already your girlfriend. I have been for the past two hours."

Kun sighs in relieve. "Good because I already had plans for our first date tomorrow."

You chuckle a bit. "So cheesy," you whisper falling asleep against his chest not long after.

"Only for you," Kun whispers placing a final kiss on your temple and falling into a peaceful slumber himself with you in his arms.

[iamverycrappyatwriting]

A Final Rest

A mage reborn fic

Leon x F!MC Dephria

Not fully canon compliant

Mild NSFW 16+ but minors DNI

Tw some body horror, grief

Leon wasn't sure how long he'd been lying in this meadow, warm and sleepy as a gentle breeze stirred the long grass and wild flowers cushioning him. His bleary eyes made the meadow almost sparkle in the afternoon sun, giving the day an etheral quality. He didn't remember the last time he had been allowed a day off of respite like this. Not since... His memories blurred as he tried to pull them forward. It had been a long time, anyway. Since there was a time when he didn't even need to bring a sword with him, or wear armour.

He shrugged off his shirt, leaving himself with a bare chest as he lay back once again, crossing his arms behind his head as he closed his eyes and settled in to bask in the sunshine. This is exactly what he needed after everything that had happened lately.

He almost jumped when he felt the small, cool hand touch the hot skin of his stomach and run up to his chest, forgetting - or unaware? - he hadn't been alone. But as soon as he felt the familiar soft skin exploring his, he relaxed. Of course he wasn't alone. Why wouldn't Dephria be there to relax with him? There's no one he'd want there more, nor anyone else who deserved a break as much as she did. He opened his eyes to stare into her shining violet eyes as he felt her settling her body in next to his, her head nestling into his shoulder, her soft, long auburn hair spilling out around them. She flushed in response to him staring into her.

"Sorry," she murmured, clearly embarrassed to have disturbed him.

"Don't be sorry." He grinned as his heart swelled at the sight of the mage, her cheeks tinged pink as she looked down away from him. She looked so small and cute to him in that moment and he wrapped his arms tightly around her to pull her on top of him. She let out an indignant squawk as he did so but it made him grin even wider. God, he had missed her.

"Leon!" she scolded, as he pressed her into his chest, pressing his face into her head and inhaled deeply. And enjoyed her warmth, her softness, her smell - she always smelled of petrichor with a hint of jasmine. By Jove, he had missed that smell so much. Nothing else compared. He pressed his lips onto the top of her head, caressed gently by her silky soft hair.

At the feeling of his lips on the top of her head she looked up at him from his chest and grinned - that damn crooked grin - and she pulled herself up on her elbows and leaned in and kissed his lips. Butterflies fluttered in his stomach, still when they kissed. Still. Her lips were soft and she tasted sweet every time. He would never tire of these lips, it felt like a release to all his worries, all his stress. It felt like home. What had been clearly intended as a relatively chaste kiss turned into something heavy as he deepened the kiss himself. He had missed this so much. Where had she been?

Dephria leaned heavily into the kiss after Leon had chased her lips down to deepen it, her hands reaching into his hair as she straddled his waist as best she could with her bad leg, her tongue touching his lip begging for entry. With a gasp he let her in, his hands falling to her hips, squeezing her curves - Jove, was she soft - and pushing and pulling her to create friction as she moaned into his mouth, their tongues and lips dancing together, passionately, frantically like they might run out of time. He burned all over, he could never have enough of this, of her. He needed more, wanted more.

Sensing his craving, or perhaps equally as excited, Dephria pulled her lips away from his and kissed first his cheek, then his jaw, nibbling his earlobe, kissing down his neck, savouring the sensitive skin there. Leon found himself shivering despite the warmth of the day. When she reached his chest Dephria looked up at him with those tantalizing purple eyes of hers making a sultry expression as she stuck her pink tongue down, running it along the divet between the muscles in his stomach down towards his navel.

"Jove be damned, Dephria!" He huffed as she smirked into his skin and kissed his hips. He couldn't handle much more teasing. He wanted to touch her all over, sink his fingers into her voluptuous curves and make her moan and shiver, to undo her as she was undoing him.

She looked up at his again from her spot on his hip and smiled again.

"Remember our first night together?" She asked laying her head down on his lip looking up at him, a mischievous grin on her face. Where was she going with this? He squirmed impatiently, wanting to adjust himself for comfort. But he found when he tried to bring the memory to the forefront of his mind it was blurry, constantly flitting away from his grasp. It distracted him momentarily as he quieted himself to try and catch it, but it evaded his grasp continuously and that was a strange feeling.

As though she could not notice his change in demeanor, Dephria carried on, her mischievous look taking on an icy edge.

"The night I gave you my innocence, and my heart," she continued, her tone flirty, a grin on her face but a steely look in her eyes like she was setting a trap. Leon was beginning to feel less excited and more, nervous. Since when was there clouds in the sky? When did the day turn grey?

Dephria adjusted herself to be looking more directly at Leon, still running her hands over his skin but he was not excited anymore, more apprehensive. The breeze turned cool as goosebumps appeared on his skin, a heavy feeling settling over as if lightening were about to strike.

"I..." He began, he wanted to say yes. He knew they had made love when they finally admitted their feelings for each other, he knew they felt it was now or never, that it was life or death and they wanted to be together at least once if they were to die but he couldn't remember the act. He couldn't remember the where, the when. It was an empty feeling he was chasing trying desperately to grasp and the harder it was to remember the more everything felt wrong. He couldn't bring himself to lie, or admit something was wrong even as the grass he lay on felt rough, dry and stabbed his now cold skin when previously it had felt soft and comforting.

Dephria's smile took a sinister quality.

"I asked for you to wait for me, I asked for you to trust me," her voice was no longer her soft lilt, but harsh and rough, accusing. "But you didn't trust me in the end, did you, your Highness?"

Leon flinched away from the title. Leon, he was Leon. She knew that, she didn't call him that. She knew how much it bothered him to hear her call him that. When it was just them it was just Leon and Dephria. Just two regular people. In love. Not King, not prince, not royal mage, not loyal retainer. Just them. No title, no expectations. Why was she calling him that?

Thunder rumbled somewhere in the sky, drawing Leon's gaze as fat rain drops began to fall, cold and icy. It was sunny, it was warm, where did this weather come from? His eyes fell to the meadow where not only had the grass turned brown and dried up but also the wild flowers were gone, replaced with thorns and stinging nettles. What was going on? What foul magic was afoot?

"Leon!" Dephria snapped loudly drawing Leon's attention back to her as she knelt over him now. "I gave you my innocence! I gave you my heart! My everything and you BURNED ME!" Cold terror filled Leon as he looked at Dephria, her voice hoarse and rasping as her hair singed to nothing before him, dark smoke stains appearing on her skin, turning into blisters, bubbling all over her skin as flames with no source licked her. Heat rolled off her in waves making him sweat, drying out his mouth and lips despite the cold wind and the rain, which had whipped up into a frenzy as she screamed.

She was burning, he realised with horror.

He remembered now, he remembered everything. Skin sloughed off her body, pink muscle glistening underneath as the acrid smell of burnt hair and flesh assaulted his nostrils. She glared in fury at him as her lips burned away revealing her teeth as she gnashed at him.

"I did EVERYTHING for you and you BURNED ME!" Leon felt a tight nausea in his stomach as he stared up at her, frozen and speechless at the accusation.

Her beauty fell away, her muscle peeling back to reveal bone, her violet eyes the only thing remaining as she accused him, her voice dry but booming and full of hatred. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't even reply as he just stared in horror and her bones blacked before her eyes, and still she screamed with no vocal cords left.

