#brother day fanfiction

[anundyingfidelity]

SHOULD HAVE KNOWN — Brother Day/Cleon XII

Summary: Brother Day seduces the queen of a powerful realm with the objective of taking everything away from her in the middle of Hari Seldon's outburst, but forbidden feelings flourish and a secret relationship with Empire is a sharp threat to the genetic dinasty. Demerzel knows the Cleons are not allowed to see past pleasure, but that never stoped you or Brother Day from seeing each other. Now, he's not the only Brother Day that's awake. Or so you thought.

Pairing: Past Brother Day/Cleon XII x female reader, Dark!Brother Day/Cleon XII x female reader.

Word count: 2.7k.

Warnings: dark smut, some choking, some possessiveness, angst, language, threats of memory loss, betrayal, Demerzel being a heartless bitch, this is situated in the beginning of S1. And just for some context, the Cleon XII that did fall in love with the reader is replaced with a new Cleon XII, hence they are the same name of Cleon in the pairing, I'm sorry if it's confusing lol but just wanted to clarify.

If you'd like to be added, the taglist is here!

notes: this was a request part of my 400 followers drabbles made by @curiouswildi but i decided to make a long one shot because brother day deserves it. long time since my last foundation fic lol. sorry for the looong wait, hope you like this!

☕ if you like my writing, support me with a ko-fi !

GEN MASTERLIST!

You remembered his kisses. The way he would talk to you. The soft side of the emperor he saved for you and only you to see; for you to know he cared about you with small but kind actions. To know he loved you with each and every one of them as he took you around the palace.

Love was a strong word as much as a strong sentiment, and certainly was not on your plans once you finally landed on Trantor to meet Brother Day and reinforce your political alliance. After centuries of your lineage not having any contact further than trade with the Empire, it seemed wise to accept the emperor's invitation to come along.

Brother Day, of all of the three Cleon’s, was interested the most in your planet. Rich in culture, religion, natural resources such as potable water, rare plants and medicines, and a small population suitable to subsist in a green forest, he seemed fascinated by how you managed your government with such strength and boldness. When it arrived, his invitation looked perfect to maintain a business relationship and develop the trade between both planets.

Everything looked good for your arrival, more than that to be fair. As the queen, you were to participate in different programs and meetings assigned to your schedule while in Trantor, letting you and Brother Day know each other more and more as those events went by. And as months passed, the political alliance you had was becoming something else and more personal.

It wasn’t just because you wanted the best for your people, but because you fell in love with Brother Day. Deeply, you knew it was prohibited and that you were playing with fire once the physical pleasure started to become something more than just that. Scared and anxious, you confessed your feelings to Empire. Surprisingly, he confessed to be in love too.

The hidden encounters didn’t stop, but you were more cautious than ever. Demerzel had been noticing your shared looks and your body language. Being the all observant assistant to the Cleons, she was so, very aware that what you were doing together was more than just fucking, which was already wrong. You had no wiped or erased memories since you were no whore from the court, meaning you remembered every encounter together. And deep down, you never expected this kind of plan coming from her.

Pacing on the cell Demerzel had brought you in, forcefully under your night sleep, you lost count in the hours you had spent down there. What if Cleon was dead? Did she already have a plan to replace him? Would she kill you soon? Endless and unanswered questions filled your head, wondering if it had been wrong to declare your feelings to the Emperor like that. Your demeanor switched when Cleon came down the stairs, followed by Demerzel. There was a stern and harsh look on his face as he approached you, and you did your best to keep calm, walking to the invisible wall and the lights that separated both of you.

“Cleon, what is this—”

“Don’t speak,” he cut you off.

“Brother Day already committed treason to the Empire. You must not be together anymore,” the blonde added with an expressionless face.

You gasped and your gaze was directed towards her, demanding answers. “What? Demerzel, what did you do to him?”

“Only the necessary to keep the Dinasty alive. You are a threat to Trantor, and should know better than to see past myself,” she replied.

Looking back at him with a hurted look, you clenched your jaw. “Cleon, you promised!” you shouted, making the voice an echo in the prison down the palace.

“Can you leave us for a moment?” he said calmly to Demerzel, not even bothering to look at her, as his eyes remained on you.

She gave a nod and a small reverence and left, her steps on the stairs fading away.

“I demand to know what is happening, Cleon,” you sternly said once Demerzel was gone.

“I do not owe you anything but to say this is not going as planned,” he answered with a serious look on his face that was kind of hard to decipher. “What we had was wrong and I must take the lead to complete the main objective.”

“I’m sorry?”

His robotic demeanor started to scare you, and you doubted that the Cleon you got to know was the same one that was standing right in front of you, with just an invisible wall separating both.

“Your planet is mine now,” Cleon announced. “It belongs to Trantor and the Empire.”

You let out a loud gasp, suppressing an unamused laughter under your breath at the sudden news. “No, no. That cannot be— That’s not possible!”

“I’m afraid it is. My tropes are already taking care of it right now, while you’re here.”

The look in his eyes didn’t soften, and you were just expecting his words to be a kind of harsh and rude joke. But you knew they were not. He was being damn serious about it. There was a pain in your chest as he broke your heart with his statement. You knew he didn’t love you anymore, but also the question was there, floating in your head. Was he capable of doing so the whole time you spent together? The empty promises of destroying the genetic dynasty, having children on his own, and uniting your kingdoms by loving marriage were gone.

“You lied to me,” you muttered, locking your eyes with his own. A mix of anger and sorrow began building up inside as a tight knot on your throat started to grow up.

“No, you lied to yourself,” Cleon plainly answered. “You should’ve known better, my queen.”

The way he dragged your title with his mocking voice caused you to clench your fists together by your sides. “What did Demerzel do to you?” you demanded. “Did she just get rid of your memories? Did she clone you? This is not human, Cleon, I think you remember us talking about that.”

“Oh, I do remember,” he replied and a greedy smirk formed on his lips. “But the previous me was so… sentimental. I am awaiting a crisis and I need all the resources that I can get for Trantor. Your planet fits perfectly for those plans, but we would’ve gotten nothing with that thing you call love. I cannot let anyone interfere, not even myself.”

“So that’s why she just dumped you for a new doll?”

Your words seemed to trigger something inside him. His fist bumped on the invisible force field keeping you locked, and you jumped slightly, taking two steps back at his sudden reaction.

“Careful with what you say,” Cleon threatened in a dim whisper, his lips were put on a tight line now as the smile faded quickly away from his face.

In a swift motion, Cleon opened the barrier with his fingerprint on the side of the cell. His tall figure approached you gracefully, looking down at you with something you interpreted as hatred and longing, but you were not sure. You remained on the same spot while he studied you carefully with his narrowed, hazel eyes.

“Do not try to scare me away,” you began as you held his gaze once it was back on your face. “I am not one of your subjects.”

“Maybe not, but you are more than that to me,” Cleon whispered, angling himself so his lips would brush one of your ears softly. “Right?”

You froze in place, feeling the palm of his hand brushing your cheek when you tried to look away. He held your jaw, his gesture forcing you to lock his gaze with yours and you admitted to yourself he was right. You had fallen deeply for him, believing every word that he would recite to you. The gentleness that was now long gone had you wrapped around his finger, and now, this was the price. You should have seen it coming. Cleon, as much as he professed his love and the desire of feeling human again and conceiving a true empire by your side, had created a dynasty system that endured for centuries and back up plans for situations like these should’ve been there even before your arrival. He was so stupidly selfish. And the worst part was that your heart somewhere still loved him.

When Cleon leaned down to kiss you, you only hoped your people would fight with claws and teeth for their freedom.

There was a cruelty you sensed coming from him once he attacked your lips. However, it didn’t stop you from responding to the gesture. The physical touch was the beginning of everything; even if you knew now it was utterly wrong, you reciprocated his desire. Probably, the last time you were able to touch him and feel him again, you thought as he forced you to walk backwards, until you felt the cold wall pressing against your back.

A breathy moan escaped your lips as his long fingers pulled down the straps of your dress and his mouth nipped at the skin of your neck. He left wet kisses down your collarbone, until he kissed over your bare breasts, the dress falling off from you easily until it hit the floor and he took you in between his arms as if you weighed nothing. Cleon looked over at you, your legs wrapped around his waist, just giving yourself to him one last time before what was coming after.

“See?” he began, using his thumb to play with your swollen lips and enjoying the way you fought to catch your breath. You were getting wet already and somehow, you hated yourself for being so weak for him. “You’re always more than a pretty subject to me.”

“Are you going to kill me?”

He arched a perfect brow at your question. “I might have different plans for you.”

“Just do what you have to do already, Cleon,” you berated, both of your hands cupping his cheeks and pulling him towards you closely before kissing him again. “Do it.”

“Well, then I shall take what belongs to me,” he mumbled.

And so he did. He pushed your panties aside immediately as you went to grip his groin, earning a low growl from him, still tasting your lips in the process. You quickly undid his blue shirt in a swift motion while breaking the hot kiss you were sharing, and you finally felt his chest pressing against yours. Cleon accommodated your body firmly between his own and the hard wall, grinding his hips to feel some friction. He gasped once you slipped your hand inside his pants and worked on his hardening cock with soft, but firm strokes.

Enjoying the feeling of your warm palm and fingers, he moaned against your neck, biting and licking on your sweet spot. His fingers went to work on your wet slit, rubbing and teasing your entrance with his index and middle fingers. You let yourself relish in the moment, thinking this would be the last time you could feel his body pressed against yours so intimately, remembering the softness of his skin and the roughness of his touch. How he would embrace you sweetly if you asked, but you could have it rough if you pleaded good enough for his excitement. Cleon would comply with your deepest wishes with such passion, as much as he promised before to stay by your side and create a better empire together. But those were not possible things by now, and the only thing that really mattered was his kisses and his firm body against yours.

“Please, just do it,” you begged with a breathy moan, feeling one long finger sinking inside your cunt.

He slowly set a pace while marking your neck with his teeth, stretching you open for him. His cock already aching to fill you up completely and rip you apart just like he knew how to make you squirm under him. The pace of his fingers now made a obscene noise as he fucked you with them, and you clinged to his huge frame, digging your nails on his bare shoulders and bucking your hips. And just as you were about to reach that sweet climax, he stopped, pulling his digits out and accommodating you around his legs. You whimpered softly when you felt his cock pressing against you, aligning with your wet heat.

“This is your last wish,” Cleon breathed out. “And since I’m merciful, I can make it true.”

With a particular hard trust, he slid inside you. A rather loud moan filled the empty room once he started to fuck you harshly; his hands groping at your hips to keep you in place as he used you to get what he longed the most: sweet release, just before you’d be sent away for the next phase of the sinister plans prepared ahead of you. You clenched repeatedly around his shaft, and the sound of skin hitting against each other made echo under the dim light of the prison.

As seconds went by, you tried to fight the urge to cry out his name. You would not give him the satisfaction of hearing his name being moaned beautifully with your voice. And you could barely think straight as he kept fucking you, taking in the grip on your hips that would leave bruises and marks on your skin, the gasps and deep breaths he used to take, his face focused on the sight below where he entered inside you for his own pleasure, reaching the deepest places that made you roll your head back when his hand wrapped around your neck, cutting off air for a moment…

Despite everything, you loved him. And the ache of Cleon not being yours anymore kept growing and growing, as much as the pleasure did. For a moment, you didn’t want this to be over. You didn’t want to know what type of destiny they had prepared for you. Instead, you could just die there and then, after he’d be done with it. At least you’d die happily in his arms, feeling the warmth of his skin against your own, completely filled by his cock and marked by his teeth on your collarbone. That was all you could think. He was everything you had in mind.

The careless pounding sent you to bliss, triggering a long, yearning orgasm from you with a breathy, broken moan. Your walls clenched tightly around him and he growled, holding you close, his grip stronger than before. The frenzied pace of his hips slowed down eventually, as he came too, filling you up with his hot seed. You remained together, clinging to his broad figure and feeling his hot breath against the skin of your neck. Cleon held you in his arms, softening inside you. You turned to take his face between your hands, forcing him to look at you directly. There was an expression in his eyes you couldn’t deduce.

Maybe it was just the aftermath of what you just did. Maybe it was really a sadness coming from him, knowing he wouldn’t see you ever again. Maybe he did love you, even if this was just another clone.

“We need to go,” Cleon spoke softly, pulling out of you and setting your shaky legs on the floor once again. You took your dress and put it back on as he fixed his clothes as well.

“Where?” you asked, with a hint of hope.

But his eyes darkened anew, and you realized there was just a fantasy haunting your brain of Cleon suddenly stepping back on his plan and keeping his promises for you.

“Demerzel will take you,” he said, now coldly. He looked at you as if you were some kind of inferior being. “There is no way in the galaxy we should be together.”

This made you clench your jaw. “You’re a fucking selfish irony of a human,” you spat through your teeth.

He took his hand and cupped your neck with it, cutting you from breathing for a moment and he leaned to watch your face contour in slight pain and shock.

“Now, be careful with your words, queen,” he whispered against your lips, teasing a kiss that never came. ���As your memories will be erased, I don’t think you could remember every single detail of you being here. Even less, about your precious realm… Or your life.”

“Do it. I told you, I do not care.”

He smirked when Demerzel’s familiar steps were heard, coming down the underground prison. It was time.

“I bet you would not.”

[zephyrchama]

Tail Bone (Obey Me! brothers and MC)

"My tail bone hurts," you complained. You never expected demons to be well-mannered beings, able to behave themselves in a silent classroom for hours on end. Nor that sitting for so long could be so painful. You let out an exasperated sigh and began to tenderly massage your lower back as soon as the lecture on nocturnal beasts was over.

"Your what?" Leviathan had been booting up a mobile game behind you, eager to claim his daily bonus. While the loading screen played out, he looked up at you in confusion.

Standing to stretch, you nodded towards the hand swirling around your waistband. "Right here, my tail bone. I'm gonna ask Diavolo if he can get softer chairs for the classrooms. You're not in any pain?"

In front of you, Beelzebub nodded. "My stomach hurts. I'm so hungry, I can hardly think straight." He began rooting around in his bag for an emergency candy bar or five.

Mammon interjected from the side, stating "you don't have a tail," with a look of bewilderment. He was staring intensely at your rear and questioning everything he's ever known about you.

"We'd know if you did," Satan added.

"It's not an actual tail. Just... the name of the bone." Your attempt at an explanation wasn't very informative, but you didn't know how else to describe it. Your brain was fried from a long, boring lecture. You were more focused on getting the circulation in your legs working again than on explaning proper human anatomy.

Asmodeus had crept over, clearly noticed by everyone except you, and put his hands over the afflicted area. "Right about here?" he asked, voice coated in faux innocence.

You jumped forward a step in surprise, arching your back away from the sudden touch. Mammon and Leviathan, mobile game now forgotten, pounced on their younger brother. They pulled him away by the shoulders and forced his arms behind his back.

"Ahaha! Did I guess right?"

"That is a serious violation of PDA!" Leviathan half-shouted.

"Yeah, only I'm allowed to touch 'em like that! You all know I'm s'posed to be in charge of the human." Mammon thrust himself in front of Asmodeus, who was busy laughing in Leviathan's face. He opened and closed his hands in a disturbing manner, like a pervert. "Here, let me see this tail for myself."

"I don't think it's an actual tail," Satan surmised at the same time you exclaimed, "I don't have a tail!"

"Settle down," Lucifer cautioned. He approached from the front of the class with an armful of teaching materials, having been the one to lecture everybody all day. In a way, it was his fault you were in pain.

"Would somebody care to explain why you're all being so rowdy?"

"They hurt their new tail," Belphegor tried to explain in a low, drowsy voice. Having been half asleep, he only caught half of the conversation and let his imagination fill in the rest. He tried to lift his head, but the lecture had been too powerful. He rambled, "It's cool. I'm glad you have a tail now," and went right back to snoozing.

Lucifer wasn't entirely convinced of this explanation. He raised an eyebrow at you, and you recapped, "sitting for so long was kind of painful. I hurt my tail bone."

Beelzebub, with a smidge of chocolate on the corner of his face, turned around to ask the question surfacing on everyone's mind. "Do you have wing bones too? Like we do."

Though not in demon form, you could perfectly picture Beelzebub buzzing his wings while he asked. The answer was a simple "no." Followed by a moment of thinking and a hastily added, "I don't think so."

