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noirvedette · 3 days ago

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Chapter Two: The Union of Two

Satoru Gojo x Reader. (Royalty AU Series)

Synopsis: Wanting the best for your kingdom, you accept the marriage proposal sent by the Gojo empire to marry the new Emperor Satoru Gojo. What you don't know is that he has been yearning for you since he came to know of your existence and is determined to make you reciprocate his affections. How far will he go to earn your love? Series Warnings: Explicit language, smut, slight angst, acts of violence(not between the main characters), war. Author's Note: A longer chapter this time! Please let me know whether you enjoy it this way or if you'd prefer shorter chapters. Writing this during exam season so be prepared for irregular updates :) Word Count: 2.5k words

Today is the day. You and Satoru shall finally meet.

If things go as Satoru planned, you may marry each other in a few months.

To him, it all feels like a dream. Like a possibility of paradise.

He wondered what you would be like once you arrived, whether your smile would still be the reason behind his blushed cheeks, whether the calming cadence of your voice would still send shivers down his spine.

Whether you would still affect him the way you had five years ago.

He recalled every time he ranted about you to Jaeyun, telling him about how you captivated him to no end, squirming with embarrassment as the King jokingly called him pathetic for the nth time that day.

His heart started palpitating, threatening to abandon its place in his chest in favor of finding its way to you.

As he waited in his study, his mind went into overdrive.

What if you don't like him? What if you think that you are not right for each other? What if-

"Your Majesty." The Emperor's musings were interrupted by the voice of his secretary.

"Yes? What is it?" He inquired, exhaling a bated breath.

"The royal family of Aveloria have arrived." The secretary informed. "They await you in the salon."

With a nod and a small prayer recited in his mind, he strode to the salon.

Wow, you thought to yourself.

Satoru Gojo is a good-looking man.

Your mind was void of thoughts for the first few seconds within which he stepped into the room and interacted with your parents.

You took in his appearance—from azure eyes to hair that resembled the clouds in the sky—and it couldn't be denied that his appearance was nothing short of captivating.

The Emperor looked a little contrasting from when you saw him at King Jaeyun's coronation. Now, his features seemed more grown up, his jawline more defined and his eyes slightly sharper.

Eyes that were now looking at you, you realized.

"Your Majesty," You softly smiled at him, your hand outstretched for him to shake. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"The pleasure is all mine, Princess _____." Satoru smiled back, engulfing your hand in his. "And please, call me Satoru."

"Satoru it is." You declared, your hand still in his. Your heart sped up due to the physical contact.

You watched as he shifted his grasp and softly kissed the back of your hand. You felt your face warm up at the gentle feel of his lips on your skin.

God, he even smells good, you think as the scent of citrus and cedarwood surrounds you.

Soon after, his family joined as well. His mother, Magdalena, and his sister, Isadora, whom you were already well acquainted with, were nothing short of welcoming.

Conversation ensued as everybody took a seat Your parents discussed the statuses of your respective territories and other miscellaneous topics, but you chose to remain quiet, observe, and sip your tea in between, taking in Satoru's responses and body language.

He was nothing like the version of Satoru that you heard about. Nothing like the cold, egomaniacal tyrant that you've heard others lament about via gossip.

He seemed... amicable? He answered your parents' queries with courtesy and posed thoughtful questions to indicate that he was attentive as well. He even asked your brother about the younger one's hobbies and interests.

It was the bare minimum, and yet it brought a smile to your face.

Maybe marrying him would prove to be enjoyable after all.

Once the conversation began to meet its end, teacups and sandwich platters once filled now almost, empty, you collectively decided that it was time for you and Satoru to have a conversation in private. You followed him into the art gallery and watched him shut the door before facing you.

Feeling overwhelmed by nerves, you turned to look at the paintings.

A particular piece caught your eye, so you went toward it, admiring the landscape of the shell-pink tulip field before you. 'The Magnificence of Naturality,' the name of the artwork read.

"I take it that you like this one." You felt the warmth of his presence as his saccharine voice slightly soothed you. "Are tulips your favorite flowers?"

"Tulips are beautiful, I will admit, but hyacinths have to be my favorite." You smiled at him, your fingers playing with the sleeve of your dress to direct your anxiety elsewhere. "Which painting here is your favorite?"

"This one here." He pointed to the one beside the tulip field, directing your attention to it. "It's called 'Chasm in my Soul'."

In the aforementioned painting, a man and woman are at a dock, presumably just married, as they are in wedding attire. They appear to be slow dancing, with another man not too far away playing the violin.

A sigh of awe left your lips as you took in the intricacies of the painting. From the ripples in the water to the lace detailing in the bride's wedding dress, little was left to be desired.

"I understand why you like it so much." You turned to look at him, watching as he stared at the painting in admiration. "It's beautiful."

"It is." He smiles at you before decidedly changing the subject.

"I know that our previous interactions have been brief, but I really admire you, Princess _____." He began quietly, clearing his throat. "I genuinely hope that we can find happiness together."

He looked flustered, almost shy in your presence. You had no words. No idea how to respond to such passionate words.

"As far as I know you, Satoru, you seem nice," You started. "But I think we need to get to know each other more before making a decision."

"Of course! I agree completely." A grin bloomed on his lips. "We have much to learn about each other."

"I'll ask the first question," You took the lead, turning to look at the artwork once more "Why is this painting your favorite?"

"The shared happiness between the newlyweds is so heartfelt. It's a love that's quite rare to encounter," He began, his expression turning into one of fondness. "You can discern the comfort and solace they find in each other due to the artist's mastery."

"You were the last person I thought would be a romantic, Satoru." You teased, smirking up at him.

"I could show you just how romantic I can be, Princess." He smirked back, moving closer to you.

He's flirting with you. You barely maintain your composure while trying to muster up a response.

"Maybe I would like that." You reply, slightly breathless.

"Accept the proposal and I promise you, I will." His eyes darted to your lips for a quick second before meeting yours again.

"I need to think about it," You teased once more, an easy grin twitching on your lips. "I hope you'll be patient."

"I'll be anything you want, _____." Unlike you, he was serious, his words containing an intensity that wasn't previously present. "I'll wait for as long as you want me to."

His expression was one of determination, ready to wait for you as long as you wanted him to.

Little did the Emperor know that he wouldn't have to wait too long at all.

You had already made your decision.

Once you returned from the art gallery with Satoru, you exchanged pleasantries with his family to end the night, his mother whispering in your ear about wanting you to be her daughter-in-law, making you blush in the process. He pretended not to hear her, choosing to believe that the surge of warmth he felt was completely unrelated to her hushed words.

That night, once you returned to the palace, you quickly bid good night to your family as you were tired due to the day's festivities. You sluggishly walked into your chamber, leaning your forehead on the door once you clicked it shut.

A gasp left your lips as you turned around.

There in the middle of your room stood a familiar landscape of a tulip field. 'The Magnificence of Naturality' glinted in the lighting of your room, along with a bouquet of hyacinths placed on your nightstand. A smile bloomed on your face as you noticed a note on the bouquet.

'The hue of these flowers may be beautiful, nevertheless, nothing will be as alluring as you always have been.'

The Emperor is an abundance of surprises, it seemed.

[SEVEN MONTHS LATER]

The wedding would be the very epitome of royal luxury.

It was to take place within the ceremonial cathedral, every crevice of the building embellished in burgundy and gold accents.

The general public was elated to hear the announcement regarding your wedding. Others mused upon what the union between two extremely powerful nations would result in.

You stood in the dressing room, staring at your satin dress in the mirror, admiring the corset bodice and flowy skirt. The jewels in your crown glistened in the natural light. A few minutes remained before the procession would begin.

Needless to say, you were trepidatious.

This moment didn't feel real. Nothing about this whole ordeal felt real.

In a few hours, you would be married to an Emperor. A very influential one at that.

Within the few months between the confirmation and the actual wedding, you rendezvoused with Satoru many more times. He treated you to elaborate dinners, took you to explore his land, bought you all the best street food, and gave you an opportunity to mingle with his citizens who would regard you as the Empress.

By the time you were done recounting all the experiences you've had with Satoru in these few months, a dazed smile formed on your lips.

There was a knock on the door, followed by Isadora walking into the room. "Nervous?"

"A little." You released a shaky breath.

There's nothing to be worried about, _____." She comforted you, noticing your hands slightly trembling. "We're all here for you, okay? This is a joyous occasion, my dear. Cherish it."

"I will." A nervous laugh left your lips, making her chuckle in return.

She nodded towards the door and then looked back at you. "Shall we?"

You responded with a curt nod, took her hand, and followed her out of the room and into your chariot.

Into your future.

Clad in his military attire and regalia, Satoru stood at the altar awaiting his bride-to-be.

He wiped off the sweat on his hands for the nth time that day, the cold temperature doing nothing to calm the heat within.

His mother sat in the front pew and smiled at the sight of him so anxious as Jaeyun tried to make him relax.

Suddenly, the crowd went silent, announcing your arrival. The doors to the cathedral slowly opened and you came into his view.

Satoru had never looked more in awe in all twenty-two years of existence.

No man will ever be as fortunate as me, he thought to himself.

You looked enchanting.

You maintained eye contact with him, a soft smile gracing your features as the long, dramatic train of your dress flowed behind.

You stopped and turned to bow down to his family and yours, sending Heeseung a teasing smile once you noticed the tears in his eyes.

The priest then began the ceremony, blessing your marriage with unity and prosperity.

You exchanged glances with Satoru now and then, returning his grin with your own each time until it was time to exchange your vows.

You placed your hands in his own as the ring-bearer found his place beside the both of you.

"I, Satoru Gojo, take thee, _____ Amiria, to be my wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part, according to God’s holy ordinance; and thereto I give thee my troth."

With that, Satoru slipped the intricate gold ring onto your finger, his engraved initials catching your eye.

"I, _____ Amiria, take thee, Satoru Gojo, to be my wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part, according to God’s holy ordinance; and thereto I give thee my troth."

You smiled at each other as you slipped an identical gold ring onto his finger, your grins widening as you took note of your initials on the wedding band.

The priest then confirmed and blessed the wedding once more, deeming you married. You could hear the cheers of the crowd that had amassed on the church grounds, congratulations being hollered in unison by the people outside.

Soon, the guests started to file out of the cathedral to make their way to the private reception.

You and Satoru, however, began climbing the stairs to the third floor of the church within which the balcony was located.

There, you would make your first public appearance as a couple, greeting and thanking the crowd for their celebrating your union.

The public appearance also entailed sharing your first kiss.

You tried not to think about it too much and instead, tried to live in the moment, deciding to focus on your hand in Satoru's.

Once the doors to the balcony opened, the both of you walked to the front, waving at the crowd with your unoccupied hands.

The cheers and happiness that emanated from the crowd were positively overwhelming, and Satoru could tell. To lessen your nerves, he drew circles on the back of your hand with his thumb, effectively soothing you.

You turned to face Satoru as he did the same. He cupped your face with one hand as you placed yours on his shoulders.

"It's just you and me, okay?" He gently smiled at you as you nodded. "Just you and me."

Two heartbeats later, his lips met yours.

The sound of the crowd cheering melted into the background as you kissed. It was gentle, teasing even, and you could feel each other smiling in your moment of passion.

Once you pulled away, you mind was hazy. You felt your face burning up as the cheers got substantially louder. You turned to wave at the crowd once more.

In the enclosed area where your family stood, you found Heeseung discreetly pretending to vomit, coaxing a laugh out of you.

Once the final goodbyes were said, the departing procession began.

You and Satoru climbed into your shared chariot, thus marking the beginning of the trip for your honeymoon to Damona Isles, a tropical island located in the south of Aveloria.

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#gojo satoru #gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk smut #satoru gojo #satoru gojo x reader #jjk fluff #jjk angst #gojo satoru smut

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seungfl0wer · 1 day ago

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*𝑨𝒔 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑾𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝑩𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒔*

Chapter 3

Chapter(3) Title -> Little Hero

Chapter Warnings: Smut, Angst, Fluff, Fighting, Mentions of blood and bullying, Shower Sex, Dirty Talk, Pet Names, Oral (M), Knotting, Unprotected Sex, Creampie, Hair Pulling, Biting/Marking. Sorry for any mistakes or missing tags

A/N: This was made with days in between so I’m sorry if it may seem a little wonky :(

Series Master List

🐾—

Minho tried to squirm his way from your sleeping grasp. Wanting to go make breakfast however your hold on him was tight. He let out a small sigh before trying to peal your hands off of him one last time. You started to squirm under him making him stop. Too late though, you were awake. “Stop moving” you said softly against his ear making stutter.

“I gotta go make breakfast.” He said softly trying to turn a bit to look at you.

“I’ll let you go on one condition” you said with a sly smile.

“Whats that?” He said tilting his head to look at you better.

“You gotta let me help” you said your smile growing.

“Y/n” he started saying before you cut him off.

“Please” you said giving him puppy dog eyes now.

“Fine, but how are you gonna get away from them?” He said pointing at the men that clung to you.

“I got this” you said.

You let him go, watching him as he got up turning to watch you. You started to move before Chan grabbed ahold of you.

“Where you going?” He said groggily.

“Gonna help make breakfast. You sleep.” You said softly kissing his cheek. You pulled Jisung over a bit letting him cuddle up to Chan before you smirked at Minho.

“See. Now let’s go cook” you said walking towards the kitchen trying not to wake anyone else up.

Minho grabbed a pan before rummaging through the fridge. “Take this and cut it” he said handing you fruit.

You saluted him “Roger that”

He rolled his eyes before starting the eggs, bacon, sausage and other things. You kept asking for anything to help. He had you make some pancakes and set the table as he cooked. As he watched you make the food he couldn’t help but melt. Cooking was something he absolutely loved and sharing it with you made him almost giddy. His body almost moved on its own, coming behind wrapping his arms around your waist. You jumped a little feeling him but settled quickly letting out a content hum.

His heart was honestly racing, he’s never felt anything like the way he’s feeling with you. He didn’t know if it was because of you being an omega or simply the fact that you were so kind. He leaned into you more head resting on your back. Swaying back and forth you couldn’t help but giggle. This scary looking guy just being soft with you. He moved his head a little to watch you flip the pancake. He let out a content sigh before kissing your neck softly. His hands rested firmly on your hips as he kept you in place. His body was so warm and his scent was almost earthy like wood but with sweet scents like honeydew.

As he let another kiss to your neck he took in a deep breath taking your scent in. He couldn’t help but burry his head into your neck kissing it more as he breathed you in.

“This is the kitchen, it’s meant for eating not whatever this is” a voice from behind said.

You couldn’t help but giggle at his words before Minho shot back “I could be eating” he said looking at him with a grin.

Seungmin came beside you getting in the fridge for a water. “Don’t let him fool you, he’s a bully” Seungmin said with a little smirk looking from your face to Minho.

Minho rolled his eyes pulling himself from you before putting the food on the table. “Wanna go wake everyone up?” Minho asked you as he placed the last bit of food. You nodded going back to wake the boys up. You woke up each man one by one before getting to Chan when you went to wake him he grabbed your arm pulling you to him. He kissed you softly before nuzzling his face into your neck. He nipped at your neck softly before his hand came up under your shirt.

“Chan” you said softly “hey we’re in the living room, wake up” you said trying to wake him more.

“Smell so good” he said against your neck before he started sucking a purple mark onto it. Your body was becoming hot as his hand wondered up your body.

“Bangchan.” You heard Minhos voice yelling making Chan jolt awake.

“Sorry y/n should have warned you some of the boys have some troubles waking up. Just glad Felix didn’t do anything.”

“Hey! That was one time and I was having a nightmare!” Felix yelled from the kitchen.

“Yeah yeah, you’re not the one that had a black eye” Minho said in a huff.

Chan lifted your head to look at him “sorry sweetheart” he said before kissing you softly.

“Suck face later, breakfast is ready and you know Minho won’t let us eat unless we are all here!” Seungmin yelled from the kitchen.

You both laughed getting up before heading to the kitchen. You all ate and discussed plans for today.

“I gotta go to the store today, y/n wanna come with and pick some stuff out?” Felix asked with a smile.

“Sounds good to me” you said with a smile back.

“I’ll drive you guys, I gotta pick up a few things anyways.” Minho said.

—🐾—

After breakfast you headed to get a shower when you opened the door you were greeted with a naked Hyunjin making your face turn bright red.

“I- uhm I’m sorry I didn’t-“ you stuttered out making him chuckle.

“You getting a shower?” He asked smiling.

“Yeah” you nodded.

“Cool, we can take on together!” He said.

“Is that ok?” You asked. Sure you remembered Chan saying about sharing you with everyone but you were afraid of making him upset.

“Don’t worry Angel, it’s ok. You’re all of ours to love. If it makes you feel better though I can call Chan” he said picking his phone up.

You shook your head “i- I just wanted to make sure I don’t want to” you started to say softly looking at the floor.

“Make him mad? Trust me. It’s ok.” Hyunjin said as he moved closer to you. He lifted your head up to look at him before kissing you lovingly. His lips felt like little clouds and tasted sweet like the syrup from the pancakes. When he pulled away his cheeks were flushed as was yours. You both giggled before he started the water.

“Take your time Angel.” He said before stepping into the shower.

You felt nervous getting naked, but you let out a soft sigh before slowly stripping. You were about to be in the shower with Hyunjin. Naked. Naked in the shower with Hyunjin. Your heart was racing, you pulled the curtain back to step in. You were greeted by a smiling Hyunjin he didn’t look at you, head under the water he just sensed you were there.

“Is the water to wa-“ he started to say his words getting caught in his throat when he saw you. His eyes trying not to roam, not wanting to make you feel uncomfortable. How could he not look over you though? Your body was stunning, perfect hips, perfect breast just fucking perfect. He was ogling you for a solid minute before snapping out of it. “S-sorry you’re just so- pretty” he said softly.

“You guys keep saying that but I don’t see it” you say sheepishly.

“You are- seriously you’re breath taking” he said before moving closer to you. His hand came up to cup your cheek rubbing his finger over it before he smiled. His eyes looked at you with so much love, so endearing.

“You’re the most beautiful creature I’ve ever laid my eyes on.” He said before kissing you, the kiss made your heart thud. It felt so passionate so loving. You couldn’t help let out a content sigh making him smile against your lips.

Your hands made their way up his chest wrapping your arms around his neck. You downed the kiss hands tangling in his hair. He let out a soft whimper at the feeling making it easy to slide your tongue into his mouth. He pulled you with him, under the warm water. His hand slid down your body before finding its way to your folds. He let his fingers slide up and down teasing your hole. You moaned into the kiss pulling his hair slightly when he came close to your clit. You let a hand come down his body to touch his length.

His cock was a pretty pinkish color, it was long and slightly curved. The moment you touched him he melted. His legs became unsteady as he felt you gripping his cock. Hand slowly moving up and down, paying extra attention to his tip. Fingers lightly tracing over his mushroom tip before smearing the precum over it. His hips bucked at the feeling, his hand stopped moving. The pleasure you were giving him making his brain short circuit. He’s never experienced another person touching him let alone his beautiful omega.

“Y/n-“ he whimpered out.

You pulled away from his lips looking at him. That was a mistake. Fuck did he look so good. His lips a bit red from the make out session, his eyes all glossy, hair a mess. He looked at you with such desperation and need you couldn’t help yourself. “Hyune” you said softly making him perk up a little.

“Yes. Yes angel?” He panted.

You moved your body pressing it against the shower, ass now pushed back to press against his cock. You took his cock against your folds moving your body a bit.

“This will feel even better” you said.

He let out a loud groan “yeah? Want me to- to make love to you?” He said taking ahold of his cock moving it up and down your folds.

“Please?” You said looking back at him with bedroom eyes.

He nods before pushing into you slowly, he’s moaning with each inch. Your walls swallowing him up, pulling him deeper into you. He felt like he would cum right there and then. He couldn’t move his body almost frozen in pleasure. Before he knew it though you were moving. You moved your hips back pushing him deep into you. You fucked yourself on his cock, you were moaning, he was moaning. The pleasure was so much for the both of you.

“Fuck- fuck- Angel-“ he whimpered grabbing ahold of your hips to slow you down but it was no use. You were chasing your high and you were chasing it fast. His cock pressed against your g-spot making your body shutter. He leaned his body against yours leaving soft kisses to your back. His hand playing with your clit rubbing small circles around it.

You moved a hand to reach back to him, hand finding his hair. You intertwined your fingers tugging on it a bit rougher than before. His hips jolted forward making you both moan his hips were meeting your movements now. Fucking you so deep the curve of his cock making it so perfect for hitting your g-spot. With every thrust you both became lost. Hand pulling hard on his hair as you felt yourself ready to cum.

“Hyunjin! Fuck- gonna- cumming!” You choked out tugging on his hair one more time before he pushed as deep inside of you as he could. He thought about knotting you but he knew it wouldn’t go down before you had to leave so he let it press against your entrance. He could see it pulse as he unloaded inside you. He didn’t even realize with the last hair pull he had sunken his teeth into the back of your shoulder. He licked the bite making the bleeding stop before he kissed your neck softly.

“Y/n- I love you” he said softly against your ear.

“I love you to hyune” you said in a whisper back.

You both stood there panting before he pulled away. “You ok?” He asked.

You nodded “very much so, are you?” You asked.

He nodded back “we better get cleaned before the water gets too cold” he said with a smile he pulled you close to him kissing you lovingly.

“I really really do love you” he said pressing his head against yours.

“And I really love you” you said with a smile kissing the tip of his nose.

You both got cleaned up, hyunjin taking all the time he could with you. He watched your every move just loving having you to himself. He felt himself just fall for you, falling for you harder with each passing second. You’re his, theirs. He’ll do everything in his power to keep you safe and to make you feel loved till the day he dies.

—🐾—

When you both came out, Felix all but tackled you. Again. He slunk his arms around you pulling you away from hyunjin. With a slight whine Hyunjin just smiled, he had you before the others making him feel a little special. Felix pulled you to your room where he had picked out a pretty black dress for you. It had little hints of purple all through it with a nice neck line.

“I picked this out I know you’re gonna look so pretty in it! Oh oh and I have a jacket for you!” He said with a big smile handing you one of his jackets.

“Thank you lix it’s really pretty” you said smiling back at him.

“If you guys aren’t out here in the next 5 minutes I’m leaving without you!” You hear Minho yell.

You rolled your eyes before dropping the towel you had wrapped around you. Felix’s eyes went wide seeing your naked body. As much as he wanted to turn away he couldn’t. He watched as you grabbed the dress putting it on.

“Lix how does it look?” You asked twirling around to look at him.

His cheeks were flushed a bright red “beautiful” he breathed out. The way he was looking at you could only be described as heart eyes.

“Let’s go!” You heard one last warning from Minho. You scurried to get your shoes on lix taking your hand as you made your way down the hall.

“You look so pretty y/n” Changbin said with a smile.

“Yeah, that looks great on you” Chan said coming into kiss you softly.

You heard a honking sound coming from outside “you better go before he drives the car through the house” Chan teased. He kissed you one last time before making your way to the car.

Felix opened the car door for you as you slunk in you looked over at Minho. “Someone’s impatient” you teased.

Minho rolled his eyes “you guys are just slow”

As you drove to the store Minho placed a hand on your thigh. You jumped a bit making him chuckle. Felix sat in the back humming along to the music.

—🐾—

Pulling in the store Felix was quick to get out to open the door for you he smiled as you got out kissing your cheek sweetly. He intertwined your hands together smiling cheek to cheek.

Minho came around the car shaking his head at you both. Before walking towards the store, he grabbed a cart while you both followed behind him. “Get what you want” he said rolling down the isles. Felix grabbed a few things putting them in the cart. He giggled as he watched Minho looking so serious as he shopped.

“Minho knows what everyone likes so he always stalks up on them. He acts like he doesn’t care but he really does” Felix teased. He said it loud enough for Minho to hear.

“I’ll leave you here” he said not even turning around. “And you” he said “you better get some stuff” he said firmly.

Felix pulled you to another isle full of baking stuff, he grabbed some mixes and icings amongst other things. You grabbed a few snacks as well before returning to Minho to put them away. “I gotta go pee I’ll be right back” you said letting go of Felix’s hand as you made your way to the bathroom.

Coming out you hear a familiar voice. You stood in the bathroom dead in your tracks not wanting to leave. You sighed loudly that voice. That awful voice. As you walked out trying your best to walk fast away from it. You heard the voice yell to you “No way, the freak is here” the voice said making you whip your head around. There he was. One of the worst people you’ve had the disdain of meeting. You went to school with him and each day he made your life a living hell. He bullied you relentlessly over the fact that you were non showing.

The only time you showed signs of pack dynamics such as betta/alpha/omega was once. It was when you had forgotten your meds and you found him beating up on a smaller kid. The alpha side of you went through the roof making you pounce on him. Ever since that day he has made it his mission to hurt you. It was a strange thing for a woman to be any sort of alpha. It was almost unheard of and he used that to his advantage.

“I heard you finally came clean huh? Couldn’t fool anyone with those suppressants” he said making his way towards you. “Didn’t see you being an omega though” he laughed. “But guess that’s why you’re a freak” he had you almost cornered his cart blocking your way.

“I see you’re still living in your little high school mind huh?” You shot back making direct eye contact with him.

He smirked moving to close for comfort “I hate the fact you actually smell good now” he said leaning towards you his hand slinking around your side. You jumped you pushed him trying to get away before he moved both arms around you burying his head into the crook of your neck. He inhaled breathing in your scent before his nose turned up.

“You got some sad soul who wanted to be mated to you?” He said with a chuckle smelling the others scents but mostly Felix’s because of the jacket. “He’s not even an alpha” he said before licking a long strip up your neck making you want to vomit.

You brought your leg up faster than he could react clocking him square in the nuts. He about dropped to the floor, you tried making your escape only to be grabbed by him once more. “You little bitch” he said. Yanking you back to him as he pushed you harshly into the corner knocking the wind out of you.

Bangchan although not around could feel something was wrong. Marking gives almost a string to one another, if the other was in danger. He phoned Minho before he could even turn to go find you Felix was sprinting towards to bathrooms. When he saw the big man his eyes went almost black. Felix may seem like this sweet angel and for the most part he truly is however something took over him. He grabbed the man by the back of his throat digging his nails into him before yanking him off of you.

The man turning around now winding his fist up ready to fight was knocked clean on his ass. Felix was fast his smaller frame made it easier for him to maneuver and his well calculated hits made him a force to be reckoned with. The man gritted his teeth looking up at him “you’re fucking dead” he gritted before trying to stand up. Felix however left another blow to his face this time with a forceful kick to the teeth. You stood there shaking trying to snap your mind out.

This is the man that terrorized you, who made you feel worthless and unwanted. You wanted to move needed to move! But your legs felt like jello. Minho finally got to the scene, pulling you to him. “Ssh ssh it’s ok” he said softly. “Felix, that’s enough. She’s safe” he said sternly.

