#apart from Hemlock

[simp-legend]

Currently crying cause I can't accept that THIS Wednesday is the last Bad Batch episode ever! I'm gonna miss the show so much. And don't even get me started about how tonight is going to be our last Bad Batch eve! 😭😭

[brucewaynehater101]

Have a Good(?) Mom Janet AU.

There is a cookbook in Drake Manor that no one but Tim and Janet are allowed to touch. There is also a shelf full of Spices that only they are allowed to touch. Every time Janet comes home, they both cook each other meals with the book and the spices. Tim makes himself food using the spices while she is gone. Janet makes sure to come home at least once a month so that they can cook together.

This cookbook has been passed down in Tim's family for many, many generations. To be taught from it and eventually gifted the book to add your own recipes to is seen as a sign of love and adoration. If a family has more than one child, a copy of the book is made so each child can have one, and if someone dies without any children to pass the book along to, their will always states for the book to be returned to a Drake. Sometimes branches of the family will get together to trade recipes that the later generations have come up with that aren't in their own books. It has been this way for well over 10 generations.

See, the special thing about this cook book? It doesn't have anything like Chili or Pasta or Candy or Cake or anything like that. No, this is a cookbook detailing things like how to brew a lovely tea made from Nightshade and Foxglove, how to milk a snake and then reduce it's venom down and which Spices to add in so that it can be used to coat a blade, and how to disguise the taste of bitter poison in sweet and savory foods.

It's a Cook Book of Poisons. Just like the shelf is full of things like arsenic, cyanide, dried poison dart frogs, hemlock, and so, so much more. If you can think of a poison, it's on the hidden shelf.

Tim is taught by his mother how to dose those he loves to over time make them immune to things, how to kill someone without leaving a trace, and how to tell poisons apart by taste, smell, and touch. Janet does this because she loves her son, just as Janet's mother did this for her because she loved Janet and on and on back in the family tree. She wants him to be safe and they are very rich and well known. She knows that this attracts Assassins. She can not protect him from Knives or bombs or guns, but she can protect him from this one thing. She will protect him because she loves him dearly.

Tim knows his mother loves him, why else would she always poison him? She explained to him when he was very little what she was doing and why and he believed her. He still does. Frankly, the partial immunity to basically all toxins has been really helpful as Robin. Plus he can use this to help the Bats! He can start micro dosing Bruce and Alfred and Dick right away by baking them cookies with poison! If they detect anything wrong, just tell them it's ok if they don't like the cookies he made while looking sad. They will cave instantly and eat anything he gives them, brushing Tim off as not a very good cook.

Tim also comes clean to his Mother (only her, not Jack. They don't have a bond like he and Janet do) about being Robin and honestly? She sags in relief and says she is so glad that someone is protecting him from the things she can not and teaching him how to defend against what nether can stop. There is a lot of crying and then Janet being Horrified when she finds out that Batman and Nightwing only have Average Gothemite Poison Resistance?? No special training??? Seems very, *very* stupid in their lie of work.

With this AU, Janet would be fine (or at least not dead) when she drinks the water. Jack may or may not have been fine as well (depends on if Janet was also microdosing Jack as well).

So, Tim's parents either die another way or just don't die. Maybe Jack still ends up dead (Boomerang and whatnot), but Janet lives.

Ooh! Feel free to contest, but this would also pave the way for some excellent Talia/Janet interactions (it could start out as enemies to lovers due to two of Talia's sons attacking Janet's son. Yet, Talia can't help but be intrigued by the Drake practice of poisons/venoms/resistance/immunity).

Anyways, Tim and Janet showing their love through cooking is precious. It'd also be hilarious if Janet, insulted by the Bats not being immune, tries to help Tim as well. She just constantly checks up with Tim's progress and offers any advice she needs to.

Damian and Jason probably have some resistance/immunity bulit up, but probably not to the extent the Drakes do in this AU. Cass is aware of what's going on and happily takes Tim's food every time (she can practically feel the love radiating off of the food).

[freegameplanet]

The Melting Apartment is a new Game Boy Color horror game by Flower & Hemlocks, that draws inspiration from Italian Giallo movies and the work of Junji Ito!