"I gave you everything, I loved you and you KILLED ME," she accused. "You didn't even respect what was left of me, you threw me away in an unmarked grave to forget me, so no one could mourn me."

He did, he had. The woman he loved. He hadn't let his loved ones change his mind about her, hadn't let them save her. She had told him she used him to kill the saintess and he had believed her when everything he knew about her would've led him to believe her incapable of such an act. She gave of herself again and again for his causes, burning herself out over and over again for him. She gave him everything, mind body and spirit and he took and took and in the end he killed her. He watched her burn at the pyre.

Her bones slowly began to turn to ash, crumbling away to blackened dust, but even as her bones charred and fell away her eyes remained, accusing, hating.

"You killed me!" She shrieked again with no form to scream from. Lightning cracked as the wind whipped around his hair, throwing her ashes into his eyes, rain stinging against his bare skin. It felt like a pressure building endless as lightning cracked in the sky, a storm in full swing now.

"I did, I'm so sorry," he wailed, his own chest alight, the wind stealing his words away.

"You took my innocence and killed me with it!" She shrieked as all that was left of her, her violet eyes swooped towards him. Leon flinched, raising his hand to protect his eyes, embracing for impact.

He awoke with a jolt, half falling out of his bed, trying to jump to attention, holding out an invisible sword, tangled in sheets, his heart beating hard and his breathing harder.

He was no longer in that accursed meadows, but rather in his own royal bedroom, alone.

The nausea left from his dream was too much and he grabbed his bedpan to wretch the contents of his stomach up into it.

After vomiting he sank to the floor still tangled in sheets as he tried to calm his breathing.

It was just a dream, just a dream. But his attempts to calm his breathing failed as his breath hiccuped and turned into sobs, slow at first but the more he tried to repress them, to calm them down the more they choked him until his body was wracked with sobs as his heart reminded him it was an open wound.

[violetnotez]

Actions Are Louder Than Words- Pro Hero! Deku x Reader

So Im currently StruGgling through a Bakugo fic rn, which Im so mad about...so here’s  a quick Deku rewrite of mine until I post that fic!

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 2500+

Warnings: mentions of wounds

Summary: Izuku comes to your home mysteriously one night, injured and in his hero suit- and you’re the only one who can fix him up.

One Shot

(RULES |  MASTERLIST| REQUESTS OPEN!!! :))

For some reason, your room was extremely hot.

It made sense, in the middle of July, but you hated it. Your clothes stuck to your body like glue, making every movement feel sticky and humid.

You had decided to go to sleep at a late time, hoping that maybe when the sun went down, the coolness of night would suppress itself into your room.

You had opened up your window just a little to help with that, which brought the sounds of the city to your room. You were on the 4th level of your apartment complex, so the sounds weren’t so loud that you couldn’t stand it. You looked out, feeling a luke warm breeze, imagining your best friend, Izuku Midoriya, doing his daily hero rounds, that infectiously warm grin plastered on his face. You smiled to yourself.You secretly loved Izuku, every since he told you about One For All. The fact he trusted you with something so important, and finding out he was the one doing all those good deeds pushed your over the edge. You had began to like him before that moment, because of his sweet and respectful demeanor (not to mention he was extremely attractive), but you were in the awkward of stage of where you didn’t know where your heart stood. But now, it knew exactly where it wanted to be: standing next to Izuku.

You sighed, feeling reality sink in. Izuku would never go out with you, you thought.  Izuku was too good for you- you were his loyal best friend, nothing more, nothing less.

This thought made your chest throb, but you would get over heartache. You always did. 

You left the window open, the curtains billowing slightly in the warm breeze. You crawled into your sheets, feeling the soft cool of the material, knowing that they would soon turn warm due to your body heat. You thought, drowsy from staying up so late now,  that it would be best to go to sleep soon, and with that, a wave of slumber took over your body.

You felt as if you had slept for 10 minutes when you abruptly woke up to a loud crash in your room. You jumped up in your bed, feeling your shirt sleeve slip down from your sleep sluggish body. You looked around for the source of the noise, fear clawing your stomach in an iron grip. You almost screamed, but your throat closed in from terror. There was a dark outline of a body on the floor, looking like it jumped into your room from the open window. You stared at it, not believing what had just happened. Your eyes adjusted to the darkness, hearing the cars below you honk and the engines whir. 

You began spotting details: a gloved hand, red boots, teal fabric… “Deku?” You asked thickly, your voice sounding groggy from your nap.

The body pushed itself off the floor, laying itself against your dresser.The person sighed in relief, looking at you with huge eyes that glinted in the street’s warm light from below.

“Hi y/n,” the person chuckled nervously, the voice immediately soundly like Midoriya when he was flustered.

You heard a grimace in his voice as he grabbed his side.“Izuku!? Are you okay!?” you asked in shock, feeling way more awake than before. This was one of your worst fears- him getting hurt. It was bound to happen, with all the shady characters he’s always fighting, but you couldn’t bear the thought of Izuku getting attacked- or worse.

“Yeah Im fine- just- mmph- got a little scratch, nothing bad, Im fine...please don’t worry-.”

You jumped up , tearing the sheets away from you. You crouched next to Izuku, seeing the light scratches littering his face, illuminated from the streetlights below.

“If you were fine, you wouldnt be in my room.” you replied with a sad smile, trying to keep your voice down in order to not wake up your neighbors.

You freaked out inside- Izuku Midoriya was in your room, hurt, but in full hero gear. Izuku Midoriya. Had to be in your room. Your crush. You felt the heat rise in your face, cursing yourself for always acting like some love sick school girl around him.

“I’m sorry, you know I wouldn’t want to put you in any danger on purpose, its just I needed a quick escape, and I just saw that your window was open, so I-

”“Jumped  in?” you finished his sentence.

“Yeah- something like that,” he laughed quietly, looking slightly at the floor, but laughing seem to be too excruciating because he made another painful grunt.

“Izuku,” you pleaded, losing your weak joking manner, “what happened? Where are your hurt?”

“No, no, I’m fine!” he insisted, looking at you with fear, failing at convincing you.

You gave him a look that clearly showed you didnt believe a single thing that had just came out of his mouth.

“Izuku,” you told him sternly, “tell me. Please.”

“Im okay I swea-”

“I swear to God Izuku Mirdoriya if you say your ‘fine’, which your clearly not, I will call your mom.”

You knew the last person he wanted to drag into this was his mother, and you didn't want to either. She was a sweet woman, but extremely overprotective of Izuku, for all the right reasons. You knew Izuku didn’t want to worry her, and even though you felt a little guilty for being unable to tell his mom all the things she should probably know that happens to Midoriya, you couldn't bring yourself to break your unspoken promise. 

You didn’t want to play the “Mom” card on him, but you could tell Midoriya was in alot of pain- anything you could help him with, you were going to do it. Whether he admitted to it or not.

“No y/n, please,” Izuku said quickly, fear suffocating his voice. Guilt rose in your stomach, but you shoved it down as he asked, “you wouldn’t, right?”

“Izuku…” you sighed as you hugged your knees to yourself. You didnt want to- but there was a considerable difference between want and need.“You know I wouldn’t tell her unless I needed to- if your hurt only a little, we can fix it- but if you need medical attention, of course Im telling her. But for right now-if youll be quiet and let me help you-I wont say a word to her.” you added the last part as a slight joke, smiling so Izuku knew you weren’t trying to intentionally be mean.