Felix whipped his head back to look at you and then back down at the bloodied man. “Don’t you ever come near her again!” He hissed.

The man on the ground laughed as he got up “you wait if I ever see you again.” He threatened staring you down. “I’ll get you freak. And no one will be around to save you” he said whipping the blood from his mouth.

Minho pulled you down another isle as a worker came running towards you guys. “Is everyone alright?” She asked looking you up and down. “Oh y/n, sweetheart” she said softly. She was a regular at the cafe always coming in for a coffee before work. She was a very kind lady her heart broke seeing your trembling form. “Here let me take you back to our break room ok?” She said with a soft smile.

You nod following her back as Felix and Minho stood behind you. Minho rubbed Felix’s back “you did good lix” he said proudly.

Felix should his head though “it shouldn’t have happened. I should have went with her” he said moving himself from Minhos touch.

The woman helped you to a chair grabbing you a water. “Just breathe sweetheart, you stay here and catch your bearings ok?” She said sweetly. She walked towards the door “I’ll come back in a few alright? Gonna see if I can find the jerk who did this” she said before leaving.

There was a long moment of silence, Minho rubbed your back keeping you close as Felix paced back and forth. “You alright?” Minhos voice broke the silence.

“I think so” you said still a bit shakily.

“Who was that asshole?” He asked.

You let out a deep sigh “he was a high school bully, guess he never grew out of his ‘I’m better than everyone phase’. You said with a little laugh.

Your head turned watching Felix, he looked so anxious. You stood from your seat quickly walking towards him. Before he knew it your arms wrapped around him hugging him tightly. “Thank you lix” you said softly.

He couldn’t help himself tears started streaming down his face. It was a mixture of anger and disappointment was pouring from him. “I should have came with you” he cried out.

He pulled back cupping his face to make him look at you whipping his tears away “stop that, you didn’t know. What matters is you came and helped. If anything your like my little hero” you said with a loving smile. He couldn’t help but smile pulling you into a sweet kiss. He looked at you pressing his forehead against yours “I love you” he said softly.

“I love you to Lixie” you said a small blush creeping across both your faces.

Minho cleared his throat before standing up “do you want to keep shopping or would you rather go home?” He asked.

Before you could answer the woman came back into the room with a defeated look on her face. “Well good news he’s not here anymore bad news he left before we could call the police.” She let out a sigh. “That was Mason right?” She asked. “He was always a bad kid in school to” she said shaking her head. “I’ll make a report about it so you might have someone come ask you questions” she continued as she walked towards you. She pulled you into a hug “I’m sorry sweetheart, you alright though?”

You shook your head “yeah, my little hero over there came to the rescue” you said with a smile.

“Yeah good thing he did” she said smiling. “Well my boss said for the troubles whatever you guys buy you’ll get a discount on.” She said.

“Oh, thank you. You don’t have to” you said.

“I know but you’re getting it whether you like it or not” she teased.

After that you guys went back to shopping. You were still a bit shaky when you got to the car so Minho decided to stop at a little ice cream shop. “What do you want?” He asked pulling up through the drive through.

“Oooh uhm the coffee flavored one!” You said pointing to it.

“I want-“ Felix started to say before he was cut off.

“The double chocolate brownie I already know” Minho said with a light chuckle.

He ordered a few more to take home getting everyone their favorites. Jisung his cheesecake one, Hyunjin a fruity one and so forth. He really did know what they all liked.

“Thank you” you said with a smile before kissing his cheek.

He almost jumped hands gripping at the steering wheel from it. A small blush creeped up his face, ears turning red. “Yeah, yeah whatever” he said trying not to look at you.

“Awe you got him blushing!” Felix teased.

“I’ll eat your ice cream if you keep it up” Minho snapped back in a teasing tone. Making Felix go quiet.

Arriving home you smiled handing the boys their ice cream. They were all happy except for Chan. He stared at you, eyebrows knitted looking over you. Minho, Felix and him both walked to another room. None of the others seemed to notice or wonder if something happened just happily eating their ice cream. “Didn’t you get any?” Jisung asked almost in a whisper.

“Yeah! I ate mine already” you said with a smile.

“Wanna go for a walk? I gotta take the trash down the street” Changbin asked with a smile.

“Sure!” You said smiling back.

The others came back into the room Chan making his way toward you as he wrapped his arm around you. “Let’s go shower yeah?” He asked.

“But I already did today” you said a bit confused.

“Come on” he said not giving you any room to say no.

He pulled you with him, taking you to his room to use his personal bathroom. He didn’t say much all though it looked like he was In a deep thought. You felt almost uneasy like he was mad or something. He turned his head to look at you “He didn’t hurt you did he?” Chan asked turning his head back to grab some towels.

“No.. I’m.. he didn’t hurt me” your words came out slowly.

“Good, Felix really did a number on him I hear” he said a small smile forming on his face.

“Yeah- he really did” you said starting to fiddle with your shirt.

He chuckled a bit “that boys ways stronger than he lets on” he said before turning fully at you. “Come on let’s get you out of this hmm?” He said making his way towards you.

His hands came to your shoulders, warm hands touching the skin. He crinkled his nose a bit before clenching his jaw. “God, his scents all over you” he almost growled.

Oh. So that’s why he wanted you to shower. You didn’t even realize how much he rubbed off on you. No wonder he seemed a bit agitated. “I’m sorry” you said softly feeling bad for even getting into that situation.

“Hush. You didn’t do anything” he said dropping your dress to the floor. Felix’s jacket thrown down with it. He left you in your panties before he started to strip himself.

He set the water temp before slowly getting in “you gonna take those off or?” He said with a little chuckle.

Your eyes widened a bit “oh uhm yeah sorry” you apologized again.

“Beautiful stop apologizing you’re fine” he said before getting fully in the shower.

You quickly took your panties off dropping them with the other clothes before stepping into the shower. Chan smiled at you fondly handing you a wash cloth, moving to the side so you could get under the water. The water felt warm, it relaxed you. Chan watched you as he washed his body, his eyes never moving away. The shower was nice and relaxing, a calming silence between you two. As you both stepped out to dry off Chans hands come to your side he pressed his body against yours. Your back fully pressed against his chest.

“My princess” he said softly before kissing your neck softly. Kissing over the bite mark he had left on you. His muscular body felt so soft against yours his hands ever so slightly running up your side. “I think you should go show our lixie some extra love don’t you?” He said softly against your ear. You nodded in response, he hummed kissing your soft skin one more time before he pulled away. He gave you a fond smile handing you a pair of his sweats and a comfy hoodie. “I think he’s waiting to you in his room” he smirked.

As you got dressed Chan slinked a hand around you again pulling you to him. He kissed you lovingly smiling against your lips “my pretty girl, don’t keep him waiting” he said letting go of his grasp on your hip. You giggled a little before making your way out of the bathroom. Chan took your clothes you had on smelling that asshole again. He growled tossing it in the hamper to take downstairs to wash. “I’ll kill you on spot if I ever see you” he snarled thinking of the man who dared touched you.

You made your way to Felix’s room knocking softly before hearing a little “come in”. Felix was sat on his bed smiling shyly up at you.

“There’s my little hero” you said with a teasing smile. You walked towards him plopping yourself down beside him. “Y/n” he said softly.

“Hm?” You hummed turning to meet his gaze. You could tell he was nervous not knowing what to do exactly. It made him even cuter honestly. So you helped him, you leaned in kissing him lovingly. His lips worked with yours feeling his tongue glide against your lips asking for entrance. You happily abided parting your lips, he quickly darted his tongue into your mouth lapping at your sweet flavor.

He tasted like the chocolate ice cream he had just a bit before. You moved your hand placing it on his thigh making him stiffen a bit. Your hand slowly crept up inching closer and closer to his manhood. He left out a small whimper at the feeling. “Lixie” you said softly against his lips. “Let me- let me make you feel good” you said pulling at his waistband. He lifted his hips helping you take his pants off. You kneeled down in front of him pulling his boxers down as his hard cock slapped against his chest.

His cock was longer than you expected, thicker, his mushroom tip red and leaking pre cum already. You groaned a bit before taking his tip to your lips. You moved your hand up and down his shaft before slowly taking him into your mouth. He let out a low moan hips bucking at the feeling. You worked your way up and down his cock taking him all in. He was moaning gripping your hair to keep it from your face. You looked up at him keeping eye contact as you looked swallowed around him.

“F-fuck-“ he groaned out “I- y/n I’m gonna” he started to say before you softy bit at his shaft making him moan even louder. The sensation bringing his orgasm to a head. Hot liquid shooting back your throat as his thighs trembled under you. “M’sorry” he said softly.

“Don’t be sorry lixie” you said with a smile.

He grabbed at your arms pulling you up to him. “Can- can you take off your pants?” He asked. You nodded pulling them down before he quickly pulled you to him making you straddle him. His cock slowly hardening again. You moved your hips slowly letting his cock glide against your wet folds. The sensation making you both moan. His cock quickly became hard again, he let out a little whine before lifting your hips up. “Need to feel you” he said before latching his lips to yours. He kissed you sloppily as he pushed himself into you.

You sunk fully on his cock, taking his full length in. His cock hitting your cervix making you both shake a bit from pleasure. His hands wrapped around your body letting you move at your own pace. You took your time moving slowly against him wanting to take him all in. His tongue darting into your mouth once more. “More- I need- need more” he said with almost a growl. He pushed his feet firmly down before pushing up into you with force. You swear you could see the bulge of his in your stomach.

Felix fucked up into you with need, he was chasing his ever growing his again wanting to burry himself so fully into you. “I’m never gonna let anything ever happen to you again.” He grunted out. “Your my mate, our mate- fuck- no ones ever gonna touch again. I’ll- I’ll fucking kill them” he snarled. His thrust were becoming more animalistic. He gripped at your arms pulling them behind you holding them there as he fucked into you. His knot slowly taking shape pushing against your soaked entrance.

“Fuck y/n gonna knot you yeah? Gonna take my knot so well?” He said.

“Yes- Felix please! Want it, please fill me with all you got” you begged. His hand let go of your arms moving down to play with your clit. Your walls clenched around him sucking him in even more.

“Felix!” You almost screamed.

“Yeah sweets? You close? Gonna cum on my cock?” He slurred.

You nodded franticly feeling your high about to crash over you. “I’m- shit!” Felix said hands franticly wrapping around you. Leaving your sensitive nub griping at you was hard as he pulled you down fully taking his knot. He leaned his head against your neck rutting into you. You felt his cum pouring into you, a sharp feeling at your shoulder. Felix sunk his teeth into you leaving it leaving a nice mark. He lapped at the blood hand coming back down play with your clit as you came hard around him with the mixtures of pleasure.

Your body trembled as your orgasm washed over you clenching tightly around his knot. He let out a guttural groan his arms found there way back around you pulling you with him to lay down on the bed. You both shook trying to catch your breaths.

“Y/n” he said softly pushing his hair from his face. “I love you. So fucking much.” He said softly.

You gazed back into his eyes “I love you Felix so so much” you said before kissing him.

“Was I too rough?” He asked.

You shook your head “no, you were perfect”

“Not as perfect as you my little mate” he said with a sly smile.

You both laid there together for a while you took in Felix’s room. It was nicely decorated and felt warm. His gaming set up in the corner, small plushies and figurines on the shelf’s with manga and books. It was so neat and tidy as well and smelled like cinnamon. You don’t remember falling asleep but you both did. Both dozing off after already long day.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

💙 If you’d like to read more of my stuff you can find it Here: Master List . Thank you for reading and if requests are open or you just wanna talk feel free to send me something🩵

Werewolf series Taglist: @satosugu4l @do-you-remember-summer-127 @xines16 @minh0scat @troublemaker02 @tr-mha-fan @stayconnecteed @minniesverse @ldysmfrst @jehhskz @lunearta @hello-stranger24 @justastraymoa @hyun-prince @catlove83 @lunearta @iknow-uknow-leeknow @chocolateislife @doitforbangchan @kkamismom12 @minghaosimp @dessianna1 @fiestaplum-skz @jeonginsleftcheek @queen-in-the-shadows @manuosorioh @tsunderelino @aalexyuuuhm

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joejhang · 2 days ago

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my tgr wishlist

a compiled list of all the things i would LOVE LOVE LOVE to see in the golden raven (spoilers ??? for tsc and aftg ahead)

jeremy LOSING his goddamn mind

angsty kevjean interview

kevjean deep conversation ??? kiss and make up ???

cat teaching jean how to ride a motorcycle

andrew to say another one (1) word so i can go insane about his aura

jeremy crash out.

jeanneil bestfriendisms

neil being a cunty diva (just by existing on-page)

jerejean development ????

jean punching someone (SORRY I JUST NEED HIM TO CLOCK SOMEONE'S SHIT IT CAN BE JEREMY OR KEVIN OR LUCAS IDC I'M THERE)

jeremy lore drop (TEN chapters we are being FED)

grayson's death (neil's boutta pull thru (what a king))

nora absolutely BREAKING jeremy

andreil crumbs (i am a simple, simple woman)

more lore from the nest (it may break me but)

elodie moreau lore

the beginning of the moriyama empire takedown (PLEASE nora PLEASE)

jeremy crash out.

more kevin and jeremy interaction (keremy i will always ALWAYS love you)

jeremy finding out about the moriyamas (either thru jean or kevin)

the new exy season (wait idk if the timeline matches up i just know i NEED to see the foxes vs trojans game in tsc3 + the trojans winning championships for the first time EVER) and exy games from jean's pov

jeremy crash out.

jean healing more, smiling, laughing, ANYTHING GODDD JUST LET MY PRINCESS BE HAPPY

#nora please nora #let jeremy crash out #i'm so here #aftg #all for the game #the sunshine court #tsc #jean moreau #kevin day #jeremy knox #kevjean #neil josten #andrew minyard #andreil #zoe yaps #the golden raven #tgr #tsc2

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loveanddeepspice · 1 day ago

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𝕋𝕖𝕞𝕡𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝔾𝕣𝕒𝕔𝕖

✞ synopsis: you've come back to the small town you grew up in for a visit. though your relationship with the catholic church and faith in general have been strained since you were younger, you find yourself drawn back to the church... or more specifically... the new priest... you aren't ready to share your secret sin with him... but you may not be able to help yourself.

✞ pairing: sylus x curvy fem!reader

✞ rating: 18+ (minors do not engage)

✞ cw: religion (catholicism), priest, lapsed faith, adultery, priest kink, suicidal mention, dead parent, sex, masturbation, drugs (marijuana), mentions of other drug use, drinking (more will be added when/if they arise)

✞ disclaimer: this fiction explores a romantic relationship between a lapsed Catholic and an unconventional priest. it is not designed to be inflammatory or critical. catholic authors were asked to participate in the process. we hope you enjoy it, but we know that these topics can be sensitive, so please skip this fiction if it will in any way offend you.

✞ chapter: 6 / ?

✞ co-authors: redbriony, confuseddoughnut (they do not have tumblr)

✞ ao3 link: here

✞ chapter synopsis: "the only way to get rid of temptation is to yield to it." - oscar wilde

Please comment on this post if you want to be added to the tag list for updates!

Despite what happened, you would have done anything to face Father Sylus again.

He was the type of person who radiated energy from within, dedication unlike anyone you had ever met - which could be a good or a bad thing. The thoughts became an obsession, all that seemed to fill your brain. The recollection of his touch made you sweat. It was the last thing you thought about before drifting off to sleep, the first thing you thought about when you woke, and the next few days stretched. One thing was sure: you longed to see him again, if only for the courage to apologize. But did you even have to apologize? He was the one who had kissed you first, right? It was so unbelievably confusing. You’d talk yourself through circles; for once, no amount of sleeping seemed to help. You weren’t even given the option to sleep it all off anyway or mellow properly in your self-pity. Upon learning of your ‘arrest’ from Talia, your father forced you out of the house that Sunday to go to church with him. “What’s going on with you, Y/N?” Dad raised his eyebrows and frowned as he gripped the steering wheel, and you could tell he was trying hard not to get angry or frustrated. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you, hon. You came back, and you’re acting weird. Can you just tell me what’s wrong?” Shaking your head, you shrugged, trying your hardest to maintain eye contact on the door handle, ignoring your dad’s question and wishing he’d just leave you alone. “You went from being happy to totally distraught since you moved out. What am I supposed to think here, huh?” ‘Maybe everything went to total fucking shit,’ was what you wanted to say, and tried not to roll your eyes. Dad tried so hard to not act like the authoritarian or pushy father, especially after your mother had died. He was never like that. And it was because of that you figured it was time to be at least a little truthful. “I quit my job. I don’t know what I’m going to do from here, but -” you said, “I just…needed some time to think things through.” Your dad parked the car and turned to offer you a subtle smile. You were convincing enough, obviously. “Okay, fine. Work in the store until you figure it out. It’ll be like old times.” One hand gripped the steering wheel as he looked at you, almost seeming to peer into your brain as his eyes flicked ever so slightly. “So, uh, is this about your mom? I didn’t know you were still upset about that. I should’ve tried to talk to you more.” You bit down your reply, feeling a bitter taste in the back of your throat, and willing it away. “No, it isn’t. Just forget about it.” A long sigh filled the small space as your father pressed his lips together. “Christ, I can’t be mad at you right now. I’ve always let you do what you want.” This was strange, a particular ache settling inside and spreading to your limbs like an infection. Maybe it wouldn’t stop now that it had started. And the first instinct was to get away and run. Run and run and just get away. “Hon, Y/N,” Your Dad’s voice was pleading, and you nearly missed it. “We can go talk to -” “No!” You blurted, immediately regretting it, mortified at just the thought. How did you speak so fast? “No, it’s fine. Let’s just go inside. We’re gonna be late.”

You didn’t feel any better inside the church, but you weren’t expecting much to begin with. All you could do was suck it up and seat yourself beside your dad. It wasn’t crowded, but there were a few unfamiliar faces, so maybe not everyone would notice your fucked up mood.

Everything felt surreal. You were sitting there in church with the sun streaming through the stained glass windows, and your gaze landed on the one depicting the Virgin Mary.

The word ethereal came to mind.

Everything seemed like it would evaporate into thin air. Like if you moved too quickly, you’d wake up from one of those dreams that just turned out to be inside of another dream.

And when a hush fell over the congregation, you had no choice but to look forward. No matter how your brain fizzes or your fingers tingle. You were forced to look at that handsome face in front of the church and feel the emotion well inside you. Something that felt different than embarrassment or frustration.

Even from this distance, Father Sylus exudes that particular aura, daring to fill the whole church with its strength. You are once again reminded of how inescapable his presence is—not through belief or goodness, but something, someone who felt unearthly, even celestial, as absurd as it felt.

Ethereal. Once again, with that pretty word. How could you even begin to explain it? It was so easy to feel some sort of bitterness, perhaps even selfishness. Who could blame you? Everything always seemed too simple when you looked at it from a distance.

“Good morning,” He began, his voice taking on that strangely powerful, lilting cadence. He paused, hands clasping, and his posture was different. Shoulders broad, spine straight, chin lifted slightly. “I want to take a moment before we begin to discuss why we’re here.”

You were drawn to his words, which had formed an invisible link to you. Maybe if you closed your eyes like you did at night, you could picture that night in the car. It felt foolish because you were certain your own thoughts were desperate. How stupid did it make you seem, trying to replay the sensation? A stupid crush. That is all you wanted it to amount to, even if looking into his fiery gaze had made you feel like you were melting.

“We’re here, in the house of the Lord. Why is this?”

If a month’s insistence on chasing after a flame could be compared to anything -

“Free will.” His tone picked up. “Through our actions, we make conscious decisions. As far as humankind is concerned, free will also makes us human.”

Your breathing stilled. Something terrible seized your gut, a cramping feeling causing you to grit your teeth.

“This is a sanctified place,” he continued, voice rich and filled with energy. “Within these walls, you should experience peace. Not conflict or anger. All are free here because it is with our actions that we build ourselves.”

How the hell did he manage this? The words continued spilling from his mouth, something pulling you further. And after a pause, his gaze filtered over the room again - and landed on you.

Time was beginning to stand still, and you swore your face began to heat up. But, thankfully, the look didn’t linger on you, moving on as he cleared his throat.

Well, fuck.

There was only a tiny shift in expression, and perhaps you were the only one to notice how his pause seemed more lengthy than those before it.

"We - uh.” Father Sylus made a show of glancing down at the notes before him and shuffling a few pages. “Sorry.” He cleared his throat again, a little louder this time. “What I mean to say is, with free will, we struggle against our urges and temptations. Sin beckons - uh,” another loud cough. He looked nervous. Vulnerable. In more ways than one.

Father Sylus hastily pushed aside the pages, shoulders lifting in a deep breath before looking again at the people gathered. He straightened a little, and his powerful tone returned as he folded his hands neatly. “So, how do we resist? It can be hard to…admit one’s faults.” He let out a little huff of air, glancing down again. Then, he stepped away from the podium, stepping along the carpeted dais, hands clasped behind his back and thumbs tapping against each other.

The congregation started shifting. A glance here and there, unable to guess what he would say next. Probably wondering why their priest was acting so…off. If you weren’t glued to your seat in, well, any number of the emotions you were feeling now - you would have high-tailed it out of there already. But instead, you were frozen in place, feeling like an outsider, feeling the shift in the air more than the others around you.

“Take those feelings and multiply them by ten.” He stated, looking towards the back of the church at nothing in particular. It was as if he was somewhere only his mind knew.

“Opportunity is often just an invitation to sin, yes. Free will is a man’s greatest power but also his biggest weakness. With that power comes responsibility. Satan doesn’t come dressed in a red cape and pointy horns in the middle of the night.”

Oh God.

There was a tense pause and stillness, and you wonder how you managed to sit here and listen. Those crimson eyes trailed around the room, but for another second, a brief and terrifying second, they burned into you.

“Satan comes as everything you’ve ever wished for.” He laughed, bitter and slightly hoarse. Then his eyes snapped forward again, unabashed.

He coughed, cleared his throat again, and gestured with a finger above his head. “We all - well, we all think we can overcome any challenge. Big or small. Big and small.” Father Sylus let out a shaky exhale. “Um, the point is...The point is that the devil is ready to collect when you can’t. So, the point is that - uh,” His tone shifted to something smaller that made your insides tremble agonizingly. A breathless, tight sort of anxiousness that stole through your lungs and caused your heart rate to increase. It was impossible to deny that despite the words coming out of his mouth, you actually wanted to hear him continue. “Um, sometimes I think the hardest thing is that we are human, and we are weak.”

Before he could even continue, his voice cracked. “I’m sorry.” He swallowed, grimacing, an anguish that you recognized. “Excuse me.” He looked like he might break, the wavering tension almost stifling the room, his expression almost tormented.

“I’m sorry. Excuse me.” And with that, he disappeared into the back, leaving everyone shocked.

Everyone except for you.

“And that’s why I’m never going to church again.” You rolled your eyes as you leaned against one of the shelves in your dad’s store, looking over at Rafayel, who was leaning against the counter, making it his personal mission to get every last drop out of an iced coffee. “You should have seen the look on his face. What a fuck up.”

Rafayel wrinkled his nose, looked around the otherwise empty store, and then glanced at his phone. “Yikes. Poor guy.” He sighed and tapped his foot on the floor. “Talia came home and said he had a migraine - but it’s even more hilarious that a near-public breakdown was because of you.”

“My God, you are awful.” You frowned and stepped forward to lightly punch his arm, reaching out and catching his elbow with a grimace as he pretended to almost fall over. “That’s a horrible thing to say! You were the one who was practically encouraging me!”

“I would never,” Rafayel huffed, clicking his tongue and shaking his head. “Anyway, it’s been almost a week now. You’re gonna have to suck it up and face him sooner or later.” With a firm nod, he shook off your hold and dusted his hand on the faded denim of his jeans, turning his attention back to his phone and shaking the ice in the cup he held.

“How would I do that?” You asked.

As if oblivious, Rafayel arched a brow and smiled tightly, peering at you over the edge of his phone. His tone was less-than-reassuring, sounding almost pitying. “No fucking idea.”

You opened your mouth to argue but thought better of it as the shop door opened, just in time for the chilly afternoon to bring in your dad and Xavier. You took a deep breath at the sound of the bell and forced yourself to calm down.

As if on cue, Rafayel pushed himself away from the counter and looked in your direction. “Well, Y/N.” He said, tossing a wink in your direction that made you want to reach out and knock the silly grin off his face. “Good luck.” With that, he turned and walked out of the store with a shake of his head.

Your dad mumbled something under his breath before tossing a wave a little too late and heading into the back of the small building.

Unease had settled in your stomach at your friend's departure. You felt as if you had more to say, ask, or get a general idea of as you stared at the shop's door. You ran a hand over your tired face and sighed.

“Hi,” Xavier gave you a careful, controlled smile as you turned toward his voice. “Need help with anything?”

You tried your best not to fidget or bite your lip. “No, but it’s nice of you to offer.” You shrugged and glanced away briefly. “Why? Got nothing else to do?”

“Uh, I work here?” He blinked as he stepped forward. You could take in his softening facial features now that he was closer. His smile didn’t quite fade as he looked around the quiet shop. “Anyway - I um. I tried to call you last night? About dinner?”

Tilting your head in confusion, you froze. Then, you processed the sentence.

Dinner. Shit.

“Oh! My phone went missing. I’m sure it’ll turn up soon or something. Wasn’t the nicest phone anyways,” you brushed some hair behind your ear. “I still can’t figure out how it disappeared!” You forced a laugh at your lie and shifted uncomfortably.

You’d completely forgotten about agreeing to go out with him. How fucking stupid were you? So caught up in the idea of -

“Well, uh, I didn’t plan much. So it’s okay, we can just do something another night. Right?” Xavier suggested, and you couldn’t tell if he had let it go so quickly or was suspicious about your behavior.

Either way, you smiled, rationalizing with yourself for what felt like the millionth time that spending time with him would be a good thing. Any way to keep your mind distracted. Clearly, he still wanted to go out with you, and you certainly wouldn’t say no. After all, who could blame you for latching on anyone who showed the slightest interest?

This would be a step in the right direction, right? Things would get better. They had to. No matter how weird it felt for you to think so.

“That’s fine. Sorry, my head’s all over the place.”

The worst part of it all was the sudden weight in your stomach, the ache in your chest that was becoming all too tiring. Something pushed you in the complete opposite direction of the young man in front of you, towards what you really wanted, and had no explanation for why you did.

“Y/N?” Xavier spoke again and stepped closer, watching your expression with careful scrutiny, his hand reaching out to touch yours, giving you a new feeling of unease. “Hey, um, - you alright?”

Your heart wrenched a little at the worry, and you wondered exactly how pathetic you appeared. “I think so. Can you take over? I gotta step out for a while.”