Read More & Play The Full Game, Free (Game Boy or Browser)

[shinsocest]

No. 001

Notes: first of many reuploads, fave of personal faves ♡ commission for @kailali from once upon a time ♡♡♡

7.7k

warnings: stepcest, marking, piercings, creampies, fem reader, reader is lifted, degradation & praise, oral (both), multiple orgasms, hard s*x soft feelings

It had been a long day. 

You sigh and let your bag fall to the entry floor as you toe off your shoes. As the only quirkless member of the Todoroki family you never had a shot at hero work, but that never meant you had no interest in the hero industry. You finally made it into your preferred field a few months ago, a new hire at your stepmother’s ex’s agency in their crisis management department. Whenever a hero or sidekick makes a mistake or a villain causes too much damage before they’re apprehended, you’re behind the scenes doing as much as you can to fix the lives of those affected. 

All in all… paperwork is a bitch.

An irritated puff expels through your nose as you nearly trip over an extra pair of shoes in the foyer, but your irritation dispels when you lay eyes on a worn pair of charcoal converse. You sigh.

“Touya?” you call out as you pad down the hall.

“Living room.” His voice is tired, a sleep laden rasp in his throat. 

You sweep through the open kitchen, drop your keys on the counter, and make your way to the living room. You lean in the doorway when you catch sight of him sprawled out on your couch, half under one of the softer throws your stepmom got you for Christmas a couple years ago. The light from the tv bathes him in a silver sheen, highlighting his jet-black hair and glinting off the triple helix on his ear, the gift you’d gotten him for his last birthday.

Touya shifts a little more upright as you come into his line of sight and reaches for the lamp on the side table. The soft yellow light helps, makes him look warmer. The picturesque tattoos of burning hemlock dancing up his forearms and disappearing under his shirt look more lively, and you can see the smile on his face as he looks at you.

But he still looks tired.

“Long day?”

You scoff and then laugh a little, your shoulders sagging as you slouch over to the couch. He opens the blanket in invitation and you crawl in beside him, sighing as he wraps an arm around you, your head dropping onto his shoulder.

“Yeah,” you mumble softly, sighing again as he kisses the top of your head. You return the kiss with one to the side of his neck, your lips pressing to the inky vines winding down his throat. “You?”

“Yeah,” he mutters. His voice is a comfortable rumble against your back. “Somethin’ like that.”

 Touya uses your apartment as a personal hideout, ever since you leased the place. At his age he's expected to be living on his own by now, but Rei has a soft spot for her eldest son and won't push him out of the nest. Since he promised you he wouldn't argue with your father, he ends up at your place more often than not. Your dad is the type to be optimistic, encouraging, and stern, and Touya doesn't have the best track record with nurturing authority types—or authority figures in general really—given how strict Endeavor was when it came to raising his children. 

He squints at the screen as if just noticing it was on. "Movie's comin' on. Wanna watch it with me?"

"Sure. I think I wanted to see this one, but let me change first."

A short trip to your room is enough to shed your office clothes and slip into a tank top and sleep shorts before you're back in his arms, wiggling until you're comfortable and he’s grumbling at you to settle the fuck down.

It may seem odd from the outside looking in to be this close, but it's always been this way with your step-siblings. Natuso and Fuyumi were the middle children, working hard on their futures when your parents hit it off, so it made sense that the eldest and youngest were the ones who latched onto you the hardest. 

Shoto was polite in the beginning—earnest, really—and before long he was looking to you for approval even after he graduated from Yuuei. Touya saw you as another little sibling to look after, in his own way. From the moment you’d moved in, it felt like he was doing his best to make sure there was a place in their family where you fit. You always got the sense it was because he felt like an outlier himself. You were just happy to be accepted, and you adored them both, all of them of course.

Barely halfway through the movie, Touya shifts and his hand slides around to your stomach to hold you more comfortably. It makes you warm, dangerously so.

You’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t enjoy how touchy-feely Touya always is, and he always seems to be seeking physical comfort from you. He holds your hand when he walks you to the store, always needs a hug before he leaves, and if he doesn't get a kiss on his cheek before he’s out the door, he will pout at you (aka lots of snark and rolled eyes) until you give in. 