 He chuckled, stating softly, “You always are the one that wants to fix me up.”

 “It’s what I do best,” you smiled.“Alrightie Deku-lets check the damage.”

 You quickly changed the subject, seeing that you had brought Izuku’s wall down and you could easily sneak in to get to what you needed to do.

Izuku sighed hesitantly, stilling holding his side. He raised his hand slowly, showing a cut in the side of his suit, the fabric fraying back. You gulped, suppressing panic, and this time, anger.Who could do this to Izuku? YOUR Izuku?

You quickly got up to reach for your nightstand, feeling Izuku’s eyes follow you. You grabbed your phone, bringing the flashlight to its brightest level. You were focused and nervous at the same time, your hands trembling at the thought of touching Midoriya.You sat back down in front of him, pointing the  light at his chest. You didn’t look at the angry gash across his chest, but at those big green eyes that somehow always make your heart stop beating.

“Is it-okay-if I….” you stumbled, nerves coming through thickly in your voice.

“Sure,” Midoriya replied an octave too high. He cleared his throat, trying again. “I mean-yeah yeah, go for it….”

You smiled to yourself, thinking how much of a cute dork Midoriya was, even when he was injured.

Even though Izuku was hurt, he could only focus on you. He felt comfortable with you, but extremely nervous. He never had a girl so close to him before, especially one he liked- the  “like like” kind. He hated himself for thinking it was a good idea coming into your room at 1 in the morning, dragging you into his problem, and the fact he was actually, in some ways, enjoying this- you giving him your full attention, the feeling of your hands brushing his skin- made him shiver in the best way possible.Your hand shook as you gingerly reached to pull back the ripped fabric on his chest, while the other held the flashlight as steady as you could.

“Tell me if I do anything to make it hurt, Kay?” You instructed. 

Izuku simply nodded, and you braced yourself for the worst.

Your expression was as if made of steel, determined and persistent.You gently drew the teal fabric away more , showing more skin. The slit of fabric was a clean one-it was hard to see what was under. All you could really make out was bruising and a cut-but couldn’t really assess the damage.

“I can’t see anything- the cut is too covered in the suit,” you exhaled as you moved away from Izuku, making him feel almost cold without your hand on his side.You looked at him, hoping he couldn’t see the red rising in your face. You had just thought of a solution to your problem, but didn’t know how Izuku would take it.

“So-I’m gonna grab a first aid kit- but I’m gonna need you to-um,” you cleared your throat, nerves coating your throat like a thick film, “I need to you to-take off.. the suit-“You wanted to kick yourself for actually saying this out loud. You sounded stupid! Asking him to take his suit off! This was too intimate, too weird for your relationship dynamic- but you secretly hated yourself more for wanting it to happen.

You panicked, trying to revise what you had just said, “You don’t have to take off the whole suit- just to your waist-you seriously don’t have to do this, I don’t even know why I said it, we could figure something else out-“

“I’ll do it,” He interjected quietly, looking straight at you, making your heart jump.

Izuku was terrified to say the least at the thought of showing his bare chest to you, but- he liked the feeling of your skin on his. It felt like such an adrenaline rush. He was intoxicated by the feeling- it was like everything was at peace with the world as his skin tingled with a charged energy he couldn't describe.

“It’s better if we do it like this,” he added, “If I have to go to a hospital, it’ll be all over the press tomorrow. I dont really care to see myself all beaten up on the news,” He smiled weakly, attempting at making the mood lighter so you wouldn't feel as nervous.. 

“Okay,” you exhaled, smiling back,  relieved Izuku didnt take anything you said the wrong way, “if you say so.”

You stood up, trying to avoid Izuku’s gaze.“I’m going to go get the first aid stuff, and you just-” You waved your hand around Izuku, motioning up and down at his body. “So- yeah,” you added in a nervous laugh, brushing your hair away from your face.

He smiled at your obvious flusteredness, grateful he wasn’t the only one.

Walking to your connected bathroom, your head swarmed with doubt.Maybe- this was a bad idea. Maybe he should go to the hospital- he could be really injured and you both would never know until it was too late. But… Izuku didn’t want anybody to know… and you promised you would help him until he needed actual medical attention. Worst comes to worst you could call All Might- he’d know what to do. Until then, you’d take care of Midoriya yourself.

You entered your bathroom, and rummaged in your cabinets until you found a white plastic case with a large red cross emblem on the front. You grabbed the handle, pulling it close to you and tiptoed out of the room, praying your neighbors didn’t hear you from the other side of the hallway.

Izuku was in the same position as you left him, except that his suit was gathered around his navel. You could make out Midoriya’s bare shoulder, a shadow in the dim glow of the streetlights below. You quickly looked down, feeling heat rise to your face, not knowing what to do.

You sat back next to  Midoriya, rummaging in the box, trying not to look at him. You never really thought of it, but  Midoriya was super fit. Like- to the point that you wondered how the hell someone could have so much muscle.  Midoriya was built extremely thin and lanky- how was that even possible?!

 Your cheeks instantly got redder.

“You alright?”  Midoriya asked sweetly, making your pulse jump up.

“Yeah, Im fine- actually I should be asking you that, youre the one with the injury,” you stated, trying to keep your voice under control as you looked for stuff- god, you were a mess right now.

“Im fine if youre fine,” he answered innocently, giving you a reassuring smile which made you think you couldnt love him even more- he was injured, and he was making sure you were okay.

God why was he such a good person?!

You gave a small smile thanking him.

”Thanks,” you said, as you tied your bed hair back.“Im sorry I cant turn on any lights, I just dont want my annoying neighbors complaining about me again, there honestly crazy…”

“Oh, youre good!” he whispered, “Just- thanks for doing this for me. You really dont have to do-”

“Midoriya, please, you literally cant walk.” you stated sarcastically, knowing full well Izuku could probably take the pain but you werent letting him go home over your dead body.

“Thats true,” he chuckled, wincing again from the pain. You went to touch him, not knowing what to do to leviate the pain- except, fix it.

“Alright, we need to see what’s wrong- ready?” you asked hesitantly, trying to sound strong.

Midoriya nodded his head, a determined look on his face.

“Ready.”

----------------

Requests open!!!

[johaerys-writes]

Fandom: The Song of Achilles Pairing: Achilles/Patroclus

Chapter 6: Crystal Clear is up! A fair bit of introspection and a whole lot of pining, from Achilles’ POV :)

Read here or on AO3! Read from the start 

**********

At twelve, Achilles had the world at his feet and didn’t quite know what to do with it.

He ran and swam and climbed. He practiced his spearwork, where no one could see. In the evenings, he went to the dining hall to sit with the other boys. They peered at him with glittering eyes, asked him questions, laughed at his jests. They all wanted to be like him, Mother had said; the one destined to be the greatest fighter the world had ever seen. People longed to be close to him, she would often advise, not just to befriend him, but to admire him, as one would a statue made of marble and gold; vainly hoping that the shimmering halo of his glory might touch them too, that their names would live on in the minds of gods and men like his own would.

They all adored him, to be sure. Achilles wasn’t sure they really liked him.

Then, one warm late summer day, in the palace had wandered a boy. He was small and scrawny, and Achilles had not paid him much mind- Father took in plenty of boys, boys with no wealth or a family that wanted them, or any promise of glory. Patroclus, glory of the father: that was the name he had given when asked. The day had been too warm and slow, the hours gliding by like golden sap down the pine tree trunks, and Achilles had been too sleepy to dwell on the irony.