Mammon tisked. "That's unfair, don't ya think? You oughta have wing bones to match us."

Asmodeus "mhmm"-ed in agreement while Lucifer rolled his eyes.

"It's unfair that I don't have wing bones...?" You struggled to follow his logic.

"It's incredibly fair," Leviathan piped up. "Everyone knows tails are better."

"You wanna say that again to my face?" Mammon spat.

"More of you have wings, so it's more balanced to have another tail-user in the house." Satan believed this was a perfectly rational argument despite you not actually having a tail.

"But imagine how cute they'd look with little flapping wings!" Asmodeus cooed, flapping his hands to match.

"A little tail is even cuter! It can be hidden, like an Easter egg," Leviathan asserted.

The classroom became noisy once again with their bickering. Lucifer motioned for you to step aside, and you did your best to duck out from the growing argument with your head kept low. Your legs still felt stiff. Walking around the desk without bumping anything was a newfound challenge.

So Lucifer reached out a gentlemanly hand to guide you. "I need you to come with me to the Student Council Room." Though stated like a command, it sounded more like a request.

"Am I needed for a meeting?" you asked, reluctant to spend more time at school. The big soft couch at home was calling you.

He started ushering you towards the door and checked to ensure his brothers did not follow. "No. I'd like to educate myself on this tail bone you have, and perhaps even take a look at it."

[cassandracain52]

Reverse trope

where instead of the Bats forgetting that they’re adopted (something actual adoptees do on occasion and is hilarious) they forget that some of them *cough Damian cough* aren’t

_______

Jason in the heat of a probably ridiculous argument: Yeah well YOU’RE adopted!

Tim just as invested in said argument: So are YOU! We all are!

Damian who had previously been quietly watching this unfold while he drank his tea: Actually I’m not

Tim and Jason who didn’t realize he was there but are already DoneTM: …… Damian continuing to sip his tea entirely unbothered: :)

Damian: Because I’m not an orphan-

Jason: ok, yoU KNOW WHAT-

____

or like in their group texts (that we know they have thanks to Nightwing (2016) #79)

*Steph changed the group chat name to “Bruce Wayne’s Personal Orpanage”*

Jason: Really?

Steph: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Steph: It’s the truth Damian: Both my parents are very much alive

Steph: Shhh you don’t count

Cass: Mine too Duke: Technically so are mine

Barbara: I still have a dad so there’s that

Steph: YOU GUYS ARE RUINING THE JOKE

Tim: Stephanie aren’t BOTH of your parents alive???

Steph: KNOW WHAT? FINE

*Steph changed the group chat name to “The Technicality Police”*

Tim: well that’s more accurate at least

Steph: :)

_____

Damian in his 10th argument with Tim of the day: That’s- this is-

Tim in full Antagonizing Big Brother mode: I’m listening

Damian -a Gen Z and best friend to Jon Kent- extremely frustrated: This is such Motherless behavior!

Tim taken aback: [voice cracking] W-what-?

Damian who didn’t mean to say that but doubling down anyway because his bloodline doesn’t believe in admitting mistakes: THIS! This is such Motherless behavior!

The rest of the family who is also motherless: :O

Cass whose been spending way too much time with Meme Queen Stephanie Brown and not involved in the argument but finding it entertaining regardless: [nodding along seriously] Facts

Tim: [visibly betrayed] CASS WHAT-

A video copy of the interaction gets sent out anonymously to the entire family. Barbara is the prime suspect but there is no proof as of yet (and they will never find any)

Steph, Cass, and Duke continue to respond “Motherless behavior” everytime one of the bats does something they deem questionable/insane. It is said often

It only stops when one night in the middle of patrol. Batman is in full Dark Knight mode (possibly in the middle of threatening someone) and descends from the ceiling into the middle of a warehouse drug deal, dark cape billowing out behind him-

and Steph just automatically whispers “Motherless behavior” forgetting her com was still very much on

She immediately realizes what she said and frantically apologizes but it’s too late.

Bruce just- Blue Screens. Completely stunned into silence

Dick -who was unfortunate enough to be the one teamed up with Batman tonight- is fighting for his life to choke back his laughter

Jason doesn’t even try to stop his and has collapsed to his knees from lack of air from how hard he’s laughing. Cass try’s half heartedly patting his back to help to no avail

The criminals are terrified into surrender from The Red Hood just laughing hysterically at seemingly nothing while Batman just Stands There

Damian ends up being the only one still functioning enough to continue arresting everyone, though he is privately amused and strangely proud

Tim and Barbara have saved both the com recordings and cowl footage to at least three different servers and sent it to absolutely everyone before Batman even recovers

Duke finds out second hand the next morning and is furious he missed the chance to see it in person. He declares he is moving to the nightshift so it doesn’t happen again. (He is all talk and goes to bed by 9 pm)

Bruce bans the phrase for life and promises swift and server punishment to anyone who dares to use it again

[purplepirate123]

All of Me; All of You UPDATE 10/24/2024

All of Me; All of You Updates:

- Chapter 16 is LIVE!

- Read the first side-story, "Houseplant," HERE!

- Read the SECOND side-story, "Office," HERE! (Warning, story contains 18+ content)

The "facelift" for this story is COMPLETE! If you read the chapters as they came out, I reccomend you go back and re-read, as there are lots of added scenes and new edits to enjoy. After all, who doesn't love Kaiba Seto losing his goddamn mind over Kisara?

Chapter 17 will be released in November.

Thanks for reading!!!

All of Me; All of You:

Seven years after the tragedy that ended the game of Duel Monsters forever and destroyed nearly everything he'd worked for, Kaiba is trying to put his life back together. For the most part, he'd say he's doing okay: staying sober, rebuilding his company, being frugal (the new Porsche was EARNED, thank you very much). He doesn't even realize he's lonely until Mokuba, now enrolled in med school in the US with a partner and life of his own, hires a house cleaner for him: a silver-haired, blue-eyed American woman named Kisara. Between her looks, her name and her smile, she manages to throw everything he thought he knew about what happened all those years ago into question (because really it was all the cocaine talking, right? Right??).

Be it fate or coincidence, he's inevitably drawn to her and the two become friends. But if he falls for this smart, funny, practical-to-a-fault woman who's face has haunted his dreams for decades, would she love him back? And if she does, can he keep her safe from the monsters of his past?

[notfeelingthyaster]

fanfics that have damian raised by bruce: why keep damian's initial problems with adapting/hatred or dislike for anyone except dick? he is a by-product of his upbringing, it makes no sense.

[captivatedbyurhubris]

‘What’s the D in your name stand for?’ Ace asks, looking thoughtfully at Luffy.

‘Dumb!’ Sabo volunteers.

Ace glares at him, unimpressed. Luffy blows a raspberry.

‘Dunno!’ the little boy says, ‘maybe donuts!’

‘Dunno works as well,’ Sabo mumbles.

That startles a laugh out of Ace, that he seems to be surprised by himself. Sabo looks up to Ace beaming at him. Sabo gives him a shy smile in return. 

scenes from my fic that I'm proud of 6/?

< read on AO3 >

[gurakos]

working on something

He Cheng looked at his brother casually lounging on his couch looking back at the Mo Guan Shan who left just left the loft

He Cheng took the gun that was strapped at his waist looking at his brother before putting the gun at his brother’s temple.

“Mo Guan Shan is off limits” Qiu would never forgive him, if his little brother got his dirty little hands on him especially after what he has been through

He Tian wasn’t fazed one bit at the gun pointed between his eyes.

“I fucking knew it, he’s your third right …. “

As He Tian was babbling away saying more outrageous things by the minute

He Cheng could only thing how he could let his brother get this screwed up

[moonyswarmsweaters]

sorry for not posting a lot today

I started Clandestine by @my-castles-crumbling and it taking me on an emotional roller coaster and I’m here for the ride

It is keeping me from being productive

It is giving me so much joy

and pain

(That angst too wtf was reading in class too tearing up)

I love their sibling dynamics so much??

also platonic moonwater AND reg and pandora??>>>>

ANYWAYS if I end up doing nothing for the rest of the day and lay in my bed reading fanfiction until I need to get ready for school again

welp

Blame them for being so awesome

[fanfoolishness]

Visitation

Hunter has a conversation with a visitor. Set shortly after Plan 99. Grief, emotional whump, sleep deprivation, Hunter + Wrecker feels, Hunter + Tech feels. ~1400 words. (also omg I'm writing again yaaaay)

---

“You gotta sleep,” Wrecker mumbled for the eighth time.

Hunter shrugged him off with a glower and a scowl, his brows furrowing deeply. Just because Wrecker was right didn’t make his words any less aggravating. “I’ll sleep when there’s time,” Hunter snapped. “Leave it alone, Wreck.”

They had to keep going. The trace they were running was the first one that hadn’t come up as a total dead end. There were clues here that could point the way to Omega if they were just smart enough to figure them out and piece together Hemlock’s trail. He didn’t dare sleep on that.

Wrecker rubbed his eyes, then yawned so powerfully Hunter could hear the cracking in the joints of his jaw. “You’re no good wiped out. Neither ‘m I.”

”We’ll be fine. We’re close to something. I can tell.”

”I wanna find her too. But —“ Wrecker hesitated, worry clear in the set of his face. The muscles in his throat worked in a gulp. “Nah. Forget it.”

”What?” Hunter said, a warning note creeping into his voice. 

Wrecker waved a hand. “It’s nothing.” He got to his feet, groaning as he stood for the first time in hours. “More caf?”

”Yeah.”

“I’ll get it.”

---

The last of the caf had long since cooled, its bitter odor turning more acrid as it chilled. Hunter slugged down the dregs anyway, grimacing at the foul taste. 

Wrecker had tried to stay awake, Hunter had to give him that. But now he was hunched over the console on his folded arms, snoring quietly.

Hunter let him do it. It made sense that Wrecker would need the extra rest, since he needed to heal up after their last scrap. But Hunter couldn’t afford the same luxury, not for himself. He had to keep working.

Hunter focused as hard as he could, his head aching with the effort. He kept running over the coordinates on Tech’s datapad, vision blurring, fingertips flinching with an imperceptible frisson every time he tapped or typed or swiped.

This was Tech’s.

He shouldn’t be touching it. They’d all learned that lesson years ago. 

Hunter knew he might mess it up. Tech always had the specs set just how he liked them --

“Put that down,” Tech said from behind him. By the timbre of his voice, his annoyance level was mild, verging on moderate; there was a hint of fondness overlaid with a familiar steely tone. Tech wasn’t too irritated, but he’d get there if Hunter didn’t listen to him soon. 

Hunter stifled a chuckle, then blinked, his breath catching in his throat. He turned around slowly, his heart racing.

“You’re not -- you shouldn’t be here,” Hunter said stupidly.

Tech raised his eyebrows enough for them to arc above his goggles. “I find that rude,” he said.

“Don’t,” Hunter whispered. “You’re dead. We saw you fall.”

“Details,” Tech said, shrugging. “There’s still work to do, isn’t there? Therefore I am here.” He leaned back in the pilot’s chair, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “You do not look well, Hunter. Tell me, are you sleeping?”

“There isn’t time.” He shook his head, willing the apparition to leave. “We have to find Omega before Hemlock hurts her.” His mind spun with awful specters, imagining the worst tests of the Kaminoans and multiplying their pain into agony of the highest order. Omega crying in a cell, strapped to a table like an animal, her voice a wailing scream --

“What makes you think he wishes to hurt her?” Tech said. “Look at the facts. His men took care to stun her. Hemlock mentioned Nala Se. Nala Se has certainly decommissioned her share of clones, but there is no evidence she would wish to harm Omega, and if Hemlock requires her cooperation… I believe Omega will be safe enough, for a time. It is simply logical.”

“You’re awfully optimistic for a dead man,” Hunter said, then dropped Tech’s datapad with a clatter, suddenly feeling sick. Did I just say that -- He stared up at Tech, holding out an unsteady hand. “I -- I’m sorry, Tech. I’m not -- I didn’t mean --”

Tech leaned forward, picking up the datapad and setting it down beside Hunter. “There is no need to apologize. I am indeed dead.”

Hunter swore loudly. “Don’t say that!”

“You just said it,” Tech pointed out. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Tech, I swear to --” Tech could be so infuriating sometimes. 

He suddenly laughed, feeling dangerously close to tears. None of this made any sense. What was going on?

Tech looked at him steadily. “You are aware of what this is, aren’t you?”

“No.” He buried his face in his hands, taking a deep breath.

“You need to sleep.” Tech held up his finger, underscoring his point. “The effects of sleep deprivation in humans are well-known and may include decreased reflexes, incoordination, irritability, immunosuppression, visual and auditory hallucinations --”

Hunter laughed again despite himself. “Great. Now you’re on my case too. Wrecker was bad enough.”

“You should go easy on him. He is only attempting to look out for you.” For a moment something painful flashed across Tech’s face, a twist of his mouth, shadows beneath his eyes. “It is important to him, Hunter. Do you understand?”

How could he understand?

The chasm gaped between them, the railcar dangling, the cold wind howling in his ears.

“Get up here! Now!” Hunter called. This wasn’t happening. Not again. There had to be time, they were going to make it -- they were all going to make it -- “That’s an order!” he screamed.

When have we ever followed orders --

A hand closed around his arm, shaking him gently. “Hunter. Hunter.”

Hunter blinked, the world snapping back to the Marauder and the stars beyond. “Saw him,” he choked. 

“Saw who?” Wrecker asked, settling into the chair beside him, looking anxious.

Hunter froze. He swallowed, looking around the empty cockpit, eyes landing on the shattered goggles. His gut twisted, and he managed a ragged breath.

“Nothing. Nothing.”

“You were yellin’,” said Wrecker, looking away. “Woke me up. I thought maybe you were having a nightmare, but your eyes were open --”

Hunter groaned. “I don’t know. Maybe I was.” He glanced at Tech’s datapad, which was on the floor where he’d dropped it. He’d thought Tech had picked it up -- 

But of course there’d been no one there.

He scrubbed a hand over his face, then bent down and picked up Tech’s datapad, handing it carefully to Wrecker. “You, uh… you keep an eye on things for a bit.”

Wrecker took it, though he hesitated. It looked so small in his hands. “Feels wrong, using this. It’s -- it’s his.”

“I know.”

“What are you gonna do?”

Hunter let out a sigh. “Gonna get some shut-eye. You were right. Keeping on like this isn’t going to find Omega any faster.” He brushed back the hair falling into his eyes, and got to his feet. He was about to turn and head to his bunk when he paused, reaching out and resting a hand on Wrecker’s shoulder. “Thanks. For looking out for me.”

Wrecker ducked his head, unable to speak for a moment. Finally he said, “s’what I’m here for.”

“Damn right it is.” Hunter gripped harder, then let go, making his way to his bunk. He rolled into it unceremoniously, more exhausted than he’d ever been in his life. He closed his eyes, and saw Omega.

They’d find her. They had to. And until then… He thought of what Tech had said, cool calm logic explaining why Omega would be safe. Maybe he was right. Maybe she’d get through this unharmed.

His mouth tightened. What Tech had said -- What a damn hallucination had said. He was losing it.

Yet Tech’s words were comforting, and he kept them close.  I believe she will be safe enough, for a time.

He’d make that time as short as possible. His fist curled in determination, then uncurled, fingers going slack as sleep took him. He dreamed of Pabu warm and sunny, the sound of waves on a rocky shore, Omega’s arms flung wide around him. He held her close, closer than he’d ever dared, an embrace that said you’ll always be our kid. 

But through Omega’s laughter and the setting sun there was an emptiness, and Hunter wandered long into the dark, looking for someone who wasn’t there.

[anundyingfidelity]

NO SECOND CHANCES — Brother Day/Cleon XVII

Summary: A lonely space traveler happens to save from a certain death the most annoying person of the entire galaxy, the Emperor.

Pairing: Cleon XVII x female reader.

Word count: 8.1k. (oooops).

Warnings: well, spoilers for whole season 2. Language, angst (the reader wants to die, really). Talks about suicide, talks about suicide attempts, reader having nightmares, PTSD, reader is suffering too. Some hurt/comfort, some fluff? Filthy smut (included but not limited to hand jobs, unprotected sex, oral from both parts, dirty language, etc. etc.), and end of the world sex (to Beki's arsehole bitches yay🥂). Also Cleon refers to the reader as "woman" a couple of times lol. Reader has pierced ears? (wait for it). Bittersweet ending tbh.