“You’re shifting a lot tonight, doll. You good?” Touya hums behind you, sounding distracted and you realize you’d been rubbing yourself back against his—

“Sorry!” you whisper, face flaming.

“Don’t worry about it.” After a minute he mutters under his breath about how warm you are. “Don’t tell me you’re my real sister after all, 's like you're on fire.”

“We can take the blanket off—”

“Nah, ‘m fuckin’ freezing, feels good. My hands are cold, can I?”

“You fucker!” you yelp as he pushes his palms under your shirt, his hands like ice on your skin. His smirk is almost tangible behind you as he reprimands you for squirming when he’s doing his best to battle the sudden chill. 

“Keep still, would ya?”

You try to kick his shins but he outmaneuvers you, pinning your legs under his own. He chuckles under his breath as the two of you scuffle for a couple moments, tugging you closer until you give up with an exaggerated huff.

“You good now? You’re missing the movie.”

You grumble as you settle, but your heart still races. 

During your half-hearted wrestling attempt it had been easy to miss, but now that you’re relaxed into him again you’re becoming aware of the way Touya is heating up behind you. His palm is nearly searing the skin on your navel now, but you’re too distracted by what’s unmistakably digging into your back at the moment.

You know you’re not supposed to get a flutter of anticipation, but it shudders up your spine anyways. Every now and then his hips rock forward like he can’t help himself, and every time they do, that telltale heat building hot and impatient beneath your skin grows.

His fingers are playing with your waistband like they have so many times before. You’re holding your breath as he dips a little lower than usual and you find yourself wondering, telling yourself you’re not hoping for it…but is this the night he’s finally going to cross the line he’s spent so much time dancing around?

You’ve always known. This dance has been happening for a while. You’ve noticed the way he looks at you, and holds you too close, and you feel guilty knowing just how much you enjoy the attention. He always seems to hold himself back though, neither one of you truly acknowledging the heightening desire that builds in the dark.

Your gasp feels loud when his hand firmly slides into your panties—long fingers toying with the apex of your mound, a breath away from the bundle of nerves that feels like a live current desperate for a trigger—but it’s barely more than a tense inhale.

Touya’s lips are almost on your ear, his breath hot as his words push both of you towards an uncharted precipice.

“This okay?”

You know that this is the moment to turn back. If you say something now, he’ll remove his hand and go back to watching the movie. 

Your heart pounds rapidly as you think, but something heated and needy coils tight in you. If you deny him now, would he ever have the courage to come after you again? Displeasure rises bitterly at the thought of him distancing himself from you. You want him. Maybe you’ve always wanted him.

“Mhm,” you manage, breathing just a little too hard to be casual, and you feel his grin against your neck.

“That’s my girl.”

Hot pleasure sparks beneath your skin at his words, but it’s nothing compared to the electric shock as his fingers slip between your embarrassingly wet folds.

“That’s my slut,” Touya groans sharply, his tone low and laced with thinly veiled desire. “Do you know how wet you are? I always knew you were a needy little thing.”

You whine as he parts your folds, tracing over your hole and up to your clit. It’s almost twitching with the desire to be touched, white hot and wanting. “Touya, please.”

“Can’t tell you how long I’ve wanted to hear that,” he mumbles, tongue pressing to your neck, kissing and biting at the sensitive skin there as he obliges you. You moan breathily and uncontrolled as he circles the bud delicately, again and again. “You sound so good sayin’ my name like that, doll.”

He’s rocking his hips into you steadily now, grinding against your back.

Heat and frustration is building steadily as your step-sibling continues to play with you, and you realize that he is quite literally playing with you—switching between the way he touches your clit, moving from circling it gently to tapping it, rolling it between his fingers. 

Touya knows to be thorough, to find out exactly what you like, to make this unforgettable. He’s listening and paying close attention to the way you react to his every touch. Every now and then slender fingers slide down and he presses a digit or two into your soaked cunt, now dripping obscenely, curling them lazily as he searches for what makes your body sing. 