The boy did not follow Achilles wherever he went. He did not laugh at his jokes. He didn’t watch him in awe and wonder, he didn’t ask him questions. In fact, he ignored him for the most part.

Achilles had found that odd.

The occasions when the boy would look at him were odder still. It was usually in the evenings, in the dining hall, where Achilles would see him; the boy sat alone, apart from the others, a shadow. Achilles would only catch his gaze mere seconds before it flitted away to the window, or the floor, or back to his plate, yet in those moments, those rare moments when their eyes would meet, Achilles saw something that he’d never seen before, and it was directed at him.

Anger. Bitterness. Hate, even.

It fascinated him. Try as he might, he couldn’t imagine what the cause of that heated momentary glare could be. What could have happened to a boy his age, to make him look at him so?

He’d resolved to watch him. As much as he could.

It was a game they played. A silent agreement, so natural that it was instinctual; whoever caught the other’s eye first would win. Achilles had expected to win this game, as he did all others, but he soon found himself on par with him. He was fast, but the boy was often faster, his gaze flicking away before he could catch it, slipping out of his grasp like an eel. In those moments when Achilles would finally catch his eye, his heart would flutter and his stomach would lurch just a little with the thrill of a defeat barely missed. They made him feel strange, the boy’s eyes on him.

One day, the boy disappeared.

He wasn’t in the practice yard with the others. He didn’t come to the dining hall for the afternoon meal. He must have been sick, Achilles thought, and his heart had clenched at the thought of this worthy game companion being unwell. But when he had gone to his room to look, the boy wasn’t there.

In a storage room, hidden behind some oil-carrying amphorae, Achilles had found him. Achilles had already been a little flustered, a touch annoyed that he would hide himself so. He had expected the boy to cower before him, to apologise to him; he was the prince, after all, and he had caught him out. Yet when the boy had looked up at him, and he saw that familiar flicker of annoyance in his gaze, Achilles found his own dissipating.

“Patroclus,” he’d said, and the sounds of the boy’s name filled his mouth, sweet and round like grapes. That, Achilles reflected years later, was when their friendship had started in earnest.

Patroclus had become his therapon, his loyal attendant, his companion in all things. He’d been quiet at first, withdrawn. His silence had made Achilles want to know more about him, to crack his shell and take a peek inside. He took him everywhere with him- he even let him see him train. They played games and raced and wrestled, and then Achilles would play the lyre for him and Patroclus would smile. Achilles liked it, when Patroclus smiled.

Days and nights they spent together, and they never seemed enough. Drunk in the incessant energy of their new bond, they never even noticed the time passing. They fit well together, as well as any bond-mates could. Patroclus never pretended, never hid himself from him. He would look at him, and Achilles always knew just what was hiding in their dark depths. He could see it all, no matter what it was. Annoyance, hurt, fear, worry. The heat of his suppressed anger. The flickering sparks of his joy, his ecstasy, the laughter that crinkled the corners of his eyes and wrinkled his nose. His pleasure. His pain.

His love.

Achilles had seen that, too. Sometimes, he thought it was always there, lurking just beneath each one of Patroclus’ expressions when he looked at him. He often wondered whether Patroclus could see it in him as well.

It made him feel things, the wonder in Patroclus’ gaze. Now, that it was just the two of them in Pelion, away from the palace and the shadows of his mother and his father, Patroclus’ presence was a source of ease, of peace; it reminded him of the soft lapping of waves against the shore, a constant undercurrent, a persistent rhythm at the back of his mind. It made him think of the warmth of the sun as it beat on his skin. It took him back to lazy summer afternoons, when they would lay on the shore and the sea water would lick at his ankles and his toes and the sand would stick to fingers, and seagulls would crow overhead.

Other times, it reminded him of that time, that distant, solitary time when Patroclus had leaned close; so close, that his lips had closed over his own.

Their sudden proximity had startled him; that, he remembered clearly enough. It startled him still, the way his pulse would skip when he thought of it. He hadn’t known what to make of that then, that kiss they’d shared. Achilles had fled, and he often wondered whether he had acted wisely. It was a thorn within him, the answer to that question. Achilles could always feel his mother’s gaze on him; more, the closest he was to the sea. He had almost felt her ire then; sometimes, when he looked at Patroclus, he thought he could feel her ire still.

Achilles took a deep breath, stretching his arms over his head. If he pretended, he could almost forget that his mother was, probably, just within reach. The grass was soft and warm where he lay, the sun bright and round like a golden coin as it loomed high above. He always liked the day better than the night; things were always so much clearer then, their edges crisp and pronounced. Patroclus, on the other hand, had always been a night owl, staying up with him until the moon was high up in the sky. It was for good reason that his father always called him scops. A night owl, one of those that hooted softly into the night, their distant call mingling with the trill of crickets and the night breeze. His scops, Achilles thought, and smiled to himself.

Patroclus was sitting a little way away from him, his back resting against a tree trunk. His hair was overgrown, dark curls falling over his eyes as he looked down at the piece of wood in his lap. He had already started shaping it with his sharp carving knife. Achilles watched as Patroclus’ fingers gripped the knife firmly, yet delicately, the way they smoothed over the wood. Long fingers, slender and reed-like, always careful. A healer’s hands, Chiron often called them. An artist’s hands, Achilles would think when he watched them at work, a crafter’s. Always at work, always breathing life into something new. Something beautiful.

Sometimes, as if to challenge himself, Achilles tried to look at him through his mother’s eyes. The messy curls that hung over his brow, which he often hid behind. His smile that sometimes slipped sideways, wide and crooked. The bones on his shoulders and his knees that pushed against his skin. Achilles had always found them endearing- yes, even lovely, yet he knew his mother saw him inferior in every way, unworthy of Achilles’ company. Less. Less, in every way that mattered.

A sullen anger sparked inside him at the thought. Achilles loved his mother. She had always been by his side, even when that had caused her pain, and he knew she had his best interests at heart. Yet Patroclus was his best friend. His brother. His therapon. They’d both sworn, and nobody and nothing could change that. Not even his mother.

Achilles stubbornly brushing his anger away as he let his gaze glide over Patroclus’ features, his delicate hands, his knees that were carefully folded underneath him. Noticing his gaze, Patroclus’ eyes flicked up, meeting his. His cheeks flushed just a little, as they usually did of late. Achilles liked it, when Patroclus blushed. He wasn’t sure what caused it, but he liked the way his skin warmed, the way his lips curled upwards. It gave him a strange sort of light, a radiance that seemed to come from within and to be meant just for him.

Achilles stuck his tongue out at him, and Patroclus laughed. Achilles grinned. He liked the sound of his laugh. “What are you making?” he asked him.

Patroclus held it up. The piece of wood had already started taking shape, and Achilles could just make out the slender neck of the doe curling as it tilted its head to the side.

“It’s beautiful,” Achilles said, and meant it. Patroclus blushed even more.

“I’m not finished with it yet,” he replied timidly, bringing it back down. “I thought- well, I thought I’d make you something.”

“What for?”

Patroclus shrugged. A flash of white teeth over his flushed bottom lip when he bit it. “No reason.” He looked back down, his knife starting to carve deep lines in the wood once more, when it suddenly jerked in his hold. Patroclus hissed as the knife dug into his finger. Blood welled from the wound, bright red drops that marred the smooth wood in his hands.

Achilles was on his feet in an instant, coming to his side. Patroclus was watching the blood on his hands, transfixed, mouth twisted in a pained grimace. Achilles took Patroclus’ hand in his own and, before he could stop to think, brought his wounded finger to his lips.