Notes: just trying to make slow burn in a one shot because I'm a lazy fucker who doesn't like to write stories with chapters, otherwise I don't finish shit. Uh probably OOC Cleon??? I don't know. Fully inspired by my favorite trope ever: saving the bad guy and making him humble. I don't care we're four people watching Foundation, I need to write about this little piece of shit I love him so much. Cleon XVII is a himbo I said it. Not beta, we die like bitches of the Gossamer court.

☕ if you like my writing, support me with a ko-fi !

Tagging: @curiouswildi hope you like it 🥺💘

GEN MASTERLIST!

I. BEYOND

The last thing wandering his mind was Bel Riose. Fucking Bel Riose. That idiot. They had won over him; over him, who was Empire and still meant to be for years ahead. Next, the cold feeling of space was embracing him. But he felt he was not floating around anymore.

Cleon was tied to a surface. It felt like harsh, uncomfortable metal under his back. He slowly forced his eyes open, moving his limbs and trying to escape whatever it was restraining him to do so. His wrists and ankles, as his waist, were tied by a light blue particle field preventing the patient to move at all. He was met with the roof of a ship and equipment, but it wasn't any Imperial one. In panic, he moved until he was able to shake the surface he was on, panting and grunting, feeling some pain and sting resurging all over him. The headache was becoming unbearable and the sounds coming from his dry mouth finally transformed into screams. The room doors opened and a strange voice catched his attention.

"Finally, you're awake."

Cleon obliged to follow the shadow moving around, his eyes focusing to try and see who was talking. He heard steps and the sounds of metal and glass clinking around, probably looking for medication and tools as he was know fully concius. The figure finally came to view by his side.

"I will inject this, so don't move," you said, grabbing his bicep. Cleon was about to protest, but the needle was faster and the medicine was welcomed on his vurnerable system, easing the pain and calming down the headache. "Welcome back, Eminence," you smirked to him.

"And just so, who are you?" he asked chuckling to himself, licking his lips. "What have you done to me?"

"First, I saved your life and cleaned all your bloody wounds. You should say thanks at least," you sat down dangerously close by his side, on the same surface he was on.

"I did not ask you for mercy."

"Oh, but I did," you replied, a smirk on your lips. "Perhaps I shouldn't have, right?" you took a small pencil-like device in your hand from the pocket of your pants and used it to scan his vital signs. You touched his face carefully with your fingers, examining his eyes, his heartbeat, and any anomaly that might be on his system from head to toe, but the scanner found none. Cleon watched you doing so until he asked again, his voice softer this time.

"Who are you?"

"Just no one as important as you are," you said, saving the scanner back.

"Where are we?" Cleon asked, looking around. He observed he was placed in a small medical bay.

"In space, in the middle of nowhere I suppose," you shrugged, getting on your feet again. "It seems you're recovering quite well and fast. At least that's what my scanner says. So first, I think you should want some water, which I am leaving right here," you put a flask on the small table next to him. "And before I give you this to drink, I want to make sure you will not restrain or fight back at me."

He laughed, that narcissistic smile on his face. You wanted to punch him.

"You're no match for me, woman."

"Really? Then I could just throw you out there again, you know, it's not difficult. I'm spending resources on you, surely I won't oppose to that idea," you snapped back.

His smile faded slowly, thinking. If it wasn't for you, he would be dead by now, it was true. But he was so used to be immortal and undefeteable that the situation was kind of new. He only had been vulnerable and exposed to his doctors in the palace, and you were a complete stranger. And still, you had the heart to take him in your ship and save his life. He sighed, rolling his eyes to the ceiling.

"Fuck, fine. What do you want me to do?"

So this was his way of cooperating, you thought.

"After I turn off the restraints, you will have to sit down on the stretcher. I will help you. Do not try to get up yet, you might feel dizzy."

With a nod he said to you the orders were clear. Next, the restraints disappeared in the air with a push on a button and Cleon felt a small relief. As you promised, you helped him to sit and he realized that the clothes he had before were replaced with a set of new pale grey robes that allowed him to move freely. You offered the flask to his lips, but he watched you with a questioning look on his face.

"Is only water, I swear. See?" you had a small sip from the bottle and he looked more at ease after you swallowed the liquid.

You offered the bottle again and helped him to slowly drink. Once he was done, you placed a small tray with fruits and dry seeds on top of the same table beside the stretcher.

"You might want to eat something," you said, breaking the silence under his fixed gaze. Even when he was sitting down and you on your feet it felt rather intimidating. "I'm still collecting supplies and food. You were certainly not part of the plan these days."

"So you travel alone," Cleon said, taking a small red fruit between his fingers and began to eat it.

"I do," you nodded. "Sorry if the taste of the fruit is not pleasant."

"You're doing your best," he said while eating, studying the room around him. You were not sure if he was mocking you or not. "What was your name again?"

You chuckled. "You're very interesting, Empire. Why don't you finish eating and rest before taking a bath?"

The next few hours, you left him to rest and escorted him to your quaters, the only place with a comfortable bed, so he could get proper sleep. Since there were no further questions from him, you got to your business and requested more provisions to the merchants. Traveling alone had made you some contacts and traders, from time to time you would request for food giving in exchange money or rare knick knacks, and within a day you had a small capsule with supplements heading to your coordinates with everything you needed. You just had to wait for now.

After checking the estate of your ship and confirming everything was working correctly, you went back to your quaters to see how the Emperor was doing. You were startled to see him sitting on your bed with a book between his hands. He looked like he just had a bath because his shirt was gone and his hair was wet, some droplets running down his skin. Quickly, you studied him. He was handsome, muscular, his skin had a beautiful tan, and he was tall and heavy as hell, something you noticed when cleaning his wounds and taking him inside your ship. The earring on his left ear was also interesting, you thought, for a member of the most important dinasty of the galaxy. Very rebellious for the emperor.

You also knew he heard you steping in but never looked up from the book because he was the first one to talk.

"Never I could imagine you would have books in here," he said, clearly interested on the pages.

"Yeah, not all of us are barbarians as you work so hard to convice yourself we are."

He chuckled to himself, looking at you for the first time since you entered the room.

"Are you from Korell?"

"The book gave it away, didn't it."

"This is very old," he said, closing the book. "You are for sure not allowed to have this in Korell."

"That is one of the reasons I left," you replied, looking around the place. It was obvious to you that he was pearing within your personal stuff because the old myth book was secured down your mattress. At least he didn't leave a mess and everything seemed in the right place. "I was a threat in my planet so Argo kept looking for me for some conspiracy shit and terrorism when all I did was oppose myself to his repression and freakshow," you continued, his eyes drew back to you. "They wanted me dead in Korell, but I am the only one to decide that, even when and where will it happen."

Cleon shifted on his seat, wondering why you were sharing a piece of your life to him when he didn't even know your name yet. Words and thoughts wandered his head on how would he answer to your words, compassion or empathy sometimes were difficult things to feel. But before he was able to speak, you interrupted his thoughts.

"I will leave you alone to rest for a while and will come back when it's around supper. I follow Kornell cycle of time, so you know... Just don't poke around my underwear, Empire," you dragged his title mockingly.

He laughed softly, going back to his reading.

"Thank you for the idea."

That was the first time you would hear him expressing gratitude.

II. GHOSTS FROM THE PAST

Around more than a week passed, and Cleon was healing and his wounds were not so visible now. You made sure to inject him every day and gave your quaters and bed for him to sleep and recover. He had took a pad you had in the room so he could count the cycle of days in Trantor. Hardly to admit, he found himself missing home rather than hatred. Sometimes the rage mixed with sorrow, but he forced himself to try and understand that it was a normal feeling due to the sudden lose of everything he once had.

Cleon had been up from some time now as he counted the end of the eighth day on the pad, and wondered why your daily visit was taking so long. It was a habit you had, to come in and wake him up with the medicine, and after it was done, you would tell him to eat some of the fruits and food on the tray you brought for him. He got on his feet and put a shirt on before leaving the room to search for you. On the pilot cabin, you had an improvised, small stickable mattress on the wall that had saved your life before, so you used it to sleep and rest the past few days while he cured. Cleon observed your figure lying down on the mattress, walking slowly and sensing something was not right. He found you shaking and trembling, eyes still closed and chest heavily breathing as your hand held onto dear life what he realised it was a gun.

He felt somehow frightened and confused. If you wanted to kill him, you would already have done it. You had made yourself clear on that. The tremor of your body seemed it was increasing and Cleon, with a gentless he did not know he possesed, tried to soothe you with his voice, removing the gun from your embrace.

"Shh... everything is fine," he mumbled, not sure of his words, his other hand touching your shoulder in soft circles. He was able to withdraw the gun from your hands and placed it on the floating shelf near by.

Your eyes squeezed and some tears flowed down your face as you sobbed still in your sleep. Cleon hesitated on what to do next to wake you up. He leaned again, his hand slowly tracing the skin of your arm, like he did when his brother Dawn was a child.

"Woman? Wake up," he whispered, shaking you a little bit and pating your arm softly, and when he talked again, his voice was a little bit louder. "You're having a nightmare, wake up."

And as he repeated his words over and over, your eyes opened wide, feeling your lungs able to breath again. But your senses still were coming to awareness, and automatically you slapped the face of whoever it was touching your arm. You heard him groan in pain and you rolled over the mattres, until you hit the floor, taking out a small blade from below the makeshift pillow of fabrics you used. The blade pointing at him as you looked around the cabin to find out it was only both of you.

"What- are you okay?!" Cleon questioned with a frown, rubbing his hurting cheek as he remained on the other side of your bed, the only thing separating you from him was the mattress.

"Yes, I'm perfectly fine!"

He rolled his eyes in annoyance. "Of course you are not."

"Then why the fuck would you ask that?! It's obvious I'm not fine!" you yelled. Your body was tense and ready to attack. You felt a knot on your throat, like if you were to cry again. Silence envolved you, trying to calm down. That inner voice in your head began saying it was just a dream, and you wanted to believe it. It was all in your head. It was not real...

"Do you want to kill me?" Cleon's gloomy voice echoed.

"What? No! I would never-"

"Then why are you sleeping with a damn blaster shot and a blade on your bed?!" he confronted, screaming at you, but not daring to move as you also remained standing in the same place.

"Because I wanted to kill myself!" you yelled back, pointing the sharp of the knife to you instead. His face became stern and you realised what you had said, and what was happening. Ashamed, you threw the blade back under the pillow. "Sorry, I don't want you to know that. Forget it."

You wiped the tears on your face under his piercing and concerning eyes. You forced your head to compose and burry your nightmares and memories deep inside before talking.

"I have to inject you," you said and walked back to the room, sure he would follow behind. Once you crossed the doors, you prepared the needle but Cleon remained standing near the exit of your room the whole time, arms crossed over his chest, observing you with utter worry on his face. Why? He really did not know. Probably because you were the only human and intelligent contact he had for days now, and you had the decency to keep him alive. Though he was not going to let that in his head - yet.

"Why don't you seat?" you most likely ordered. Cleon slowly made his way to you and remained standing, tall and kind of threatening. He was Emperor, after all.

"What is wrong with you?" he asked with a careful tone.

"Nothing, Empire. Just sit," you said, coldly, waiting for him to do as you requested.

"No, I need to know," he demanded, coming closer to you, jaw clenching. Anger started taking over your being and held his gaze as you replied.

"I have the right to decide whether or not speak about my personal life, I am not one of your subjects, so sit the fuck down so I can give you the last dosis of this shit."

"I need to know if I can fucking trust you after what I just heard coming from your mouth," his voice boomed around the place.

"You really want to know?! Fine, back in Korell I lost my family, my brother, my parents, my home - everything I had they took it from me! I was the last one alive and I escaped after they killed my brother in front of me and that day is still haunting me," you muttered and felt the tears forming on your eyes, but this time, of rage. "So if it concerns your own well being, like it always has been, no, I will not kill you. But you are no Emperor here, so stop that game. Some of us never gave a fuck about you or the Empire, or the Foundation and Hari Seldon, or the Church of the Galactic Spirit -I don't care! I'm tired, I just want to be free and live peacefully!"

You had not noticed you stepped closer to him, feeling the heat radiating from his body. His face was blank, as if he had been slapped again, but this time to reality. A reality he was not familiar with on his own bubble.

Quickly you grabbed his bicep and injected the dosis with him standing up. He whined in surprise. It was fast. So fast that you just removed the needle from his flesh and left the room.

III. WHAT YOU REALLY KNOW

According to the Trantor cycle, evening should be now. When you left him alone in the room, Cleon spent the next hours by himself, and since he watched you looking up for garments and food around the ship before, he made sure to get those without speaking to you. Not that you wanted to talk either. He noticed you sitting on the main pilot seat, looking at the stars and the void through the glass the whole day. He got concerned for a moment, but decided to let you be as he, also, understood that some time alone was necessary.

However, Cleon thought to talk to you finally and say something. Anything to get you back to reality and forget your bad dreams. So he found himself making his way to sit on the other chair of the ship. He prepared the words to say inside his head, but it was more difficult to speak out loud.

"I think I owe you an apology," he finally said, taking in the view of space. You nodded slowly your head. Nobody turned to see each other.

"It's nothing. But apology accepted I guess."

"It's not nothing. I rarely thought about what other citizens and planets are going through... I'm so sorry it happened to you."

"I would like to say that was not your fault, but since the Empire withdrawal from Korell, living there definitely became so much worse," you confessed, very aware of the genetic dinasty and some of the things previous emperors did, which did not change much. They were the same man after all. Cloning again and again...

"Probably should apologise for that as well," he said.

"Yeah, it's too late, but thank you."

Cleon could still sense a feeling of resentment in your voice. He thought you were right to feel that way, but he was also going to try and make you understand him.

"I never had a mother, or a father, and my brothers are the same man as me, so it's hard to understand that some people lose their family and loved ones. I was born with that loss already... That's why I wanted to end the genetic dinasty."

"You are the eighteenth?" you asked, not knowing exactly why he was opening to you.

"The seventeenth."

"That's a lot of you though. Do you remember anything from the past?"

"I do not. But our memories are always saved. Everything that happens in Trantor is recorded and kept as data. If I want to know something about a previous Cleon, I would just request it."

You turned your gaze to finally see him, he looked in awe with space as he spoke.

"So what was your motive to destroy a planet?"

He turned his eyes to you. "I believe you didn't care about Empire or the Foundation."

"That doesn't mean I want to see a genocide, your Eminence."

Cleon stirred on his seat, with a strange feeling of guilt, sadness and regret. For some reason, the title falling off your lips made everything worse.

"You saw it," he said. "How? You're no part of the Foundation, at least you're lying to me."

"No, I am not! I did a stupid space jump without course and I ended here, unfortunately." You were growing tired of the conversation. "I don't know why we keep talking. We're both shitty people anyway."

Cleon chuckled, not to mock you, but because of the whole situation you were in together.

"I know you are. Brave enough to kill yourself, taking another life is nothing compared to your own."

You locked your gaze with his, thinking if he was he judging you or flattering you.

"And have you, like, tried to end with your life at some point? You must feel lonely, under the shadow of a clone, not allowing you to be, well, you."

He let out a deep breath, avoiding your eyes.

"I have not, but my genes are already compromised and adultered. No surprise if any of us dared to commit suicide before," he replied, looking to the void. "In any case, if something out of the ordinary is to happen to my brothers or myself, we have another clone with our same memories, same age, everything; prepared to be woken up and take our place. Like if we never existed."

"That's fucked up," you scoffed. "We are never trully free, are we."

You got on your feet to look up for something to eat and forget your small talk. You knew he had searched for fruits and dry food because you heard him moving around and then leaving a couple of times, but you had nothing through the whole day. Cleon followed your steps, leaving enough space between you both as you took a couple of apples, giving one to him.

"The jump, how did you do that?" he asked, taking a bite of the fruit. "You don't have spacers."

"The rebels are smart people. A lot of members of the Foundation replicated your technology."

"I thought you were not involved with them," he insisted.

"I am not, but I would never deny any help. That my support doesn't rely on them doesn't mean I will let a chance slide."

"You're not answering my question."

You pulled the sleeve of your shirt up to show your bare wrist to him. There was the same device Hober Mallow and the Clerics had, inserted on your skin.

"I use this.”