Even with his lazy movements, you can feel something coiling tight inside you. Whatever this is between you, it's been too long coming, your hips jerking as pleasure threatens to undo you. But before you can be taken apart, Touya slips his fingers from your waistband.

You whine at the loss, whipping your head towards him only for him to grasp your chin and pull you closer, his tongue prying your lips apart and delving inside. His fingers are still slick from your juices, gripping your chin tighter as he shifts you under him, supporting his weight on one arm as he kisses you like this is his last chance to. 

You don’t have the coherency to tell him it’s not, dizzy with want by the time he pulls back. His sapphire eyes darken when you wrap a leg around his hips to instinctively keep him close, his lips glistening in the flickering light of the tv.  

“Tell me you want this.” He stares down at you intently, holding your gaze as he waits for your admission. 

There’s no point in denying it anymore. Of course you do.

“I want you.” 

Touya grabs at your thigh curled around him and pushes it off, smirking at your pout as he sits back on the couch. “‘S cute, but don’t make that face. Strip all that off, and c’mere.”

You all but scramble as he pats his lap, pulling your shirt over your head and bra following quickly, equal parts pleased and embarrassed when you see the way his gaze is locked on you, trailing down your exposed skin. As you slip the last of your clothing down your legs and step out of it you look at him, confused when he just sits there watching you.

“Aren’t you gonna…” you trail off, eyebrows furrowing.

Touya perks an eyebrow at you. “Didn’t I say c’mere? We were watchin’ a movie, weren’t we?”

His voice is too light, and you know that tone. He’s up to something, but big brother Touya is always up to something. And he always gets his way. So instead of questioning him again, you do what he wants and you settle into his lap, only making a small noise of complaint when he faces you away from him. 

He clicks his teeth. “Don’t be a brat now, you were being such a good girl earlier.”

“You’re not being fair,” you mumble, squirming. “Why’m I the only one naked?”

“Cause you’re prettier than me.” He’s teasing and you know it.

Your protest is cut off as he yanks you back against his chest and cups your breasts, slender fingers pulling at your nipples and rolling them. 

“Fuck!”

“My cute little whore has such a dirty mouth,” Touya purrs in your ear. “Just sit still. Lemme touch.”

You try, you really do. He kneads at your breasts, smoothes his hands down your body, exploring you languidly. It’s impossible.

“Touya—” you break off with a squeak as he bites your shoulder in reprimand. “Hey!”

Touya laves his tongue over the stinging mark and coos. “Aw did that hurt?”

“A little…”

“Want my cock to make it better?”

You suck in a breath. It comes out of his mouth like a sweet invitation, but there’s just enough insecurity in his cocky tone for you to hear (that only you could hear) that you know he’s uncertain of your answer. His heart is pounding against your back, further betraying his underlying anxiety.

Not one to torture your loved ones, you squirm back on him. “Make it better, Touya. Make me feel better.”

“Say it,” he demands, turning your head to look at him.

Blue eyes glare down at you desperately, searching for any hint that you’re playing him. You’re quick to douse the flames of doubt.

“Fuck me,” you whine. “I want your cock.”

“Shit,” Touya breathes, flopping back against the couch, hiking you further up his lap so he can reach the button of his jeans and pop it open. 

You moan at the feeling of something warm and hard sliding between your thighs as he shifts you back into place, before spreading your legs over his own. 

"Eyes on the movie, doll," Touya rasps, teasing your slit with the head of his cock. "You wanted to watch it, remember?"

You wanted the chance to see him, the disappointment welling in your chest evaporating as quickly as it appears at the feel of him pushing the head in and out of your soaking heat.

"What about you?" Your last word cuts off in a gasp as he pushes into you fully, his girth spreading you open.

"Was never watchin’ the movie," he breathes, a groan hitching in his throat as the walls of your cunt squeezes him in a vice grip.

It feels different, and not just taboo different. 

"Touya, what's that?" You moan as something—several cool to the touch somethings—rub against the front wall of your pussy, making your toes curl as pleasure bolts from nerve to nerve. 

“I’ll show you later,” he groans impatiently, his hands fumbling on your hips to hold you still. “J-just, fuck— Lay back, would you?”