Patroclus shivered, his hand going rigid in his hold. “Achilles…” he started, but whatever he was about to say drifted away with the passing breeze.

The taste of blood, sharp and metallic, coated Achilles’ tongue, and something sparked in him. It was hot and wild, a rushing river that he could barely rein in.

A shaky exhale left Patroclus’ mouth. Achilles looked up at him, at his flushed cheeks and his eyes, wide and liquid in the morning light, peering straight at him. He gazed at his lips, slightly parted, glistening. It took everything within him not to lean forward, to close the distance between them, to press him up against the tree behind him and kiss him.

Gods and demons, how he wanted to kiss him.

He hastily slid his lips off Patroclus’s finger, tore his gaze away. His pulse thundered in his ears. The air between them seemed to ripple with something he couldn’t quite explain. Something dangerous, tight and tense, ready to snap.

Achilles did his best to ignore it.

“It needs to be cleaned and bound,” he said, examining the wound. He sat down, taking Patroclus and his hand with him. The fabric of his own tunic hissed and snapped when Achilles pulled at it.

“Achilles!” Patroclus gasped, watching as he tore a strip of cloth free and started wrapping it around his finger. “Your tunic-”

“I have others.” Achilles didn’t look up at him as he worked, avoiding his eyes, watching the blood seeping through the soft white fabric instead. Patroclus’ fingers were small and slender in his hold, bony, his fingertips cold against Achilles’. Patroclus hands were always colder than his own. After he was done, he found himself wishing he could hold them just a while longer, just to warm them. Just to feel them pressing against his palm, to memorise their shape.

It was a dangerous line Achilles walked. He could see it then, crystal clear. He wanted Patroclus. Not as a friend, not as a brother or a loyal companion. He wanted him. Like a man wanted another man.

He wanted to kiss him. He wanted to hold him. To have him, for his own.

The thought thrilled as much as it scared him. What would his mother do, if she knew what crossed Achilles’ mind? Would she be angry with him? Would she be angry with Patroclus? Would she, perhaps in her fury, try to hurt him?

His anger swelled again, and something else, like despair, that curled over him in a wave and gripped him. He did not like it; it made him feel like there were stones tied to his feet, pulling him down. He released Patroclus’ hand, sitting back on his heels. “When Chiron comes back, ask him for his healing poultice,” he muttered, and turned from him. “It shouldn’t get infected.”

Achilles stood up slowly and, as he had done by that quiet beach all those years before, he walked away.

[canarhys]

to riven & mend

read on ao3.

In the days following his court martial, Dogma’s cell was in total silence.

The steel gray wrapped around the walls like a cocoon, almost threatening to suffocate him as he sat on the singular bench adjacent to the back. The only sets of furniture in the isolated room were a slab of metal he dared to call a chair and a long rectangular rest area he dared to call a bed. Gray, gray, gray. No color besides the deep brown of his skin, contrasting with the hueless environment he was thrust into both before and after his trial with the Senate. No color, not even of the blue paint that was only beginning to chip off, his armor stripped until he was left in his blacks, practically naked. He was becoming a part of the dullness around him, sapping his life force until he was like the room itself — colorless. Useless.

His legs were curled up into the fetal position, his hands clutching them like a vice as he buried his face in his knees. He wasn’t crying, no, he had wasted all his tears in the days following up to his court martial. In these moments he was as calm as a traitor could be when captured, clutching to anything that would remind him of the person he was in the past. But now he’s a vessel without a soul, the armor that had made him him ripped from his grasp, his blaster that he held with a sort of dignity discarded with his other weapons. The only thing that even remotely kept his identity intact was that damn tattoo, something he wishes he could claw out of his face.

He’s barely eaten in the months he was in captivity. If he had eaten bare rations before, he had received strikingly less than what had even been accepted of him. Punishment, he thinks, as he receives a small bar that can barely even be considered a ration. With every day he gets less and less, learns to eat less and less until he could barely stomach more than one snack a day. The troopers that guard his cell and the others surrounding him sometimes sneak in against orders, smuggling him some snacks or other foods that Dogma wouldn’t be able to eat anyway. He guesses he appreciates the gesture. He never eats the food, only stuffing it beneath the bed once the guard was out of sight; he won’t admit that he wouldn’t eat it also due to the looks they drove into him, filled with a sort of sadness that felt undeserved.

Dogma lives out his days alone for the most part, only coming into contact with other sentients when they needed more pieces of his story to determine his fate. He knew the puzzling case. A Jedi goes rogue and kills many of the troopers under his command, with one, who was previously extremely loyal to him and even conducted a failed execution in his favor, shooting him in the back. The clones were property, not sentient according to the Republic no matter how much the Senate tried to appear benevolent towards them. They would not believe the words of men who could barely think for themselves. Dogma took the fall, knowing that in all scenarios of Umbara, he would always be the guilty one. It’s better him than anyone else. He couldn’t stomach the idea of any of his other brothers being stuck in this empty cell, touching forbidden and food scarce, slowly going insane from the strangling loneliness of it all. Better him, he thinks when yet another Senator stands outside the ray shield door, asking him questions he had become tired of answering.

There’s not much to do. Sometimes he walks around the cell to pass the time. Sometimes he stares at the walls trying to form shapes outside of them, picturing the world outside that would no doubt see to his decommission on Kamino. Sometimes he just sits or lies down on the slab of a bed, observing the ceiling with wearen gravings, a ceiling that had never before been present above another trooper save for the traitor back on Christophsis. How pathetic. He’s starving to death in a barely cleaned cell, waiting for the day when he’ll be left here to the monster of his stomach or the firing squad that no doubt would take his head off. This is no way a soldier should die.

Then again, Dogma could no longer be considered a soldier.

So it’s a surprise, one interlaced with dread, when two guards enter through the deactivated shields and flank one of the senators on both sides. The Senator of Naboo, he realizes, her dark locks pulled up into buns on her head and held intact with golden and crystal flora. Her dress ruined the dreadful atmosphere of Dogma’s cell, a beautiful ripple of violet woven with swirls and gorgeous patterns. Dogma’s never seen anything beautiful since he’s been taken into custody by the Republic he swore he would never betray. She looks at him, a different expression than what the other senators held whenever they entered his vicinity. They stared at him as if he were a defective animal. She looked at him with soft eyes as if she were instead speaking with a cadet.

“Clone Trooper Dogma?” she asks him, tone gentle as she approaches him. She steps no further when Dogma flinches once she’s but a foot away from him, careful not to startle him. Hesitantly, Dogma nods, the words of “Yes, sir!” dying in his throat. He didn’t deserve to say those words to superior commanders who no longer wanted him by their side, didn’t want to say them to a person so influxed with the war yet not on the front lines like so many of his brothers.

Senator Amidala gives him a calm, hopeful smile that seemed to light up the cell he was in, albeit just mildly. “Come along, Dogma. You’re going home.”

It takes a while for Dogma to process the words. “Home, sir?” His voice is ragged and hoarse from unuse, the last time he used it to the fullest when he was screaming at Krell with tears in his broken eyes. You made me kill my brothers. He feels his throat tighten at the remembrance of his own words. He hides it though, as he’s grown accustomed to over the years thanks to his training on Kamino and the cost on the battlefield.