"This is a whisper ship," he mumbled.

"Smart. Yes, sort of."

Cleon scoffed. "So that means we can land somewhere."

"About that, uh, we can't."

He moved to throw the remainings of his fruit with a confused look. "Why?"

He heard your sigh as you covered your wrist again, looking away from his deep eyes.

"I- I threw myself to space because I wanted to kill myself," you started, avoiding his gaze. "I didn't care how long would take me, I just wanted to blow up my ship. Just end everything. But then I saw you, floating, dying... and for some reason I couldn't let you die. I didn't know who you were but I saved you. There's no energy or fuel to make another jump. I don't have that. We are far from what Terminus was now. From any planet, form of life or civilization... plus you are unarmed. You still are weak and anyone could kill you," you finished, and waiting for some reason that he could forgive you for giving him any sort of hope. "I'm sorry, Empire."

Beyond madness, Cleon felt you were worried for him. Not the kind of sentiment his brothers or palace workers would do, but a real one. Because you knew saving him was condemn him to death anyway. But this felt much better than dying alone. He had sins, past despiteful decisions and ghosts hunting him, as so were you. You just addressed your feelings and your life together in less than a day. And you were right, none of you were never trully free, but as crazy as it might be, being lost in space with you felt like freedom to him. Finally, he was far away from everything that was keeping chained to a life and responsibilities he never asked for, living under the shadow of an egotistical emperor.

There was a strong impulse growing inside him and before his rational voice began to scream it was a bad idea to continue, he had cupped your cheeks between his hands and his lips pressing hungrily against yours. You whined, surprised of the warm feeling of his mouth, his tongue hurriedly asking for permission to taste you. When oxygen was not enough you pulled away, shocked and panting. You barely noticed your hand around his forearm, recovering yourself from the best kiss you had in some time.

"Cleon," he whispered, kissing your lips one more time.

"What?"

"Just call me Cleon. I'm not Empire anymore."

You kissed him in response with the same eagerness he had before, heart beating strongly in your chest. His hands caressed every inch of your body, from your neck, breasts, your hips, your soft thighs, your ass... he touched you with desperate fire while you moaned against his mouth, liking where was this leading you, more than you wanted to admit.

That was the first time you gave in to him completely.

IV. TO LOVE AND TO BE LOVED

You moaned against his lips, those that forcefuly broke the heated kiss you shared as he ruts into you desperately to reach his own climax. His flesh hitting against yours made an obscene harmony that echoed the confines the ship, far from civil and coherent noises fell from his lips as he sucked into the skin of your neck.

"Fuck, yes, right there," a broken whimper escaped your throat, your nails scratching his back, your walls clenching around his cock. "Cleon..."

The sound of his name being moaned by your sweet, raspy voice, caused him to slow down his thrusts just a bit.

"I still don't know your name," he whispered, bitting your bottom lip only to kiss you wet again.

"And yet you're fucking me, isn't that enough?" you teased, rolling your hips to meet his own.

He gave you a smirk, that fucking handsome smirk you hated so much. He took you with his strong arms, flipping you around so he was now on his back and you got control on top of him. You sinked down his dick setting a reckless rhythm, his thrusts matching yours every time you went down, his grip hard on your waist, marking and bruising your skin. One of his hands massaged your bouncing breasts, one after the other, pinching and then, you felt his mouth biting your nipples and chest, as he leaned your body to him for easy access, with slow grunts and groans that didn't sound human anymore.

His cock repeatedly hit that sweet spot from the position you were taking him, increasing the tension inside you. The sensation of his hands coming back to your sides and making its way to your ass cheeks to guide your bouncing hips became too much so soon. You cried as you felt drunk and high, muscles tense as you finally came. Cleon held you tight, fucking into you as you reached sweet release. His tongue traveled down your collarbone and breasts.

"Cleon," you moaned, your hands on his chest to support your body better. You felt him twitch inside you, knowing he was dangerously close too. Quickly, you slid off him, taking his girth, slick with your own wetness, between your hand you pumped him hard, easing his own release. His seed coated your palm, sprinkling on his abdomen.

"Shit, you're great," he praised, voice dark from lust. His fingers tangled into your hair, his forehead against yours as you recovered from the intense sex session you had for the second time that day. He kissed you sweetly, like a sweetness he only had discovered in the short time with you. "I wish I could know your name."

"You can call me your savior," you gave him a playful smile.

After a shared lazy kiss, you got on your feet, legs still shaking, and left the bed to clean yourself in the small place you called bathroom right next to the only room of the ship. Once finished, you threw the cloth away, and looked directly the mirror, or poor attempt of it. In the damp glass, you watched Cleon appear to embrace your body against his, your back touching his chest muscles and his hands roamed your abdomen while he left butterfly kisses on your shoulder. His big arms around you, pressing your figure to his own, huge in comparison entrusting protection.

The nineteenth day it was, and you spent it exploring your pleassures, talking nonsense and overall for Cleon, thinking he might love you. The confinement had flourished different kinds of feelings and sentiments inside his heart. He finally learned to feel something else besides hatred, power, or selfishness. The more you spoke to him, the more he grew to like you. You were far from perfect and so was he, and the way you opened your heart to him - the man who was to wed a powerful queen, govern thrillions of people around the galaxy and kill a few others - caused him to feel unworthy of anything coming from you. The man he grew up to be slowly disappeared as long as you had him under your light and spirit; his old self was fading away. And it scared him, but excited him at the same time. Even when he was very aware you were near the end together, he had nothing to ask for but to perish with you.

"What's in your head?" you whispered.

Cleon had no longer been tasting the skin of your neck, his chin pressed on your shoulder instead with his mind running a million thoughts by now. He took a glance at the damp and dirty mirror of how perfect you looked, bare and exposed in body and soul, only for his eyes to witness the true beauty of being alive. Of being human.

"You."

A loving smile curled up on your lips, looking directly into his enamoured gaze through the mirror. He decided he wanted to remember you like this in the afterlife.

You finished marking the last spot with an 'x', a wide grin over your face.

"I won."

"Yet again," Cleon chuckled. His laugh had grew sincere with you as he settled on the floor on the cold floor of the pilot cabin, just giving enough space for the board between you and him. "And what is your question, person-I-not-know-the-name-of?"

You just had finished playing another round of a silly game. It was an old Terran game, and you were surprised it made it this far across the galaxy. It was good to pass the time though. It kept you and Cleon thinking about other things besides dying. The fuel and energy, along with the water, were lowering on their levels. Food on the other hand was not a worry, you knew you could request to the traders as long as energy was functioning to make communication with them. However, the energy of your ship had to be loaded in land, just like fuel. And you had no place to go now to do that.

Being together as long as you had the resources was the main goal now. So many things crossed your mind as you talked about everything and nothing at the same time the past days.

"Have you ever been in love?" you asked after some time thinking.

You thought maybe it was the first time in Cleon's life that he was finally able to think and behave on his own, with no burdens about a dinasty to protect or pleasing his council.

He was taken by surprise as you spoke. He immediately remembered Demerzel, his loyal advisor. His relationship was merely sexual, but there were no feelings that would assimilate to what love is in reality. For sure, his own clone should have been woken up by now with no further consequences. For Cleon, it felt like he was actually erased from existence forever. He was disposable, just like his brothers. But thinking about your question, his answer was no. He never knew what love was. Not from Demerzel, certainly not from Dusk, Dawn was slightly different though, he did love Dawn but not the way you were referring to. He never knew the love from a mother or a father, nor family. Sareth hated him, so even if they got to marry he knew there would be no space for such sentiment. His own future children with the Queen of Cloud Dominion would have grown up without an essential part of being human.

"No," Cleon finally gave an answer, his gaze went soft as he realised what you just became to him in a matter of days. "However I sense something different when I am with you. And I don't recall to know what that is."

You smiled. "Isolation tends to create adjustments in those who suffer it."

"And have you?" Cleon asked back. "Have you ever felt it before?"

"I did... With my parents, my brother, my best friends, and a couple of assholes who broke my heart."

He chuckled, admiring the charm you had to brush off the hardships in your life. You smiled back at him. Gods you loved seeing him like this, like if he was happy and nothing had happened.

"And how is it?" he said.

"It's affection, it's addictive, not everyone can escape from it. You feel like you belong somewhere, that your life is strangely complete," you mumbled, locking your gaze with his own. "And it hurts a lot. But as you go through that path, you get to know the most beautiful kind of pain."

"Does it hurt now?"

You swallowed hard, that familiar knot on your throat. You were not expecting to feel this way. Not for the Emperor, not for the clone, not for Cleon. Yet one does not control love. You don't decide to love someone without a reason. And what else could two lost souls do in the middle of the galaxy with no purpose but to wait and die? You had opened your deepest fears and secrets to him, not expecting Cleon doing exactly the same. He trusted you and you trusted him. You slept in the same bed, ate the same food and fruits, fucked like animals everyday and yet there was an emotional connection in between you thought would never know again after so many years. How could you not fall for him when everything was crumbling? Finally, you nodded your head, feeling the tears burning in your eyes.

"I always have been alone, Cleon, but my soul seems to have a little love to give. In the end, love is what makes us human."

Cleon put the board of the game away and leaned closer to you, his hand caressed your cheek, cleaning the tears falling down your face as he pressed his forehead with yours. He kissed you softly, swallowing your pain, as a way to say he was hurting too.

V. VOYAGE

It was the thirtieth day on the ship.

Your last try to get and land in any planet failed. As much as Cleon told you to stop, that everything was fine, you felt you had to keep trying until your last day. But the ship was basically to zero fuel and soon energy will follow. You used the control panel of the ship, hopefuly to find a near by land, but luck was not on your side. There was nothing. You don't know exactly how many miles you traveled with no course for a month. It was getting beyond bearing.

Frustrated, you pulled away the holo of the map and the calculations you did in the air, throwing a lose screw of your seat directly to the glass. It did nothing, but you were starting to hate the view of the stars and nothingness sorrounding.

"I told you to stop that," you listened to Cleon, who seemed just arrived to the pilot cabin.

"I had to try," you stood up, walking towards him. Your arms embraced his waist and he took you in with the same warmth.

"You're worried."

"I am not," you whined. "I should have sent for help with the merchants."

Cleon broke your hug and cupped your face between his hands, leaning closer to you.

"No, we should end this now," he whispered, his brows furrowed.

"No!"

"Why not? You wanted to do it even before you found me."

"Because now ending me is ending you too!"

Cleon felt your pain, but there was no other option to make than to blow up the ship anyway. Even if you were to land somewhere, what was for him? You were not able to go back home, and Cleon was discarded at this point. The throne could not have two of the same in the middle. Hiding and running away sounded like a good choice, but still, where? There was nothing left, but he found comfort with you.

"I am okay with this," he said. "I told you. You have to do it."

"Cleon-" you plea was cut by his voice.

"How much time do we have?"

"I don't know, a couple of days at last."

"Then do it. You said you were to decide when and how you would die, this is the time," he remembered with a stern voice. "Take it."

You let out a shaky breath and pushed him to press your lips to his own, like saying goodbye. But you still would not accept this fate. Not like this. You kissed him with hunger and need, your tongues tangled up as your mouths danced together.

"I just have- I can't yet," you mumbled once the kiss was over, leaving you both seeking for air. "Can we just fuck each others brains again and pretend none of this happened for a moment?" you asked against his lips, your hand now on his cheek, caressing the stubble on his face. You always remembered to help him shave and that was one of the most normal things you had to do since you found yourself confined with him. The most casual and mundane things to do became

He nodded. "Yes, my love.”

Cleon kissed your lips with the same hunger and desire, his hands caressing every inch of you until he lifted you up, your legs quickly went around his waist. With eyes closed, you let him guide you to the bar fixed against the wall of your ship.

He made sure to throw everything that was on the surface to the ground to place you in there. Once you were sitting, he pulled your legs apart to stand in the middle of them, and full with lust, his lips and teeth marked your neck and collarbone. You moaned sweetly, palming his groin still covered with the fabric of his pants. He traveled down your breasts, kissing over your shirt until he took it off. He was lucky you decided not to wear bra anymore. He sucked on your tits and nipples, grinding his hips against your hand.

You tried to pull his pants away, but he finished the job first, pulling away from your chest. After his pants were discarded, his shirt followed. He also got used to no underwear so he stood exposed all for you. A true god he was, looking perfect and like if every inch of his body was created for you to worship completely.

Cleon hurried in getting you out of your clothes, and in minutes you were naked and feeling his tongue dancing on your belly. His fingers and massive hands teasing your thighs, avoiding the place where you needed them the most. You moaned when he finally used a single digit to rub your slit, collecting your wetness. He rubbed your clit, mouth going slow and dangerously close to your pussy.

You laid your back on the bar and Cleon grabbed your thighs to have you exactly at the edge of the surface, ready to eat from your heat.

"Cleon," you cried out his name, your fingers tangled on his hair as his tongue licked your most sensitive parts.

He kept your hips in place, fucking you with his tongue and licking your folds, going to your clit. You couldn't help but whimper and moan, removing his hair to see just how much he yearned your cunt.

You tried to roll your hips but his grip was too strong. He looked up to lock his dark gaze with you, his humming creating strong vibrations down your core. He played some more, using a finger to tease your entrance. You were about to cum just by watching him.

"Cleon, please-" you gasped when he inserted a finger inside you, thrusting slowly. "Please, I want to taste you too."

He stopped, looking your flushed face for a moment. Your eyes were begging to suck him right now. He released your pussy with an obscene sound, pulling his tongue and hand away, but your wetness still shined on him. You got on the ground with his help and started to kneel down, kissing his skin, from his chest and then abdomen, licking and biting to leave your marks on his sculptured muscles. You made sure to adore and suck the skin of his navel, knowing he was insecure with not having a belly button. Still without it, he was more human than he could ever get to accept because you have seen that on him.

Cleon grunted once your hand wrapped around him, his hand on your scalp. You gave him a far from innocent look from your position before licking the head, rolling your tongue around it, lubing it with your saliva. His desperate groans led you to wrap your lips around him, pumping with your hand what you couldn't reach with your throat yet. You had to learn he was big for you, so a little of warm up for your mouth was a good start.

He cursed under his breath, thrusting his hips a little to go further, slowly, and you welcomed his cock with a small gag once he reached the back of your throat. He moaned darkly, your rubbed your thighs together when he started to fuck your mouth. Both his hands taking the sides of your head as you choked and gagged around his lenght. You felt him throbbing but he quickly pulled out, and left you empty and with drool falling from your lips, your pussy now aching and clenching around nothing.

"So beautiful," he purred, the touch on your scalp soft now. "But I want to finish inside you."

You nodded, obedient. Cleon helped you to sit down on the bar again, he stayed between your legs, spreading them wide, you held onto him, arms around his neck. He entered slowly, the warmth of your walls swallowing his cock, inch by inch, until it disappeared completely inside your dripping cunt.

You shivered, broken moans falling from your lips. Cleon muffled your low cries with kisses, waiting for you to get used to him.

"Fuck me, Cleon," you mumbled against his swollen lips.

He complied happily, thrusting and pounding into your heat, with a frenetic and brutal pace you had learn to love. You hid your face in the crook of his neck, yor nails scratching his arms and back. His cock touched all the right places inside you and he whispered sweet nothings into your skin, fucking you right under the light of the stars and the void of space.

He moaned along with you, wishing heaven or whatever it was after felt exactly like this. Like you, with your arms around him, your sweet voice calling his name lovingly and whimpering for more, giving your soul to him and only him. Your walls started to clench and his hips stuttered, aproaching a craving release. But in between, he heard a word against his ear you never mumbled before, turning his lustful eyes to you and slowing down his thrusts.

You repeated it again, he was visibly confused but kept ruting into you.

"My name," you said, fingers now caressing his hair.

He smiled. He knew it now. The stranger who saved him had a name after all. Cleon kissed you fiercely, repeating your name again and again between wet kisses. You were close to release, feeling one of his digits rubbing your clit as you moaned together. The wave of electricity took your body first, clenching your pussy around his cock. Cleon followed soon after, rhythm slow and tense muscles, until he spilled inside you, coating your sensitive cunt with his seed.

Catching your breath, you remained together. He sucked on your neck softly, your name was the only thought inside his mind. And as much as you loved his touch on you, you remembered there was something to do still.