It grew colder as you walked along the sidewalk, sticking your hands inside your jacket pockets. Clouds gathered in the distance, inching their way towards the suburb. The air smelled fresher, as if it might snow lightly sometime at night. A breeze swept over the street, stirring pieces of your hair from its confines, and you briefly thought you should have remembered your scarf.

Then, you came to a stop in front of the church.

You looked down at your outfit, the jeans and the oversized blue sweater you had found in your mom's closet, when you couldn’t be bothered to do your own laundry. Perhaps she would give you strength, or at least enough willpower from wherever she was to give you the courage to turn right the fuck around and go back home. She was always straightforward in that way, even without the drinking. If only you had taken after her in that aspect.

For a moment, you almost turned to leave, giving yourself the opportunity to simply walk away and go home. However, after a few seconds of mental debate, you stepped along the worn walkway and up the steps, slipping your hand out of your pocket to place it on the worn wooden door.

Somewhere in your mind was a glimmer of hope, the possibility of resolve.

Now that you had gathered whatever courage you had left, you took one last, bracing breath before pushing the door open. A jolt of energy speared up your arms, a buzzing sensation against your fingertips. Once you were inside, everything felt eerily silent. Almost too silent. But as the familiar warmth enveloped you, your body relaxed slightly as you shrugged off your jacket.

The last light from the day was casting through the windows, and the interior was a muted, golden glow and soft orange. It felt warm in more ways than one. Despite the hushed nature of the building, energy thrummed within you. The atmosphere was inviting, but for some reason, you couldn’t quite muster the ability to step forward any further, feet stuck to the floor beneath you. It was ironic, yet in a way, expected; you felt like crying or throwing something, but maybe punching Father Sylus would give you the most satisfaction.

The chapel seemed alien to you as you made your way further inside.

Loneliness was all-consuming, a fear ever present and threatening in the back of your mind. You wondered why it hurt so much. And, you considered whether you have ever experienced a real connection in your life. You zeroed in on the cross beyond the rows of pews as if you could use it for answers. It glinted a little in the evening light that filtered through the stained glass. Your eyes felt dry as they fixed upon the illuminated wood, searching, listening, walking towards the front of the church like a mouse.

“You think this is funny, don’t you?” You asked your question out loud. The silence of the building taunted you in return, and something constricted within your chest. The rush of it all was consuming, filling your every thought with hope and expectation. A breath sucked in, and you shook your head, blinking. Everything felt off, and you had no idea what your body was supposed to do with itself. “This is so fucked. You know, this is all…just so messed up,” you choked out the whisper and, with a small gasp, swallowed. The emotions swelled. Heavy and pounding and suddenly overwhelming.

Who gave a shit? Nothing would change.

But, maybe -

Would God be willing? Could He lift the spell put on you that would continue to grow?

“Mom is dead, and she’s not coming back.” The words spilled and dropped like shattered glass. “And, uh, it’s just like, that’s fucked up. Isn’t it? Please, it’s - well, I wish I knew, God damn it. Motherfucker!” You swore louder than you should have, not recognizing your own voice. A feeling that had no name gripped your heart. This was it. You were giving up. “Totally fucked up. And you go and make me do stupid shit? What kind of test is that?”

Only silence answered. You wondered how you should feel. As angry as you were, it felt strange to voice it. Finally, saying the words brought unusual comfort, and it was too easy to admit everything now. “Yeah, yeah. You should really apologize, God. Lord. Jesus. Whatever.”

“I’m sorry.” The voice that spoke back did not belong to you. Echoing off the walls and the stained glass, it sent a jolt up your spine, causing you to spin in its direction. Leaning against a doorframe was Father Sylus, looking down at the floor, that shameful expression resurfacing on his face. You witnessed the repentant facade as he lifted his head and looked at you.

It felt like a flood rushed through you, coursing, washing away the anger, seeping into every cell, and filling you with something new. Warm and soft, somehow breaking you apart as it passed. Something indecipherable but true.

Something almost wonderful and exhilarating.

He looked like something you could draw. That raw, exposed sort of aura.

That same warmth enveloped your heart, the comfort expanding across your chest. There was something profound and affectionate within his gaze and the sense that you had underestimated what was truly meant by the phrase ‘care and concern.’

It could have been a few seconds. Or minutes passed as you stood rooted to the spot. The beating of your heart seemed to echo in your ears. Blood pulsed through your veins, the silence around you growing louder.

“For what?” You were almost afraid to speak up.

“For whatever you’re feeling,” Father Sylus stated plainly. Then he straightened, and his look shifted, and for a split second, he stepped forward, only to pause with his fingers twitching at his sides. Maybe there was confusion flickering in his gaze. Or longing. But he still didn’t move from where he stood, as if unable to break the tension he had with himself. After a time, he studied your face and added, “For everything and for nothing.”

After a moment of thought, you shook your head. “That’s vague.”

“It’s all I’ve got.” Father Sylus ran a hand behind his neck, almost nervously, eyes shifting and gaze searching. Another pause lingered between you, and you blinked a few times. He opened and closed his mouth, finally settling on placing both his hands on his hips, inclining his head to look at the stained glass windows. “That…and guilt.”

His admission seemed weighted, and his voice was heavy. You watched him take a step forward, then hesitate.

In that second, there was a great leap in understanding. You understood that he would not look directly at you because it would break this sacred reverence between you and whatever else was going on within his mind.

Maybe it’d always been a game, and perhaps you knew deep down that this would be his next move. The inevitable, silent communication. Slowly, you folded your shaky arms over your chest. The look that flashed in his eyes made you shudder. With a new boldness, you swallowed and whispered: “Why are you telling me this?”

Exhaling hard, you weren’t sure whether to scream, laugh, or cry as you awaited your answer.

He swallowed, his dark gaze teeming like a fire in the low light, the red burning. His lip curled. “Because I feel like you can understand it. Why I feel this way.”

A sick urge, sharp and needy, had you crossing the space between you, the air shaking and trembling as he finally took another stride forward. Your eyes traced over his face. Deep and pained and beautiful. His chest heaved. A strange, bittersweet satisfaction filled you.

“I - I can’t stop thinking about -” you broke off, words quivering as you spoke. “Us. The other night - it keeps going through my head, what I said, and -” your voice was breaking again, the achy, miserable desperation settling in.

You could tell he was holding his breath, hands now clenched into fists, gaze searching and uncertain. “I didn’t mean to deceive you.” The words hung heavy as he stepped closer, finally closing the distance between you, tilting your chin, and forcing you to look at him. The grip held you firmly, though his eyes remained gentle and pleading. “I want nothing more than to pray - beg for your forgiveness. Try and restore whatever trust I’ve betrayed - but in all truth, God, I -”

Another thick swallow, and he paused, the corner of his mouth twisting. He squeezed your chin lightly as if in search of some answer. Then his hand fell to his side, his head turning to look at the cross behind the altar. Something burned beneath your ribs.

“What is it?” You whispered, trembling with the effort of not spilling all your unresolved thoughts. “Tell me - tell me something, anything, or - or -” You stopped yourself, feeling a little pathetic at not being able to formulate the proper words.

“My path was never exactly clear, but,” Father Sylus swallowed thickly, sounding more scared than ever. “Someone I loved when I was younger - she -” A long sigh escaped his lips. “We were each other's firsts and…We loved each other very much.” He exhaled again. His face creased into sadness, reminiscent and haunting. A sharp pain, almost. One that lingered from emotions held within. The truth was there, plain as day, naked, heartbroken, and fragile. “She died when she was eighteen.”

Pain squeezed at you mercilessly, tight and almost bone-crunching. You stepped closer, your brain slowly putting it all together, realization hitting. Then your bottom lip trembles as you reach out, taking hold of his hand and squeezing it. “I’m sorry,” you manage to say after a moment, “that must have been -” Another pause, trying to settle your lungs into a steadier breathing pattern.

He squeezed your hand, looking at you, catching your gaze and holding it, unwavering. “I went to her funeral in a church far bigger than this one with twice the congregation. And later that day, when they put her down into the ground, I listened to the Monsignor pray over her soul.” He looked away again, this time up at the beams in the ceiling. “And I really listened to what he was saying for the first time. And I don’t know why, I just suddenly felt…” He trailed off, and you moved your hand further up his arm, willing him to continue by pressing your fingertips gently into his forearm.

He smiled at the ceiling, faint and apologetic. “I felt at peace. Everything clicked into place. As stupid as that sounds. It was like something I couldn’t understand but needed. And, well,” he shrugged.

“At last, it finally made sense to me,” he muttered. “The power God holds over us was always right there.” Then he turned to face you, his fingers reaching and resting on your cheek, tracing the soft skin of your jaw. “And now, I stand before you - finding these feelings again, the first true connection I’ve felt in years. I don’t mean to doubt anything…but I don’t know how to...”

He let his voice drift off before tucking your hair behind your ear, movements tender. You wondered what he could see in your expression.

“How did she die?” You asked quietly as if the question would destroy something in the air, but you needed to ask it anyway.

The corners of his mouth trembled as he stroked his thumb along your jawline, offering you a small, grim smile. “She was mad at something, drank herself sick. Decided a joy ride on a motorcycle might be a good idea,” he turned his gaze to the ceiling again, and it finally hit you that he kept doing that as a trick to keep himself from crying. “She lost control and swerved, hit a wall head-on. Died on impact. Stupid girl with the dumbest ideas. She used to talk about seeing if the world curved or if the stars continued forever. She was funny and smart - but not as smart as she should have been. Her blood alcohol level came back three times the legal limit.”

“That’s horrible,” you breathed. The puzzle pieces were assembled together. A crash. Drunk. How similar it was to your mother. Only your mother hadn’t met death head-on. It was still one of those things that made you wonder; which would have been worse? The chance was so similar yet unique. Still, as Father Sylus spoke about it, you swore you felt the faint sorrow he must still carry within himself.

“Sylus, I’m -”

“Don’t be sorry.” He said, finally regaining a certain poise about his face, somehow managing to look warm even at this moment, smiling very softly.

At his words, you realized you were breathing harder than before, and it didn’t go unnoticed as he scanned your face. You didn’t know what was wrong with you; you felt an emotion you could no longer explain. He had experienced loss, same as you, just not in the same way.

Father Sylus let out a dry snort. “It’s not a happy memory, but something good comes from pain. Distrust to trust. Fear to courage. Hatred to love. To an extent, those things make you understand and appreciate everything.”

You nodded, unable to stop yourself from wrapping your arms around his middle, convincing yourself you would forget how to breathe if you didn’t. You embraced him because it felt like the right thing to do, the smoothness of his shirt beneath your fingertips. His hand ran up along your side until it rested on your neck's base, soft, gentle, and warm. He exhaled a little before resting his chin on the top of your head.

As he held you, you realized that this was what you had wanted. This was what you had really been aching for. Everything shifted again, changing, rushing with a tangle of nerves and dizziness. Nothing else would settle more easily than being cradled right there, where you could breathe him in.

“Hey, do you -” He leaned back, both hands cupping your face, tilting it to meet his own. It took him a moment to formulate his question. “I shouldn’t ask, but - do you still want me?”

Of course you did. More than anything.

But even then, you should have stepped away. Should have walked out without another word, back to whatever fucking regular life you thought you had. But with whatever strength you had left, you pushed everything aside and quietly said, “Yes.”

He had pressed you against the wooden door of the office, pinning you in place after dragging you in there and shutting the door. Not that you really had any intention of going anywhere. Not with his lips moving against yours, the desperation sending sparks along your skin. His tongue darted out, parting your lips and moving into your mouth. Hungry and forceful and tasting every inch.

“You know,” he said as he pulled back, taking a second to breathe, “It’s so hard to be good when you’re so…” He trailed off, leaving you to only imagine what he would say.

No, you had no words or any logical thoughts, really. Perhaps this was the closest thing to heaven you’d ever feel, surely. And Father Sylus ran his hands down your sides, slow and possessive, grabbing fistfuls of your sweater and bunching it up. Heat began spreading throughout your body as his fingertips crept underneath and stoked along the sensitive skin.

“Will you let me in?” He mumbled, his lips now on the underside of your jaw as his palms spanned across your stomach as if trying to map out every inch of exposed skin. The blood pounded in your veins, pulsing in rhythm with your heartbeat.

“If this is what it feels like to be tempted,” you mused, gasping as he sucked on the skin above your collarbone, gripping the front of his shirt. “I have already failed. Miserably.”

Letting out a hot breath that sounded an awful lot like laughter, he pulled away, a smile stretching across his lips, amused. “I suppose you really have,” he chuckled. His hands gripped your hips and spun you around so you were against his desk. Then he ducked down to press more kisses along your throat. The shivers returned as he lifted your sweater over your head, tossing it aside with another wicked grin. And for the first time, you noticed the hint of a dimple in the corner of his mouth.

After a moment, Father Sylus fumbled with the buttons of his shirt until that, too, was discarded, skin suddenly bare. The sight made you stop, observing for a moment. For the first time, your fingers reached out and touched the skin of his chest, moving over the muscles and across his stomach. You marveled at the way he flinched slightly, inhaling sharply at your touch.

Everything felt…hot, heavy, and inappropriate in the best way.

And before you knew it, his hands were running up along the bare skin of your stomach, a barely-there brush that made your breath hitch. Then his hands were behind your back, unhooking your bra as his lips found yours again, rough and fervent. As it was removed, there was not a second of delay before his hands cupped both of your breasts, squeezing and drawing his thumbs over your nipples.

“You’re so beautiful,” his hands shifted, fingers resting along the waistband of your jeans.

It was like every little action was becoming overwhelming, sending pulsing waves through every nerve, vein, and muscle. When he popped the button, slid the zipper, and slowly eased the jeans down, the pulsing only got stronger—dizzying with its intensity. It was challenging to focus on anything else that would make more sense. Your mind was clouded.

“Wait,” you breathed, sitting on the desk, pulling the clip from your hair and tossing it to the floor, the waves tumbling out. His hands never left you, still roaming over every little centimeter of you they could get access to, “I -”

It didn’t need to be said, whatever it was. Because a grin broke out across his lips. A bright, glorious grin as Father Sylus pressed another harsh kiss to your lips like he could swallow the words down.

Stepping closer, he maneuvered you onto your back, your legs dangling over the edge of the desk. The smooth, cool wood pressed against the length of your spine and shoulders as you heard something that sounded like a book fall somewhere behind you. He gripped the soft flesh of your thighs, blunt nails digging in. Breath hitching, your heart thumped at the roughness and passion of his movements. Something animalistic and unrestrained lay just beneath the surface, waiting, ready.

“Let me,” he urged quietly, fingers winding over the lace underwear, dragging them down the length of your legs. Fingers stroked up again, curling and caressing your inner thighs, one hand finally reaching the place where you were already desperate, soaking wet, and aching to be touched. Without hesitation, a digit dipped, sliding along your slick folds and slipping in easily. The motion made you bite down on your tongue as his other hand ran along the underside of your knee, urging your leg up and apart.

You felt the pad of his thumb gliding over the little bundle of nerves, back and forth in a way that made you groan.

“You are,” his voice was low, almost a growl, and his teasing continued. “So gorgeous, laying there. I can’t stop looking at you.” One finger became two. Slick and hot as they moved into you, each stroke moving deeper. All too suddenly, his lips were crashing down against yours, kissing you hard and desperately as if set on devouring you whole.

The only thing keeping you stable was grabbing his shoulder and his upper arm. The sudden rise of pressure rushed around you. His thumb slipped, pressing down a bit more on your clit, drawing another gasp from you, a sound that filled the room. Then he pulled his hand away, an invisible weight settling when the digits were gone, leaving you empty and still aching for more.

“I’m on birth control,” you managed, eyes blinking rapidly as you processed that this, in fact, was actually about to happen. The fullness beneath your belly was spooling tighter, coiling.

It was only a few seconds; that’s all it took for him to undo his belt buckle, his length freed. Straining, leaking, begging to be inside you. The size of it makes you swallow a certain anxious lump in your throat.

“Please.” The word spilled out before you could stop it. The coil inside you grew more and more tense and throbbing. You needed it now; the consequences didn’t matter, nor did the guilt or shame. “Please.”

His breathing hitched as if a long controlled flame within had been ignited. One of his hands rested on your hip, the other hooking under your opposite knee, parting you further and steadying himself. The tip of his cock pressed at your center. You didn’t have any time to prepare because, at that very moment, he was pushing further, sliding into you inch by inch.

The heat and fullness and pleasure coursed, trembling through you.

“Sweetheart,” he breathed, face buried in the crook of your neck, but you could hear the grin in his tone, the soft desperation in his voice. “You, you -” but his breath choked off as he pushed all the way inside, the moan that ripped through him cracked and hoarse.

It took you a moment to feel him fully, gasping for air and dazed beyond what was really necessary. Holding tight, you wrapped an arm around his neck, exhaling hard. The room became a haze around the two of you, the entire moment almost suspended, paused, put on hold.

When he moved his hips again, you whimpered as he hit somewhere deep, and your pleasure spiked.

“Fuck,” he whispered against your skin, raising himself just enough to look at you, eyes glinting with a certain fervor. A little dark, a little feral, something wildly possessive and hungry and yearning all at once. “Oh, fuck,” he hissed, gritting his teeth and closing his eyes. Another jolt shot through you. Another strong thrust, this one harder than the last, followed by another. And another. It took a minute for him to set a rhythm, but when he did - you were sure the air was being pushed from your lungs each time.

You couldn’t do anything but hang on. His mouth met yours in a sloppy, forceful kiss. Gasping and shuddering, you tried not to shout at the next jolt. The constant grind fills you every time. Deeper and sharper. The steady, thrumming pleasure. Intense and focused, as if Father Sylus were on a mission. Searching for something. Finding each sweet spot with whatever desperate greed drove him. Like now that he’d had the taste of something forbidden, he wanted the best of it - anything you could offer.

He shifted slightly, and before you knew it, he hooked your leg over his shoulder, the deep angle making you arch from the desk.

One hand tangled in his hair, the other on his shoulder, gripping hard and pulling him closer, trying to keep him buried deep inside of you. The friction built, the pace driving forward and drawing the pressure up, leaving you malleable and aching for release. But somehow, wanting it to last as long as possible.

When the pleasure spooled tighter and tighter, every breath came short, coming fast and shorter. Until finally with one long, breathy whimper of an exhale, release washed over you, crashing like a wave. His name slipped out of your mouth, some deep, instinctual part of your brain keeping you present enough to utter it, still pulsing around him, shaking.

And that brought him there, a little broken sound falling from his lips. Hips snapping, driving just the slightest bit further until he groaned into the side of your neck, spilling inside you. After a moment, the stillness settled between the two of you, heavy and thick. There was no actual sound other than ragged breathing.

You stared at the ceiling, trembling and a bit boneless, wholly dumbfounded and satisfied. Then, with every ounce of energy left, you sat up, placing a hand on his chest.

“You okay?”

A rush flooded through you at his question, and you struggled to make sense - to be logical and reasonable.

“Yeah,” you said quickly, “I just. I…” What was the right wording? You trailed off, eyes focused somewhere beyond him. Struggling, you kept your eyes away. How could you possibly articulate the warmth that had settled over you, the lift in your confusion that had been gnawing at you until this moment? How could you explain feelings that make no real sense?

“I feel at peace.” A near whisper because your words made it tangible, whatever it was. And really, you did feel lighter. It was as if something weighing on your shoulders had lifted in a way that wasn’t just because of the act that had been performed.

“Really?” A sharp inhale of his breath.

You nodded, reaching out to hold his face and running your thumbs along his cheekbones. Father Sylus slowly returned the nod, a tentative but wonderful, hopeful smile quirking up his lips—something bright and genuine, untouched by bitterness or remorse.

Serenity had sunken in with a comforting familiarity. Settling inside, like the feeling of returning home. Like the truth had opened its door. Acceptance and serenity. Understanding. Clarity, even. The knowledge you weren’t as broken or faulty as you thought.

A moment passed, no words spoken. Then, still breathless and maybe a bit disbelieving, Father Sylus reached out and traced a cross on your brow with his thumb.

“Did you just -” You blinked, a bit indignant as you huffed. “Did you just…bless me?”

He looked a bit sheepish, hands resting on your shoulders, thumbs rubbing gentle circles along your collarbone. “Guess I did.” With a slight chuckle, he leaned forward and placed a chaste kiss on your forehead.

Tag list: @celestialforce, @readerxyourbabe, @babyx91

#lds #l&ds #love and deepspace #lds sylus #sylus x reader #sylus x you #lds rafayel #lds xavier #lds fanfic

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hannahbarberra162 · 1 day ago

Text

The Crocodile's Gambit, Part 4 (Croc X Reader)