“To the 501st,” Senator Amidala responds, voice still like a calming wave over the screaming agony that was all that was left on Dogma’s soul. “The Senate has decided to let you go, free of charges. I’m sorry it had taken so long. They thought that you were too dangerous to be released immediately, and the vote to even free you had taken longer than anticipated.” On her last sentence, her tone shifts. The gentle calm suddenly bubbles like a caldera, her voice becoming clipped and disgusted. She glances away from him for a brief moment, eyebrows furrowing in frustration for reasons Dogma doesn’t know how to register. He is already too busy taking in the news.

Before he can think much of it, however, Senator Amidala returns to her kind and sweet exterior. She steps back to allow Dogma some room to get up, two of the guards by her side stepping closer in case of something happening. “Now come. Your captain and general are waiting for you.”

Dogma looks at her bewildered, but her expression and tone seem finalized and stubborn in Dogma following her, and he doesn’t want to disappoint more than he already had. So with shaky legs he stands from the position he’s been sitting in for hours upon hours in his cell. He can’t even feel shame when they immediately give out beneath him, the former trooper nearly crippling to the ground if it weren’t for the two guards who quickly caught him by the armpits. They hoisted him up and forced his arms around their shoulders. He thought he had heard one whisper to him, something in a language he remembers but can’t decipher from in his swimming head at the moment, only knowing that Senator Amidala looks at him with such pained eyes. She begins to walk back to the main hall, and Dogma has no choice but to follow her on trembling feet. The guards tighten their hold on him, though not enough to hurt.

When doors to the outside hangar opens, Dogma is blinded by white light. The gray he had been residing in for a lifetime is overflowed with the glare of an intense beam he realizes is sunlight. It hurts, he notices, as his face and hands, the only thing uncovered, seemingly sizzle in the heat of it. The spots dance around his vision, everything in his sights becoming a combination of swirling shapes and dark triangles. “We’ve got you, vod ,” one of the clone guards whispers to him as he’s hit with a dizzy spell.

It’s terrifying that the word nearly passes by his head devoid of all meaning. He hasn’t been called that since Umbara, and the memories hit him like the roughened waves back at Kamino. Vod . Brother. Dogma never deserved to be called that.

Blinking rapidly, he regains his vision after a few moments in subject to the brilliant and horrendous light. The sun, already beginning to set in the sky, casts the world in an ocean of marigold and peach. The buildings of Coruscant tower over Dogma like looming giants, with sparkling windows reflecting off the beams of the sun and colors that formed gorgeous tapestries along the sides of apartments. Dogma stares at the sight, beautiful and precious, the outside world a gilded masterpiece that he barely even remembers. He’s hit with nostalgia accompanied with dread. These aren’t the grays he had become so accustomed to. This isn’t the darkness he should be enveloped in and killed by.

There is a wall of troopers that line the two sides of Dogma, staring straight ahead of where they face. However, some catch a glimpse of him. Others whisper to those beside them, nodding to Dogma as he walks with aching limbs down the pathway as if he were some sort of war hero. He’s not. But he doesn’t have time to self-loathe when he sees the backs of two men overwatching the busy highway that was the Coruscant highways. The figures turn around, and Dogma forgets how to breathe, his legs freezing up like a loth-cat in headlights once they reach the end of the guard lines.

One, a Jedi, with long brown hair that had fallen now to his shoulders, a dark scar running through his right eye, both his pupils a weary blue. His cutting edge and confident expression seems to fall as he sees Dogma in front of him, a smile rising at the sight of the trooper underneath his command returned, nearly calming the wave of paranoia that hit Dogma upon the lightsaber clipped to the man's belt. The one next to him a clone, the same face and voice and body of Dogma just like the rest of their brothers. He’s got the same dark amber skin Dogma has, the same eyebrows that were trimmed and cut, the same aura of a soldier they were destined to be on the battlefield. He, though, has blond hair shaved close to the scalp, no tattoos save for a small nick on the chin. He wears armor of cerulean while Dogma is left nude in his blacks, his identity intact while Dogma’s is barely latching onto anything.

And his face. Dogma watches as his stoic and calculated facade descends into shock, then painful sadness, and finally lands on irreplaceable joy. He watches the worry lines fade from his captain’s face, eyes losing their glassy exterior and softening to the pupils, tears beginning to collect at the ducts of his eyes. The gaping of his jaw is quickly replaced with a smile, relieved in ways that no other than a clone could understand. The captain’s never let his facade drop, never let his guard down and became vulnerable before another trooper’s eyes. Now he stood in front of the now free clone, grinning at him with eyes filled with a mixture of exuberance and grief.

“Dogma,” Captain Rex begins. The name is alien on his tongue, a discordant note in Dogma’s ears. He doesn’t process it fully. He feels his own throat bob up, choking back on a cry. He wouldn’t cry. He swore he wouldn’t.

“Captain,” Dogma says.

That’ll all it takes for Captain Rex to lunge forward and hug Dogma with a force enough to crush him. The two guards back away at the sudden action, staring at them underneath their helmets no doubt with surprise. General Skywalker, next to Senator Amidala, looked at them with heartfelt eyes as Rex tightened his grip on Dogma. As if he were afraid he were going to fade away, as if he would dissolve into dust and would be lost once again in the tides of war. And Dogma stands there, tears falling despite his oath to never cry, before his hands reach up and grip Captain Rex’s arms. Then he sobs uglily, closing his eyes as the pain and grief hits him full force, his hollow chest now filled with too many emotions for him to keep within himself. And he lets Rex hush him with teary eyes, guiding him to the crook of his neck where Dogma cried. He didn’t think he could cry that hard, but that day was already so full of surprises.

The hanger is quiet as everyone watches Captain Rex hold Dogma, gripping him like a lifeline with the only noise being the whir of ships and Dogma’s whimpering. Coruscant is quiet in the midst of a reunion that had never seemed so far fetched til that moment. Dogma buries his face in Rex’s shoulder, breathing in the scent of his brother that reminded him of Kamino waves, salty sea sprays and lightning skies. And through Rex, Dogma remembers what home felt like.

The transport had set down at its designated landing zone on the Coruscant base, a little closer than other ships of their height which would have been odd if Dogma wasn’t the reason for it to be this way. Rex had told him about the crowd that had already been forming among the 501st, gathering along the entrance to the base of Coruscant. He had said that after they had landed, Dogma would be taken directly to the medical facility, where he would receive a check-up and receive a couple of visitors. He would stay there for a while before he would be accustomed to the large crowd of clones. Rex knew Dogma’s feelings about crowds, combined with his isolation in the dreadful cell he’s been locked inside for so many months, and was relieved when Dogma nodded in understanding. Albeit occupied.

It was hard, seeing Dogma like this, sitting uncomfortably in his chair as Rex and Anakin spoke. He may as well have been a scarecrow, skin clinging to bare bones that made his wrists thin and his stomach near nonexistent. If he looked closely, Rex could see that beneath the backs that his belly constricted tight around his ribcage, the arrangement of bones visible through the suit. The baby fat on his face was no longer present, dark brown tightened around cheekbones that had become more prominent during his arrest. It made Rex’s fists clench, made him grit his teeth in barely suppressed anger at the thought of his own trooper, his own brother , starving in that cell with no clue what was going to happen to him. He takes in a steady breath, trying to calm himself down and aiming to ignore how scrawny Dogma looked. This was not how a soldier was supposed to look like. Soldiers weren’t supposed to have shadows grown beneath their eyes, soldiers weren’t supposed to be locked in cages for doing what is just.