"Cleon," you called, getting his attention and feeling he was pulling out of you with a low groan. He looked at you with loving eyes and you smiled. You brushed his hair with your fingers pulling him to yet another smooth kiss. "It's time."

He knew it was. In silence his fingers found his earring, twitsting it and pulling it apart. He took it from his ear and placed it on yours carefully. You were always amazed at his touch, how rough and yet soft and gentle he could be.

"So you can remember me," he smiled when he was over. You let out a laugh and curved your llps in a grin. "It suits you."

"Thanks, Cleon."

Cleon leaned down to kiss you one more time before cleaning both of you. You dressed together as if you were not about to meet finally death. For some reason, you saved everything that was not on their cabinets or initial positions, packing all you could, like if you could take those belongings with you, most of which were from your family. One day Cleon asked why you had clothes that could meet his height, being taller than a lot of people around. You told him it was from your best friend. You thought every piece of clothes or souvenirs would help someday, but it never crossed your mind that it was going to be this way.

When everything was was done, you and Cleon settled in front of the control panel, however, before you could start the holo, a loud explosion could be heard. You frowned, turning to Cleon.

"Did you-? Ah!"

The ship almost overturned as something heavy hit the side, making you trip and fall over with Cleon on the ground. Again, an explosion was heard, far from the ship but clear enough to say it was getting closer, and seconds later, the ship got hit but this time on the glass, almost breaking it over. Quickly, you both stood up and saw what was happening.

"A black hole..."

"Look, there are debris around," you pointed a huge piece that looked the size of your ship, but that definitely was part of a much bigger one. You saw the debris and metal being swallowed and destroyed by the black hole. It wasn't pacing fast, but wasn't slow either. It looked like it was talking its time for much bigger things to eat, such as your ship. Cleon called you, taking your hands and pressing his forehead to yours. You could feel he was shaking, and your skin grew cold. You realised it was really happening now.

"Do it," he said. "Destroy the ship."

After a moment of hesitation, you gave a nod. He kissed you deeply again. You turned the holo to activate the ship and program its own destruction.

"Self-destruction mechanism activated," the computer confirmed.

"We have sixty seconds," you mumbled, tears already forming in your eyes. He cut you off with a kiss. You would miss those warm lips on yours.

"That's enough for me," he said. You smiled and he did the same.

"I love you, Cleon," you embraced his body with a hug. "I am happy I met this kind of pain with you."

He cupped your cheeks, pecking your lips, smiling down at you, saying I love you too. You, the one who saved him and gave him a second chance. Or at least a moment of relief. A place and a person who allowed him to be himself and find things he never knew would have.

"We have more in common now," he whispered. "We are both alone and hurting somewhere in the galaxy.”

[amberskyyking]

It’s Fox Day so have a fluffy lil Corrie Guard Talent Show story I wrote based on this post featuring a bunch of my talented writer friends OC’s and Fox trying so hard to develop better mental health patterns and so so many hugs 🥰❤️🦊

Ten Out Of Ten

7k words! Click the title for the AO3 link. @corrieweek TW: Suicidal thoughts mentioned, KMS joke and general implied past abuse and decom, but things are better and they’re healing now ❤️‍🩹

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

“I’m going to fucking-”

Stitch’s eyes snapped to Fox’s face the moment he started mumbling those words under his breath, and he cut himself off. Kill myself, was what he wanted to say, but he wasn’t supposed to make jokes like that was he? They’d talked about this at length after the war was over, after the Senate voted to declare clones were Sentient in an upset he still wasn’t sure he believed really happened. Their newfound position was so fragile, even if the decom orders he shielded them from for years had been stopped. His vode weren’t expendable anymore, there were consequences for abusing them now that Fox had the right to enforce, but the sense that all those protections could be ripped away had seeped deep into his bones. Fox hadn’t been able to protect them before, his efforts hadn’t been enough, he wasn’t enough! Palpatine might be gone, but Fox couldn’t shake the icy dread that he would see those leering yellow eyes around every corner, hear that cruel voice disguised with grandfatherly patience threatening his vode if Fox didn’t comply, feel the sudden pang of lightning sear across his skin -

“Fox,” Stitch said his name in a hard tone, snapping him out of the spiraling thoughts for a moment. “Stop that.”

Right. Fox took a breath.

Stitch had a point, he knew he did, as much as he hated to admit it a couple of weeks ago when he made his last ill-timed joke passing by a familiar spire. Jokes like that only reinforce negative thought patterns, Stitch had snipped. It’s not funny, it’s only making your damn mental health worse and it’s going to give me a fucking aneurysm one of these days if you don’t knock it the hell off! 

The reminder filled him with a new wave of guilt. His poor CMO could never trust Fox wasn’t serious about those sort of things, and Fox honestly couldn’t blame him, but Stitch already had to put up with so much. Now Fox was adding to it. Maybe it would be better if he just-

“I’m serious, Fox,” Stitch snarled. “Want to try that again?”

Fox scowled at the floor. He was trying to do better, he really was, he had to, for his brothers sake. He’d promised them he would, even if he didn’t understand why they still bothered, now that the primary threat to their existence was gone. But Stitch was still glowering at him expectantly. Thorn and Thire had gone quiet too, right in the middle of their own conversation. Great. Now they were all concerned again, just because of his bad coping skills. Fox looked up at the ceiling, trying to remember what Stitch had said to do with thoughts or jokes like that instead, even if it was just to appease them. Just say something different, right? Something positive or funny or ridiculous? 

He let out an exasperated sigh and blurted out the first load of nonsense that popped into his head. “I’m - I’m going to put on the best talent show Coruscant has ever seen,” Fox muttered, his voice thick with sarcasm.

There was a pause, and Fox felt a flush creep up his neck. Where the hell had that come from? It wasn’t even really funny, it was just ridiculous, Thorn and Thire were bound to give him shit, and -

“Wait seriously?” Thorn jumped up eagerly from his spot on the floor. “We can do that?”

Thire’s eyebrows shot straight into his hair. “I ah. Think the Commander was joking, vod.”

“But we could?” Thorn pressed, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet with a huge sparkling grin on his face. 

Fox blinked a couple times at his vod’ika with a pit in his stomach. Thorn had to be joking too, didn’t he? 

“Cause I had this idea, there’s this song I found that I want to make a routine with Lowkey to and -”

“Isn’t that what the holonet is for?” Thire chuckled.

“Trust me, this would be so much better live! I could - No wait, can’t say. That would be a huge spoiler!”

Both troopers looked excitedly at Fox, and his heart dropped. Kriff. This wasn’t a complication he was prepared to deal with, not today.

“I…” He gulped, trying to stall, trying to think of any way to tell them no, it wasn’t possible, they didn’t have the resources or the time… But it was useless. He couldn’t stand to see their faces fall if he could help it, not after everything the Guard had been through for so long. If they wanted to do something like that so badly he would find a way, he… He could never say no to them. Not with enthusiasm like that, not when they were looking at him like that!

“Sure,” He caved, cursing himself internally as he did. “We can have a… A talent show.”

Thire gasped, Thorn let out a whooping cheer, and Fox had to grin in spite of himself, at least until Stitch snorted from behind him. Fox shot a tired glare back at his CMO, who didn’t look sorry in the slightest, in fact he looked downright pleased. Stitch had to know exactly what just happened in Fox’s head, and this whole self-esteem issue he was constantly pestering Fox about had just taken a turn that his vod’ika couldn’t have planned better if he tried. It wasn’t like Fox could really regret it, though. Thorn had already lit up like a life day tree, sending frantic comms to Lowkey with ideas for their next routine, and Thire wore a thoughtful little grin on his face that Fox could have melted at.

“What are you going to do for it, sir?” Thorn asked suddenly, looking up from the comm he had been typing out.

“I’m not competing,” Fox said automatically.

“Whaaat?” Thorn frowned.

“Why not?” Thire said in bewilderment. “It’s your idea!”

“What would I even do?” Fox exhaled, shaking his head. “I don’t have any special talents.”

“Sure, vod. You just killed the Sith, ended the war and set us all free, that was a normal Benduday,” Thorn snarked.

“That wasn’t all me… And how exactly would I do any of that on stage?” Fox protested.

Thorn opened his mouth to offer up what was sure to be some sort of insane suggestion, but thankfully, Stitch came to Fox’s rescue.

“He told you you could have the show, that’s enough,” Stitch snapped. “I karking swear, if you try to hijack his sleep schedule just to make him prep for some damn act, you’ll be seeing my special talents in the med bay first hand!”

That made the pair of them back off, but it didn’t seem to damper their excitement for the thing, which was good. Fox let out a breath as they shrugged in acceptance and got back to their conversation from before, this time with giddy little grins on their faces.

This… This couldn’t hurt, could it? If the idea was making Thorn and Thire this happy, it would probably be good for the rest of his men, too. Fox wasn’t the only one who struggled, maybe they could all use the boost. He would still make sure it was closed to anyone but the Guard, to be safe, even if the galaxy was nominally safer for them already. Outsiders seeing his vode in the spotlight was still a risk he wasn’t willing to take, but they could keep this small, just celebrate a few of his brothers who he loved so much and remind them of their worth. He could manage that.

Stitch slung an arm across Fox’s back as he started thinking it all through, and Fox automatically pulled him into a hug, letting out a deep sigh.

“It’s a good idea, vod,” Stitch told him softly. “I’m proud of you. You caught yourself, you’re forming better patterns already, that’s progress. But this isn’t going to fuck up your sleep.”

“Someone has to plan all this,” Fox reminded him, but Stitch shook his head as he pulled back to look Fox in the eye.

“Yeah. Someone. Not you,” His CMO told him pointedly, mouth twisting into a wicked smirk. “Either you let me handle this or you go down to one shift a day, don’t try me. We have rights now, thanks to you, so you can’t work more than your doubles or I’ll fucking report it.”

“This wouldn’t be work related-“

“It could be,” Stitch threatened with glee, and Fox let out a half-hearted scoff. That wasn’t even fair. His brothers needed those protections in place, but Fox hadn’t considered how Stitch might use those new laws against him, too.

“Fine,” He bit out. “If you’re sure, but if you need anything, tell me. I should still be involved.”

“It’s your own damn show, you’ll have a role,” Stitch shot back, but his eyes were soft, and Fox nodded. It was settled, then. For better or worse, Fox really was going to kill himself put on the best fucking talent show Coruscant had ever seen.

---

It might have been Fox’s half-baked, sarcastic suggestion to throw the talent show in the first place, but Stitch stayed true to his word and took charge of the whole production so Fox wouldn’t work himself into the ground trying to do it all it himself. He still wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or put off by the help. This really was something he could have handled on his own, he used to pull triple or quad shifts, the doubles were already a massive improvement and adding the show to his plate really wouldn’t have been pushing himself more than he had before. Pointing that out Stitch again later that night, though, proved to be a mistake, as the CMO kindly offered to break his fucking legs and throw the bone knitter off the goddamn Rotundra if he tried to go back on their agreement now…  So Fox let Stitch handle coordinating the thing, went to bed, and hardly slept, but at least he tried. 

Fox had barely begun his first shift when it became clear word had spread and clones on and off duty all started acting strangely. He had only pictured a small gathering in his head, something held quietly in the barracks or the mess, far from prying eyes, but the more excited vode he encountered throughout the day the less that seemed like a viable option. 

Thorn and Lowkey passed Fox as he left the barracks that morning, both of them soaking wet, squelching in their boots and giggling like kriffing cadets. They froze when they saw Fox and tripped all over their promises to clean up the mess before Fox let them go. Only a couple hours later, Lefty’s pet tooka somehow got stuck in a vent in the armory, and when he got her out, she was wearing a miniature version of shock trooper armor. The red paint hadn’t dried yet and was smeared in places on the thin plastoid, but that, at least, was a cute problem. He gave a blushing Lefty a comforting hug once his pet was safe and gently scratched the little tookas head before moving on with his day.

The talent show was farther from Fox’s mind again by the time he was making rounds near the east wing of the building on his second shift. Suddenly he heard noises from a storage room that was supposed to be unoccupied, and panic flared in his gut. He’d heard things like this before. Muffled voices echoed from inside, one of them shouting something indistinguishable, and they sounded like his vode!

All the worst possibilities raced through his head, but they had rights now, he could protect them if someone was trying to hurt them and he would! He would do anything to keep them safe, no matter the cost. Fox drew his twin blasters with his heart in his throat, raced right up to the door and -

The voices started to sing. Fox stopped dead in his tracks.

Theeeeere once was a man come from Sriluur, Say now did he really? A handsome pirate, that’s for sure! All of that’s a lie!

It… It was several voices, echoing loudly through the door now in the otherwise empty hall, all of them clones but… But nothing was wrong. Fox’s adrenaline fizzled at once and he let his hands with the blasters fall at his side. They were just practicing in there, a call and response song like some of them made up back on Kamino in training, nothing that was hurting them. There weren’t even rules against that kind of thing, at least, not anymore.

Hondo Ohnaka, Hondo Ohnaka, Hondo Ohnaka! All of that’s a lie!

Fox shook his head and closed his eyes for a few seconds, letting their little song remind him that they were okay. They did sound good, now that he knew no one was locked in there with a fucking Senator, and some of the lines they made up almost made him chuckle, lessening his nerves. If they had written it themselves, it was a very clever shanty. After a minute or so he trudged off to continue his rounds, but practicing vode continued to catch him off guard through the rest of that shift. By the time he made it back to the barracks he had ran into Pointe with wide eyes and his arms full of bright colored fabric and ribbon scraps, Tree practicing an attempt to make a strange plant disappear for Senator Chuchi, and Crow trying to smuggle no less than six mouse droids out of the Senate halls for who-the-hell-knows-why.

Fox was tired when he finally returned, but before he could make Stitch’s whole kriffing day by collapsing into bed at the end of it like he was supposed to, Thire burst in with a grin on his face that lit up the whole room.

“I found us a venue!” He announced, and Fox blinked at him in bleary-eyed confusion.

“A what?”

“You know that old theater just down the street?”

“The one you just issued eighteen building citations to last week?” Fox said with a raised eyebrow.

Thire rubbed awkwardly at the back of his neck. “Yeeeah… I might have offered to waive those if they can get the violations fixed by Taungsday… And let us use the place that night.”

Fox’s face stayed impassive as he looked at his blushing vod’ika. “…For the talent show?” He asked at long last, and Thire nodded.

“I mean, where were we gonna have it? The mess?”

That had been what Fox was picturing, but… Well, it didn’t really matter to him if the theater paid those fines, just that they fixed their shit, so if this was just as effective he didn’t see a problem with it. Besides, Thire seemed proud, and after seeing so much more enthusiasm today than he expected, maybe being on a real stage would be good for his kih’vode too, at least if the event was still private. They deserved to feel special. They were special. Especially since so many of them really had cultivated great talents, even while stationed here, of all places, where stifling conformity was a matter of survival.

“Good work, vod,” Fox yawned, standing up again and crossing over to Thire over to give him an appreciative hug. “They’ll love that.”

“You think so?” Thire said, letting out a breath and straightening up a bit at the praise.

“Of course,” Fox assured him. He let him go with a pat on the shoulder and sank back down onto his bed. “You’ll have to tell Stitch, though…”

“Will do, sir!” Thire beamed.

Fox smiled as he closed his eyes, even through his exhaustion. He hadn’t expected all this, but it really did feel like the spectacle was needed, somehow. Maybe he should have known, with how long they had all had to keep their individuality hidden away, for safety’s sake. But things were different now, they really were. Even if he was still having a hard time believing it. 

Fox found it a little easier to drift off to sleep that night, even if he could have sworn someone was practicing an entire tap dance routine in a nearby room. 

---

The day of the talent show came and the old theater was packed. Even knowing how excited his kih’vode were about this, Fox stared around in wide-eyed wonder at the number of them who showed up! Stitch had to half-drag him through the crowd of smiling, laughing Corries, most of them in armor but a few in military dress clothes or civvies or even full costumes that rivaled the worst dressed Senators, towards the judges booth in the center of the room. The rest of the panel, with Thire, Stone, Hound and Rosie, were already gathered there, chatting and laughing as they waited for everyone else to find their seats. 

It was slow moving through the crowd though, even with Stitch’s intimidating scowl to cut them a path, since Fox’s kih’vode kept turning to smile at him, laugh, and hug him along the way.