18+ MDNI on Ao3

The other chapters

Warning: description of prior abuse /medical violence in this chapter

~~~

You watched with your mouth a perfect circle as Crocodile’s hook fell to the floor. “B-but, your hook -”

“We both have our histories, our secrets, our scars. They make us who we are, not who we were.” Crocodile was unsure how he remained eloquent when surely all his blood was in his aching cock. Your eyes searched his face, trying to determine if he was going to switch his opinion and mock your scars.

“May I touch it? Your arm?” you asked hesitatingly, your hand hovering over his arm. No one had asked since the doctor had removed the stitches binding his skin together.

“You may,” Crocodile said, allowing you to run your fingers over the scarring.

“I’ve never seen you without your hook,” you stated, Crocodile transfixed by your slim fingers gently cradling his stump.

“No one else has either,” Crocodile said, puffing on his cigar with his hand. Normally brash, impudent, and cheeky, you ran your fingers delicately over his pitted and marked skin. Crocodile allowed you to move his arm and inspect it as you saw fit. It felt refreshing to be so open with a sexual partner, especially one who had scars of their own.

“Does it hurt?” you whispered, still tracing the faded pocks where the sutures had been.

“It aches at times, but nothing too bothersome” Crocodile said, blowing cigar smoke above your head. To Crocodile’s surprise, you began to massage his stump with your deft little fingers. It felt incredible, nothing like the rough kneadings he gave himself. Crocodile bit back a groan as he leaned back further into his padded chair. He finally had you, naked, sitting in his lap, and his first groan was elicited from a hand massage.

“You should let me help you with it,” you offered as you continued to work. Crocodile hummed his response. It really did feel quite good to have your nimble fingers working out his tension. He’d agree to it later, right now you were looking delectable with your little furrowed brow concentrating on him, tits gently swaying with your movement.

“Maybe another time. Right now, I’m going to help you,” Crocodile said, rising to stand while holding your bottom in his arms. You squeaked from surprise, clutching his shoulders as if in fear Crocodile was going to drop you. Crocodile strode with purpose towards the bedroom, his cock tenting his pants in anticipation of being buried in your heat.

He set you down none too gently on his bed, you ass bouncing on the mattress. Crocodile undressed rapidly, wishing he was still wearing his hook to slice through his expensive clothes. Putting his cigar in his bedside ashtray, he dove right after you, pinning your wrists down above your head with his hand. “Finally, captured by the King,” Crocodile droned into your ear. His legs in between yours spread them wide open, your wet core sloshing on his thigh. Crocodile wanted nothing more than to sink into your sweet cunt immediately but he knew he had to wait. You weren’t some plaything he’d forget the moment after orgasm. Crocodile needed to show you that he was worth the ride, so to speak. “Will you be a good girl for me? Keep your hands above your head?”

“Mmhmm. I can be good. I can be very good. I have manners now,” you purred to him.

“Talk is cheap,” Crocodile said with a smile, kissing between your tits. Crocodile growled, biting a nipple gently, earning him a yip. He kissed down your delicious stomach, licked some of your parallel line scars down your legs to your already sopping cunt. “You’ll have to show me,” Crocodile said, licking his lips and hiking your legs over his broad shoulders.

Two orgasms later and you were no longer very good as you had claimed. At first you had been, mewling and keening for his tongue like a good little slut as you came at his command, your hands where he’d left them. But after the second delicious orgasm you were whining for him to fill you, tangling your hands in his hair in desperation, trying to squirm away from his tongue. Crocodile tsked at you. “So? What’s your answer, hm? Are you still a good girl for me?” Crocodile asked before running his tongue up the length of your cunt, flicking your over-sensitive clit with the tip of his tongue. The action had you writhing under him, trying to move him closer or farther away, he couldn't tell.

“Not such a good girl then, hm? Can’t stay still for me?” Crocodile teased as he brought himself up to loom over your face. “That’s alright, I like you wicked,” he said with a smile, kissing you deeply. You tasted your own delight on his lips and tongue, winding your arms around his neck with a contented sigh. Crocodile adjusted you to his desired position, bringing your knees up to your chest, legs hanging over the crooks of his arms in a modified mating press. Crocodile maneuvered the tip of his heavy cock to your entrance.

“Are you ready? I know I am rather… large,” Crocodile said softly, searching your face. You grinned and patted his cheek, causing Crocodile to kiss your palm.

“Fuck me, baby,” you said with a smile. You gasped as you felt Crocodile enter your tight heaven, your channel squeezing him like a vice. You were wet and slick but so tight Crocodile had to hold himself back from pounding into you. Your back arched up as he continued feeding your sweet pussy more of his cock. Pushing himself into you inch by inch, Crocodile groaned as he finally bottomed out, your tinny whine music to his ears.

He started moving his hips with a slow roll, making you groan your satisfaction. He kept an even tempo even when you mewled at him for more.

“You don’t tell me how to fuck you , brat,” Crocodile smiled against your temple. But he did rise to his knees, using his now free hand to rub your pretty little clit.

“C-crocodile, I’m close,” you uttered, eyes screwed shut with pleasure.

“Look at me,” Crocodile demanded, pinching your clit. You opened your eyes as you yipped with the sensation. “Look at me as you come, look at who can make you feel this way,” he growled at you, rubbing your sensitive nub faster now. He began thrusting more forcefully, rocking the bed frame with the strength of his movements.

“ Ah..ah..f-fuck! Crocodile! I’m c-coming!” you stuttered out, your tight channel gripping and spasming around Crocodile like a vice. Your toes curled as your legs tensed, clenching around him even tighter. It was music to Crocodile’s ears and he rode you hard through your high as you came undone around him. He was near his own pleasure and relentlessly pursued it while dragging out your own. Never overly expressive during sex, Crocodile grunted as he gripped the bedpost, cracking the wooden frame under his hand. His orgasm hit him harder than he anticipated, bringing sharper relief to his aching cock than he’d felt in months. Fighting the urge to collapse on top of you, Crocodile laid to your side and rolled you onto his chest. You were still dazed from your third orgasm and breathing heavily.

“So, what do you think, brat? Am I a selfish lover?” Crocodile teased, kissing the top of your head.

“Dunno, need to test my theory again. Best two outta three?” you said with a throaty laugh. Crocodile grinned, his scar spreading further across his face.

Later that night, Crocodile dozed off easily with your face pressed against him, drool pooling on his chest from your slack mouth. You were exhausted after enjoying each other's bodies for hours, now resting on top of Crocodile’s warm chest. He’d retrieve the hook in the morning, he thought to himself. For now, he enjoyed the warmth of your smaller body on top of his own as he pulled the blankets over the two of you.

Crocodile was an early riser by nature but the spot you slept in grew cold by the time he awoke to the breaking rays of the sun. He would reach for you in the morning only to find your lingering scent on the pillow. Today was no different as Crocodile woke to an empty bed. You’d started spending your nights in his bed, usually romantically, but sometimes just talking quietly together until you fell asleep. Crocodile didn’t have a sense of humor that he was aware of, but you were able to get him to chuckle quite frequently. You told him jokes, relayed funny information you’d heard and did an impressive Mihawk impersonation. Your keen intellect was always on display even when you were nestled into his side drifting to sleep. He frequently sought your opinion about Cross Guild matters and gave it as much weight as Mihawk’s.

“What should we do with the Marines that are brought here?” Crocodile asked. Mihawk very strongly wanted to kill them but Crocodile was undecided if that was the best option.

“Keep ‘em. Er, at least the high level ones. Shows you can contain powerful Marines. And the others, just kill ‘em,” you said with a yawn.

“Kill them? I’m surprised that’s your opinion dear,” Crocodile said, kissing the top of your head.

“Did you call me dear ?” you asked incredulously.

“Mmm. You are dear to me, I should hope that is clear by now. But why kill them? I would think you’d be opposed to the murder of innocents,” Crocodile mused as a blush spread across your cheekbones. You were unused to romantic affection, but Crocodile sought to remedy that with his own brand of tenderness.

“Why would I care? They’re not innocent. They’re part of the World Government, just as bad as the people on the top. Maybe worse because they sign up for it. I’ve changed my mind, I think you should kill 'em all,” you said with a pout crossing your adorable features. You were generally easy going in nature towards others, with a notable exception for Marines. Crocodile assumed your negative perception of Marines had something to do with your previous enslavement, but you’d tell him when you were ready, it wasn’t his way to pry.

He got dressed and headed for his kitchen with a scowl. He was going to address the issue of leaving his bed without him later today - either you had to wake him up with you or you had to remain until he was ready to let you leave in the morning. He’d grown accustomed to your presence and wished to spend the early morning with you.

Pouring from the coffee carafe you’d thoughtfully prepared for him, Crocodile looked out the veranda at the island. Although it wasn’t chosen for its beauty, the island was rather pleasant in the early morning and in the evenings, when most of the crew was sleeping off their hangovers or preparing themselves for another. Crocodile’s coffee soured in his gut as he saw you from afar exchanging a hug with the Clown by the entrance to the Clown’s tent. You stayed in conversation with him afterward, smiling and laughing at the foolish man’s animated words and limbs flying about in the air. Crocodile had no idea what someone as intelligent as yourself could possibly say to such an imbecile but he’d long stopped trying to interfere in your relationship with your Captain.

Throwing his beloved jacket over his shoulders, Crocodile stalked towards you, no longer willing to hide his jealousy. The Clown and Mihawk were aware of his feelings towards you, though neither had said anything. As Crocodile rounded the corner to the tent, Crocodile realized the Clown was speaking to you about himself. Pausing to listen in, Crocodile heard the remainder of the conversation.

“ - could get you away if you needed it,” the Clown said quietly, holding your hand.

“Nah, I like that old bastard,” you replied, nuzzling his hand on your face. It would have been a touching display of affection if it was himself, not the Clown.

“But if there’s problems, let me know. Shanks's pretty good at chess too, watching you kick his ass would be fun,” the Clown added, putting his hand on your shoulder in concern. Crocodile gave the Clown’s words some thought. Though the fool irritated him to no end, Crocodile appreciated that the Clown was watching for your best interest even if it was against his own, he thought, chewing on his morning cigar. To offer to send a crew member to a rival Emperor was a sign that he cared for your safety, even if he had no reason to be. For this transgression of offering to take you away from Crocodile, he would only verbally wound the Clown, he wouldn’t raise his hook against him.

Coming fully around the corner, you smiled as you saw Crocodile’s own frowning face. Despite having his back to Crocodile, the Clown tensed, quickly removing his hand from your shoulder, correctly guessing the identity of the interloper.

“Good morning, Dear. Buggy,” Crocodile intoned, tilting his head in an outward show of respect towards the Clown, making you beam. You always appreciated when he showed a modicum of respect towards the Clown though it was not sincere. “Come, let us eat breakfast. Buggy, I will see you later at our meeting,” Crocodile said mildly, resting his hook on the Clown’s shoulder in a mirror of the Captain’s own movements. It always felt odd calling the Clown by his name - like referring to a an animal by a human name, but he had agreed to the terms of your service. Crocodile wasn’t going to hurt the Clown, but he didn’t need to know that now. A little negative anticipation would benefit the Clown’s mood for later. You kissed the Clown’s cheek and bade your goodbyes, walking with Crocodile back to his increasingly finished mansion.

“What was that conversation about?” Crocodile asked, though he felt foolish confirming information he already knew.

“Captain Buggy was making sure you’re treating me right,” you replied easily. Crocodile hummed and took your hand and placed it on his arm as the two of you strolled back to his residence. He had to walk slowly to match your shorter stride but he didn’t mind enjoying the cool morning air with you.

“I know you were eavesdropping, you’re not as slick as you think you are,” you said with an impish grin. Crocodile grunted. He was slick for everyone else, just not to you.

“I’m not old,” Crocodile replied.

“You are. You’re like 50,” you said matter-of-factly.

“47, brat. Maybe I need to spank the impudence out of you later tonight,” Crocodile mused.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” you said with a wink and a laugh. Crocodile’s lips quirked into a small smile. Crocodile led you past the marina towards his residence when you spotted new prisoners being unloaded from a pirate ship.

“Oh, new Marines? Anyone good?” you asked curiously, watching the prisoners being brought to the prison. Your idea had been an incredible success, Marines began arriving to the island semi-regularly. Of course, all high ranking captures were published in the news by Cross Guild, further weakening the bonds the Marines had with the less stable islands.

“Mm. This time we have mostly low ranking Marines with a notable exception. The Mad Medic has been brought in, apparently captured and detained by his own subordinates. A rare occurrence, but nothing -” Crocodile ceased talking as he took in your countenance. You had paled, your cheeky attitude from moments prior evaporated completely. Your gaze was fixed on the ground, no longer watching the scene play out in front of you. Crocodile frowned, he hadn’t seen you this on edge since the first time he’d properly met you. And even then, you were more nervous than anything else. Your hunched shoulders and lip between your teeth told Crocodile you were scared. And that was not an emotion Crocodile liked seeing in his brave, resilient maid.

“Dear, what’s the matter?” Crocodile asked quietly, walking even slower now. His hand on top of yours kept you from removing it from his arm completely, you were practically tugging him to get further away from the marina. You were frantic to get away, your normal sassy attitude completely absent from the conversation, unlike the easy, leisurely walk before.

“Nothin’, just wanna go,” you whispered back, resuming pulling on his sleeve once more. Crocodile had never seen you so withdrawn - it must be the introduction of the Marines. Crocodile scanned the incoming prisoners, the only one of note was the Mad Medic who was decidedly unamused by the circumstances. He was examining the island and his eyes landed on Crocodile and his companion. A sickening sneer spread over his face as he leered at you from afar. Things quickly clicked into place in Crocodile’s mind as he made a quick decision.

“And go we shall. Come along,” Crocodile said, hand on the small of your back, guiding you away from the marina. Your eyes darted back towards the boats, as if to make sure you weren’t being followed. Unfortunately, the time for discretion had ended. You were going to have to tell Crocodile what had happened to you so that he could determine the level of torture the Mad Medic would face.

Wheeling you into his house, Crocodile brought you into the study, sitting you down in your usual chair. You started to set the chess board automatically, your mind obviously elsewhere. Crocodile wasn’t in the mood for playing chess but allowed you to continue as a way to settle your nerves. Crocodile poured two cups of coffee from the carafe you’d left, handing you one after adding one teaspoon of sugar and a large amount of cream, your preferred presentation.

“The Mad Medic,” Crocodile stated.

“Yeah,” you said absently, staring at the chessboard. Crocodile made the first move, trying to ease the burden on your mind.

“Describe how you know this person,” Crocodile rumbled, crossing his legs and steepling his fingers against his hook. You studied the board and made your move, countering his pawn with one of your own. You waited for Crocodile to make his next move before you resumed speaking.

“Before Captain Buggy bought me, I was a medical slave for students training to be doctors to Celestial Dragons. They don’t train on animals or oranges or poor people, they train on slaves for accuracy. Um, like me. I had to go through lots of invasive physical exams, sutures, venipuncture, intubation, surgery…and lots of other stuff was done to me by students. It was um, bad. Really bad. That’s where some of the, um, scars come from. Suture practice. He would, um, make cuts and sometimes rub stuff in them to make them worse for the students to clean and fix. That’s why they’re so even and there’s so many of ‘em, they were for practice. And um, a buncha my veins are ruined from, um, being stuck bad too many times,” you stated, showing him the crook of your arm again. The irregular puncture wounds and parallel scars made sense now. Given the hundreds you had, Crocodile couldn't imagine how many times you had to endure being sliced just to be poorly sewn again or stabbed over and over. You were jiggling your feet and rubbing your hands together, clearly in distress.

“Come here,” Crocodile said, holding his arm out to you. You got up from your chair and came over to sit in his lap sideways, tucking yourself against his chest. “Thank you for sharing this, little one, I know it is difficult for you,” Crocodile said, rubbing your back with his hand. He kept his sand from swirling, he didn’t want you to worry about cleaning the chair.

“And he was, um, in charge of the program. He used me more than any other slave. Said I had good skin and blood for it, I dunno. And healed faster, but I don’t think that’s true. So. That’s how I know him,” you spoke in a rush, as if you needed to get it out quickly before you stopped yourself. “That’s, um, part of why I got so good at chess. I used it as a distraction during procedures or when in recovery, which was a lot of the time. You know, thinking about moves, playing games in my head, since um, I was strapped down and um, y’know, gagged most of the time, ” you continued, staring out the office window. You hadn’t made eye contact with Crocodile since the sighting at the marina, something that bothered Crocodile immensely.

“I see,” Crocodile said easily, like you were telling him you wanted two teaspoons of sugar in your coffee instead of one. In reality, he was imagining the myriad ways he was going to enjoy torturing the Medic to death. He didn’t want to think of you, scared and in pain, strapped to a medical table as students practiced on your precious skin.

“And the final test for doctors who want to work for the Celestial Dragons is, um, how I got the neck scar,” you stated, though your voice had dropped to nary above a whisper. “They, um, well, he, um, slashed my throat with a razor and a fourth year student had to sew up the wound before I died. If I died, they wouldn’t pass. It was….” you trailed off, not finishing the sentence as you relived what was likely the worst moment of your life.

“But um, it took me too long to recover since the student who did mine wasn’t all that good, and um, they sold to the auction house since I couldn’t work, and um, well, you know the rest,” you ended abruptly. Crocodile didn’t want to press for the details, he would find out all he needed to from the medic in due time.

“So that’s why I hate Marines. The medical school was affiliated with them and if they were really going to protect people, they would. They would have stopped the program. But they don’t care about us. No one does,” you finished, wiping your nose with your sleeve. Crocodile reached into the pocket of his vest, retrieving his handkerchief and handing it to you. You took it and wiped your nose and eyes, sitting miserably with tears staining your pretty cheeks.

“Would you prefer to watch his torture or participate yourself?” Crocodile asked, his head at a slight tilt as he removed your tears with his thumb.

“Wha-what? I thought you were keeping the high level Marines alive, that it-” you sputtered, finally looking at Crocodile’s face. Crocodile cut you off with a wave of his hook.

“No. This one dies by my hand. Or yours, should you wish for it,” Crocodile stated in a flat tone.

“You’d…do that for me? I know this is fucked up, but that’s…really nice. Maybe the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me. I mean, aside from buying me and freeing me,” you said, wiping your nose again.

“You are precious and irreplaceable, I will kill anyone who dares raise their hand against you. That is not a threat, it is a promise. Now, answer the question. Would you like to participate, watch, or neither?” Crocodile asked, rubbing his hand tenderly on your cheek.

“Hmm. I don’t - I don’t know. I don’t want to see him at all. I wasn’t, um, who I am now back then. It was - I wasn’t - um, I just can’t, I’m, um, scared,” you said, avoiding Crocodile’s eyes once more. He gently put the flat or his hook under your face, tilting it up towards his own.

“It is understandable that you are afraid but you have nothing to fear. Why don’t you let me attend to this matter for now, hm? It is, after all, my area of expertise,” Crocodile said, a wicked grin spreading across his face. You gave him a watery smile, but kissed his cheek.

“Thank you, Crocodile,” you said softly.

“The pleasure is all mine,” Crocodile said, sand already swirling as he adjusted his hook.

Taglist: @mfreedomstuff

#croc x reader #sir crocodile x reader #crocodile x reader #protective crocodile #soft crocodile #buggy one piece #captain buggy #x reader #reader insert #tw violence #tw prior abuse #op x y/n

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glossdebut · 4 hours ago

Text

study break | MYG

✧ PAIRING: yoongi x fem!reader

✧ SUMMARY: Yoongi was an extremely effective tutor, until he wasn’t. As it turns out, dating the person who is singlehandedly responsible for bringing up your Fundamentals of Music Theory grade isn’t the smartest move in the world.

✧ TAGS: college au, smut, fluff

✧ WARNINGS: oral (f. receiving), vaginal fingering, slight overstimulation

✧ AUTHOR'S NOTE: okay, so this is NOT price of fame chapter two, nor is it the seokjin fic that i’ve been teasing for weeks. this is instead a secret third thing, inspired by my own post that has been living rent free in my brain for the past couple of days. i promise POF2 and the seokjin fic are both coming, but i had to get this out before i lost my damn mind. not beta read, so feel free to inform me of any mistakes i missed. P.S. i know the header isn’t debut yoongi, don’t fucking @ me about it!! i had this photo on hand ):

✧ WORDCOUNT: 2.2k words

Yoongi was an extremely effective tutor, until he wasn’t.

As it turns out, dating the person who is singlehandedly responsible for bringing up your Fundamentals of Music Theory grade isn’t the smartest move in the world.

Things were so much easier when you—wrongfully—assumed he was an asshole. At least then, the arrangement was clear: you met him in the library, tried not to get annoyed at what a know-it-all he seemed to be for an hour, and then went back to your dorm with a slightly easier method of memorizing the circle of fifths under your belt. It went on like that for weeks. Quick and effective, mostly painless.

But then, when awkward small talk developed into genuine interest, you got to know him.

You learned that the reason he never takes notes in class is because he doesn’t have to. He taught himself all of the basics of music theory years ago, could’ve tested out and moved on to a more advanced class, but he wanted an easy A in his course load. You learned that he’s a classical piano major. He likes it just fine, but it’s really a means to an end. You learned that he writes his own raps, performs them at underground shows with a group of friends some weekends, that that’s what he really wants to do. You learned that he’s not an asshole and he’s just shy, that he’s been working up the courage to ask you out all semester.

You learned even more about him on your first date.

Such as: he’s the self-proclaimed master of grilling meat, and he’ll load up your plate for you before he even thinks of feeding himself. He may act like he’s not interested in going to the noraebang, but with just the slightest bit of insistence from you he’ll fold like a piece of paper. He thinks it’s cute when you snatch his snapback right off of his head and put it on your own. Even cuter when you fumble through a verse of Epik High’s ‘Love Love Love,’ squealing happily when he joins in.

And: he kisses like he’s got something to prove. Knows all the right ways to use his tongue. Makes a low noise in the back of his throat when you do something he likes. Isn’t the slightest bit shy about pulling you into his lap, nor about slipping his hand into your panties right there, Epik High forgotten in favor of making you cum around his skilled fingers.

So. Yeah.

Yoongi is no longer an effective tutor, because instead he is a fucking distraction.

You’re supposed to be studying. You had been studying, both of you putting up a valiant effort for a full hour and a half. But just as you’d gotten a firm grasp on the seven musical modes—Ionian, Dorian, Phrygian, Lydian, Mixolydian, Aeolian, Locrian—-Yoongi was whining, insisting on taking a break. You tried to put up a fight, but you’re especially weak when Yoongi gets all sulky, soft pink lips pulled into a pout.

Notecards tossed aside, your fifteen minute study break quickly devolves into half an hour of making out on Yoongi’s bed. As soft music filters into his dorm room from his laptop, you lose track of time with his tongue sliding against yours, the occasional sting of his teeth on your bottom lip because he knows you like it. When you feel his erection pressed against your hip it quickly becomes very clear that you’re both done studying for the time being.

The way Yoongi kisses you never fails to make you crazy. His lips on yours are gentle but commanding at the same time, his hands in your hair holding your head exactly where he wants it as he licks into your mouth like he owns it. When he pulls away, you barely have a chance to catch your breath before he’s trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck. Your hips rock up against his, desperate for friction.

“Baby,” Yoongi murmurs against your skin. His hands slide down from your hair to gently tug at the waistband of your jeans, an index finger circling teasingly around the button. “Wanna eat you out. You want that?”

“Yeah,” you breathe, gasping when he nips at the underside of your jaw. Your voice is high, needy, foreign to your own ears. He’s good at that—at pulling sounds out of you that you didn’t know you could make.

He wastes no time in peeling your jeans down your legs, tossing them off the bed and out of his way. Yoongi likes to have as much space as possible when he eats you out, you’ve learned. He likes to take his time, spread you out as much as he can on his shitty dorm-provided twin size mattress. Just because he can make you cum in record time—and he can—doesn’t mean he likes to. Not when he’d much rather drag it out, savor you in every imaginable way until you can’t take it anymore.

You know you’re in for it when he doesn’t take your panties off right away. Instead, when he settles between your thighs, all he does is look for a moment, his gaze laser-focused on the growing wetness seeping through the cotton.

It lasts long enough that you start to squirm, his eyes flicking up to meet yours at the sudden movement.

“A-are you…?” you start, but you trail off, suddenly feeling way too fucking shy for something you’ve done with him more times than you can count at this point.

“Yeah,” he hums, looking up at you with an amused smirk. “Yeah, I’m getting to it, sweetness. I just wanted to look at you for a second. Is that okay?”

You shiver, swallowing thickly as you nod.

“You sure?” he teases, pressing a soft kiss to the inside of your thigh, so close to where you want him. “You don’t have anywhere better to be?”

“Shut up, Yoongi,” you complain, sitting up for a moment to flick him on the forehead.

“Yah, so disrespectful,” he admonishes with a bite right where he’d just kissed. “I’m just playing. I know you don’t wanna be anywhere else.”

Your eyes narrow at him. “I don’t,” you agree, suspicious. He’s up to something.

“No, you don’t,” Yoongi hums knowingly, holding your gaze as he presses a kiss right to your clit. It makes your breath hitch, even with your panties subduing the feeling. “Because you love the way I eat this pussy, don’t you, baby?”

The answer is yes, of course. Yoongi always makes you feel so good no matter what he’s doing, but eating you out is definitely where he excels. But something about how cocky he’s being makes something stir inside of you—-makes you feel a little bold, a little mean.

“When you actually get around to it, yeah.”

Yoongi chuckles darkly, snapping the waistband of your panties against your hip. When he lifts his head his eyes are all pupil. “It’s like that, huh?” he asks, his tongue running over his teeth.

“Maybe,” you say, goading.

He clicks his tongue, dipping down to lick a broad stripe over your pussy without any warning. When he reaches your clothed clit, he wraps his lips around it and sucks hard, tearing a surprised moan from you.

“F-fuck!” Your fingers tangle in his hair, desperate for something to hold on to, but the overwhelming pleasure is gone as quickly as it came.

“Such a brat,” Yoongi mumbles, sinking his teeth into the softness of your inner thigh again, harder this time. “Just wanted to take my time, treat you nice. But if you want it like this, fine.”

Mercifully, his fingers hook into the waistband of your panties. He roughly drags them down your legs until they’re thrown onto the floor, out of sight just like your jeans.

You gasp when his fingers instantly slide over your slippery cunt, making you gasp. “You get this wet just from pissing me off?” he scoffs, and you shake your head.

“N-no,” you whimper.

“No?” Yoongi asks, tilting his head at you with a smirk. You feel like you’re going to die when his fingers find your clit, rubbing in punishing little circles. “Tell me what gets you this wet, then, baby.”

“You!” you moan. It feels embarrassingly fast, but you’re close. You’re gonna cum before he even gets his mouth on you properly. Maybe that’s his goal. “You, fuck, Yoongi.”

“That’s right,” he purrs. “You gonna cum already, pretty girl? Before I even get to taste you?”

Oh, he knows exactly what he’s doing. Motherfucker.

You wouldn’t be able to protest even if you wanted to, your brain already succumbing to the pleasant buzz of your impending orgasm. All you can do is squirm and rock up against Yoongi’s fingertips, completely at his mercy.

“That’s okay,” Yoongi continues, unbothered as you shake and moan in front of him. “I know you can give me another one. Go ahead, sweetness. Cum for me.”

Your release tears through you, sudden and intense and all-consuming. You’re sure there are words coming out of your mouth, but between the heat spreading through your body and the static buzzing in your ears, you honestly have no idea what they could be. Yoongi’s fingers keep rubbing at your abused clit until you’re trembling, gasping for breath between moans.

“Filthy girl,” he hums. Whatever you said must’ve been good, because he sounds almost proud of you as he runs his hands over your thighs. “You gonna let me take my time now?”

“Yes,” you gasp, still reeling from your orgasm. Yoongi taking his time is exactly what you need right now, or else you’ll go into complete overdrive. Absently, you think that was his plan all along, but that thought melts away as soon as Yoongi dips down and delves his tongue into your cunt, slow and thorough.

Your brain? Empty. Brain so fucking empty.

“Shit,” he groans against you, his voice so low and gravelly you can feel the vibration of his words against your pussy. “You always taste so fucking good after you cum for me.”