“He’ll be fine,” Anakin told him, resting a comforting hand on Rex’s shoulders. He looked just as pained as Rex when he gazed at Dogma’s brittle bones, different than how Rex viewed him but similar regardless of their status. Rex exhaled shakily as Dogma continued to stare at his feet, picking at the indents in the chair.

“He’s so skinny,” Rex said off-handedly, voice coming off grieved and angry. “They barely fed him in there. There’s barely any muscle left.”

“I know.” Anakin looked equally as perturbed. “The Senate refused any visitors other than themselves. Some of the guards told me they’ve been sneaking him some snacks, but during cell clean-up they found all of them stashed beneath his bed uneaten.”

“Kriff.” Rex uses all of his power not to jump out the carrier craft, march right up to the Senate, and smack each and every one of them upside the head with his blaster without a moment’s hesitation. How dare they treat his vod , one of the many brothers he has left in a war they are forced to fight in, with such disrespect. He might as well have been a common thief or criminal. At worst, a traitor of the Republic. Rex doesn’t even want to think about Chancellor Palpatine up in his mighty chair, more amused than concerned over the life of a man who did nothing wrong. Rex has become more bitter over the course of the months. He can’t help but think the war is responsible for it.

“Don’t worry, Kix’ll get him fed right as he gets to the medbay,” Anakin told him, giving his shoulder a little squeeze. Rex knew that Anakin was feeling just as much rage and sadness as he was feeling, but Rex knew that his pain did not come close to the pain that Torrent Company felt when being updated on his court martial and his solitary confinement. They had been waiting for it, waiting for the day he would either be released free of charges or decommissioned by firing squad. They’d all have been torn apart if it weren’t for each other and some of the Jedi like Mace Windu and Plo Koon, who valiantly advocated for his release. This was something no other sentient could ever experience. The fear of losing another brother, the fear of losing an innocent who only wanted to be a good soldier.

Rex had asked the closest of his vode to wait until Dogma was in the medical bay to approach him. He knew that out of all of their brothers, they were the ones to be hit heavily by his arrest. They deserved a personal moment with him, because Force damned did Dogma need one at the moment. His face was hollow and broken, so uncharacteristic to the trooper with a stoic face and a goal to fight. He needed them just like they needed him.

Rex leaves Anakin to return to Dogma just as the ship comes to a halt, still digging his fingers into the steel of his seat. “Hey,” he says, his commandeering voice softening to a gentle tone which only seemed to come out in the presence of a brother. “We’ve just landed. There’s going to be a lot of people there, so if you’re ever uncomfortable, just tug on my wrist.”

Dogma nodded slowly, eyes still refusing to meet Rex’s. Rex retaliates by hovering his hand over Dogma’s arm. He sees no rejection, so he takes him by the hand and massages his fingers. Dogma’s limbs are tense, painfully reminding Rex of his rigid posture back on Umbara whenever he came around, and they begin to ease due to Rex’s ministrations. Then, like holding glass, he pulls Dogma up on his feet. The boy’s legs are shaky like how they were when he had arrived out the prison, trembling as Rex guided him to the opening hangar doors. But he’s persistent, the stubbornness Rex had both admired and cursed at evident in how he stands as upright as he can be, letting Rex lead him down the ramp to the ground.

The crowd was certainly more packed than Rex had anticipated. Luckily, some of the clones had resorted to keeping them back, forming a little barricade to prevent anyone from approaching the guilt-free trooper. But Rex saw the expressions of those whose sunbonnets were discarded on crates and beneath their arms, staring at Dogma with a mixture of emotions. Some were still pent up in shock, wide eyed almost like a shiny’s as Dogma passed them on the way. Others had offered him a kind smile and nod. Some refused to look him in the eye. There was tension in the air as they entered the base of Coruscant, every eye like daggers into Dogma’s back, words left unsaid and hanging in the air like heart missiles.

Rex nearly misses it when Dogma tugs on his hand for the minuscule of a moment, but that’s all Rex needs to pick up their pace and take them through the open doors. They begin their route to the medical bay, Rex’s hand curled around Dogma’s waist in both protection and comfort, the inside not as packed as the outside save for a few shinies and vets. Dogma’s head whipped back and forth around the base that would have given him whiplash. He seemed to be in the midst of an overload, taken aback by how much changed and by how much did not. It hit Rex with the memory of a rookie Dogma, standing in front of him and looking as if all the stars had aligned right before his eyes. He tugs Dogma a little closer as General Skywalker leaves to attend to other matters and they make their way through one of the base’s many corridors.

He’s memorized the base by memory at this point, knowing where to turn and where to stop, easily finding the medbay at the end of a hallway. The room is empty, reserved for those in urgent care and furnished with basic equipment but only a single bed. He guides Dogma to it and has him sit down on the edge, making sure he’s not uncomfortable and such. Dogma seemed to be doing alright despite the way his limbs were pencil thin and his eyes were darker than most.

Rex tapped on the comm, sending a message to Kix and the others that Dogma had made it safely to the medbay. “They’ll be here in just a moment,” he told Dogma. The other’s large face tattoo crinkled along with his features, confusion settling on him.

“They?” His voice was quiet, barely above a whisper. Opposite of back when he forced it to be deeper and louder when commanding troops. On the medical table, he never looked so lost and alone, causing Rex’s heart to wrench terribly. He’s been stripped of everything that forged his identity, all of it ripped to shreds. All because of that fucking shit of a general.

“Your vode ,” Rex says, pained that Dogma does not remember who he is referring to. “All of them. Kix, Tup, Fives. They’re all coming to see you.”

Dogma sets an unreadable look on him. “Why?”

The words understandably have him stagger back a little. Why ? He had not expected that to be Dogma’s reaction to all his brothers who had seen him off, his voice skeptical and deprecating and so hoarse from silence. But Rex remembers how Dogma had looked after he had nodded to Rex, stoic expression falling to a miserable and sad truth. He remembers how Dogma had stared at him stunned like he never expected Rex to even be there in front of him for his discharge from his prison. He remembers how he curled around himself under the stares of millions of men, watching him pass by and attempting to disappear. And he remembers the way he flinches when Rex touches him, as if expecting him to hit him.  Dogma blames himself.

Rex tries not to falter, attempting to sound less shattered than he already was. “Because they missed you, vod . They missed you so much.”

Dogma eyes him warily, not knowing how to process the information. Before Rex can convince him that he was telling the truth, however, the doors to the medbay opened. A clone, holding a datapad that was hastily held up in their arms, entering the doors to the facility apologizing for something happening down at the mess hall before freezing up. His dark hair was shaved to the scalp with intricate patterns, wearing dirtied armor that had the red medic symbol painted onto his left pauldron. Along the shaven fuzz of his hair was a tattoo with the words a good droid is a dead one in Aurebesh. He met eyes with Captain Rex before they focused on Dogma, who might as well have been a ghost with the way that Kix’s hard-edge broke at that moment.

“Dogma,” he whispered. “It’s you.”

Dogma was frozen as well, clinging to the edge of his seat with aghast eyes. Captain Rex couldn’t help but smile, gently rubbing Dogma’s back. “It’s okay,” he said. “Remember him?”

“Kix,” Dogma breathed out. His throat bobbed with a suppressed gulp. Tears had begun to gather in Kix’s tear ducts, a flurry of emotions hitting him upon seeing his vod for the first time in months. He slowly approached Dogma, hands shaking as he set the datapad down on a nearby table and stood in front of him with eyes swimming and glassy.