“Commander!” A fresh faced shiny, Zed, grinned up at him with a a sharp salute. “Thank you sir, I - I can’t believe I get to show off my hoverboard tricks! I always saw the holos of the pros on Kamino but I never thought…”

“You’ll do great tonight,” Fox reassured him, giving his shoulder a squeeze that made the kid swell with pride and bounce on his toes. They only made it a few more steps before another trooper tapped on his shoulder. 

“I was hoping to catch you, Sir,” The trooper said softly, fidgeting with a piece of flimsi in his hands, and Fox recognized him as Penner. “I didn’t sign up, I don’t think this would be very exciting from the stage but… I’ve been learning origami to give me something to do with my hands when I’m anxious and… I think I’ve gotten good at it,” He explained, blushing a little as he spoke. “I want you to have this one…” He held up the flimsi in his hand and Fox’s eyes widened. What was a flat and fragile sheet just a minute before was suddenly a perfect little Fox.

“That’s incredible,” Fox breathed, and he meant it. He picked up the little fox as gently as he could, looking at the little details, the tiny folds that seemed to fit impossibly together in awe. It was so personal, so heartfelt... ”Thank you, Pen’ika,” Fox smiled. “If you were competing I’d give you ten out of ten.”

Penner looked like he was about to cry. “It’s nothing, you… You saved my life,” Penner whispered, his lower lip wobbling just a bit as he did. “I don’t know if you remember but… But thank you, Commander.”

Fox felt like the air had been knocked clean from his lungs. He did remember, of course he did. Penner had been one of the first men he had been too late to protect… But he wrapped his arms around his brother, drawing him close and taking care to keep the oragami fox cupped protectively in his hand. When they pulled apart, both their eyes were misty, and Penner gave him a watery grin before turning away.

“I hope you’re paying attention,” Stitch said under his breath as he took Fox by the hand again. “See what can happen when you’re not a fucking asshole to yourself?”

“This was mostly your work,” Fox pointed out in a raw sounding voice, but Stitch shook his head.

“Only because you’re still running yourself into the damn ground trying to keep us safe. This was your idea, its happening because you said so and you did it for their sake, don’t you dare deny it!”

Fox didn’t dare. He wasn’t sure why he had said anything about a talent show in the first place, what possessed him to speak those words with hardly the thought in his mind or where they even came from, but he… He wasn’t sorry. His vode needed this, maybe more than he even realized, or maybe he knew but just hadn’t understood it yet. 

“How many of them do you think…” Fox started, but trailed off.

“Think what?” Stitch pushed.

“… Need to know they… Matter,” Fox said quietly. “Even if they’re not competing tonight.”

Stitch stopped in his tracks, turning back to him with a solemn, troubled look on his face. “All of them,” He said, without a hint of bluster or sarcasm.

Fox nodded. That’s what he thought, too. “I wish I could tell them all…”

“I know. They would say the same about you,” Stitch told him gently. “Come on.”

A few more hugs and encouraging words later, Thire, Stone, Hound and Rosie all turned to greet him and Stitch as they approached the judges booth. Thire waved him into the centermost seat that they had left open for him and immediately sank into the seat at his right. Stitch paused, giving Fox an odd look and whispering something to Rosie, who nodded her head. 

Fox was finding it a little difficult to pay attention to the small talk the others were making. Instead, he traced the edges of the little origami Fox in his hands. After a moment Stitch leaned in to give his shoulder a final squeeze before heading backstage, and Thire scooted closer to Fox’s side, his presence cool and steady. 

Something about this night that had started out as a bad cover for a worse joke already felt so important. They’d been wearing the same matching armor and using their numbers instead of names for years for their own protection. He had to make so many stifling rules to keep them safe, even if it wasn’t enough. Everything that they did had been to blend in, to avoid drawing attention to themselves, to make themselves indistinguishable from the next clone so they couldn’t be easy targets, but now…

Now the war was over. They were people. They could stand out, show off, shine… But even if so many of them weren’t ready for that, they deserved to be celebrated, too.

Thire reached out, giving Fox’s hand a quiet squeeze, and he exhaled. He was already proud of them, so proud of every single one of his brothers, wherever they were at on their journey. Then the lights dimmed, the eager voices of his vode that filled the theater quieted in anticipation, and Thorn and Lowkey took the stage in the most ridiculous bright red bedazzled suits Fox had ever seen.

“Olarom, olarom, olarom!” Thorn shouted excitedly in Mando’a to a loud set of cheers, spinning an umbrella around his arm for some reason. “Welcome to the first annual Coruscant Guard Talent Show, vode!”

Fox raised an eyebrow. He never said anything about this being annual.

“Shiny or veteran, Grunt, ARF, Shock troop, Medic, Mechanic, Prison guard, Security, Massiff handlers, Massiffs themselves and anyone else, none of that matters tonight! So forget your test scores, fuck whatever the long-necks thought of you, nobody’s perfect and tonight we get to see some of what you’re all really made of! The good stuff! Like… What do we have tonight, Lowkey?”

“What, besides us? In these gorgeous suits?” Lowkey said lightly, strutting across the stage in the glittery red thing and puffing out his umbrella behind him dramatically to the cheers and cat-calls of the men in the audience. “I’ve got to give credit where credit is due though, our own Commander Fox picked these out special himself!”

That wasn’t true.

“Oh he’s got such great taste, vod, in anything but caf. Still won’t use the cream and sugar we have now, says it’s better black.”

…That part was.

“But actually, this whole night was Fox’s idea, if you haven’t heard!” Thorn continued, and that… Was true too, somehow. Fox was still having trouble remembering he had actually started all this, him and his terrible joke had teamed up to make an event that the whole guard was more excited about than anything he’d seen since the end of the war. Their brothers clapped and hooted their approval of the idea, and Fox tried not to notice how many of them had turned to stare at him just now, but Lowkey chuckled into his mic and shut his umbrella with a crisp snap that got their attention again.

“Well, we better get on with it then, Thorn, or we’ll keep the Commander up past his bedtime.”

“What’s wrong with that?” Thorn asked with feigned innocence.

“I’m afraid of Stitch,” Lowkey hissed under his breath, pointing behind his hand towards the curtains where Fox knew his CMO was standing just out of sight. A single gloved hand popped out from backstage to flip him off.

“Oooh, good point. In that case, Taps! Get your ass out here quick!” Thorn cried, and the pair of them pranced back off the stage, blowing kisses to the crowd to laughter and cheers.

The ARF trooper Taps stepped gingerly out from behind the curtains with a nervous grin on his face. Fox wasn’t sure what sort of act he would be performing, he wasn’t wearing a costume and didn’t seem to have any special gear, but the music picked up and Taps started tap dancing! The irony almost made Fox burst out laughing by mistake, because of course! The tap dancer who he heard the other night must have been Taps! He should have known. The clone wouldn’t have lasted a kriffing day in the Rotundra, not with the nervous habit that earned him his name, so Fox put him on street patrols, which was a much better fit. But he had no idea his vod had turned all that energy into something so rhythmic and percussive and artistic! When the routine came to a close and Taps bowed with a flourish the whole theater broke into applause and Fox held his score card high, a perfect 10/10, smiling ear to ear.

Next up was Tree in a bright green cape he could have stolen off Bail Organa himself and… Likely had, given how the trooper seemed to trust more of the Senators than Fox really appreciated. He took the stage with several of his friends carrying exotic looking plants behind him in big silvery pots, but once the show began Fox was completely mesmerized! The disappearance act he saw him practicing the other night for Senator Chuchi had a Part Two that he hadn’t seen, where the towering fern reappeared on the judges booth! Grizzer flew into a tizzy, barking like mad at the trick, and Fox shot his hand into the air with the 10/10 before the act even concluded.

Every other act was just as outstanding as the one before, from the squad who got the entire crowd to join them in singing the shanty about Hondo Ohnaka to the green-haired Pointe running his piebald massiff Bespin through a series of tricks with colorful ribbons and bows streaming behind her! Guts put on a gorgeous display of his automatons whizzing through the air to music that a music box he built himself played, Coro performed juggling routine that he claimed to have learned by literally jugging up to twelve medical charts at the same time (Fox wasn’t sure if that was a joke, and no one else seemed to know either, but he didn’t mistake Stitch’s barking laugh from behind the curtain when he said it), and Lucky’s graceful and risky sword dance captivated everyone except for the worried medics in the crowd, especially Rosie, who gasped loudly at Fox’s side every time he made a dangerous looking move. She still burst into applause with the rest of them once it was over, relief written all over her face.

Captain Taser’s speed painting was already a beautiful piece of artwork even before he spun the canvas rightside up to reveal he had been painting upside down the whole time , showing off a colorful Coruscant sunrise and adding the sparkle of morning stars with a last few taps of his brush. Later on the twins Kando and Sii’s four-armed General Grievous improv routine had the entire building bursting with laughter, then Zed’s hoverboard tricks sent Stitch rushing onto the stage for half a second before he twisted a miraculous third time in the air and landed his final combo. Lefty’s routine with his Coruscant Guard Shock Tooka melted about half the audience out of pure cuteness, then Xia performed a song in the voices of our judges, which was just their own voice the entire time, but they put on a long yellow wig for “Thorn’s” part and dramatically held a Massiff plushie in the air for “Hound’s”. 

Fox was laughing so hard he could barely see by the end of it, so he gave them a 10/10. They all deserved 10/10, they all deserved the whole world, he didn’t even care when Stone elbowed him hard and shook his head at his unchanged scorecard! He couldn’t help it, and he didn’t want to. 

He did at least hesitate after the slicer Crow’s reprogrammed mouse droids were revealed to have stolen boots off no less than seventeen troopers in the audience AND Thire himself, apparently working unseen throughout the entire show to amass their collection undetected. Fox shook his head and let out a heavy sigh at that. He really had to keep an eye on Crow. The kind of shit he could get up to, with skills like that… It was concerning, but admittedly impressive. So. 10/10.

“Another 10 out of 10 from our own 1010,” Thorn read off with a hearty laugh from the stage. “What does that make Crow’s total score there, Lowkey?”

“With Thire’s whopping zero, he’s coming in at 21/50,” Lowkey announced, and Crow pouted at the other Commander, making a little heart with his hands and then breaking it, but his eyes still sparkled with the usual mischief.

“Neat trick, but you gotta pick your targets better there vod. Thire holds a grudge!” Thorn said, twirling that umbrella of his in the air with a teasing grin. “Try Fox next time, he wouldn’t fault you tonight if you stole his whole kit right off his shebs!” 

A few heads turned his way with good natured chuckles, and Fox blushed a little, fixing Thorn with a glare that had no heat in it at all. It was true, but he didn’t have to say it. Even if, judging by their reactions, everyone else seemed to already know.

“Speaking of Fox,” Lowkey said slowly, and Thorn’s grin widened in a very concerning way. “I thought I heard a little rumor about a last minute addition before the grand finale?”

“Oh, right, we did hear that didn’t we!” Thorn teased, turning his gaze directly on Fox.

Fox abruptly stood from his seat with alarm bells ringing in his head. No, they had talked about this, he wasn't performing! Whatever Thorn had planned wouldn’t happen, he had nothing prepared, but before he could take a single step, Thire and Rosie had brought hands down on his shoulders. 

“Usedii, vod,” Thire murmured to him. “This won’t be bad, trust us.”

“I don’t have any special talents,” Fox hissed back. “I already told Stitch-”

“He thought of something, just before he left,” Rosie whispered. “But don’t worry. It’s good, you’ll like it.”

“Commander!” Thorn sang dramatically from the stage, his eyes somehow sparkling even more than that ridiculous suit he was wearing. “I had a whole speech planned about how you’ve been holding out on us tonight, but you had to go and ruin it! With all those big scores you kept turning in and some of what I saw in the lobby before this even began -”

“I’m sorry,” Fox blurted out, absolutely crestfallen at the realization, but of course he had gone and managed to screw up such a wonderful night somehow. He had tried, but something had gone wrong, hadn’t it? Was it because he gave everyone 10/10? Was he a useless judge? He should have just left this to Stitch, he shouldn’t have gotten involved at all - 

“Oh my god, Fox,” Thire mumbled under his breath.

“No,” Hound said firmly with a shake of his head.

Fox blinked back up at Thorn on the stage in confusion. His vod’ika looked thoroughly unimpressed at his apology, with just a twinge of amusement tugging the corners of his mouth into a grin, and Lowkey scoffed at his side.

Suddenly, Fox became very aware of all the eyes pinned on him.

“Take a breath, Commander,” Thorn said a little softer than before. A few troopers in the seats began shuffling around in their seats, but Thorn ignored them and continued to talk. “Point is, we know of something you’re better at than anyone else in the galaxy, even if you don’t. So tonight we’re gonna prove it to you.”

Fox narrowed his eyes towards the last place he saw Stitch, that spot behind the curtains his CMO had disappeared to after Zed’s hoverboard act was over, since he was responsible for this, but before he could spot him there Thire reached out and wrapped Fox in a bone-crushing hug. Fox hadn’t expected that but he returned the hug on pure instinct, pulling Thire in protectively and cradling the back of his head. 

“What is it?” Fox asked urgently. “What’s wrong?” 

But Thire just chuckled affectionately into his neck. “Nothing’s wrong, ori’vod. This is it. Your talent.”

Fox blinked a few times in confusion out at the crowd over his brothers shoulder. More of them were turning around in their seats now, understanding of some sort dawning on their faces and making them grin. Stitch stood at the far end of them all with a gloating glint in his eye.

“You’re really good at loving us,” Thire said, pulling back to look him in the eyes. “And you’re really good at hugs.”

…Oh. 

Fox wasn’t even sure how to respond to that. For a moment he just stared back at Thire, processing the words. Of course he loved them, they were his vode, they made it so easy…

“My turn,” Stone said simply, and Thire complied, stepping away so Stone could wrap his arms around Fox instead.

“The war was hard on us all, Fox,” Stone said quietly into Fox’s ear. “But you’ve been our rock. Thank you.”

Fox nodded against his brothers neck, fighting back the lump in his throat. “I… I couldn’t have survived it, without you…” He said thickly.

“Neither could we. I think we all need this,” Stone replied, giving him an extra squeeze before letting go. 

Hound stepped up next, whispering a reminder of how sending him to work with the massiffs had changed everything for him, made his life worth living, then ordered Grizzer to jump up and lick Fox straight across the face, making Fox laugh again so he felt a little less like he was on the verge of tears. Then Rosie stepped up, passing off her forearm crutches to Thire to hold as she threw herself into Fox’s arms with a bright, determined smile.

“Thanks for taking me in, ori’vod,” She said jovially. “And for finally sticking to just the two shifts. We’ll keep working on that.” 

“Stitch mentioned that to you?” Fox murmured, and Rosie flashed him a sharp look as she let go and Thire passed back the crutches.

“No, that’s common kriffing sense,” She said with a smirk.

Fox didn’t know what to say to that, but before he could take a seat again two more of his kih’vode jostled their way onto the platform, the twin shinies Kando and Sii from the comedy act. Kando opened his arms with a sheepish little grin and Fox caved like wet flimsi, sweeping both of them up into a hug, too. One of them let out a little squeal, as if his heart wasn’t enough of a puddle already. They were sweet kids. A couple seconds later he let go and scruffed both of their hair, but froze as he looked back over their heads and spotted the rest of the crowd.

Almost all of them were out of their seats. What started as a somewhat proper line of his fellow judges was now an amoeba-shaped pile of vode, with Stitch in his white medical officer’s uniform striding up the middle of them all with a face full of absolute triumph. Fox could hardly breathe as his CMO shouldered past the others and marched up the few stairs, clasping a hand on Fox’s shoulder and pausing.

“What are you waiting for?” He said with a wicked grin. “You wanted this. Get loved, moron.” 

All Fox could do was nod, and the only way he could tell the next clone who hugged him was Tree was by the bright green cape billowing down his back that definitely belonged to Bail Organa. He didn’t know how much time it took to hug the rest of his brothers and tell them they were loved, and he lost count of how many there were, but if there was anything he could do for them he would, of course he would, especially something so simple as this! The program stayed paused as they all filed through, and Fox put his whole heart into every embrace. Some of the men mumbled kind things to him, like Lefty, some stayed silent, like Guts, and some even managed to make him laugh through the tears, like Crow. He tried to apologize to the ones he knew he had let down before, even if not a single one of them would hear it he had to say it, but the message that came back to him was always the same. He was only one person, he had done his best. They never blamed him. He saved some of them, more than just Penner, and every time he heard that he held them tight for an extra couple seconds before letting them go. His kih’vode meant everything to him, and all he wanted was for them to know it.