You thread your fingers through his hair again, moaning long and low as he spreads you apart with his thumbs and dives back in. His nose nudges just slightly against your clit as he licks into you, the barely-there contact making your eyes roll back in your head.

“Yoongiiii,” you moan, earning an appreciative moan from him as he dips his tongue into your entrance.

Your first orgasm took you by surprise, but you can tell already that this one is going to be a slow burn, tendrils of heat that never really got a chance to fade spreading through your body, adagio.

As promised, Yoongi takes his sweet time. He sets an agonizing rhythm: licking into you, dragging his tongue up your pussy, gently sucking your clit into his mouth, over and over again until you’re practically a puddle on his mattress.

“Feels so fuckin’ good,” you mewl, your thighs shaking around his head. You’d blush at the sounds he’s producing between your legs, slurping and sucking at you, if you weren’t so fucked out. Instead, all it does is turn you on even more, make you even wetter for him.

Yoongi pulls back, huffing a laugh through his nose. “I know, baby,” he murmurs soothingly. “You ready to cum again?”

Wordlessly, you nod, squeezing your eyes shut. Two fingers tease at your entrance, getting nice and wet before Yoongi slides them in, and just like that, you’re ready to burst.

“Nnngh—fuck, ‘m so fucking close,” you slur, grasping at his hair as he pumps his fingers into you.

“Give it to me,” he says, before sucking your clit into his mouth again and making stars burst behind your eyelids.

His fingers curl just right, and then you’re moaning brokenly, bucking up against his fingers and mouth as you cum again.

It feels like it lasts forever. Yoongi moans around your clit as you clench around his fingers, squeezing tight tight tight as heat crashes over you in waves. You feel his fingers withdraw, and then his tongue is fucking into you again, licking every last drop he’s earned from you.

He only breaks away when you’re pushing at his head, overstimulated and spent.

“God, you’re so sexy,” he rumbles, climbing up the bed so he’s on top of you, bracing himself on his elbows. He’s one to talk. He always looks so good like this—swollen lips and dark eyes, the bottom half of his face slick from eating you out so fucking well. “You can just cum and cum for me, can’t you?”

“You are insane,” you breathe, grasping at the strings of his sweatshirt to pull him in for a kiss, tasting yourself on his lips.

Yoongi chuckles, pulling away just to press his forehead against yours. “You like it,” he says.

“I like you,” you correct, closing your eyes. “Even though I’m going to fail my final because of you.”

That earns a real laugh from Yoongi, his nose scrunching. “You’re not gonna fail.”

“I am,” you say, nodding sagely. “But it’ll be worth it.”

“That so?” He presses another kiss to your lips, nuzzling his nose against yours.

“Mhmm,” you hum. “Besides, I’ll just find a better tutor next semester when I have to retake.”

That earns you a sharp jab of Yoongi’s fingers to your side, but he’s got one of those gummy smiles on his face as you squeal under him, so no harm done.

✧ shoot me a reply or an ask if you enjoyed this chapter! feedback is always appreciated <3 join my taglist if you want to be tagged in future fics!

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ennn · 1 day ago

Note

Great meta about episode 8 and about Agatha’s feelings. I’m particularly curious about Rio and I agree with everything you said about her feelings and why she lashed out. She finally gave up on Agatha after centuries, she accepted she would always hate her no matter what even if she chose giving Billy up or herself but did that kiss change anything for her? She looked like she was truly grieving her and letting go

I don’t think she knew about ghost Agatha but will that change anything? Do you think she will follow the deal and leave Agatha alone? There is also the issue about Tommy but if you don’t count the twins do you think Death finally decided to move on? Will she be free or with those two, never 😂

Heh, I did leave out the part about the kiss in my meta post didn't I? My brain was so tired lol

The short answer? It's ambiguous.

And I think that's largely deliberate because The Powers That Be (TPTB) haven't committed to where and how they want to use Rio / Death in future Marvel projects.

I think there's definitely enough setup done and opportunity in the story for Rio to come back for an AAA sequel or spin-off — but also enough ambiguity if not.

Story-wise, the kiss is significant because I don't think Agatha's one to directly apologise or walk back what she says. It's a similar thing in episode 4 where Agatha embraces Rio with all that emotion.

I think the kiss is Agatha saying she still does have love for Rio, that she does want her despite all that she said earlier, that she's sorry but she can't let this boy die.

It's very heartbreaking if you consider Rio had resigned herself to Agatha just hating and rejecting her, and she is given this reminder of their love as a goodbye.

But ultimately I think with Agatha's progress – inching her way along her arc – this still marks the end of this chapter of their relationship: these two finally had something of an honest conversation, the baseline of their interactions has changed, and Rio needs to process brand new emotions like grief (which I sure hope doesn't have cosmic consequences ha ha).

That said, the kiss does seem to put Agatha and Rio in a relatively okay place at the end of this chapter. It's a bit of reconciliation. They've shown that they still love each other, but there's still a significant disconnect between them. But as a wise Lilia once said, sad is better than angry.

Now the ghost thing: it's a really interesting change to the dynamic of their relationship but I don't know if Agatha being a ghost encourages or dissuades Rio to go after her. Rio may feel motivated to help Agatha pass on and be with Nicky. Or Rio may take it as Agatha choosing to put distance between them, and from what we see in episode 5, Rio can't really do much about ghosts.

What the ghost thing does do is give Rio some grounds to ignore the first deal because if we look at the letter of the arrangement, Agatha asks for Rio "to stop making her life hell" and to not see Rio's face when she dies. These terms are no longer relevant for a ghost.

And if one argues that the deal has Agatha telling Rio to stop pursuing her, you could argue that Rio's following Billy and trying to deal with the Tommy situation. Agatha just happens to be around all the time while Rio's doing her job.

If we ignore the whole Maximoff twin situation like you say, I think it would actually be up to Agatha to decide whether a new chapter of them begins.

Because while being a ghost is a sacrifice in a lot of ways, it actually gives Agatha more control over the relationship in a way she didn't before, not even with the Darkhold. I don't think Rio can touch her, literally. It's possible Rio can't even sense her.

The good news is, this kind of ambiguity is perfect for fanfiction and fan interpretations. There is a lot of potential there.

#agatha all along #agathario #agatha x rio #tv: agatha all along #ship: vidarkness #aaa meta #asks #anon

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tofautisawa · 3 days ago

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Seems like a lot of creators are leaving webtoon. I will miss reading Tofauti Sawa there but it is logical

Yeah. Truth be told, I was on the fence about it for the longest time. One- given how freaking tedious it was for me to post there given that I don't post in big chapters and Webtoon never bothers to notify any followers when I updated a episode with a new page like Tapas does so people were confused when it suddenly felt like I skipped a huge portion of story when I upload a new batch of pages in a different episode. I know some may argue that it should feel no different than uploading to ComicFury but ...but trust me, it felt hella different just with that one extra step of having to make a thumbnail for every goddamn page. And Two- their reputation and how the site is managed.

What honestly was the straw that broke the camel's back is when Webtoon censored and deleted pages of a Webtoon Original because of....*checks notes* ....two women who were in a loving relationship shared a kiss.

....

Yeah, I am not gonna miss that site.

#Ask

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svt-rosalie · 2 days ago

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Hi so Rosalie dating woozi may I know how it happened ? How ask how? What was seungkwan reaction? Is woozi the jealous type? What if someone else flirt with Rosie? Hope you still taking requests. I love your work by the way 👍

[this ask was sent in december of 2023….. im so sorry i haven’t responded]

The developed feelings in the early months of 2019, they didn’t speak on them though.

They were concerned like “Why am I catching feelings for my friend? S/he’s suppose to be JUST my friend”

I mean Rosalie always thought Jihoon was cute but that was silly child crushes, but this was adult crushing and they did not know how to act around each other

You can see in there behind the scenes videos that they kind stray away from each other but still stay in eye sight — yet they don’t speak to each other.

Same thing with Going Seventeen episodes, they only interacted when they HAD to because they would get flustered and not know how to act around each other.

The announcement of feelings didn’t come to light until Rosie’s birthday.

They shared a kiss that night

It was late and Jihoon was the last to wish the girl Happy Birthday, honestly Rosie was sick of them tip toeing around each other and confronted him head on

“Why are you avoiding me? Did I do something to you?”

“No you didn’t do anything Rosebud”

“Then why are you avoiding me?”

“Well you’re avoiding me too!”

“But you started it! I didn’t want to push your boundaries!”

“Well maybe I want my boundaries pushed!”

AND BAM ROSALIE LAYED ONE ON HIM!!ahhhh my babies.

Honestly that settled their feelings for each other but Jihoon did run out of her room and run to his like a little scaredy cat.

That did hurt Rosie’s feelings a lot, especially when he went back to avoiding her and not wanting to speak up about their feelings for each other.

Rosie confided about everything that was going on to Seungkwan.

The older boy listened and gave clean advice. Just because of his feelings didn’t align with her own doesn’t mean he was going to sabotage what she was feeling for someone else.

Seungkwan told her to wait it out, let Jihoon come to her. They both know how he is when it comes down to talking about his feelings. They both know he would rather ignore it than confront it. He told her to just act normal with him, if he wants to ignore it that doesn’t mean she had to.

And that’s what she did and it kinda felt like they were back to normal? Woozi slowly came out of shell once again and acted the same way he did with her before but the lingering touches and side glances at her were noticeable, but only to them.

During New Years of 2019 though is when everything came to a head and was finally confronted.

Jihoon FINALLY asked the girl to be his stating that he wants to go in the new year as the luckiest man

:(( i love them so much

Rosalie was over the moon and forgot that there was camera all around and just smacked a kiss on him.

It didn’t really matter to either of them though because whatever were to happen they would go through it together, as one.

I also wouldn’t say Woozi the jealous type to be honest?

I feel like they both are secure in their relationship and know that they have to act a certain way with fans for fan service.

That doesn’t mean Woozi doesn’t side eye the male fans that express that Rosalie is exactly their type at fansign

Jihoon does definitely joke with the girl and say “Oh how’s your other boyfriends doing?”

Rosie will be so confused and pout at him like “Huh? I have another boyfriend?”

Jihoon wouldn’t be able to finish the joke without laughing and covering Rosie’s face with kisses and saying “Nevermind Nevermind, just give me love.”

They are actually my favorite couple AHHHHHH!!!!

i will have actually written chapter scenarios about their relationship and how it developed shortly, can’t promise how quickly it’ll be done though!

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cierraonline · 9 hours ago

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Missing the podcast real baddddd

EP 1 - No Mean Girl References! Does Billie Like Her Gf's Family? Kimora Has Short Term Memory! You Are The Asshole!

Chapter one : podcast episode #1

Warning: none

Masterlist | next chapter

"Hey you!" Kimora points to the camera, "Were you bored scrolling on TikTok, ended up on YouTube, and realized you have a 'TikTok bird ass brain' that can’t focus on one thing for more than ten seconds? Did you see this thumbnail and think, 'Oh, there’s that Kardashian girl; let’s stare at her face for ten minutes and theorize what plastic surgery she's had'? If so, you’ve come to the right place." Kimora stands straight, looking at the camera with a smile, giving her best five-star hospitality attitude. "Hi, I’m Kimora West, daughter of Kim Kardashian and Kanye West—but you may know them as ‘Culture Vulture Gold Digger’ and ‘That once-good producer before he went... you know, crazy.' I now have a podcast with my girlfriend of four years, Billie Eilish." Billie slides into view and does jazz hands.

"Hi, I’m Billie Eilish, singer, songwriter, and more importantly, her girlfriend," the now-brunette says her short n' sweet line.

"We hope you guys enjoy," Kimora smiles, tilting her head to the side. "Or don’t—we still get paid either way, thanks to YouTube."

XXX

"Sup,kisses and hugs! It’s Kimora, and today is Wednesday, so of course, we’re wearing pink," Kimora says, showing off her baby pink tee and hot pink textured sweatpants. "And over there we have Janis..." The camera slowly slides to the right, revealing Billie in an oversized black shirt and oversized jean jorts.

"Billie," Billie smiles, then turns to her girlfriend. "I thought we agreed on no 'Mean Girls' references."

"Asking me not to make 'Mean Girls' references is like asking me not to be me," Kimora states, before looking back at the camera. "First on the list, a fan question for Billie. Billie, your fan, billiecanslutmeout, wants to know: ‘Do you like the Kardashian family outside of Kimora?'"

"Skip," Billie shakes her head, not wanting to answer because she feels it’s confrontational and doesn’t want to risk upsetting her partner or attracting hate from the 'Kar-Jenner' fanbase.

"Nope," Kimora emphasizes the last syllable. "Answer."

"We’ve talked about this before," Billie begins, but Kimora cuts her off, giving a direct answer.

"She doesn’t like them and is currently in her head trying to find a way to sugarcoat it."

"I didn’t say that," Billie throws her head back, laughing.

"You literally made a song about it—'Overheated,'" Kimora squints her eyes.

"I... I love you and every luxury pink baggage that comes with you. I have love for your family because you’re a product of them. And you are my favorite person in the whole world," Billie says sincerely. "But as someone who promotes body positivity, I don’t support the negative body-image messaging that is part of your family's brand, and there's the constant need for relevancy and exposure, which I’ve developed my own opinions on from behind-the-scenes stories you’ve told me about filming for the TV show."

"Smart answer," Kimora nods. "Now, what about my dad?"

"I honestly think your dad hates me," Billie shakes her head.

"He doesn’t hate you," Kimora insists, knowing deep down that her father actually appreciates Billie’s positive influence on her.

"He literally posted on Instagram that if I didn’t apologize to Travis Scott, he’d cancel his Coachella performance, which led his fans to flood my accounts with hate. I never even mentioned Travis—I was just helping a fan at my concert!" Billie exclaims, eyes wide.

"Yeah, he did do that," Kimora nods awkwardly, acknowledging that her father had actually done it without provocation, putting both girls in a difficult position. For Billie, it was a choice between saying what she truly felt and risking being bullied off the internet by his fans—or staying silent to avoid hurting Kimora. For Kimora, it was about deciding who would get hurt: Billie or her father. "Sorry."

"It was hurtful, but I think you handled it well, especially since it happened in our first year of really being together," Billie reassured her. "Like, as soon as you found out what was going on, you called me while you were driving over with my favorite food to make sure I was okay and could sleep that night."

"I just didn’t want you to feel like…like you and your mental health weren’t a priority for me," Kimora struggled with her words, trying to explain her motivations. "Because I know how my dad can get, and at the time, he’d been spiraling for a few days already. So for me, you were the top priority on my list. I didn’t want to just do nothing and make it seem like his actions were acceptable—because they weren't. I-I-I guess what I’m trying to say is that I wanted you to know I’d be there for you, even if it meant going against my family."

"Yeah," Billie smiled at her with ocean-clear blue eyes meeting warm chocolate brown, speckled with caramel, filled with love and adoration. "Even though we didn’t say it out loud at that time, that was one of those moments when I knew I was in love with you. You stayed with me that whole week, making sure I was okay and taken care of…and even called your dad to apologize to me and ask him to take down the post."

“Aww, you loved me only three weeks in?” Kimora gushed, leaning forward to offer a kiss. Billie smiled and leaned in as well, their breaths mingling in the close space between them. Gently, Billie lifted her left hand, tucking a stray strand of hair behind Kimora’s ear before tracing her fingers softly along Kimora’s cheek, savoring the velvet-like feel of her skin. With a delicate motion, she moved her fingers from cheek to chin, then closed the distance and softly pressed her lips to her girlfriend’s.

“I love you,” Billie whispered, her eyes still closed, their faces barely a centimeter apart.

“I love you, too,” Kimora replied with a smile, then leaned in for one more tender kiss.

"Do you remember how we met?" Billie asks after the ad, now reclined on the couch with Kimora laying across her, leg draped over her waist.

"We met through a reference from Justin, because he would always say we absolutely had to meet. Hailey was like, 'You two would be perfect for each other if you were to date, because you're opposites with a cohesive middle ground,'" Kimora recalls, remembering her conversation with the Biebers. They were very persistent about wanting the two young, popular stars to either befriend each other—or, in some cases, get married immediately.

"So when did we officially meet?" Billie smiles, playing with Kimora's curls.

"In the Met Gala bathroom," Kimora answers with a smile. "I was coming out of the stall, and you were staring at yourself deeply in the mirror. I told you, 'You don’t have to worry about your appearance anymore. By now, everyone is probably drunk off their rockers because the food sucks, so you could be butt naked and no one would even notice.'"

"I’m surprised you remember that," Billie kisses her forehead. "You’re terrible at remembering things."

"No, I’m not," Kimora pouts, playfully slapping Billie’s thigh.

"You literally forgot we were filming today and almost went to work, even though you scheduled the day off," Billie laughs.

"I have a good memory," Kimora insists. "I’m just busy with the new Skims launch, aka Skims by Kimora." Kimora sits up, looking directly at the camera. "Get your favorite new set for 40% off with code 'GirlsInPink,' no purchase minimum."

"During lockdown, we got hooked on Reddit’s 'Am I the Asshole' stories," Billie smiles, back in their original positions on the burnt orange velvet couch.

"I don’t have blood pressure issues, but these stories drive me nuts. Like, why even ask if you're the asshole when it’s so obvious?" Kimora frowns. "For our first Reddit submission, please welcome Georgina!" Billie holds up a pink square remote, and clapping noises fill the room.

"Heyyy!" Kimora pouts at the remote in Billie’s hand. "I was supposed to be Sam in this podcast."

"Well, now you’re Carly," Billie teases, sticking out her tongue.

"No fair," Kimora crosses her arms, playfully sulking.

"You’re acting like a baby," Billie rolls her eyes with a grin.

"Ok, and?" Kimora glared. "If anything, I'm a cute baby..." She turned her head away from her girlfriend and looked to the right, making eye contact with her best friend, Georgina Miller.

"Alright, first Reddit submission is...‘I am a mother of five, 3 bio-Brooke 22, Will 18 and Iris 16 and 2 bonus sons-Sam 26 and Jack 23. All of my kids are currently living at home with me and my husband for various reasons. Sam's girlfriend Tori 21 and Will's girlfriend Mary 18 also lives with us full time, and Jack GF stays over a lot.

We have a pretty good relationship with all the kids, we don't charge them rent but everyone contribute to the household. We have a couple basic rules-input on utilities, maintain the common areas, etc but one of the rules is no babies, we don't expect our kids to celibate. But we do expect them to be careful.

On Friday, I found a receipt and saw someone brought a pregnancy test. I immediately took a picture of the receipt and put in the family group chat, I figured the culprit would out themselves. No one confessed, so I said that all girls that live in or visited are taking a pregnancy test because I suspect someone is pregnant. They pretty much lost their minds and told me no and messaged that I was being weird and invasive.

That is when I got upset and said that if anyone refused a test, they would have to move out. Everyone freaked out and told me that I'm being emotional and crazy. They decide no one would take a test. I think they assume I will not kick everyone out, but I will because I feel like I'm being gaslit. My youngest Iris is the only one I don't suspect because she is gay, not openly, but I know. I have

given everyone the entire weekend to calm down because everyone has been avoiding me and giving me the cold shoulder. I have tried to discuss the situation repeatedly but I have been ignored in person and over phone.

At this point, I am ready to evict everyone because someone is blatantly lying and all of the others are backing a lie while living stress free in my house. My husband thinks I should let it go for now because the test might have been negative and if someone is pregnant we will know soon. But I feel it a larger issue now of my kids disrespecting me by lying to me. Am I being the asshole?”

“Yes,” Billie answered right when Georgina was done with reading the submission.

“You’re not an asshole… but you are,” Kimora answers. “I can see the problem from both points of view.”

“Same, but I think what makes her an asshole is how she’s handling the situation now that she didn’t get the answers she wanted,” Billie explains why she thinks the writer is indeed an asshole.

“Yeah,” Kimora agrees. “Like, I get it, you’re upset because your boundaries were stepped on, and that’s unfair to you. But at the same time, you can’t force someone to take a pregnancy test just because you want answers right now.”

“Exactly. Even though it was negative, that person probably needed time to think and process the results. They could’ve been reevaluating what to do better to prevent another scare,” Billie adds.

“Oh my God!” A thought hits Kimora's brain full force. “I have another day off—remind me to register to vote.”

“Baby,” Billie looks at her with concern. “You registered last week at the same time as me when my mom was doing hers and asked if we wanted to come do ours.”

“Ohhh.”

“We’re gonna work on your memory, don’t worry,” Billie rubs Kimora’s thigh with sincerity.

“Anyways,” Kimora brushes off the awkward moment. “At the end of the day, you own the house, and if you feel gaslit and your boundaries were crossed, then kick them out, I guess. Just be prepared for the consequences that come with that action. Because at the end of the day… you literally said you don’t care if your kids are having sex, as long as they’re protected. And the pregnancy test was negative. I just feel like you can be protected and still have scares. I mean, Billie and I use a fake penis, and we still get scares. It comes with the territory.”

“They didn’t need to know that!” Billie looks at Kimora with wide eyes, shocked by her girlfriend’s impulsive thoughts.

“They were probably already thinking it,” Kimora shrugs. “You’ve literally done an interview talking about masturbation. Me saying we use a dildo isn’t anything new or shocking.”

“Just end the video,” Billie covers her face with her hands in embarrassment. “Now, please.”

“Hi, it’s me again,” Kimora awkwardly waves her hand. “Did your TikTok bird ass brain develop and actually let you stay to watch the whole video? Did you like what you saw or heard… or both, for the privileged? If you nodded your head yes or weirdly answered talking to a screen, then you should subscribe to this channel. We update every Wednesday and Saturday, so don’t worry if you don’t have actual friends to hang out with. Instead, come watch me and my girlfriend, Billie, talk about useless shit, vent, and argue about things we’ve done in the past with a couple of inappropriate touches that you shouldn’t be seeing, but our editor is too blind and lazy to take out. We love you, Lisa,” Kimora shouts out her editor at the end. “Bye!”

taglist @billiesrighthand @bilswildflower @bilsluckyheart @billiesgoodgirll @billsvip @billieshrry @dandelions4us @factsbybriggs @rhearipley-69 @cierraonline @amberg1998 @crystalblue88 @mercurylvd @saffsblog @ihavenoideayimhere @umadirectioner @harajukub4rb1e @sun81rise @jamiemundy7773 @cyberdreamlanddeer @steampunkprincess147 @zendayasredbottoms @efemerous @lady0ftheflowers

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d-z20 · 17 hours ago

Text

The Ballad of Agatha Harkness Chapter 8

Summary: Agatha returns to her old coven, but time is running out to discover who's following her before it's too late. Agatha and and Rio’s angst comes to a head ;)

Warnings: death

Words: 2.9k

A/N: there may or may not be an agathario kiss in this chapter…

For all my AO3 people out there

< Story Navigation >

< Previous Chapter

The Hunter’s Moon/A Kiss With Death

Agatha hadn’t expected to return here, to the place where everything began. The remains of her old coven’s grounds loomed before her, shrouded in a mist that clung to the earth like a veil of memories. She hesitated on the edge of the clearing, the familiar chill of the forest creeping into her bones. It was a haunted, hollow shell of what it once was.

The moon hung high and full above her, casting a cold, silvery light that made the shadows stretch and twist like dark fingers reaching for her. The Hunter’s Moon. It seemed almost ironic—here she was, both hunter and hunted, stepping back into the past she’d tried so desperately to leave behind. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and decay, a pungent reminder of the lives that had been lost here and of her own hand in their destruction.

She told herself she’d returned out of necessity. The strange occurrences, the sightings of the fox, the crow, the snake—they weren’t random. They were signs of something much darker. And her old hollow, once the heart of her power, was the best place to search for answers. It was here, in the ruins of her past, that she hoped to find clarity amid the chaos. But deep down, she knew it wasn’t just logic that brought her back. It was the pull. The same magnetic draw she felt towards Rio, an unshakeable tether that had her chasing after ghosts she couldn’t quite let go of.

And so that is how she ended up visiting her old coven’s clearing before the hollow, wanting to remember Rio’s presence in the room. As she wandered the crumbling halls, her footsteps echoed, the sound swallowed by the oppressive silence. The memories here were sharp and bitter, like the taste of ash on her tongue. Agatha closed her eyes for a moment, breathing deeply, grounding herself in the present. But the chill in the air was different this time—colder, heavier, laced with the unmistakable feeling of eyes on her. It was the same sensation she’d had at the cottage when the fox had watched her from the treeline.

A crow’s cry pierced the stillness, harsh and discordant, sending a shiver down her spine. Agatha turned sharply, catching a glimpse of movement. A shadow flitting away into the fog. Her pulse quickened, an anxious mix of dread and anticipation. It wasn’t just a trick of the light; she was certain now. Something was following her.

The fox appeared again, its fur a flash of russet against the gray stone. It watched her with its gleaming eyes, unblinking, before disappearing into the shadows. Agatha’s breath hitched. This wasn’t a coincidence. She could feel the presence closing in around her, a circle tightening with every passing moment. And she couldn’t shake the feeling that it was all connected to Rio—that this was just another one of her twisted games.

Having spent eighteen years of her life here, Agatha knew the place like the back of her hand, which is why she noticed that the drawers at the back of the room were out of place with a floorboard sticking up. The hollow floorboards creaked beneath her as she knelt, prying up a loose plank with a sharp pull. Underneath was a space just small enough to fit the book hidden away there; its leather cover cracked with age. Picking it up, she realised it was her mother’s grimoire. She opened it, but something was wrong—a page had been ripped out. Her pulse quickened as she dug deeper, finding a half-burnt piece of parchment shoved between the boards, as if someone had tried to destroy it but faltered at the last moment.

The charred writing spoke of a hive mind—a dark magic that bound its users into a single consciousness, like a pulse shared by many hearts. It hinted at omens of their arrival; unfortunately, the next part had been burnt out. So Agatha continued reading: -ats are symbols of the hive, harbingers of a group that can control and even become these cr-. The rest of the paper had been completely destroyed by flames.

She swallowed hard, her pulse pounding in her ears. This wasn’t just a group of witches working together. It was a hive mind, each member bound to the others, sharing one consciousness that pulsed like a singular heartbeat. It made them stronger, more unpredictable, and far more dangerous than anything she’d ever seen.

Agatha’s blood ran cold as the implications settled in. Her mother had known about this and had dabbled in learning about the kind of magic she’d always warned against. The hypocrisy stung like a fresh wound.

She stumbled outside, the revelation weighing heavily on her chest. She sank onto a log, gulping in the cold night air. It wasn’t just the dark magic that troubled her. It was the realisation that her mother had kept this hidden, accusing her daughter of the same thing she had done, making Agatha’s entire childhood a misery while she went unpunished.

Agatha felt a shift in the air, the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end.

It wasn’t the ominous, supernatural sensation she’d come to expect; it was something more mundane, laced with malice but entirely human. She turned abruptly, meeting the eyes of a burly man stepping out of the shadows. He was dressed in tattered clothes, his face twisted into a sneer. She recognised him vaguely—one of the locals from the village, a man she’d seen frequenting the tavern more than any other building. He’d always been trouble, his eyes too quick to flash with anger, his hands too quick to swing.

“You’re trespassing on cursed ground, witch," he spat, raising his hand, a blade glinting in the moonlight. “Don’t you know it’s dangerous to walk alone at night? There are some people out here who would kill you. And others that would make you wish they had.”

Agatha didn’t flinch. She met his gaze, her own expression cold and unyielding. “You should have stayed in the shadows,” she replied calmly. “I suggest you leave while you still can.”

He laughed, a harsh, grating sound. “I’ve heard the stories. You’re just a woman, and a mad one at that,” he taunted, lunging forward with his knife.

In an instant, Agatha’s magic surged, her hand snapping out. She didn’t even have to touch him—she simply twisted her fingers in the air, and his body contorted violently, the knife clattering to the ground as he choked, clutching his throat. She watched him struggle, a dark satisfaction settling in her chest as she squeezed. Agatha’s lips curled into a smile as she felt his last breath leave his body.