“Oh my…” Kix sobbed. “It’s really you. You’re really…” He touched Dogma’s shoulders gently to warn him of what he was about to do, and when receiving no answer, he pulled him into a full hug. Unlike Rex, Kix held him like shattered glass, whispering comfort in Dogma’s ears as he held the younger. Dogma melted, laying his head on Kix’s shoulder, shaking desperately in his arms. “You're really here, kriff. I’m here vod , okay? I’m right here.”

“Okay,” Dogma responded, voice shaky and weary.

Then, outside the doors was a loud sound, accompanied by yelling and the crashing of something that sounded more expensive than Rex would have liked. But he managed to forget it when the doors slid open once more and a new trooper had arrived. Younger than all of them, the youngest of their close group in Torrent Company, with hair tied up in a hasty topknot and a teardrop tattooed beneath his right eye. He had only stepped a foot into the room before he stopped and screamed out in the most relieved and agonized voice Rex thought a trooper could yell, “ Dogma! ”

Kix had skillfully let go just before the tsunami wave known as Tup barreled toward Dogma, throwing his arms around the boy with no care in the world. Dogma had barely managed a squeak before he was fully enveloped inside of Tup’s grasp, arms gripping onto his waist like a lifeline. “Dogma, vod , fucking…” Tup fumbled for the words to say, near breathless and his throat closing in on itself as tears had begun to stream down his face in canals. “Dogma, shit.” He buried his head in Dogma’s chest, crying into it as he held his long lost batchmate and brother with trembling limbs. Dogma was frozen before he felt himself let go once again, this time tears beginning to collect. They fell without consent, and he barely managed a sob before running his fingers through Tup’s long locks, accidentally undoing the hasty bun it was forced up into. Tup didn’t care in the slightest, pulling back to stare at his vod in the eyes. He ran a shaky hand over Dogma’s cheek, inspecting his hollowed face with grieved yet grateful eyes. He pulled him close until their foreheads touched gently, initiating a kov’nyn that should have been shared months ago, smiling brighter than he'd ever had.

Rex and Kix stood to the side while the two batchmates held one another, shaking and trembling as they attempted to speak despite one’s speechlessness and the other’s stuttering. Their eyes were shut tight, refusing to let go of one another, Dogma leaning into Tup’s embrace and starving for any sort of contact he could find. They were batchmates, decanted besides one another and trained with one another, surviving all odds. Out of everyone, Tup had taken Dogma’s arrest the hardest. He deserved this.

There was quiet save for the sniffling of the youngest vode of the group, before the bay doors opened yet again . This time however was not due the presence of a single person but of three. Rex saw all of them enter with one another, hastily squeezing through the door that did not support the size of the group. Rex didn’t need to inspect them for more than a second before he recognized them. A Republic cog decorating the side of one’s head; lines carefully drawn along another’s head and underneath a chin in gentle blue; and one with a five tattooed on their temple and a goatee hanging down his chin. Fives, Jesse, and Hardcase. Three of some of his closest vode , eyes going wide at the sight of Dogma with Tup still wrapped around him, their hearts may as well having ceased to beat in the moment.

“Dogma!” Hardcase exclaimed and immediately ran over to pick both Tup and Dogma up with arms that have become muscular from toting around his minigun on the battlefield for so long. He lifted them both up into the air, grinning with fervor as he heard Dogma’s cut off yelp and Tup’s overjoyed laughter. Rex nearly walked over to break it up until he saw Dogma lean into the embrace, allowing for Hardcase to place a sloppy kiss on Dogma’s cheek. He could see Dogma flush in embarrassment, though there was something close to a smile on his face when Hardcase had offered the show of affection. The whole scene, Tup never let go of Dogma so that all three of them were close knit.

Hardcase had set the two down. He was teary eyed, something rare when it came to Hardcase, who never cried even after long weary battles and only ever teared up when laughing with his whole body or losing another close vod . His smile was radiant as well, the grin of a loth-cat stretching ear to ear with shining pearly whites, mouth open in a laugh. “Oh, that felt good!” he exhaled, hands curled around Tup and Dogma’s shoulders in a protective and loving stance.

Dogma seemed to be almost overwhelmed with the excess amount of affection. He’s barely come into contact with anyone during his isolation, the guards had told Rex and Anakin, and he would need a while to get used to it. But though Dogma’s body was trembling, there was something in his eyes. Something that told Rex that he would be fine despite his shaking.

“Okay, back away both of you!” Jesse orders out, gently pulling Tup away while simultaneously pushing Hardcase back with the force of a bantha. Hardcase made an offended noise but Jesse ignored his cry, opting to place his hands on Dogma’s biceps which were brittle and weak. Fear flashed across Dogma’s facade until he caught sight of the sad smile Jesse was giving him, relieved and jovial despite how much calmer it seemed than the rest of them. “Hey, brother,” he whispered carefully.

“Jesse,” Dogma voiced, legs nearly giving out from beneath him if it weren’t for Jesse propping him up against him. Jesse’s breath seemed to hitch at the call of his name, and he gave a small chuckle before tucking Dogma’s face into his shoulder, combing a hand through his hair when Dogma was situated against him. The vod’ika ’s breath began to steady as Jesse caressed his head.

“It’s good to have you back, vod ,” Jesse told him, trying to seem strong out of all of them despite how his cracking voice betrayed him. “It really is. Karking miracle if I believed in that shit.”

“Jesse,” Kix scolded, raising an eyebrow for the curse. Jesse only laughed, shoulders relaxing as he petted the boy’s head and listened to his breathing.

“C’mon,” Jesse said. He hesitantly pulled away. “Someone’s waiting for you.”

Dogma frowned at the cryptic statement until he caught a glimpse of the last clone in the room, still standing at the door. Fives. The one whose pain was enough to rival theirs at the reintroduction of a vod long thought dead. He seemed to be trying to steel himself, to appear intact despite wanting nothing more than to come forward and wrap his arms around his younger brother. Tup and Jesse guided Dogma over, who was staring straight at Fives, still frozen at the entrance to the medbay and seeing a ghost. They were soon face to face with one another. Neither knowing what to say.

Dogma had only started to speak Fives’ name before the older shut him up by pulling him close, tucking the younger’s head beneath his chin. Fives let the water fall from his eyes. “I knew you’d come back,” was all he muttered, pressing gentle kisses along the top of Dogma’s head. Rex saw Dogma’s back stiffen at the shower of affection before he began crying again, though this time he was silent as he gripped Fives’ waist, letting the older pepper his hairline with tender kisses.

That seemed to be the catalyst for the others. They all came close and wrapped their arms around each other as they formed a circle around Fives and Dogma, petting the younger’s back and hair and making sure that his trembles did not get any worse. Dogma was new to all this, still new to all the affection he had not been expecting when he had arrived at the base. But now here were the brothers that had begged General Skywalker and Senator Amidala endlessly for him to be freed, the brothers that never believed such a blessing could come to them at that very moment. Willing to sacrifice everything for the vod they should have saved before he was turned for the worst.

Rex came closer to smile at Fives, who nodded with a smile back to him. Their brother was back.

Dogma was shattered and broken beyond comprehension. Krell’s betrayal and Dogma’s misplaced actions had led to pain that no other battalion could ever suffer in this hell of a war. Umbara was a wound still open and unhealed, shown in how Dogma’s arms can barely hold onto Fives as they tremble, how he’s so scared and hesitant and terrified of this world he was suddenly brought back into. A shadow of who he once was. But there’s hope now. They have him back. He was alive and that was all that mattered. He was back rightfully in their arms. No matter what happens, they would make it through this.

And, picking up his pieces, they begin to put Dogma back together.