Apparently, they did… And he meant everything to them, too. 

By the time the last of his family had made their way back to their seats, he had a feeling they had overshot how long their production would take by a while, but it hardly seemed to matter. That was a problem for later on. Stitch brought up the very end of the line with an expression full of compassion and care that Fox still wasn’t sure he deserved. Fox just shook his head in disbelief at his absolutely impossible CMO, and Stitch pulled Fox into the gentlest, warmest hug of the entire night.

They didn’t need words, but Stitch provided them anyways.

“I fucking told you.”

Fox just nodded against his brother’s neck. Stitch had been right about everything… Not that Fox would admit that just yet. If Stitch heard him say that it would go straight to his head and Fox would really would be forced down to just one shift a day. He couldn’t risk that, but he made no move to let go of Stitch again either, even as Thorn and Lowkey finally retook the stage.

“Hey Lieutenant! Something about this doesn’t quite seem fair, does it?” Thorn said with a shit-eating grin, causing most of the vode to turn back to him at once.

“Oh, definitely not. Fox is a judge, he can’t vote for himself,” Lowkey sniggered. “But we can’t let that 40/50 stand, can we?”

40/50? Fox shot a confused glance back down the judges booth to Thire, Stone, Hound and Rosie, and had to stifle an exasperated sigh. He still hadn’t thought they were taking this as a serious act, but all four of them had all gone off and awarded him a perfect 10/10. 

“Alas, we cannot!” Thire declared with a sweeping gesture to the crowd. “Looks like we all have to help him out. What do you think? What’s his score?”

Fox could feel the blush rising up his neck and his cheeks as his brothers in the crowd sounded off with whistling and cheering and chants of TEN! TEN! TEN! all around. Really, the hugs were enough, he felt the love and now this was just getting excessive, but after a minute Thorn raised both hands and lowered them slowly to soothe the crowd.

“You got all that, Lowkey?” He asked with feigned innocence. “What’s his final score?”

“Ten thousand one hundred and ten!” Lowkey called out in dazzling confidence.

“Mmm. Yep. That’ll be a tough one to beat,” Thorn mused. “Think we can manage it, vod?”

“Absolutely not!”

“Are we gonna try anyways?”

“Hell yes!”

Music kicked on, both of their umbrellas opened with a snap and suddenly the glittering suits were gone! Instead, the pair of them posed for half a second in skimpy black leotards as their brothers gasped before diving whole-heartedly into the routine Thorn had been so excited about from the start.

When the sun shines, we'll shine together Told you be here forever Said I'll always be your friend Took an oath, I'ma stick it out to the end

Thorn and Lowkey were up there having the time of their life and Fox smiled so hard it hurt! The entire crowd cheered raucously for them, some even singing along with the words that they knew as the pair hit every move in tandem with huge perfect flourishes and over-the-top energy. Then Thire somersaulted off the stage and leap onto the judges booth with a bang in front of Fox! He lip-synced directly at him, holding his umbrella like a mic, dropping low and flipping around his hair with pure, unfiltered joy on his face.

Now that it's raining more than ever Know that we'll still have each other You can stand under my umbrella You can stand under my umbrella, ella, ella, eh, eh, eh

Even Stitch had doubled over at Fox’s side, and Fox laughed so hard at the antics it brought tears to his eyes, happy tears this time, seeing his brothers shine, so full of life and joy. When Thorn jumped back on stage a burst of water rained down on them from above and they danced and stomped in the puddles it made, sending sparkling water and mist into the air as the song hit its climax, then struck a dramatic pose with their umbrellas on the final note. 

The theater went wild, Fox included, hollering their praises at the two of them! Thire and Rosie were on their feet, Grizzer spun in circles at Hound’s side, Stone was shouting for an encore and Stitch squeezed Fox’s arm with the hand still slung around his back. 

It didn’t matter who won, what everybody scored, or if they all wanted to throw the whole contest for the sake of his own self esteem. He had the best kih’vode in the GAR, with the biggest, most thoughtful hearts and the most incredible talents he could imagine, and he couldn’t be prouder to be their commander. Everyone had needed this tonight, hadn’t they?

Especially him.

Fox looked around the room at their faces with a heart that felt like it was seconds away from bursting. This night truly meant everything to him. He really had thrown the best fucking talent show Coruscant had ever seen, because he had the best family the galaxy could ever know, and he was so glad that he lived to see it.

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Credit and thanks for the following OC’s go to my talented pocket friends!!!!!!

Stitch - TooManyTeeth Tree - MagicalStardust Guts - ProwlingThunder Pointe & Bespin - Gracklewarp Rosie - Mira-Starfall Lefty & Lucky - John_in_Art and Wolviecat Kando & Sii - Dragomir and Star from discord! Crow, Penner & Lowkey - My own lil guys, Crow is from my The Lights You Make series, Penner from Brothers Gained Brothers Lost, and Lowkey from Dying Isn't Very Regulation!

Oh! And I HAD to make Thorn and Lowkey dance to Umbrella just like Tom Holland, it was WAY too perfect, and so was the Hondo Ohnaka shanty! Highly recommend checking both these out if you haven't seen them before, 10/10 no notes!

[lucewrites321]

"Falling in love with Regulus was like falling off of a cliff. It might have been mildly suicidal - he was James’ best friend’s little brother, he was a Slytherin, he was everything James should immediately hate - but it was thrilling all the same, and James couldn’t regret it for a second.

He couldn’t regret it because Regulus was beautiful, and witty, and quietly charming in a way that always managed to catch James off guard. He couldn’t regret it because Regulus was unpredictable, and each day loving him was an adventure, and once James had fallen in love with him, he never wanted the adventure to end.

James was a thrillseeker at heart, and Regulus was the most thrilling individual James had ever met. How could he not fall in love with him?

-

Or, what happens after."

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It's finished! The final instalment of this series is up! Read now on AO3! :)

[yourdadsbasement]

also it’s really funny to me that chris is the one everyone tortures in fanfic bc in the OG kratts creatures show, martin was the one who everything bad always happened to

[staygoldfics]

They See Right Through Me

Summary: Darry's only sixteen when his parents die, and after two years in the foster care system he makes it his goal in life to bring both of his brother's home. But what happens when Sodapop has spent his time in the system on the west side? And what happens when Ponyboy spent his time in the system in New York?

Chapter One: I Remember It All Too Well

Warnings: Very lightly mentioned hitting/abuse, lightly mentioned bruises and cuts. If I forgot anything, please let me know.

You can also find this on AO3

Taglist

Darry hasn’t known much since the night his parents died, his life since has been a whirlwind of nothingness, a vacuum in space pulling him in and suffocating him. He’s only had one goal in mind since his sixteenth birthday, get his brothers home, keep his family together.

People told him he was lucky after they died, lucky because a kind couple in Tulsa had heard the news of his parents passing and wanted to take him in for the next two years, let him finish high school in the same place he’d grown up. They couldn’t take in his brothers, could hardly even care for him, not that they really tried. Their home was safe and warm, but they never cared much for him, only his grades, football and him keeping out of trouble. They said he was lucky when Sodapop got a placement on the west side, close enough to see each other at school and when Darry wasn’t busy working and Soda’s foster parents weren't parading him around town to show off what a good deed, they were doing by taking him in. They were lucky cause Soda’s foster father only hit him occasionally, lucky because he still had food on his plate and a place to sleep at night.

People tell Darry he’s lucky because he’s smart, a good football player, because once he turns eighteen, he has an out if he’s smart enough to take it. College waits for him, or at least that’s what Sodapop says when they sit in the lot together, looking up at the sky. There’s dirt covering the light blue polo shirt Sodapop wears, Darry has to walk him to the border between the east and west side to keep him from getting jumped, and then have Paul walk Soda back to his foster parents. Soda doesn’t look like a greaser anymore but he sure as hell ain’t a soc, he’s not safe on either side of town anymore.

Darry doesn’t feel lucky when he applies for colleges to keep everyone off his back and then throws away his acceptance letters. Doesn’t feel lucky when he visits his parents grave alone and wonders how the hell, he’s supposed to fill shoes that could never be his size. Doesn’t feel lucky when he patches up Sodapop’s bruises and cuts and holds his brother as he sobs.

Darry remembers the day the state separated them like it was yesterday, has nightmares almost every night of the feeling of his baby brothers being pulled out of his arms. Sodapop at only 12 had been screaming, he was always the most emotional, always the loudest.

“Get away from me!” Soda had yelled, fists flying into their social worker, Miss.Cowell's arms. Darry was the only one not crying, his eyes were trained solely on Ponyboy, the ten-year-old was shaking like a leaf in his arms, silent tears rolling down his cheeks. “Darry! Stop! Let go!” Sodapop had been the first to be pulled away from their childhood home.

Darry hadn’t been willing to let go when a different social worker, Mr.Fisher had stepped forward. “Come on Ponyboy, say goodbye, it’s time to go.” Pony had his arms wrapped so tightly around Darry’s middle the oldest could hardly breathe. He’d cried silently into Darry’s shoulder, and after only a minute of silence Fisher had stepped forward, wrapping his arms around Ponyboy’s middle, trying forcefully to take him out of Darry’s arms. It was a silent struggle besides Fisher’s repeated “Let go now boys.”

Darry swears it took at least twenty minutes for them to rip Ponyboy out of his arms, the struggle had felt like it lasted hours. As Ponyboy was dragged away, sobbing so hard Darry wondered how the boy was even breathing, he dropped his favorite bunny plushie, Boots. For years it was the only piece Darry and Sodapop had left of their baby brother. Darry didn’t cry until late that night, alone in a room that would never be his.

Darry spent the next two years going to school and working as much as he possibly could, saving every cent with a promise to get both of his brothers home the moment he turned eighteen. On his eighteenth birthday, only two months before graduation, he moved back into his childhood home, saved by the state and his parents life insurance. He hadn’t shed a single tear as he cleaned the thick layer of dust off everything in the home, as he avoided looking up at the pictures hung loosely on the walls, as he set Boots down carefully on Sodapop’s old bed. Darry got a full-time job roofing houses, graduated early and three weeks later he started the process of bringing his brother’s home.

It was time consuming to say the least, the constant home visits and paperwork, not to mention the cost of the court visits. The most ridiculous part in his opinion were the two months of supervised visits and overnight stays he’d had with Sodapop. As if they didn’t spend every spare moment they could together. But that was the deal, the state wanted him to get Sodapop home first, to make sure he could handle the responsibility before he could bring Ponyboy home.

Sodapop is halfway to 15 when Darry finally brings him home, bruised and tired but still wearing a smile brighter than the sun. On Soda’s 16th birthday Darry isn’t able to give him much, but what he can give is a small party with the gang, Steve, Two-bit and Johnny. Darry makes chocolate cake that is devoured in seconds, and carefully wraps a gold chain from their mother’s jewelry box in an old newspaper.

Sodapop already has tears in his eyes, hands carefully holding the gold chain, when Darry delivers the news, his biggest present. “Ponyboy is coming home Soda.”

There’s a pause, everyone’s eyes on Sodapop, and then suddenly Soda is slamming into Darry, arms wrapped tightly around his older brother, his shoulders shaking with quiet sobs. Darry holds his baby brother just as tight, running his fingers through Soda��s greased hair as he continues. “We’re skipping the supervised visits, since Pony’s placement is so far away, they're letting us go straight to weekend stays. Miss.Cowel says if all goes well then it should only be a month before he gets to come home permanently.”

Darry and Soda spend the next two weeks getting the house ready for their brother to come home. Which leads them to now. Darry doesn’t know much, hasn’t since his parents died. But he knows the 13-year-old kid in front of him is not his kid brother. This boy's eyes are too cold, gray storm clouds glare at him underneath bangs that are a little too long and covered in a thick layer of grease. The kid has his hands shoved deep into the pockets of an oversized leather jacket, there’s bruises blooming along the boy’s jawline, his left eye is red and surrounded by black and blue. The kid's shoulders are hunched, his jaw clenched, he looks ready for a fight.

There’s an awkward silence as Darry, Soda, Miss.Cowel and Ponyboy all stand on the Curtis front porch on a sunny Friday afternoon. Darry isn’t sure what he was expecting to happen when he finally saw his kid brother again, but tense silence hadn’t been something he prepared for. Miss.Cowel, never one for wasting time, hands over a trash bag that doesn’t even look half full. Darry feels like throwing up when he realizes this bag is Ponyboy’s things. “I’ll be back to pick him up on Sunday.” She says and then without another word she leaves the brothers alone, Darry watches as her car disappears down the street and wonders how anyone could ever think he was lucky.

Sodapop is the first to speak and Darry doesn’t need to look at his brother to know he’s on the verge of tears. “Pony?” Soda steps closer, reaching out for their baby brother. Darry’s fist tightens around the trash bag when he looks back at his kid brother just in time to watch as Ponyboy flinches away. Sodapop’s hand freezes between them and then drops lamely to his side, the kids’ hands are shaking. “Baby what happened to you?” Soda tries again voice hardly above a whisper.

Darry’s suspicion that this is absolutely not his brother is confirmed when the boy rolls his eyes and in a thick New York accent he responds. “I ain’t a baby.”

[mechazushi]

God, you're dense [Affectionate].

{a Kn8 short story}

Hoshina wasn't one to play games. Sure, he liked to have fun, but playing with people's emotions and perceptions wasn't something he could get into. He raised himself on the belief that being straight forward on something was the best course of action. If someone couldn't get on the same page as him, that was on them. He worked in a position where the best moves forward and anyone else that can't keep up with him were best left behind. Of course, much like most rules in life, there were exceptions to the rule. His biggest fault to everything he stood for was a tall, jolly, brute of a beast named Kafka. Kafka would be an exception to most everything he would die on a hill for. On the opposite end of the spectrum, however, was one person that he held to the highest accordance of his standards. His brother.

Hoshina made a point not to talk to his brother after he got accepted into the defense force. The restrictions on that got tighter after he got accepted as Mina's Vice Captain. Since before, he still showed up to family gatherings at the least to entertain his mother's concerns about his livelihood in the Third Division. Still, just because he didn't make attempts to contact his family, doesn't mean his family doesn't make attempts to contact him. It was always inevitable (because they don't tell him ahead of time) always with the supposed best of intentions (Because what quality road to hell isn't paved with them) and always at the most inconvenient times (an ability that seemed to be an inbred skill in every other family member). Between catching up on chores that should have been done yesterday, decaf in the communal coffee machine, and his third favorite pen breaking, Hoshina found he wasn't in the mood to talk. So obviously it was a perfect time to be visited by his least favorite person.

Walking down the hallway with a mountain of signed paperwork, his pace was intended to be brisk, but felt sluggish all the same. As he passed an intersection in hallways, he noticed the large frame of a burly friend catching up behind him. As Kafka slowed his pace to match his commander's, Hoshina tilted his face in his direction and flashed what was hoped to be a casual and respectful smile.

"Had a feeling you'd feel like that once I heard about the incident at the coffee machine. Here. Brought this for ya." Kafka said as he handed over a steaming mug of dark tan coffee.

"Oh, I already had coffee today." Hoshina tried to politely decline. he guessed his smile wasn't as bright as it should have been if Kafka could see he was feeling off.

"Yeah, but that was decaf." he insisted as he held the mug by its rim and pointed its handle temptingly toward its intended recipient.

Hoshina stiffed its steam heavily as it wafted under his nose. The smell of a caffeinated brew being much more rejuvenating than the bland swill he choked down this morning. He didn't think twice as he shifted the paper load more securely under his arm and took the offered mug greedily. There was a low, grateful moan as the hot, searing, and just lightly sweetened liquid burned pleasantly down the back of his throat.

'You might've just saved my mental state yet again, Kafka." Hoshina finally muttered after nearly downing half of the mug.

Kafka just chuckled as he walked in time with him, and after a while, held out a hand in an offer to carry the paperwork. Hoshina politely refused again, feeling genuinely better now that he had something more stimulating coursing throughout his system. Walking side by side, they engaged in pleasant idle chatter as they continued down the hallway. Without checking how far they had walked, they neared an area that had a lobby that was sparsely populated. As they got closer, an irritatingly familiar voice rang clear in the partially echoey room.