She watched the lifeless form of the man crumple to the ground, the last of his breath dissipating into the cold night air. Her own breathing was ragged, her heart pounding as the rush of raw magic ebbed away, leaving a hollow echo in its wake. The thrill of the kill had been brief, nothing like when she had drained her coven’s power, but it left her senses heightened, every nerve alight with a familiar, dangerous energy. It was then that she felt it—an oppressive silence that settled over the clearing, pressing down on her like a weight.

The mist seemed to thicken, coiling around her ankles as if it were alive. The shadows lengthened, and from their depths, figures began to emerge. At first, it was hard to distinguish them from the darkness itself—twisting shapes that flickered at the edges of her vision. Agatha’s fingers twitched, magic crackling at her fingertips, but she held back. This wasn’t an ordinary ambush; it was something far more sinister. It was a reckoning.

They stepped forward as one, moving in unison like a single entity. Their forms shifted and glided unnaturally; limbs contorted and twisted in ways that defied anatomy. It was as if the very fabric of their bodies had been stretched and reshaped by something dark and ancient. They were cloaked in black, their faces obscured by masks, each one different but eerily reminiscent of the animals she had seen haunting her steps: a crow, a snake, a fox, an owl, a rat, and a coyote. The last figure, standing slightly ahead of the others, bore a mask that swirled with patterns, dizzying and hypnotic.

Agatha’s pulse quickened as she took in the surreal, unsettling sight. The hive moved closer, their steps soundless despite the crunch of leaves beneath them. They didn’t speak at first, only watched her, titling their heads in unison, like predators sizing up prey. A crow cawed in the distance, and then Agatha realised with a sickening jolt that it wasn’t distant at all—it was perched on the shoulder of one of the figures, its black eyes glinting with malice.

“Did you think we would forget what you did? Or forgive you because you spared us?” One of them hissed, the voice dissonant, layered as though multiple voices were speaking at once. “Sparing us was a mistake, Agatha Harkness.”

The realisation hit her hard. She recognised Vertigo’s voice beneath it all. It was them—the children of her first victims, the remnants of her former coven. Twisted by grief and rage, their spirits had fused into this monstrous hive, something far darker than she could have imagined. She had spared them, distracted by Rio’s sudden appearance and blinded by her own arrogance, dismissing them as harmless since they had not attacked her. Now she understood the depth of her mistake, and she knew there would be no escaping the consequences; they wanted revenge for what she did. Mercy was overrated.

Agatha squared her shoulders, forcing herself to appear calm even as her magic buzzed beneath her skin, ready to lash out. “I didn’t think you’d come crawling back,” she said, her voice steady despite the cold fear gnawing at her resolve. “What do you want?”

The Seven moved closer, figures shifting and flickering. For a moment, Agatha could swear she saw the owl’s mask twist into the sharp, hooked beak of an actual bird, its eyes gleaming with predatory hunger. Then it was a mask again, the illusion so fluid she wasn’t sure where the human ended and the creature began.

“To remind you,” another voice said, this one softer, almost mocking. “Of what you abandoned. Of the power you once wielded here—and the betrayal you thought time would erase.”

Agatha’s magic flared instinctively, a shimmering barrier forming around her as the Seven began to circle her, their voices merging into a low, unified whisper. It was like the wind rustling through the trees, but far more sinister, filled with a dark kind of glee.

“We are stronger now,” a figure hissed, the edges of its form blurring and twisting into the shape of a snake. It slithered across the ground before rising up into a humanoid silhouette once more. “Your magic is frayed, your power diluted by... distractions.” The word spat out like venom, thick with insinuation. Agatha flinched, a flicker of pain crossing her face. The echo of her old coven’s warnings—their voices telling her that attachments, love, and her desire for women were distractions that would weaken her. And here it was again, thrown back in her face, this time as a weapon.

She clenched her fists, electricity sparking in the air. “You know nothing about me,” she retorted, her voice sharp.

Vertigo stepped forward, lifting their mask just enough to reveal a sliver of a smile, cold and knowing. “Oh, but we do. She told us where to find you,” they whispered, leaning in close enough that Agatha could see the glint of their eyes through the shadows. “She thought you might enjoy the chase.”

Agatha’s stomach dropped. The implication hit her like a punch in the gut. Rio. This had her fingerprints all over it—a twisted game, a test she hadn’t agreed to play but had no choice but to engage in. Before she could respond, the Seven began to dissolve into the mist, their forms shifting back into animal shapes: a crow taking flight, a fox darting through the underbrush, a snake slithering away. Only Vertigo lingered a moment longer, their smile widening.

“We’ll be seeing you, Agatha,” they whispered before melting into the darkness.

The silence that followed was almost suffocating. Agatha let out a shaky breath, her hands trembling with a mix of fear and fury. Her heart raced as the realisation set in. This wasn’t just a confrontation; it was a warning.

As the mist began to thin, another shape emerged from the shadows, but this time it was one she knew all too well. Rio stepped into the clearing, her expression amused as she glanced at the crumpled body on the ground.

“You’ve been busy, sweetheart,” she said, her tone light and almost playful. “Did you miss me that much?”

Agatha’s chest heaved, her emotions a chaotic swirl of anger and longing. “You said you would find me,” she snapped, taking a step closer, her magic crackling between them like static. “Not send your pets after me.”

Rio raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing at the corner of her lips. “Oh, darling, I never said how I’d find you. I thought you might enjoy a little excitement first.” She glanced down at the body again, her eyes glinting with a strange, unreadable light. “And it seems I arrived just in time.”

Agatha’s fury boiled over, but it was laced with something deeper, something she couldn’t admit even to herself. “You’re using them. You’re using me,” she accused, her voice hoarse.

Rio stepped closer, so close that Agatha could feel the warmth of her breath on her skin. “I wanted to see you, Agatha,” she muttered, brushing a strand of hair behind Agatha’s ear with an infuriatingly gentle touch. “And you didn’t disappoint.”

The little space left between them grew heavier, charged with a palpable tension that made Agatha’s breath catch in her throat. It was like the static before a lightning strike. The kind of charged anticipation that left her skin tingling. She could feel it—feel Rio’s eyes flickering to her lips, the almost imperceptible lick of her own in response, as if drawn in by an invisible force. Desire hung thickly in the space between them, unspoken yet undeniable, a fire simmering just beneath the surface. They were close enough now that she could feel Rio’s breath on her cheek, warm and intoxicating. Her own pulse raced, each beat urging her forward, closer, into the storm that was Rio.

Agatha’s resolve crumbled. She grabbed Rio by the collar, pulling her into a fierce, desperate kiss. It was all teeth and fury, a clash of power and raw emotion. Rio met her with equal intensity, her hands sliding up to cup Agatha’s face, fingers threading through her hair. The air around them seemed to spark and crackle as their magic tangled, an electric current that mirrored the frantic rhythm of their kiss.

Rio bit down on Agatha’s lower lip, eliciting a low, throaty groan that sent a shiver down her spine. Agatha’s fingers dug into Rio’s shoulders, pulling her closer, as if she could fuse their bodies together through sheer force of will. She kissed her back harder, tasting her blood and feeling the sharp sting where Rio’s teeth had broken the skin, but she didn’t care. It only spurred her on, a primal need driving her to take more, to claim Rio as her own.

Their kisses grew frenzied, messy, and all-consuming. Agatha gasped as Rio’s lips trailed along her jawline, her breath hot and ragged in her ear. She responded in kind, nipping at the curve of Rio’s throat, relishing the way it made Rio’s breath hitch. The sound was intoxicating—a low moan of desire that filled the clearing, echoing in the silence of the night. Agatha wanted to drown in it, to lose herself completely in this heady, forbidden moment they had both waited months for.

When they finally pulled apart, it was as though they had emerged from a storm. Both were breathing heavily, chests heaving, their lips swollen and tinged red from the force of their kiss. Agatha’s hands were still fisted in the fabric of Rio’s cloak, as if she were afraid to let go, while Rio’s fingers lingered at her cheek, tracing the path her lips had just left.

Rio smirked, the expression softened by the lingering flush on her cheeks. She traced Agatha’s lip with her thumb, brushing over the spot where she’d bitten her. “You’re playing a dangerous game,” she whispered, her voice low and filled with a mixture of amusement and warning.

Agatha’s eyes darkened, a smile curling her lips, defiant and hungry. “Maybe I like dangerous.”

Rio took a step back, her gaze never leaving Agatha’s, the connection between them like a taught thread, ready to snap. She lingered for a moment, her expression unreadable, before fading into the shadows with a final, lingering look. “Until next time, my darling.”

And just like that, she was gone, leaving Agatha along in the clearing yet again, her heart pounding in her chest. The taste of Rio still lingered on her lips, a heady mix of blood and desire—a reminder of the twisted game she’d been drawn into. The Hunter’s Moon cast its cold light over the scene, watching silently as Agatha struggled to catch her breath, realising just how deeply ensnared she was. Knowing this was far from over.

Next Chapter > coming soon

Remember to reblog if you're enjoying the story so far and want to see more Agathario kisses :D

#agatha x rio fanfic #agathario #agatha all along #agatha harkness #rio vidal #agatha x rio #fanfic #fanfiction #agathario fanfic #agatha all along fanfic #agatha backstory #evanora harkness #agatha all along backstory #agathario fic #rio x agatha #rio vidal x agatha harkness

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bluejaysandblackbats · 1 day ago

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A Stone’s Throw

Fandom: DC Comics, Batfam

Summary: The night Jason wakes up in the convalescent home, he’s accompanied by his favorite nurse (Nurse Kathy). Nurse Kathy follows her instincts and decides to foster him in the nearby city of Blüdhaven. Soon, her partner and roommates become Jason’s new family despite hopes that he’ll regain his memories.

Chapters: 3/?

Characters: Jason Todd, Original Characters, Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Tim Drake, Barbara Gordon

Additional Tags: Disabled Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne Doesn’t Know Jason Todd is Alive, Angst, Fluff, Found Family, Jason Todd Has a Foster Family AU, Jason Todd Moves to Blüdhaven, Original Asexual Characters, Original Lesbian Characters, Amnesiac Jason Todd, “Missed Him By That Much” Trope, Hurt/Comfort, Resurrected Jason Todd

Chapter Three: The Stepparents

Walter was a tall man, slender to the point of frailty as he organized books in a bedroom bookcase. His curly hair was gelled back and shining dark grey in the well-lit living room. His eyes dark and large, staring at the bindings to the books on the top shelf. He pushed his glasses up, warmly sighing as he cocked his head. The doorbell rang, and Walter smiled. “Lover? Is that you?” Walter shouted.

“It’s Donnovan—. Dodie Hines-Fletcher! You know my father!” Dodie shouted. Walter opened the door. “You’re my father’s boyfriend, aren’t you?”

“Yes, I am. Would you like a cup of coffee?” Walter asked. Dodie nodded. “You favor him. Your eyes are almost the same. Kind of hazel-ish… But your hair… It’s like your mother’s isn’t it?”

“Yeah… It’s a weird dark reddish brown,” Dodie answered as he looked around. “How’d you meet my dad?”

“We met at one of his art galleries. I bought A Conversation in Sage . I thought he was interesting, but I—. I saw the wedding ring. We talked for a while there, and he told me the situation. I was only in town for one night, so I gave him my address, so he could mail the painting to me. He um—. He started sending me letters. I sent some back… And we fell in love,” Walter answered, “Would you like to see the letters he wrote me? They’re lovely.”

Dodie sat on a crate, politely resting his ankle on his knee. “My father sold A Conversation in Sage when I was six years old. You’re telling me you’ve been his boyfriend for nineteen years?” Dodie questioned. Walter nodded. “And I don’t know… Should I see these? Aren’t they—?”

“Your father and I don’t have a physical relationship… Not in that way. We’ve done nothing more than kiss, and I held his hand once in secret. I’m—. Well, I’m impotent, and your father has no interest in sex,” Walter confessed. Dodie’s eyes widened as he looked away. “Would you like to see them? The letters? ”

“Sure,” Dodie answered, “So… You’ve known my dad for nineteen years, and I’ve never—. Did my mom know about you?”

“Yes… I’ve spoken to her several times. I’ve never met her, though,” Walter answered as he handed Dodie a stack of letters. “They’re in order. That’s the first twenty letters he sent me. He has a way with words.”

Dodie opened the first envelope. “ Dear Walter… I hope I’m not being forward by sending this letter. I’m afraid I find myself thinking of you without meaning to. I carry the image of you around in my spirit. The weight of your absence bears down on my soul. I long for your company. I desire nothing more than to sit beside you, passing the days. Your companionship calls to me. I fear I have nothing of substance to offer you. What I feel may seem juvenile because I am new to this. It would be enough to simply gaze into your eyes and bask in their warmth ,” Dodie read silently to himself. He smiled at Walter. He grabbed the last letter in the stack.

“ Dearest Walter… It was lovely seeing you. I feel giddy every time I think of what could be. I’m frightened that it will be too much for my heart. I paint pictures of men and women that don’t resemble you but do not be mistaken. All of them are inspired by your spirit.

“You are my first love. I feel alive saying that. There is nothing more exquisite than this feeling. It might even surpass the taste of food itself. You are everything I could’ve wanted in a companion. I love you. I crave you. I want to hear your laughter and wipe your tears when you cry. Walter, I look forward to the next glance. The next letter. The next earthy-smelling letter. You’re so comforting to my spirit.

“Thank you for loving me. Thank you for showing me that this could be possible. ”

Dodie looked away, his eyes welling up with tears.

“God… My dad loves you so much. Sorry—. I—. I was so selfish. I just—.”

Walter set Dodie’s coffee mug on a crate. “You’re his son. He didn’t want his romantic affairs to be your concern. He was hesitant to mention you. Daniel wanted to protect you from any hardship that he felt his personal life might’ve introduced. You weren’t selfish. You were unaware,” Walter reassured him, “As a young man, it must be a shock.”

“It is, but I’m getting used to it. You seem like a nice person, though. I don’t know what I expected. I’m still worried about my mom’s girlfriend. Have you met her?” Dodie questioned. Walter nodded. “What’s your opinion of her?”

“You know Sibyl. I was shocked when I met her, but you’ve probably seen her in passing. What was it like, by the way? I’ve always been curious. Your mother’s a nurse and your father’s an artist. What is that like? Was there any pressure to do one or the other?” Walter questioned.

“No, not really. I was always an artistic kid… So, I naturally ended up becoming an architect,” Dodie laughed, “And I sell dollhouses that are replicas of people’s homes sometimes. Mom really enjoys that.”

“Oh! How did you get into making dollhouses?” Walter questioned.

“When I was little, my mom used to have this dollhouse that her grandma gave her. Whenever she had a bad day at work, she’d sit beside it in her chair, and open it up. I used to climb into her lap, and she’d guide my fingers over the finer details, telling me stories about dollhouses being piggy banks for memories. Bad and good, ” Dodie answered, “And it stuck. I learned how to make birdhouses, then I learned how to build regular dollhouses. I kept doing more and more until I was making miniature houses.”

“That’s amazing. I’d like to see some of your work someday,” Walter smiled. A woman entered the house, grunting as she set grocery bags on the ground. Walter held a finger up as he went to meet her in the family room.

“Dodie’s here. You should introduce yourself,” Walter whispered.

“Is he upset?” she whispered.

“No, he’s a lovely kid. Go on. I’ll get the groceries,” Walter replied.

The woman stepped into the family room, taking off her powder blue heels and walking toward the young man. Her silvery curls were pulled back into a ponytail. The woman was buxom and older, but not so old that he didn’t recognize her face. “Hi, Deanie. Do you remember me at all?” she asked. Her voice was so sweet, it immediately sent Dodie back to his childhood. “You didn’t know me as Sibyl. I think you knew me as—.”

“Ms. Graves… This one is a little—. My dad—. We—. You were the model for my dad’s photography phase. Mom never spoke to you. Not once. I would’ve remembered. I practically lived in Dad’s art studio back then,” Dodie stated. He squinted as he tried to remember a time when his mother and Sibyl could’ve met.

“Dodie, I used to invite your mom for dinner when you and Daniel went to the movies,” Sibyl replied, “We were very discreet… The furniture people are on their way. So, we’ll have a couch in a little bit. Are you staying for dinner? Kathy said she’s going to cook.” Dodie nodded.

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sunnie-angel · 1 day ago

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The Ghost of You: Update

so based on the poll i did last week, it seems like people want me to upload the unfinished second chapter of the ghost of you. it's a pretty rough draft and it's not my proudest work, but i've been fighting with this update for so long that at this point i'd rather tentatively mark this fic as done than keep fighting it until i hate it. the chapter is posted below the cut as requested and at some point in the future i may revisit this fic, but this is all there is going to be for now. i'm sorry to anyone that was looking forward to a more satisfying ending, but i'd like to keep my fond memories of this fic.

If this were one of Ms. Einarsdottir’s romantic fairytales, your handsome prince would have come back to you the very same night and begged you to explain. If this were a fairytale, you would have told him all about your ghostly visions and tearfully asked him to forgive you for not sharing this with him sooner. If this was a fairytale, he’d say there was nothing to forgive, you’d fall into his arms for a kiss and the two of you would live happily ever after. This is not a fairytale.

You call in sick that first aching morning, painfully aware that you’re leaving your friends and co-workers in a tight spot but being brutally honest with yourself, you know that you’ll make mistakes and at the hospital, mistakes cost lives. The lingering weight of Matty’s life, cut too short too soon, already hangs on your conscience. You won’t add another to it, won’t create more heartache in the world. So instead you spend the day sitting on that same blasted couch staring numbly into the distance. The mug wrapped in your hands grows cold and yet you don’t notice enough to care. Slowly as the hours stretch on the quality of the light changes as the sun travels high overhead of a city that won’t conveniently pause itself for your fractured heart. Notifications cause your phone to vibrate and buzz intermittently. You don’t check who it is until it’s dark out and you finally move from your statue-like position to turn on some lights.

A few of your work friends from the hospital have sent you get well soon messages. There’s a few missed calls from Steph, but you dismiss the notifications with a flick of your finger across the screen. You’re in no mood for re-hashing the hurt that hangs like a shroud over the apartment, wouldn’t even know where to begin to find the words.

There’s some leftover soup in the fridge and you heat it up on the stove. It’s as you’re dumping rice noodles into the pot that the smell of it really hits you. You’d made the soup noodles the night before, something quick and easy that even in his distracted state you’d known that Jason would devour. Your face is now oddly wet. It’s over stirring a pot that the first tears start to fall, anger and frustration mingling with numbness and a bone deep sadness. This was not the way things were meant to be. There was supposed to be laughter and joy in the apartment, shared sorrows halved, and a ring on your finger in a few months, a promise of forever. The rooms are cold and empty now, echoing with their silence.

Jason doesn’t come home that night, or the next. It takes a full week of dragging yourself out of your lonely bed, staring unfeelingly into the bathroom mirror at your dark circles as you pull back your hair to get ready for work, of dodging questions about your silences and dark moods and fending off well-meaning invitations from coworkers for coffee, that you realize that Jason may not be coming back. That despite all your years together, shared moments and shared secrets, this one last truth might be what breaks you apart. That thought hurts, in ways you hadn’t considered before.

It takes another week to wrap your head around that possibility. Another week of missed calls and texts from Steph and Dick, a DM from Tim, but nothing from Jason himself. His clothes are still in the closet and his collection of recipe cards from Alfred still sit on the kitchen counter. The bottle of cedar scented body wash taunts you in the shower the same way your single set of keys by the front door does. His presence haunts every room of your apartment more effectively than any ghost you’ve ever encountered.

It is Ms. Einarsdottir with her fairytale romances that begins to pull you together again. She listens as you stumble through your story, a copy of Jane Eyre in your lap as a cover for the tears that occasionally escape you. In a quiet corner of the Gotham library, you begin to sort through just how deeply his reaction has hurt you to the only person that really knows the whole story.

“Oh dearie, you really have been through it, haven’t you?” She clucks. “He seemed like such a nice boy too. He made you happy once, very happy I think.” She strokes your hair as best she can for a person without a physical body. “But he’s hurt you quite badly now. There may come a day when he apologizes, and Lord only knows he’ll need to spend ages making it up to you, but dear you can’t live waiting for him to make that decision.”

“I know that. And I know that he’s hurt me. But I also know that he’s hurting too. I can’t get the image of his face, how devastated he looked, out of my head.” Your voice shakes, thick with choked back emotion. “I’ve got all this love for him still and it’s sitting like a lump of coal in my chest.”

“Dearie,” Ms. Einarsdottir says, leveling you with her gaze, “your love for that boy might never change. But right now, you need to have more love for yourself. Right now he’s hurtin’ over a what-if that the two of us know isn’t true. He’s hurt you–” she raises her voice before you can interrupt, “and that’s a fact. If he can’t figure out how to handle his hurt, if he isn’t capable of loving you for every last thing that you can do, then he was never the one for you. No matter how much you still care about him.” Her words land heavy in the relative silence of the library, bitter in the way that the most effective medicines are. You swallow heavily, and continue to stare at the book in your lap unseeingly.

“Now it sounds like there’s a little boy out there that needs your help. From the both of you. Let doing the right thing get your mind off of other things. And if that boy can’t get himself to accept your help out of fear, then you’ll know where you stand and I will know whether or not I need to start putting the fear of God into that boy.”

You smile weakly at her attempt at sternness, the deeply etched smile lines of her face so incongruous with her words. Thanking her, you make your way out of the library mulling over her words. She’s not wrong, that Matty needs help, help only you can give him. The only sticking point would be if you can make yourself reach out to Jason, if he’d even listen to you.

It takes a few more days for you to come to a decision, and even then it is less of a conscious thought than a half-cocked choice that comes about because of how desperate you are for caffeine. Buying a cup of coffee, you drop your change, coins rolling every which way. One of them comes to a stop on the cobbled stone right as Matty dies again. His fingers still look so fragile scrabbling in the dirt, you think. Matty’s still there, trapped in the courtyard with the only good coffee stand in all of Gotham General Hospital. You can’t ignore the fact that he’s there anymore than you could the first time. He dies three times while you wait in line for your coffee, your already weary heart buckling under the strain of his terror. It makes you angry at yourself for how long you’ve left him there like this, too distracted by something as inconsequential as a broken heart when he’s been facing the stuff of nightmares without respite.

The rest of the day passes by in a daze, but by the end of it you’ve resolved to return to the courtyard, to Matty. The sun’s going down by the time you clock out, the courtyard much emptier now that the coffee stand has closed for the day. It’s just you, the pigeons, and Matty. Hands tucked into your coat pockets for warmth, you call out to him.

“Matty! Matty, I’m here. Can you hear me?” Your voice isn’t that loud, the same firm but gentle voice you use with the traumatized children that cycle through your ward, but it causes him to flinch.

“D’you know the way home, miss?” He asks again. You have to strain to hear him over the noise of the ambulance bay and the rush hour traffic.

“Tell me where you are Matty and I’ll tell you how to get home, alright?” Your voice is coaxing, but you know that you’re short on time. If the loop continues to play out the way it always has, there’s precious little time before whatever is chasing Matty catches up to him.

“I’m walking home from practicing the piano…” his voice trails off into nothingness as his eyes go wide with fright. You can do nothing but watch him, a fist in your chest, as he dies in the dirt. With a flicker the loop starts up again, Matty reappearing a few steps away from you. Taking a deep breath in, you start again. You stay for another hour with Matty, until the air is so cold that it slices up your lungs with a hundred paper cuts on every inhale and all the streetlights have turned on. You’ve asked every variation of where are you that you can in those brief few moments before fear consumed him. It’s selfish, but for that whole hour not once did you think of your own empty apartment until you’ve flipped the lights on in it.

And so it goes for the rest of the week. Every day after your shift, you’ll spend an hour or so with Matty. Not every day do you try and find out more from him. Sometimes you simply try to comfort him. He reminds you of someone and it takes a while for you to figure out exactly who. It’s Jason - or more accurately the ghost of Jason Todd, dead and gone too soon. Something about the lightness of their limbs, their shared love of the arts, the way their deaths have left them trapped, it has you even more determined to set Matty to rest.

#jason todd x reader #sunnie writes 🌻

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monbons · 2 days ago

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Some Sentences Sunday

Friends, it has been a week, but if there was ever a need for queer art and queer stories, it is now. In that spirit, @thewholelemon and @katatsumuli came over to my house today, and we spent the morning crafting and making art while eating delicious treats.

As for queer stories, The Boy Next Door is in the final third of the fic and everyone's comments on it and screams in my DMs are keeping me alive, so thank you for that. I hope my story is bringing you all a little joy too.

Below the cut are WAY more than six sentences of chapter 9 Simon POV, which you should approach with caution due to spoilers (especially if you have not yet read beyond chapter 2).

“Penny,” I interrupt. “I think I’m falling in love. That doesn’t require an intervention.” “Love?” Penny chokes on the word. “You’ve never even been in the same room as him!” “We have actually. I was headed over there before you rained down on me with your concerns.” “What?!” All three of my friends stare at me with various degrees of alarm and surprise. “His aunt comes and goes. We figured out a similar solution for me.” I shrug. “It’s working so far.” Penny rubs her temples. “This is so much worse than I thought,” she mutters. “I fail to see what the problem is.” “He. Can’t. Leave.” Penny spits, loud claps punctuating each word. “Have you thought about what that means for you? For him?!” I stare at Penny. I must admit that I’ve been too busy running my hands through Baz’s silky hair or leaving open-mouthed kisses along his jaw to really consider anything beyond the present when I am with him. Can he leave? Vampires must be able to live in the real world, right?

Thanks for the tags this week @rimeswithpurple, @you-remind-me-of-the-babe, @talentpiper11, @run-for-chamo-miles, and @theimpossibledemon. Your snips/art/updates brought a huge smile to my face today!

Hellos and high-fives to all. May this week be better than the last.

@alexalexinii, @aristocratic-otter, @arthurkko, @artsyunderstudy, @best--dress

@blackberrysummerblog, @brilla-brilla-estrellita, @bookish-bogwitch, @confused-bi-queer, @cutestkilla

@drowninginships, @emeryhall, @facewithoutheart, @fiend-for-culture, @hushed-chorus

@iamamythologicalcreature, @ic3que3n, @ileadacharmedlife, @katatsumuli, @larkral

@letraspal, @messofthejess, @mooncello, @noblecorgi, @orange-peony

@raenestee, @rbkzz, @rimeswithpurple, @roomwithanopenfire, @run-for-chamo-miles

@shrekgogurt, @skeedelvee, @stitchyqueer, @supercutedinosaurs, @talentpiper11

@thehoneyedhufflepuff, @theimpossibledemon, @thewholelemon, @valeffelees, @whatevertheweather

@you-remind-me-of-the-babe, @youarenevertooold

#penny has concerns #simon does not #story of their lives #baz in a bubble #the boy next door #seeing fandom friends feeds my soul <3 #will be diving back into making art and reading stories right after hitting post on this update #six sentence sunday

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jetii · 2 days ago

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So happy you like my boys!! You would not be able to stop me from bringing them back in some capacity in the near future 😂 also may have some art to share of Booker soon 👀

Writing action is seriously so agonizing to me but I think I’m starting to get the hang of it! Thinking about it in terms of feelings vs actions helps. It also just goes to show how normal being in battle is starting to feel for her.

I was sO EXCITED for this chapter because i get to show off my children, but mostly because we're finally seeing Rex being comfortable enough to be truly vulnerable with her. There were glimpses of it after Saleucami and again on Null, but nothing shook him quite like Kamino. Which totally makes sense given everything that happened.

I think Rex also has this deeper worry about how far Goldie is willing to go. like he knows she would've easily given up her life for any clone if she had the opportunity. If he heard from Cody she was in the medbay, his first thought probably was Felucia. He was at his breaking point already and the relief nearly pushed him over the edge.

There was almost! a forehead kiss, but I like how this worked out better. It gives us an avenue for some very interesting interactions, especially next chapter 🤭

Event Horizon

Chapter Seventeen: Downpour

Chapter WC: 12,129

Chapter Tags/Warnings: battle stuff, kinda angsty but compared to last chapter this is nothing

A/N: Once again there is a lot going on here. 💀 I've been looking forward to posting this chapter for ages, so I hope you enjoy!

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Join the Taglist | Masterlist

Kamino, 21 BBY

It's raining. Of course it's raining.