"Brother Dearest!" Soichiro Hoshina, Soshiro's older brother, was leaning against the desk in the back center of the lobby, relaxing like he deserved the space he was taking up.

"Oh God, why aren't I being delivered from evil like I ask every Shrine visit?" Soshiro muttered as soon as he realized who was occupying the open room with them.

"That's your brother?" Kafka asked as he laid eyes on the visitor.

"Unfortunately." Soshiro said with every letter somehow overflowing with distain and loudly enough to be heard by the other person.

"Come on, brother! You had to have known that one of these visits was to have to happen soon? It's been, what, months since you've even sent at minimum a hello to Mother." Soichino's words were playful, a clear difference in demeanor to the attitude his younger brother was radiating. A second had passed as he clearly gave the plus one an interested once-over after he lifted his sunglasses off his face.

"Well, hello soldier. And who might you be?" A salacious smile slithered coolly over Soichiro's glossy, thin lips. His tongue flicked out and over his teeth teasingly as he continued to stare down Kafka with a darkened sense of interest. Kafka bowed deeply in greeting before he introduced himself.

"Kafka Hibino. Officer of the Third Division." was his militantly clipped response.

"Kafka... Kafka... Where have I heard that name before?" Soichiro drawled out as he shifted over to Kafka's side, poking his shoulder with the arm of his sunglasses with playful emphases.

"He's our Kaiju Number Eight, you salacious cur. Now what are you doing here?" Soshiro snarked as he took another sip of his coffee. His brother made no move to acknowledge the comment as he continued to speak directly to Kafka.

"Kaiju Number Eight, huh! So you're the beast on the battlefield. Is it too much for me to ask if you're a beast anywhere else?" That Cheshire smile never left his face as his eyes turned into a more evaluating gaze.

"Well, I'm the Division's only on call Kaiju. It's pretty safe to say that I'm always the beast when it's needed." Kafka smiled bashfully as a hand came up to scratch the back of his neck. Soichiro practically giggled as a hand came up to mischievously smack the other shoulder.

"Look at you! Making out to be something that strong and powerful as a humble brag!" the older brother seemed to slide in closer to Kafka's personal space, with Kafka playing it off as business as usual. Soshiro could feel the handle of the mug creaking under his tightened grip as he looked on at his brother's shameless display.

"Ya know, I had originally cleared out my schedule to take my brother out on a lunch date, but I've just realized he's been a horrible brother and hasn't shown me around the Third Division's main facilities not once!", Soichiro saddled up impossibly closer and even had the audacity to slip a hand around the back of Kafka's forearm, "Why don't I be a good Captain and help clear yours so you can show me around? I'm sure any tour by you would be far more interesting than what he could provide." Soshiro watched as he saw the offer being sealed with an obviously flirty wink.

"Well, I'd be happy to! That is, if it's alright with my Vice Captain?" Kafka asked as he looked innocently toward the younger brother, seemingly unaware or unaffected by the attention he was currently being given.

"No Kafka, that won't be necessary, If my brother is going to come out all this way to see me, then he's just going to have to settle for my company alone." Soshiro said as he placed his paperwork and his coffee mug on the abandoned reception desk.

"Yeah, that makes sense. Maybe some other time?" Kafka asked as he looked at the older Hoshina brother.

"Such a shame. Don't be surprised if I take you up on that offer." Soichiro tittered as he patted the other side of the forearm he was still holding onto. The two brothers watched intently as Kafka turned around and walked down the hallway. Soshiro waited until he was out of every possible hearing range before he decided to speak.

"Alright, you bottle-platinum harlot. What the hell was that display all about?" Soshiro made no attempts to restrain his irritation at his brother's expense. He had no idea what game his brother was trying to play with him, but he wouldn't stand for it since it seemed to involve a very close and personal friend of his.

"I don't know what you mean." Soichiro said as he kept tittering. His posture and demeanor revealing to his younger brother that there was a plan brewing behind those evil eyes.

"I will not have you seducing my strongest man over to your division while I'm here." Soshiro commanded as he leveled a piercing gaze at the other person.

"Excuse me, 'Your man'? I'm sorry, but I didn't see a ring on his finger." Soichiro teased as he turned to face his brother.

"That's not what I meant and you know it, you vile rake." Soshiro spat the words out in an attempt to dissuade any further conversation on the topic.

"So catty today, are we brother? I was simply taking in the local selection. I'm not surprised you're interested in him." Soichiro chatted as he teasingly bit on the arm of his sunglasses.

"I also see you've decided to take up slander as a hobby since last we met." Soshiro grumbled as he found himself forced into a position where he had to talk to his brother in person for more than a minute.

"Oh, please! You know our family has a history of liking them sweet and dumb. How do you think Mother's marriage has lasted this long?" Soichiro continued as he leveled a knowing stare at him.

"If you're going to keep insinuating things that don't exist, I'm going to order you to cancel the lunch date and leave." the younger brother retorted as he turned around to drink the last sips from the coffee mug.

"What do you think I'm insinuating?" Soichiro purred as his sight never left his brother.

"Don't toy with me today, you troglodytic trollup. I am in no mood to bat around this string of yarn you're trying to spin here." Soshina kept snapping back as he took the opportunity to avoid eye contact as he shuffled around the stack of papers.

"Why all the denial, Brother Dearest? Especially since we're so far from Egypt. Besides, it's not slander saying you like a coworker as if your interactions weren't displayed all over the news two weeks ago." The grin broke into a full blown, toothy smile of superiority as the Captain of the Sixth Division draped himself over the desk's top next to Soshiro.

"What... interactions?" the Vice Captain hissed as he slowly turned his head to side-eye his brother

"Should I reenact it for you?" Soichiro giggled before flopping onto his back and dramatically fainting, "Oh! I seem to have taken a terrible fall and broken both of my legs! Oh, is there some dark, handsome, Knight in living armour that can princess-carry my oh so fragile body to the farthest fucking ambulance on scene and completely bypass three others that were unoccupied and were going to take me to the same fucking hospital!" It was clear that he was taking a massive amount of joy retelling his version of events that he saw on the news as his voice raised in volume with every reveal.

"I didn't break my legs, I dislocated my ankles! What would you have me do, walk?" Soshiro started to match his brother's volume and had now fully turned to him to confront this problem of point-of-views head on.

"The cameras clearly show you two having a conversation where it shows you convincing him to carry you!" The two of them were so close to each other's faces now their noses could touch.

"I was trying to convince him not to!" Soshiro returned.

"Because the cameras were rolling?" Soichiro asked.

"Yes!" his brother answered.

"AND BECAUSE YOU TWO ARE IN LOVE! Why else be camera shy about being carried around in public?" The eldest returned triumphantly as he poked him in the chest.

"NO." Soshiro shouted back as he shoved his brother backwards, "We are not in love! What part of this do you think it's okay to date someone like him?"

"Oh don't act like you can't because he's under your position. He makes his own precedent as he breathes! And you are the right type of rebellious, attention craving, delinquent punk that would absolutely fall for someone that is perfect for you in all the right ways, while also him being a human anomaly in every sense of the word! He turns into something our family has been training it's young to kill for centuries so of course you're going to deviate from the norm and be practically head over heels for him!" The Captain couldn't stop himself from cackling as his lungs quaked from talking for so long without breath.

There wasn't anything left on the matter that Soshiro could say to make his brother change his mind, so he decided to let his fists do the talking for him as he sent a vicious right hook. His fist connected to his brother's left eye and caught him off guard for a second. Before he could speak out against the assault, the younger brother wasted no time in jumping onto his brother and throwing his fists left and right. The two soon became a mass of tangled limbs and colorful curse words on the floor. It wasn't like this for long as two other people came across the fight and helped break up the fray.

"Alright, alright! Break it UP!" You two are grown up men, and Defense Force officers at that! ACT LIKE IT!" Okonogi reprimanded them as Aoi held them off the ground by their jacket collars.

"Yes, Okonogi." The brothers said in unison. As they were set back on the ground, they straightened their outfits and waited to see if their new company would leave. When they didn't, Soichiro decided to speak what was left on his mind anyway.

"The lunch date is still on, by the way. Mother's orders. How about I give us an hour to cool down and we try this whole 'conversation' thing again?" he tried to say with as much possible conviction in his smile. Soshiro just glared violently as he picked up the stack of papers from the desk.

"I do what I damn well please, you leporid bunk bunny." he said as he stormed off. Everyone watched as he walked away before his older brother spoke up again.

"He'll be fine."

 𓈒   𑁍 𓈒

It was a little after seven thirty before Hoshina felt fine enough to interact with anyone. Spending some time in the gym helped him feel better after dealing with the Lunch Date From Hell. It also helped that he got to meet his favorite punching bag for sparring.

"Look -huff- I get you -huff- don't like your brother -huff-, but did you really -huff- need to literally -huff- kick my ass?" Kafka's lungs heaved after spending what felt like hours defending himself from his Vice Captain's volley of blows.

"Ya snooze, ya loose Kafka. Intense training is for your own good." Hoshina quipped back as he walked over to his duffle for water bottles. Kafka shambled behind him slowly and sat down on the bench the bag was next to.

"Intense training, my entire bruised ass. That last chokehold felt personal." Kafka began to regulate his breathing by the time Hoshina made it over with the water bottles.

As Hoshina drank from his, he subtly tried to look at Kafka as he poured some of the bottle's contents onto himself. He watched as the water made his partner's bangs stick to his forehead at odd angles and made a swift attempt to cool his fiery red cheeks. Hoshina didn't let his imagination run too far away from him as he thought about Kafka looking worn out and sweaty for a different reason. Of course he denied everything that was said earlier that was concerning the situation between him and Kafka. Mainly because it all implied that Kafka felt the same way he did. Had it been a complete stranger talking to him this morning, it would have shocked everyone that knew him once they heard how different his answers would have been.

As Kafka finished rubbing the cool water into his face and straightened his back and arms out into an intense looking stretch, Hoshina forced himself to look away from the rippling of muscle and the straining of his tank top around said muscles. In moments like this, when he was sure no one would be looking or they were alone, Hoshina liked to play a little game with Kafka. It wasn't one that you could win with points or anything. Hell, some days it made Hoshina feel like all he did was lose by playing, but he couldn't deny that conniving little twitch that begged for him to play over and over again. All so he could see that dumb little smile.

"Still improving as slow as always." Hoshina said after a minute of relaxing on the bench.

"Hey, at least I am still improving, right?" Kafka returned as he looked back at his Vice Captain.

There was a smile, sure, but it wan't big. He could do better.

"Can't say I don't find you to be consistent at least 1% of the time." Hoshina offered as a response, deciding to bring up a well used joke between them. He turned back to look out at the empty gym in front of them.

"God, I still haven't gotten higher than that, haven't I?" Kafka chuckled out of the side of his mouth.

"It was a good thing we found out you were a kaiju when we did. Could you imagine what would have happened if you couldn't raise that percentage up high enough in three months?" Hoshina thought the comment sounded funnier in his head, but once he heard it out loud he wanted to smack himself for it. Everyone knew that it was a horrible thought, thinking about Kafka not being around anymore. Even that was something Hoshina couldn't bring himself to deny or joke about.

"I do every day." Kafka sighed heavily, "Everyday I wake up here." He closed his eyes for a second as he smiled softly, his head coming to rest against the back wall the bench was against.

Hoshina turned back to look at him, taking Kafka's moment of vulnerability to look at him fully this time. He thought about it too. A life in the Defense Force where he didn't get to see Kafka everyday. A life where he didn't bring him coffee or hear his laugh or have drinks with him after work hours. Hoshina could feel his heart squeeze at the thought of Kafka not being in the Defense Force, or worse, suddenly living at a different Division. Being close by technicality, but feeling oh so very far.

"Did you notice my brother was flirting with you at all?" Hoshina felt himself ask before he could take the words back. He felt himself brace for the answer in the brief moments in between his heartbeats.

"Wait... really?" Kafka asked with genuine interest. Hoshina could feel his face twist into something between curiosity and mild disgust. Kafka couldn't tell he was being flirted with? And was okay with it coming from his brother?

"Ye-yeah?" Hoshina returned hesitantly.

"You sure? 'Cuz I mean... wow. He's... actually interested? In me?" Kafka's smile grew bigger and more wonky as he processed what he was told.

"You're okay with this?" Hoshina questioned incredulously. He could not believe what he was seeing, and was actively praying that this wasn't the case.

"Are you kidding? Of course! You're brother is frickin' hot!" Kafka replied with joy, "Is he, like, still around? I mean, I know he's not here kinda around, but I mean, is he like, nearby? Like in a hotel or something? Nah, that would be creepy. Oh! Could you let me have his number?" Kafka prattled on as Hoshina continued to become more and more disgusted. Sure, he was a little happy to hear that Kafka was cool with being hit on by guys, (and clearly reciprocated the sentiment) but felt absolutely horrified at hearing Kafka wanting his brother's number. So much so that he immediately stood on the bench seat so he could get a good enough vantage to stomp on Kafka to stop his train of thought.

"You! Will! NOT! Be! Dating! My! BROTHER!" Hoshina shouted out between the stomping.

"Jesus! And here I thought you wouldn't be having a problem with me liking guys! Yah know, since you told me about it!" Kafka shouted back as he tried to defend himself from the onslaught.

"I don't have a problem with you dating guys! I have a problem with you dating my brother!" Hoshina said as he pressed his foot down firmly onto Kafka's hands that were protecting his head.

'Well then, who would you rather have me date?" Kafka returned rhetorically.

"Me for starters!" Hoshina finally admitted. Once he did, he let the pressure off of his foot and just stayed in the position for a hot minute, feeling as awkward as a school girl admitting to her first crush. Kafka just held onto the foot as he looked up at his commander with wide, unbelieving eyes. All Hoshina could bring himself to do was look away, his cheeks flushing hot and bright. Kafka helped lower the foot down as he got up from his seat to face him from the front.

"Have... have you been flirting with me too?" Kafka asked. Hoshina still couldn't look at him or answer, so his cheeks answered for him.

"How long have you been flirting with me?" Kafka asked again.

"Two... two years." Hoshina answered quietly.

"We've known each other for two years." Kafka responded. Hoshina still hadn't made a move, only crossed his arms defensively.

"YOU'VE BEEN FLIRTING WITH ME SINCE WE MET?" Kafka shouted as he made the realization.

"To be fair, I don't flirt like a normal person and you clearly can't read context clues." Hoshina said as he finally regained some control over his mouth. He just wished he had better control over what it said.

"Why didn't you say anything before now?" Kafka sounded incredulous at the thought of how he could have been dating the most amazing person on base before now, had be been able to read between the lines.

" I kept thinking it was funny?" Hoshina responded in a shy, quivering voice as more blood rushed to his face and made it redder.

"Okay, now I have to ask. What about me do you like? Do you think I'm handsome, or do you really just like to think I'm funny?" Kafka questioned as he waved his hands around animatedly.

"Honestly? I just really like that you're funny." Hoshina said as he relaxed and playfully shrugged. Now feeling better about having all of this out in the open.

" So, just, fuck my face then." Kafka said in a sarcastically irritated manner while turning around and waving his arms.

"I would if you'd stop talking." Hoshina accidentally let slip.

He wasn't ashamed of saying it, but probably should have found a better time to say it. It didn't seem to matter anyway as Kafka took a second to stop his flailing and slowly turned around to face his commander again. A sly smile tugged at the corner of his lips as his eyes darkened at the play on words they stumbled into.

"Well alright then." Kafka chuckled darkly as he strode over to where Hoshina was still standing. He grabbed his legs and threw him over his shoulder, holding onto Hoshina's calves for dear life as he carried his thrashing lover out of the gym.

"Wha-what do you think you're doing?" Hoshina cried as he tried to look back at his kidnapper. Kafka returned the most intensely flirtatious side-eye back at him as they walked out of the gym.

"Moving training to your place, so you can properly shut me up."

"Wha-what, no dinner first?" Hoshina stuttered nervously as he continued to be paraded down the hall on Kafka's shoulder. He got even more nervous as Okonogi slid past his line of sight and watched them walk away.

"You've been flirting with me for two years. Dinner can wait." Kafka growled as the other hand came up and audibly smacked Hoshina on the ass.

[onlinegirloo]

Me and the girls waiting patiently for old xians holiday special chapter