You can't even remember a time you were on Kamino that it wasn't. It's a strange world, a planet of extremes. Cold, wet, and miserable. And yet, there's a beauty to it. The way the waves crash against the buildings, the roar of the wind, the smell of the salt water.

It's been over a month since the siege of Null, and you haven't been able to rest. Not truly. Your mind has been racing, the memory of finding Yaddle's things haunting your every waking moment.

You haven't slept for longer than an hour or two at a time, and even when you do manage to fall asleep, the nightmares are worse. The severing you felt the moment she died finds you in your sleep, but it's not her death, it's Rex's. Or Obi-Wan's. Or Anakin's. Or Ahsoka's. They're dead, and it's because of you. Because you weren't strong enough, or fast enough, or smart enough.

And the dreams always end the same.

With the severed bond, with the loss, with the anguish.

It's not fair, and you're angry, but more than that, you're frustrated. You can't bring the evidence to the Council's attention without requesting a hearing, and the Council seems content with keeping you away from Coruscant. They've been keeping you too busy, assigning the 212th to a dozen missions, never allowing you to have a moment's peace.

And, you can't help but wonder if it's because they know. If they know what you have. It's irrational, of course, but the anxiety won't stop gnawing at you, the worry growing by the day.

As a result, you've become increasingly paranoid, and you're constantly checking your belongings, checking the box underneath your bed aboard the Negotiator, making sure everything is where it should be. Obi-Wan's noticed, of course, but he's too occupied with his own inner turmoil over what happened with Duchess Satine to worry too much about yours.

Cody's noticed too, but he's been kind enough not to say anything. You suspect Rex has told him to leave it alone, which you're grateful for. You don't have the energy to explain yourself, not when there's so much else to worry about.

And right now, there is plenty to worry about.

"Sir, look out!"

A trooper in a full white kit grabs your arm and yanks you back just as a stray bolt nearly clips you in the head. You stumble backwards, landing hard on your ass, and you blink, trying to clear the rain from your eyes.

A pair of hands grab you, pulling you to your feet.

"Sorry, sir," the trooper apologizes. His helmet obscures his face, but you can tell he's embarrassed. "Didn't mean to manhandle you."

"It's alright," you assure him. "Better than getting shot in the head."

He nods and returns his attention to the firefight, raising his rifle and squeezing off a round. The droid at the far end of the platform drops, a smoking hole in its chest, and the trooper lets out a satisfied grunt before turning back to you.

"Stay close. I'll cover you," he says, and he moves past you into the chaos. You blink, trying to process what just happened, but then the sound of blaster fire reaches your ears, and you duck, your senses snapping back into focus.

The two of you weave through the melee, the air thick with the acrid stench of smoke and the metallic tang of blaster fire. It's slow going, and the shots are coming fast and thick. More than once, the trooper has to grab you and pull you to the ground, the heat of a bolt singing your ear.

You're starting to feel frustrated, and embarrassed. You should be able to handle yourself better. You've been trained since birth to deal with these situations. And yet, here you are, relying on some poor shiny to drag you around like a baby.

It's shameful.

A blast comes from above, and you throw up a hasty shield, deflecting the energy bolt. The trooper ducks, hissing, and you reach out with the Force, yanking him behind a twisted heap of droid parts at the same time as you shove the sniper off the roof.

"Sorry," you say as you land hard next to him, your knees screaming in protest. "Normally, I'm better at this."

"At what? Being shot at?"

You huff. "Being a Jedi."

The trooper laughs, and then turns and leans around the pile of scrap, firing his rifle. "I don't know, General. Seems like you're doing just fine to me."

"That's...generous of you," you mutter. You lean back, taking a moment to catch your breath.

It's not easy to focus. Everything is chaos. Screams, explosions, blaster fire. The time you all had to prepare for the siege had not been nearly enough, and the blockade had been brutal. By the time you'd arrived on the planet, the battle was already in full swing.

You and Cody had only just managed to land before the shuttle had been forced to evacuate, and while he had rushed off to secure the barracks with Rex, you were tasked with defending the training facility with a contingent of newly trained clones. They were an interesting bunch, a little wild and eager, but they knew how to fight, and you'd seen them cut down more droids than their fair share.

You just hoped that would be enough.

Droids were rising from the ocean like the living dead, and they were everywhere, a sea of metal, their red eyes flashing in the storm. There's little cover on the open platform, and the clones are doing their best to hold their ground, but they're being pushed back, the droids overwhelming them.

"This is fucking insane," the trooper growls, and you glance at him, raising an eyebrow. "Sorry, sir."

"Don't worry about it," you chuckle. "I've heard worse."

He huffs and shakes his head, and then he raises his blaster and fires off another round at the same time as you pop up and throw your shoto in a wide arc. The yellow streak cuts through the air and collides with a pair of battle droids, severing clean through their torsos, the halves clattering to the ground.

"Nice shot," the trooper grunts. You look over at him and grin as you catch the blade, but it fades when you notice his hand clutching his arm, his armor charred and cracked.

"You're hurt," you gasp, reaching out, but he pulls away.

"It's nothing," he insists, shaking his head. "I'm fine."

"Let me see," you press.

He sighs, but he releases his arm, allowing you to examine the wound. The flesh is scorched, but it's not deep. You can't risk applying bacta, not in the middle of a battle, but you can ease the pain, at least.

You place your hand on his arm, and he jerks, his helmet whipping towards you. You meet his gaze and try to smile reassuringly.

"Just relax," you tell him. "It won't hurt."

He hesitates, but then he nods, and he lets out a slow breath. You close your eyes and focus, the Force flowing through you, into him. It's the same technique you used to heal Rex's injury on Null, but the effect is more temporary, the tissue healing slower than usual. You're sure that if Rex knew what you were doing, he'd have a few choice words, but you don't care. These men are under your command, and it's your duty to protect them. Even if that means pushing your own limits.

"Wow," the trooper murmurs. He rolls his arm, flexing his fingers, a note of awe in his voice. "How did you do that?"

You shrug. "I have my ways."

"Very mysterious, sir," he teases, and you roll your eyes. He peers around the pile of scrap, and then turns back to you, his shoulders slumping. "Not gonna lie, this isn't looking good."

"No, it's not," you agree. You take a deep breath, your hands resting on your knees. You feel lightheaded, and a little woozy. Healing him took more out of you than you expected.

"You're not doing so great either," the trooper observes, and you blink, turning to him.

"Excuse me?"

"You're not doing so great," he repeats. He cocks his head, and then adds, "Sir."

You can't help but snort at that, and the two of you share a chuckle. It feels good to laugh, to find a moment of levity in the chaos. The trooper may have been a little awkward and blunt, but you couldn't help but like him. He was refreshingly honest. Or maybe you were just a little delirious.

"Thanks," you mumble. You pause, and then look around, trying to formulate a plan. The platform is surrounded, and the droids are pouring out of the ocean faster than the clones can shoot them down. You've never been great at strategy, but you've survived this long. You're going to have to rely on instinct. And hope.

You raise your blades and stand, a grim determination settling over you.

"Stay close," you say, and the trooper rises to his feet, his blaster at the ready. "We're going to break their ranks."

"Sir, yes, sir."

You nod, and the two of you leap out from behind the pile of scrap, launching yourselves into the fray. For a few moments, everything is a blur. You lose yourself in the movement, the familiar weight of your weapons in your hands. It's a dance, really, the steps as natural as breathing. You duck, dodge, spin, strike, parry, thrust, and repeat. The droids fall before you, their metal limbs scattering across the platform, but it's still not enough.

"We have to fall back," you shout. "Get the wounded into the building and seal the doors. We'll regroup and formulate a plan."

The trooper nods, and he signals the men, repeating your orders. A moment later, they're retreating, falling back to the safety of the training facility. You hold the rear, deflecting shot after shot, the lightning crackling overhead, the wind roaring in your ears. The droids are relentless, and their shots are becoming more accurate. One hits a clone in front of you, and he falls to the ground, his body limp.

"Grab him," you call out. Another bolts grazes your pauldron, and you flinch, nearly tripping over a severed droid arm at your feet. "Hurry!"

The troopers haul their fallen comrade, and they rush back into the training facility, the doors sealing behind them. The one who had saved your life before remains at your side, and together, the two of you hold the line, keeping the droids from breaching the entrance. But, even with your combined efforts, the droids are still advancing, and they're quickly gaining ground.

The rain is coming down hard, and the wind is blowing it sideways, soaking through your clothes and chilling you to the bone. You grit your teeth, and continue deflecting shots, the droids' numbers seeming endless. If only Obi-Wan was here. He'd have thought of something clever, something that would have turned the tide in your favor. You, however, have nothing. Nothing but desperation, and anger, and fear.

A particularly well-aimed shot whizzes past your ear, and you feel the heat of it graze your cheek. Another shoots by, and another, and another. They're close, too close, and your arms are starting to tremble, your fingers slipping on the hilts of your sabers.

"Sir, come on!" the trooper urges, grabbing your arm and pulling you back toward the facility. You can barely keep up, your boots sliding on the wet ground. The doors are so close, but they're also so far.

A sudden blast rocks the platform, sending the two of you sprawling. Your sabers go flying, clattering across the duracrete, and you watch the blades deactivate, the metal growing cold and silent. The trooper groans beside you, and then he sits up, shaking his head. You can't blame him for his lack of grace. The world is spinning, and the ringing in your ears is deafening.

"Fuck," you hiss, pushing yourself up. You reach out with the Force and drag a crate to the side, forming a barrier between the two of you and the advancing droids. It's a flimsy shield, but it's better than nothing. You press your back against the crate and close your eyes, gathering your strength.

"I've got an idea," the trooper pants, and his voice sounds like it's coming from a million lightyears away. His helmet tilts your direction, his chest heaving. "But you're not going to like it."

"Try me," you grunt, trying to clear your vision.

He takes a deep breath and exhales, the sound sharp through the modulator. "See that downed trident ship? The one with the hole in the side?"

You turn and look, spotting the wreckage. It's close, no more than a few dozen meters away, behind the hoard of advancing droids. It's a mess of broken metal, the hull twisted and shattered, the observation portals cracked.

"Yeah, I see it," you reply, a hint of suspicion creeping into your voice.

"Can you use the Force to move it?" He pulls a grenade from his belt. "If you can bring it close enough, I can toss a popper into the hole and detonate the fuel reserves."

You stare at him, the implications dawning on you. You're not a demolitions expert, but even you know that blowing up a downed ship in the middle of a battle is a risky move. The explosion would likely cause significant damage, and the fallout could be deadly.

"Do you think you can do it?" he asks, his voice laced with urgency.

"I can do it," you reply, and the trooper gives a short nod.

"Then, let's do this," he says.

"On my mark," you say, and he nods again.

You rise and extend your hand, calling upon the Force. The moment you connect, a wave of power rushes through you, and you can feel the weight of the ship heavy in your grasp. You take a deep breath, and you start to pull, using all your strength.

The ship groans, the metal creaking and screeching. It's heavier than you thought, and it's hard to focus with the blaster fire coming at you. You grit your teeth, and you throw every ounce of energy into the task. Slowly, the ship begins to move, its metal body scraping against the deck until it lifts into the air.

The droids don't seem to notice the trident floating above their heads, and they continue their advance, their red eyes gleaming in the storm. It's almost comical, how the metal behemoth hangs there twists in the air behind them, its tentacle-like limbs dangling beneath.

The rain is pouring now, the water streaming down your face, and your entire body is trembling, exhaustion threatening to overtake you. It's getting harder and harder to maintain control, and the ship is wavering, the hull swinging back and forth.

"I can't hold it much longer," you shout, your voice straining.

"Almost there," the trooper shouts back. His hand grips the grenade, his finger hovering over the trigger. "Just a little longer!"

You let out a cry and pull with all your might, and the ship responds, jerking forward, the tentacles swinging wildly. He presses the activator, hurling the grenade towards the hull just as it falls from your grasp. It arcs through the air, hitting the edge of the hole and bouncing inside.

"Get down!"

The trooper grabs you and tackles you to the ground, shielding your body with his. A second later, the trident explodes, a blinding flash of light filling the sky. The shockwave is deafening, the pressure slamming into you, the heat from it hot on your skin.

Debris rains down, the deck trembles beneath you, and the ground shifts. For a moment, you think it's about to collapse, and the two of you are going to tumble into the ocean below. But, then, everything goes still and silent.

You lay there, stunned. Your ears are ringing, and your body is aching, the pain pulsing through you. You're alive, though. And, surprisingly, uninjured.

You turn your head and glance at the trooper, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He's alive. He's alive.

The two of you are silent for a moment, and then, a chuckle escapes your lips. You can't help it, the adrenaline surging through you. He lets out a weak laugh, and you start to laugh harder, the hysteria gripping you. It's insane, all of it, and the two of you laugh until you're crying, your ribs aching, the tears mixing with the rain.

After what feels like an eternity, you manage to regain control, and you wipe the tears from your cheeks, a giddy sense of relief washing over you. The trooper pushes himself up and offers his hand, pulling you to your feet. Once you're steady, you clasp his shoulder, a smile tugging at the corner of your mouth.

"That was insane. Absolutely insane." You can't help but laugh again, the adrenaline still pumping through you. "And, I have to admit, pretty damn clever."

He chuckles and shrugs, brushing aside the compliment. "Thanks, sir. But, I can't take the credit. That was all you."

"Well, whatever. It was a team effort." You look around, the smoke from the explosion clearing, revealing the aftermath. The droids are scattered in pieces across the deck, their limbs bent and twisted. You know more will come, but for now, the platform is secure.

"You have a name, trooper?" you ask.

"CC-8411, sir," he replies. He holsters his rifle and straightens his back, a sense of pride in his stance. "Though my brothers call me Booker."

"A commander, huh?" You tilt your head, studying him. "I should have known. You have quite the aim, Booker. Thank you for watching my back."

"Of course, sir." He shifts nervously on his feet, glancing down at the ground and back up. "And I, uh, I'm not a commander yet, sir, but I'm working on it."

"Oh?"

"Yeah," Booker says. He rubs the back of his neck and shrugs. "Just finished my ARC training. I'm pretty good at shooting, and my scores are high. My CO's seem to think I'm ready, it's just, well, I can't get promoted unless I've had experience leading a unit."

You raise an eyebrow, a smile pulling at the corner of your mouth. "You don't say."

Booker clears his throat and stands at attention, his gaze straight ahead. "I'm just...I'm looking for the right opportunity, sir."

"Hm," you hum, studying him. You call your lightsabers back into your hands, and you point at him with the hilt of one. "That could be arranged."

His helmet snaps in your direction as you holster them. "Sir?"

"You said it yourself. You have the skills," you point out. "And, if your superiors think you're ready, I see no reason why we can't put you to the test. Come on."

You turn and gesture for him to follow, and the two of you make your way back into the facility, the doors opening with a hiss. The rest of the men are waiting inside, their bodies slumped against the wall, the injured being treated. When they catch sight of you, a cheer rises, and the air fills with applause.

You can't help but smirk, and you glance at Booker, giving him a wink.

"Looks like you're already popular," you tease.

"Well, what can I say?" he laughs. "I have a way with people."

"Yeah, I can see that." You stop in the center of the room and take a deep breath. "Status report."

One of the troopers steps forward, and he salutes, his helmet tucked under his arm. His eyes are wide, a mixture of awe and terror, and he swallows, trying to gather himself.

"All troopers accounted for, sir," he reports. "One casualty, but all other injuries are non-life threatening. I've sent word to the barracks, but I don't know if anyone's heard us." He looks around the room, his expression grim. "I think we're on our own, sir."

You nod. You'd expected as much. Still, it's not the news you wanted to hear.

"Very well," you say, sighing. You reach out, placing your hand on his shoulder, giving him a reassuring smile. "Stay calm. What's your name?"

"Snap, sir," he answers.

"Well, Snap, let's do this one step at a time, okay?" You pat his arm and take a step back, taking a deep breath. "First things first. How many able men are here?"

"About forty, sir."

You bite your lip, calculating the numbers. It's not enough. Not by a long shot. But, it'll have to do.

"Alright, listen up," you declare, and the room goes silent. "We need to start clearing buildings. If we can create a clear path to the barracks, we can get our brothers the reinforcements they need. Now, the enemy is numerous, and they're well-armed, but they're also spread out. So, we're going to take advantage of that."

You pause and look at each trooper, their faces serious. Then, you turn back to Booker, giving him a nod.

"We're going to split into teams and work our way through the city, building by building, until we reach the barracks. Our goal is to clear as much ground as possible and take out as many droids as we can along the way. Commander Booker will be leading a team. I'll be taking the rest."

Booker stiffens, and he glances at you. "Sir?"

"Time to prove yourself, Commander," you tell him, and the room breaks into a flurry of excited murmurs. "I want you to lead a team through the east wing. You're a good shot. Take out as many droids as you can."

He's quiet for a moment, and then he nods, squaring his shoulders.

"You heard the General," he says as he turns back to the men, his voice firm and commanding. There's no trace of the nervousness he displayed only moments before. "Form up."

The troopers begin gathering their gear, the room filled with a newfound sense of purpose. You can't help but smile, and a wave of pride swells inside you. They may not be the most skilled fighters, but these men are brave, and they're determined. And, if the past few hours have shown you anything, it's that they're smart. They'll be fine.

Booker steps closer to you as the men move into formation, and he hesitates before pulling his helmet off, revealing a face you've seen a thousand times and a crooked smile that's all his own. His hair is dangerously close to being out of regulation for a shiny, and his eyes are bright and full of life.

"I won't let you down, sir," he vows.

"I know," you assure him, and his smile widens. "I'll see you on the other side, Commander."

He gives a final nod, and he jams his helmet back on, turning to the troopers who have assembled beside him. He barks a command, and the group disappears into the hallway. The remaining troopers turn to you, waiting for their orders.

You take a deep breath and steel yourself, feeling the weight of the battle heavy on your shoulders. You wave your hand, and the men follow you down the opposite corridor, their footsteps echoing behind you.

The halls are quiet, the only sound the hiss of the doors opening and closing as the men file out and the rain pattering against the glass above, the droplets running down the window.

It's dark, the lights flickering, and the building feels abandoned, a shell of its former glory. There are no signs of life, no indication that anyone is left behind, and the silence is unnerving. It's almost like a ghost town. Or a tomb. But, the droids are here, lurking somewhere, and you know that the fight is far from over.

You pass through the training facility, the space littered with broken equipment and shattered glass, the droid corpses scattered throughout. There are blast marks on the walls, scorch marks on the floor, the metal dented and twisted.

Somewhere, you know Obi-Wan is fighting General Grievous, and you pray to the Force that he succeeds. You'd never say it aloud, but you're glad it's him and not you. Not this time. He's faced the cyborg more than once before, and he's still standing. You can't say the same after your last encounter, and while the idea of having a rematch is tempting, the idea of facing that monster again terrifies you.

It's a selfish thought, and one that Obi-Wan would be disappointed in, but it's true. You're afraid. Afraid of the pain, of the horror, of the nightmares that plague you still. And, if you're honest, afraid of the darkness within yourself, the one that lingers, whispering in your ear. The one that you've barely kept at bay, but knows no bounds. You'd tempted fate once, and you'd nearly paid the price.

No, you're better off where you are, facing droids instead of demons.

"Sir," a voice interrupts, and you blink, realizing you've stopped walking. You feel a flicker of embarrassment as you look at the trooper who spoke, his helmet tilted, and you give a quick nod to speak. "We've cleared the building. No signs of life. No droids, either."

You let out a sigh, relief washing over you.

"Thank you," you say, giving him a smile. "Good work."

"Where to next?"

You consider his words, and you weigh the options. You know the barracks are in the north, and you're currently in the south. To reach them, you'll have to fight your way through the city, which is crawling with droids, and there's no telling what they have planned. They could have already taken the barracks, and you'd have no way of knowing until it was too late.

You look at the trooper, and he shifts under your gaze. "What's your name?"

"CT-4398, sir," he answers, his voice wavering slightly. "I mean, um, Dash. Sir."

You give him a small smile, trying to ease his nerves. He's young, barely out of his teens, and it's clear he's never been in the field before. "Well, Dash, what do you think?"

"Me?" he stammers. "I don't... I'm not sure..."

"It's okay," you reassure him. "Just tell me what you're thinking."

"Well, sir, I was just thinking...maybe we should check the control room," he says, gesturing down the hall. "It's just around the corner. We might be able to find out where the droids are coming from, and get some information on the barracks."

"Sounds like a plan," you say, smiling. You clap him on the shoulder. "I need you to man the control room with..." You blink, turning to the trooper next to him. "What's your name?"

"Screwball, sir," the trooper says. You try to disguise the laughter, but Screwball is already shaking his head. "Don't ask."

"Right," you drawl, and you turn back to Dash. "With Screwball. Monitor the communications. Try to raise the barracks."

Dash stares at you, and it’s only when Screwball slaps him on the back hard enough to send him stumbling forward does he finally snap out of his stupor.

"Y-yes, sir," he replies. "Understood, sir."

“I’ll watch him, sir,” Screwball adds confidently.

"Good," you say. You nod to the remaining troopers. "Let's move out."

As you continue down the corridor, you can't help but wonder if you're doing the right thing. If there's even a right thing. There's so much about this war that feels wrong, but it's still the clones, and their treatment, that trouble you the most.

They were created, not born. Taught, not raised. Molded, not nurtured. Their entire lives, they were engineered to serve, bred to fight. And, yet, there's so much more to them.

They're men, flesh and blood, and you can't help but feel responsible for their lives. These clones in particular, still so young, still so new. They've barely begun to live. To die now, here on Kamino, would be a waste. A tragic end to bright lives cut too short.

You can't allow that.

You won't.

Ahead, the corridor splits, the left leading to the control room, the right continuing on to the rest of the building. Dash and Screwball peel off, and the group continues. You're not sure what awaits you outside, but you're determined to face it. The odds are stacked against you, but so far, you've overcome the worst, and you've survived. You can do this. You can save them.

As the door slides open, and the rain batters against your face, you take a deep breath, steeling yourself for the battle ahead.

Booker and his squad are waiting when you finally meet up hours later, their armor drenched, their weapons hanging at their sides. You can tell they've been through the wringer, but the sight of them is a welcome relief. In fact, every single trooper on his squad is accounted for and then some — a score of fifteen men you haven’t seen before.

"I see you picked up some friends," you tease, giving him a tired smile.

Booker chuckles, and he shakes his head, his armor dripping. "A few stragglers, but I'm not complaining. Thought they might be useful."

"You thought right." You reach out and pat his shoulder, your fingers squeezing his plastoid. "Good work, Commander. I'm glad you're okay."

"I told you I wouldn't let you down," he reminds you. "Besides, it's not over yet."

He's right. You're still not even halfway through the city, and the storm is only getting worse, the waves crashing against the buildings, the wind howling.

You've cleared five buildings so far, and each one has been an ordeal. The droids are everywhere, and they're relentless. Your troops have had to fight their way through blockades, shoot down trident ships, and fend off swarms of B2s. It's been a brutal slog, and your body is exhausted, the adrenaline from the first few hours waning.

The good news is, there doesn't seem to be an endless supply of droids. The bad news is, there's still enough to pose a serious threat.

Your men have been hit hard, and more than a few have been wounded. Some are unconscious, and some are worse. Some were too injured to move, and you've done what you can to stabilize them, but the truth is, there's not much you can do. There's not enough bacta to go around, and there's no way to safely transport them.

It's a grim reality, and it's one that haunts you. Not long ago you'd felt the loss of every death, the pain and suffering washing over you. It had nearly driven you mad. Now, the feeling has faded, becoming nothing more than a dull ache. A reminder.

It's not right. None of this is right.

Your thoughts drift to Rex, and the image of his face is clear in your mind. He's alive, you can sense it. And if anyone can survive a battle, it's him, but that doesn't stop the fear from taking hold. It's irrational, and you know it, but you can't shake the dread that gnaws at you. He's the best fighter you've ever known, and he's faced death a hundred times before, and still, a part of you is terrified that this time, it'll be the last. That the nightmares you've dismissed as just that will become real again.

"You alright?" Booker asks, and you realize he's been staring at you.

You shake yourself free of the thought and look at him, a tight smile pulling at your mouth.

"I'm fine," you mutter. You run your hand through your hair, pushing the strands away from your face, and you turn to look over the rest of the troopers. “Tell the men to rest for a moment, and then we'll make a run on the barracks. I want a headcount, and we'll need to re-evaluate the plan. I'll brief you in a moment."

"Yes, sir." Booker gives you a lingering glance before he moves away, gathering the rest of the group. As the clones begin to settle down, taking advantage of the reprieve, you find yourself wandering away from them.

You walk away toward the edge of the platform, and your eyes scan the horizon. The lightning is still dancing across the darkened sky, a beautiful, terrifying sight. It's a reminder of the power you hold, of the power you're capable of wielding, and of the danger that lurks in the shadows.

It's also a reminder of how small you are. How insignificant.

You lift your communicator up and press the button, praying to the Force that Dash and Screwball were able to get the communications back online. When static fills your ears, followed by the voice of the young trooper, relief floods you.

"General, is that you?"

"It is," you say, leaning against the railing, the rain dripping down your face. "Status report."

"Well, uh, we haven't had any success reaching the barracks," he says, his voice shaky. "But, we did manage to restore the cameras."

"That's something, at least." You let out a sigh, and you close your eyes, trying to calm yourself. "How are we looking?"

There's a pause, and then a crackle of static. "Not great, sir."

"Define not great," you urge.

"The droids are surrounding the building, and they've got heavy artillery. Our brothers are holding them off, but the numbers are against them. At this rate, they're not going to last long."

"Shit." You open your eyes and stare into the distance, your mind racing. Dash quickly reads out the position of Obi-Wan and Anakin, both engaged in their own duels with Grievous and Ventress, and it's clear from the strain in his voice that he's barely holding it together. You need to get moving. But, the question is, where?

"Anything else?" you ask, trying to keep your tone light.

"The storm has caused a lot of damage," he replies, the words coming faster, almost tumbling over each other. "Several buildings have collapsed, and the waves are getting worse. The ocean is rising."

"Great," you groan, letting out a huff. "Just what we needed."

"Yeah," Dash sighs, and there's a hint of desperation in his voice. "We're running out of time."

"Stay calm," you tell him, though the words are meant for yourself. "Just keep monitoring the situation. Let me know if anything changes."

"Yes, sir," he replies.

"And, Dash? Watch out for Screwball. Don't let him do anything stupid."

"Too late," the other trooper shouts in the background.

You chuckle, shaking your head. "Yeah, okay. Never mind."

"I'll keep him safe, sir," Dash says with a weak laugh. "Good luck."

You close the connection, and you press the communicator against your forehead, taking a deep breath. The wind whips around you, the rain pelting your body, and the thunder roars above, a cacophony of noise. It's a fitting backdrop for the moment, a reflection of the chaos inside your head. You feel the darkness stirring within, its tendrils snaking their way around your heart, and you squeeze the railing tighter, trying to resist. Trying to fight.

You've never been a good strategist, but even you can tell this is a losing battle. Even if you were to somehow manage to make it to the barracks, there's no guarantee that you'll be able to turn the tide. You'll be walking straight into a firing line, and the odds are stacked against you. Still, you have to try.

After a few more minutes of trying to hail Cody, Obi-Wan, Anakin, anyone, it becomes clear the storm is causing the communications to fail. No amount of trying is getting you through, and you're fighting a losing battle against the frustration. If only you could use the Force, but the sheer amount of energy and concentration to reach out is not something you have the strength for, not after the battles.

With a frustrated growl, you slam your commlink down, the metal casing creaking. It's a pointless action, but it does make you feel better. For a moment, at least.

"Having trouble?" a voice calls out, and you spin around, the hilt of your saber already in your hand. Booker is standing behind you, his arms folded, a smirk on his lips. "Whoa, easy. I come in peace."

You lower your lightsaber, and you shake your head, a wry smile on your lips. "Sorry. Force of habit."

"You don't have to apologize, General." He steps closer and leans against the railing, his helmet tucked under his arm. The storm is picking up, and the wind is blowing his hair in all directions, but he seems unbothered, the rain trickling down his face. He turns to look at you, and he tilts his head. "I'll admit, I didn't think you'd be like this."

"Like what?" you ask, a note of caution in your voice.

"Well, like this." He waves his hand in a vague gesture, his eyes never leaving yours. "I don't know. I guess I just thought you'd be a little more...serious."

"I am serious," you insist, and he snorts, his gaze drifting to the sky.

"No, I know that," he chuckles. "But you've got to admit, you've got quite the reputation."

You sigh. "So I've heard."

"Don't take this the wrong way, sir," Booker says, his eyes shifting back to you. "But a lot of us were a little scared of you. Well, more like intimidated. We'd heard the stories, and we'd seen the footage, and well...you seemed pretty intense."

You raise an eyebrow. "Oh? What changed your mind?"

"You saved my life. Twice. And you gave me a chance to lead." He shrugs, and he leans forward, resting his elbows on the railing. "You didn't have to do that, sir, but you did. I won't forget that."

"I'm glad," you say, and you give him a small smile.

"Plus, the fact that you're a general who cares enough about us to save our asses is pretty nice." He pauses and glances at you, and then he looks away, his gaze distant. "Most generals would have left us to fend for ourselves."

You don't respond, not sure what to say. The truth is, there's no doubt in your mind that some of the other Jedi would have done exactly what Booker suggested. They would have seen the clone as sacrifices that had to be made, and they would have moved on. After all, it's not their job to protect them, or to train them. Their duty is to the Republic, not the individual. To the greater good, not the lesser evil.

It's a lesson you're not sure you'll ever be able to learn, not completely. Maybe that makes you naive, or soft, or too emotional. But, you don't care.

"I won't abandon my men," you declare, your voice firm and determined.

"Good." Booker nods, and then he pushes himself away from the railing, his expression grim. "Because we've got a battle to win, and we could use your help."

"Sir," a trooper calls, waving you over. "We're ready."

You turn back to Booker, your hands gripping the hilts of your sabers.

“Let’s move.”

It's early morning by the time the battle is won, and the sun is just beginning to rise. You're exhausted, and Grievous and Ventress have escaped yet again, but you're still standing, and Kamino is once again under Republic control. It's a small victory, but one that's earned.

Your clothes are soaked, your body is bruised, and your limbs are aching, but it's a sweet kind of pain, the kind that comes with survival. And, despite the loss of many, the clones have never looked more alive.

The storm is finally receding, the rain now nothing more than a drizzle, and the sky is streaked with vibrant hues of gold and pink through the transparisteel windows. You've never seen a sunrise like it.

The view is beautiful, and it fills you with hope, a sense of peace that seems impossible in the wake of the devastation. The sun is rising on a new day, and you know the ones you care about have made it through the night.

You've already spoken to Obi-Wan and Cody, and you can't help the relief that's washing over you. Both are alright, though a bit worse for wear, and the two men are leading the cleanup efforts, trying to restore order and repair the damage that has been done. Anakin is a little roughed up, but he's still in good spirits, and he's taken over coordinating the search and rescue effort, which is much appreciated.

You haven't spoken to Rex, though. Not yet. You haven't even had a chance to breathe, let alone try to locate him. But you can feel his presence through the Force, and you know he's alive, and for now, that's enough.

You’ve dismissed your contingent from your command, but that hasn’t stopped them from approaching you as you walk with Booker toward the medbay. He’s escorting you for your safety. Or at least, that’s what he says.

You can tell he’s lying, and you can tell he’s worried about you. He hasn’t stopped hovering since the battle ended, and he keeps a watchful eye on your surroundings, his hand never far from his blaster. It's an amusing gesture, but you appreciate the sentiment, even if you find it irritating.

He's a good man, and you can't help but feel proud of him. He's young, and he has a lot to learn, but he's also smart, observant, and he knows how to read people. That, combined with his skill with a blaster, makes him an ideal candidate. He'll be a great commander.

But, first, he needs some time. Time to recover from his injuries, time to process everything that happened, time to get used to being a leader.

“Almost there, sir,” Booker says, tugging you along when you stop to shake Snap’s hand. He gives the clone a wink, and then nudges you again, forcing you to keep walking.

You laugh as you wave your hand at him. "I can manage, Booker. I'm not that bad."

"Yes, sir," he chuckles. He glances down at you, and you can see his expression shift from amusement to concern, his eyes narrowed. You realize he’s staring at the scar stretched across your palm, the one that has long since healed, and you quickly fold both your hands behind your back. You'd forgotten.

"Sorry, sir," he murmurs. "I didn't mean to..."

"It's okay," you assure him quietly. "I know it looks strange. But, it's an old injury. From before the war."

Booker nods, but he doesn't look convinced. You can't blame him. The scars are strange, jagged lines that stretch across the palms of your hand, the skin raised and pale. You've never really gotten used to the sight of them, preferring to ignore their existence completely. But now that you know for sure that Dooku is responsible, you've caught yourself tracing the lines more than once in recent weeks.

Booker clears his throat, and he gestures toward the entrance to the medbay. "After you, sir."

You give him a look as you walk past him and step through the doors, the smell of antiseptic and bacta filling your nose. The room is large, and the white walls and floor reflect the fluorescent lighting, making it feel even bigger. There are rows of beds lined up against the wall, and medical droids moving between the patients. The place is crowded, and the air is filled with the sounds of moans and whimpers.

A Kaminoan lingers in the back of the room, watching with an unblinking focus that unnerves you, and you do your best to avoid her gaze. You’ve had enough of the Kaminoans and their superiority for one day.

“Wise!” Booker calls out as he pushes you gently to sit on an open cot. “Got a fresh one for you.”

A bald trooper currently arguing with a medical droid freezes and turns, his expression sour.

“Can’t you see I’m busy—" He stops short when he sees you, and the furious glare tempers slightly. "Apologies, sir, I didn't realize. I'll be with you in a minute, okay? Just—shit, put that down!”

"Um, no problem," you mutter. "Take your time."

You can't help but smirk as he smacks the droid with the back of his hand and turns back to it, berating it for its incompetence. You turn and raise an eyebrow at Booker. "Wise?"

"Short for wiseass," Booker explains, snickering. "But, don't tell him I told you."

You chuckle, and you settle onto the bed, pulling your legs up and crossing them. You're exhausted. Your muscles ache, and your head is pounding, but you know you'll have to wait a bit before you can rest. There are still things to do, and reports to write.

You look around the room, trying to distract yourself. The medbay is filled with clones, all sporting various injuries, some worse than others. You see a few you recognize, men who have fought at your side, and a few that were part of the original group you'd saved. Their injuries are mostly superficial, though one has a broken arm. He waves when he catches you staring, and you give him a nod.

“Alright, what can I do for you, sir?” Wise asks, stepping in front of you. He glances down at the carbon scoring on your armor and the gash on your cheek, and he raises a brow. "You don't look too bad, to be honest. Nothing a few bacta patches can't fix."

"Trust me, I've had worse," you laugh, shaking your head.

"I'm sure." He sighs, and he leans against the bed, a grimace on his face. "Listen, I've been working nonstop for the past six hours, and I'm dead tired. I just want to go to sleep and forget today ever happened. So can you just let me take a quick scan and say it's all good, please?"

"Sounds good to me," you say, nodding.

He gives a grunt, and he pulls a small scanner from his pocket, waving it over your body. A beam of light sweeps over you, the data scrolling across the screen, and Wise hums to himself, checking the readings.

You sit there patiently, trying not to fidget. You've never liked the medscanner. You always feel like it's judging you, somehow. And, while you know it's just a machine, the sensation of the beam running over your body is still uncomfortable, the feeling akin to that of someone staring at you.

"Well, the good news is, there's no internal bleeding," Wise declares, looking up. He puts the scanner down, his expression serious. "The bad news is, you have a mild concussion, you're dehydrated, your blood pressure is low, and your heart rate is elevated."

"So, normal," you quip.

"She has jokes." Wise sighs and turns, rummaging through the medkit. He pulls out a bottle of pills and a bottle of water. "Take these, drink this, and rest. You can have a bacta patch for that cut, and then you can get out of my medbay."

"That's it?" you ask, frowning. You're so used to Kix's fussing, the fact that Wise isn't nagging you about everything is a bit of a shock.

"That's it," Wise confirms. He presses the items into your hands, his eyes narrowing. "What, were you hoping for something else? Like a kiss, maybe?

You choke, the water dribbling down your chin, and Booker snorts.

"Don't push it, vod," Booker warns, but his words are laced with humor. "She could take your head off."

"And I'd enjoy every second," you add, popping the pills into your mouth and downing the rest of the water. You wipe your lips, a smirk tugging at the corner as the medic rolls his eyes.

"Fine. Just let me take a look at that gash."

Wise moves closer, and his hand rests lightly against your face, his fingers tilting your chin up. He's surprisingly gentle for someone so brash and grumpy, his touch careful, his gaze focused. He hums, dabbing the disinfectant on the wound. You barely feel it.

"Looks like you'll live," he says. He holds his hand out, and a medical droid places a bacta patch in his palm. As Wise applies the bacta patch, Booker moves to stand next to him, his hands clasped behind his back.

"How are things looking, Wise?" he asks, his voice casual. You know he's checking on the men, but there's a note of concern in his tone, a worry that he's trying to mask.

Wise doesn't bother hiding it. He huffs and turns his gaze to Booker, his scowl deepening. "They're holding on, but not much more." He pauses and glances at you, his expression darkening. "Some of the boys have had it rougher than others, but, well, that's war."

Booker nods, and he glances around the room, his gaze moving over the wounded men. You can't see his expression, but you can feel the shift in his emotions. It’s the first time he’s lost a man, and it won't be the last.

"It'll be alright, Booker," you reassure him.

He's silent, but he gives a small nod.

"If you need anything, I'll be in the back," Wise mutters. He pats Booker's arm, the gesture friendly, and then turns away, walking toward the next patient.

"Thanks," you call. He doesn't respond, and you let out a sigh. "I don't think he likes me."

Booker laughs, a real laugh, his eyes crinkling at the corners. His earlier mood seems to have lightened, and he clasps your shoulder, giving it a squeeze.

"Are you kidding me? He loves you. I can tell," he insists. "That was practically a marriage proposal."

You roll your eyes. "Right. And I suppose you'll be my bridesmaid."

Booker opens his mouth to retort, but his gaze flickers, his attention caught by something. The medbay doors slide open, and a trooper in familiar blue and white armor steps through, his posture stiff, his helmet tucked under his arm.

Rex.

The room goes quiet, every clone in the room turning their head to follow his path as he walks. Rex doesn't seem to notice. He moves with purpose, his eyes scanning the rows of beds, searching.

He looks tired, his armor dented and scorched, his hair damp from the rain. There's a scratch on his cheek, a cut across his brow, and his bottom lip is swollen, split at the corner. But, he's alive. He's here, and he's standing.

And, he's looking for you.

You can feel the moment Rex sees you. His eyes widen, and he freezes, his jaw going slack. The wave of relief that washes over him is strong, so strong it's almost tangible. He lets out a shuddering breath, and his gaze moves over your face, taking you in. You do the same. And, for a moment, the two of you just stare.

Then, the world shifts back into motion.

Rex starts to move, his steps slow at first, almost hesitant, as if he's not sure he's seeing you. Then the hesitation disappears, and he's suddenly striding towards you, his gase locked on yours.

“Is that…” Booker straightens, his eyes wide, and he takes a reflexive step back. He gives a sharp nod to Rex as he approaches, and his hands fall to his sides, his fingers flexing. “Captain Rex, sir.”

Rex doesn't even acknowledge him. He stops in front of you, his chest rising and falling, his expression pained. His eyes roam over you, taking in the state of your armor, the gash on your cheek, and then, he finally meets your gaze.

You swallow, forcing yourself to breathe.

"We have to stop meeting like this," you say, trying to break the tension.

It doesn't work.

Rex doesn't say anything, but the pain in his eyes only intensifies, and the look is so raw, so visceral, that it takes your breath away. His mouth trembles, his lips parting, and his hand lifts, hovering for a second before falling to his side.

"General," he says, his voice hoarse.

"I'm fine, Rex," you assure him. You reach out and place a hand on his arm, giving him a reassuring smile. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, letting the air out slowly. When he opens his eyes, the pain is gone, replaced by something softer, and he gives you a small nod, a silent thank you.

“You okay?” you ask, and he gives a tight nod, his fingers flexing at his side.

"Yeah," Rex breathes. "You?"

"Never better."

He snorts, his lips twitching into a smile. "Liar."

"Maybe."

Rex shakes his head, and then, he finally seems to notice the man standing beside you. You glance at Booker, and you realize the clone has gone completely still, his back straight, his shoulders stiff, his expression one of awe and disbelief.

You bite your lip, trying to hide your amusement. You know the feeling. Rex is intimidating when he wants to be, and it's clear Booker is not immune to the Captain's commanding presence, or his reputation.

"Who's your friend, General?" Rex asks, his voice low. He raises an eyebrow, his eyes narrowing, and the corner of his mouth curves into a half-smile. You can feel his amusement, and it's a relief.

"Commander Booker, sir," Booker responds. He hesitates, his gaze flickering to you. "I...was assigned to the general. To protect her."

"Oh?" Rex's eyes shift, and he looks at you, his expression softening. "And, did you?"

"I did, sir." Booker sounds almost defensive, and his gaze darts to you, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his features. "I mean, not that she needs my help. She's a Jedi. She can handle herself. But, I was...there."

Rex hums, his lips pressed together, and his gaze moves over the trooper, assessing him. You can't help but roll your eyes. Rex is being difficult, and you know it. But, he can't seem to help himself, and he's enjoying the discomfort on Booker's face far too much.

"He saved my life," you add, and Booker lets out a relieved sigh. "Twice, actually."

"Twice, huh?" Rex's eyebrows shoot up, and he looks at the clone again, a new respect shining in his eyes. "Good work, Commander."

"Thank you, sir," Booker says. His posture relaxes slightly, and he lets out a small breath, his shoulders slumping. "It was an honor to serve with the General. She's a good leader."

"That she is," Rex agrees. "Now, if you don't mind, I'd like a moment with the General."

"Oh, yes, of course," Booker stammers, and he takes a step back. He turns to you, a questioning look on his face. "General?"

"You're dismissed," you say. "Go get some rest, Booker. You've earned it."

He hesitates, his gaze lingering on Rex, and you can tell he wants to argue. But, he's smart, and he knows when to retreat.

"Yes, sir." He snaps a salute, his helmet tucked under his arm. "Goodbye, General. It was a pleasure serving with you."

You smile. "Goodbye, Commander. I'll see you around."

He nods and moves away, joining the group of clones who are standing near the doors. They exchange quiet words, their voices hushed, and then, they disappear.

"I like him," you announce as the door slides shut behind them, and Rex lets out a soft snort.

"I'm sure you do," he says, shaking his head. "He seems...eager."

"Be nice." You roll your eyes and nudge him playfully with your arm. "He fought well today. I’m putting my recommendation in to have him promoted officially. I think he'd make a good leader."

“If he’s got your approval, he'll do just fine," Rex says, his voice quiet.

"You're probably right." You pause, and then, you tilt your head, looking at him. "Why aren't you with the other men?"

"I was, but..." He trails off, his jaw working. Rex takes a step closer and glances at Wise, who's hovering nearby, doing a poor job of pretending not to listen, and he clears his throat. “Is the General clear to go? We have a briefing to get to.”

Wise gives a curt nod, and he waves a hand toward the exit. "All clear, Captain. You can take her."

"Good." Rex looks back at you. "Ready, General?"

You sigh. The last thing you want to do is attend another pointless briefing, but you know it's important. So, you nod.

"Ready."

He holds out a hand, and you take it, letting him pull you to your feet. You sway slightly, and his other hand settles at the small of your back, steadying you. He holds you like that for a moment, and then he releases you, his hands falling to his sides.

"Come on," he mutters, his eyes dark.

The two of you leave the medbay, the silence heavy between you. There's a tension in his posture, a strain in his voice, and a tightness to his jaw that tells you something's bothering him. And it's not just the eyes on the two of you.

"Is everything alright?" you ask.

"Everything's fine."

You study his face, trying to read his expression, but his mask is firmly in place, his thoughts hidden. It's easier to sense his emotions. Anger, frustration, pain, exhaustion, fear. All of it's there, swirling beneath the surface, but the reasons behind them are unclear.

Rex is one of the most self-contained people you've ever met, but you've gotten better at reading him over the months together. The slightest twitch, the faintest tremor, the briefest flicker. There's a whole language in those little things, and you're starting to learn it. And, right now, he's struggling.

You glance around the hallway, noting the curious eyes that linger, the whispers that follow, the stares that bore into your back. But the further you walk, the less people there are, and the quieter it becomes. Soon, the only sound is the steady thud of Rex's boots and the hum of the ventilation system.

“So, where’s the briefing?” you ask, trying to fill the silence. Your arms extend above your head in a stretch, and a yawn escapes your mouth, making you feel even more tired. You can't wait to sleep.

“There isn’t one,” Rex admits.

Your arms drop, your brow furrowing.

“Then why did you…”

Rex stops and turns to face you. His hands are clasped behind his back, and he's standing tall, his shoulders squared, his head held high. He looks every inch the soldier. A perfect example of discipline, restraint, and control.

But, his eyes betray him.

He's afraid.

You blink, surprised, and you open your mouth to speak, but Rex shakes his head. He reaches out and grabs your arm, tugging you into a nearby alcove, and you stumble after him. His grip is gentle, but there's a firmness to it that warns you not to fight him.

Once the two of you are alone, Rex releases your arm and takes a step back, and his hands ball into fists at his side. He takes a deep breath, his nostrils flaring.

"Rex," you say, trying to catch his attention. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

He doesn't answer. He's staring at the floor, his brow furrowed, his mouth set in a firm line. His jaw clenches, and his lips part, as if he's about to speak, but no words come.

You watch as his hands flex, the fingers curling and uncurling, and he runs a palm over his face.

"No, I'm not okay," he finally says, a rough exhale escaping him. His voice is strained, his words coming out in a low rasp. "I thought...I thought...for a minute, I..."

The realization hits you, and you close your eyes, taking a shaky breath.

He'd thought you were dead.

He'd thought he'd lost you.

And, judging by the look on his face, the pain he's clearly trying to mask, it's shaken him more than he'll ever admit.

"Rex," you breathe, your heart sinking.

You'd felt his emotions when the battle started, the worry and fear that had radiated from him, but you'd assumed it was because he knew what was coming, and because he was worried about the other men. You never thought it was because of you. Because he was scared for you.

You'd been so focused on your own feelings, on the dread and anxiety that had plagued you, that you'd never considered the possibility that Rex might feel the same way. That his thoughts might drift to you. That he might wonder if you'd made it through the storm.

The realization is painful, and it brings a lump to your throat. You feel guilty, and ashamed.

"I'm sorry," you whisper. "I didn't mean to worry you."

His gaze drops, and he shakes his head. "No, it's not your fault. I'm the one who's sorry. I should have...I shouldn't have let it get to me. I know better than to lose my focus like that. I just...when I heard the explosion, I..."

He stops and lets out a ragged breath, and his body sags, the fight draining out of him. You step closer, reaching up to place a hand on his cheek. His skin is warm, and his stubble scratches against your palm. Rex leans into your touch, his eyes fluttering closed, and his head tilts to the side, his nose brushing against your wrist.

"It's okay. You're allowed to be upset." You offer a small smile. "You're only human."

Rex doesn't say anything. He just sighs and covers your hand with his, pressing it closer to his skin. You can feel his pulse beating rapidly beneath your fingertips, and his grip tightens, as if he's afraid to let go.

"You're going to make me cry," you joke weakly, but the truth is, his pain is almost unbearable. It's too close, too real. You can feel it echoing inside you, and the weight of it is almost crushing. You hate seeing him like this. You hate knowing that you're the cause of it.

"Please don't," he mutters. His voice is rough, and there's a raw edge to it that makes your stomach twist.

"Why not?"

"Because I'll probably start crying, too," he confesses, a soft chuckle rumbling in his chest as he opens his eyes. "I've had a rough day."

You let out a weak laugh, trying to fight the tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. You blink, and a single tear rolls down your cheek.

Rex's eyes widen, and his face falls.

"Now you've done it," he grumbles, but there's a tenderness to his words that makes your heart swell.

His hands move to your shoulders, and he gently pulls you close, wrapping his arms around your body. Your face buries in his neck, and his chin rests on the top of your head.

"I'm glad you're alive," he whispers. His grip tightens, his fingers digging into the back of your robes. "When I didn't see you after the battle...I didn't know what to think. I couldn't find you. I didn't know where you were, or if you were even..."

You squeeze him harder, letting him know you're here, and he makes a soft noise in the back of his throat. You can feel his body trembling beneath your touch, and his hand reaches up, cupping the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair.

"I'm not going anywhere," you murmur, your voice muffled as you bury your face further into the crook of his neck.

Rex lets out a shaky breath. "Good."

You stand like that for a long moment, the two of you clinging to each other, neither of you willing to let go. You can feel his heartbeat slowing, his muscles relaxing, and his breathing evens out. His grip loosens, and his fingers trail through your hair, his nails scratching lightly against your scalp.

He needs this. He needs you. And, for once, he's letting himself have it

You know the feeling.

The war has taken its toll on both of you, and the weight of it has been a burden that you've borne separately and together. The endless battles, the constant stress, the loss of life. It's all wearing you down. You want to comfort him, to give him the support he so desperately needs, but you're not sure how. Not when your own emotions are so tangled. Nothing seems right, nothing seems enough. And, the words that come out are inadequate.

"We made it," you say, and the words sound hollow, even to you. "That's all that matters."

Rex makes a small noise, almost a laugh, and his hand moves to the back of your neck, his thumb tracing along the base of your skull.

"Yeah," he breathes. “Yeah, we did."

"We're okay," you remind him, pulling back to look him in the eye. You give him a smile, and he returns it, his eyes crinkling. "I promise."

Rex studies you for a long moment, his gaze moving over your face, as if trying to memorize every detail. His expression softens, and his hand moves to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing over the bacta patch.

"I'm going to hold you to that,” he murmurs. His voice is rough, his tone serious, but the corner of his mouth curves into a half-smile.

"Good. You should.”

"You know, if you keep saying things like that, I'm going to start thinking you actually care," he teases, his fingers trailing along your cheekbone.

You roll your eyes, and your hands move to his chest, pushing him away. He chuckles and pulls back, releasing his hold on you.

"You know what I meant," you say, wiping away the wetness from your cheeks. "And, for the record, I do care."

"I know," he replies softly, his eyes flickering. He clears his throat and glances away, his cheeks flushing, and you can't help but smile.

"I was worried, too," you confess. Rex's eyes snap back to yours, and his eyebrows rise. "About you, I mean. About all of you. I thought...well, I thought a lot of things. And, I'm glad none of them came true."

"Me too," he agrees. "I don't know what I would have done if..." He trails off, his voice fading, and his lips press into a firm line. He swallows and takes a deep breath, his hand moving to the back of his neck, rubbing at the tense muscles. "Sorry. I didn't mean to drag you into an empty hallway just to have a breakdown. I just..."

"You needed a minute," you finish, and he nods, his shoulders slumping.

"Something like that."

"You have nothing to apologize for," you tell him, giving his arm a squeeze. "It's been a rough day for all of us. And, you're not the only one who's a little shaken."

"You're right," he concedes, letting out a long exhale.

You pat his arm and offer him a smile, trying to lift his mood. “Besides, if we're keeping track of emotional breakdowns, I'm still way ahead of you. You're gonna have to try a lot harder if you want to catch up."

Rex huffs and shakes his head, his lips twitching.

"Well, I don’t think this war is ending anytime soon," he quips. "I'll have plenty of opportunities."

"True."

You give a sigh and lean against the wall, resting your head back. You can feel the exhaustion starting to catch up with you, and your body is heavy, the weight of the past few hours weighing down on you. You close your eyes and let out a groan, wishing you could just crawl into a bed and sleep for the next ten years.

Rex moves to stand beside you, his shoulder pressing against yours. The heat radiating from his body is comforting, and you lean into him, savoring his closeness. He turns his head, his eyes searching your face, and you meet his gaze, a faint smile on your lips.

"Thank you," he murmurs. "For letting me have a minute."

"Any time," you tell him, and you mean it. He's done so much for you. He's given so much of himself. You'd give anything to ease his pain, and if a minute is what he needs, you'll give him that. It’s the least you can do.

His lips part, as if he's going to say something, but no words come out. His eyes drop to your mouth, and his jaw tenses, his throat bobbing. Then, he shakes his head and lets out a soft chuckle.

"What?"

"Nothing," he says, and his gaze lifts, a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. "You're just...you're a good friend, General."

The word friend stings more than you expect, and you bite the inside of your cheek, forcing yourself not to grimace. You can't blame him for saying it. Not when it's the truth. You are his friend. But a small part of you had hoped...well, it doesn't matter.

"Right," you say, your smile a little strained. "So are you."

Rex gives a nod and turns his gaze away, looking down the hallway. He seems lost in thought, his brow furrowed, his lips twisted, and you watch as he looks left and right, checking to see if the coast is clear. There's a moment of hesitation, and then, he sighs and turns back to you, his expression softening. He looks almost shy.

"I..." He stops and takes a deep breath, as if he's steeling himself for what's to come. "Here."

He pulls up his vambrace, and you watch, confused, as he taps a few buttons. His finger hovers over one of the controls, and then he presses it.

A second later, your commlink begins to chime. Your eyes widen, and you quickly pull it out to silence it, staring at the display that pops up. You glance up at Rex, and his cheeks flush, his hand rising to the back of his neck as his eyes avoid yours. He's nervous. He should be. He’s breaking about a dozen regulations by giving you his private frequency, and you know it. He knows it.

And, yet, here he is, giving it to you anyway.

It's dangerous, risky, and foolish, but neither of you seem to care. The war is already hard enough, and the idea of keeping each other at a distance, especially now, is an unnecessary cruelty. So, you don't argue. You save the contact, and you tuck your commlink away, giving him a smile.

"Just in case," he mutters, his gaze finally meeting yours.

"In case what?"

"In case you need me," he says. His voice is quiet, but there's a strength to it, a resolve. "Or, in case I need you."

You stare at him, unable to speak. The look in his eyes is so tender, so earnest, that it takes your breath away. There's something else there, too, something deeper, and you can feel the heat rising to your cheeks. You have to look away.

"Got it," you manage.

Rex gives a small nod, and he pushes himself off the wall, moving to stand in front of you. His hands settle on your shoulders, his thumbs tracing circles against the fabric of your tunic.

"We'll see each other soon," he promises. "Just...let me know when you get back to the Temple. Okay?"

"I will," you agree.

"Good."

Rex gives you one last smile, and then he releases you. You watch as he walks away, his footsteps echoing in the corridor, before he disappears around the corner, leaving you alone.

You take a deep breath and try to compose yourself, smoothing the front of your robes. Your hands are trembling, and your heart is racing, but you ignore the feelings, burying them. It's just stress, you tell yourself. It's been a long day. You're just tired.

Your eyes trace the panels along the walls, and you stare up at the ceiling, the white lights overhead. You take a deep breath and close your eyes, clearing your mind. When you open them, you feel calm, the momentary panic fading.

There's a sudden ping from your commlink, and you jump, startled. Your fingers fumble with the device, and you quickly bring it up, tapping the display.

Stay safe.

The words make your heart skip a beat, and you type out a response without hesitation.

Always.

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