You comply, and Touya sinks lower on the couch, his feet on the floor to give him the leverage to fuck into you, each stroke slow and languid. Pleasure courses through your veins, hot and sticky, your eyes pinching closed as you focus on the feel of him. 

He’s so long and wonderfully girthy—just enough to feel stretched, the fat head of his cock touching deep every time he sinks into you—but you can’t get over the scrape of those…god, what are those? 

You can’t think, your moans splitting the thick air of the living room, legs quivering under his touch as he smooths his palms along your spread thighs. You’re both lost in a loop of exhilaration and long awaited satisfaction, your hips jerking into his every time he sinks in deep and grinds. 

His teeth meet your shoulder again, digging into the same grooves he left behind before. Your thoughts are sluggish beyond the haze of pleasure but it feels like he’s marking you, leaving something of himself behind. The thought chases away the sharp sting, winds a sudden coil in your gut, and you suck in a breath as something white flashes behind your eyelids.

“Touya!”

“Yeah, I feel it,” Touya moans behind you—moans, and the sound of it has you clenching around him hard, forcing a choked groan from his lips. “Fuck yeah, doll. Keep squeezin’ my cock like that. Perfect little slut, touch yourself for me.”

With shaky hands you begin to circle your own clit, lightly, the added stimulation threatening to unravel you right now, but you don’t want this to end. Not yet. It feels so good; whines and broken iterations of his name are all you feel capable of.

“Tell me how it feels.” There’s a desperate edge in his voice now, tight with desire and something else, something that sets you alight from head to toe. 

“It feels so good! So warm, ‘m gonna—” It’s a borderline sob now, with you feeling as if you’re dangling on the edge of something dangerous. You’re almost scared of the blooming sparks in your belly, but you wretchedly race towards them anyways.

Touya’s thrusts grow a little frenzied, the wet sounds of his cock sliding in and out of you loud in your ears. He’s panting, his groans ragged, barely holding on himself.

“Tell me you love me.”

His voice is rough, but so impossibly tender—needy. Your mind short circuits at the sound, pleasure igniting in your belly and your hand reaches back to tangle in his hair as you fall apart.

Touya groans, one hand tight on your hip as you spasm around his cock, his other reaching around to replace yours, gently circling your clit to help you ride out your orgasm. 

“Touya! I love you, Touya—oh, god!”

Touya stiffens and shudders as pleasure melts the base of his spine, zipping up along it, pressing his forehead to your shoulder as he spills inside you with a low whimper. “F-fuck—”

You both sag into the couch, chests heaving as you wind down from your respective highs. You squirm at the feeling of him softening in you before he grumbles something unintelligible and pulls you down onto your side with him.

His heart races against your back as he pushes a pillow into place—letting you use his arm as one yourself—and you wonder if he can feel the way yours is threatening to beat out of your chest. 

He’s still pressed stubbornly close to you, the rough edge of his jeans pressing into the back of your thighs as he tries to stay buried in your pussy for as long as he can, but he still remains silent behind you, his breath hot on your neck.

“I love you, Touya.” 

You say it again, softly this time. You want him to hear it when you’re not swimming in pleasure; you want him to hear just how much you mean it. 

Touya hums, a low contented sound. “Always knew ya did.” 

He sounds like he always does, snarky, but there’s a warmth in his voice that betrays his happiness.

“So what now?”

“Now we finish your damn movie, and then you need a shower. You’re kinda a mess right now,” he purrs devilishly in your ear, making you shiver even as a new bolt of heat strikes down your spine.

“And then?” You moan as he finally slips out of you, cheeks heating at the feel of his cum spilling out between your thighs. 

Touya reaches a hand between your legs, lazily sliding his fingers through the mess. “And then I fuck you the way I really wanted to. I need to see the face you make when I make you cum. Hope you know I’m not usually this sweet ‘nd gentle, right? Think you can take it?”

“So you were just being nice to me?” you tease gently, pushing your ass back towards him. “Do you think I’m that delicate?”

“You better not be.”

“Try me.”

A low groan pulls from his throat and Touya bundles you off the couch. You scramble to your feet before you can fall, and turn to look at him.

Your breath catches in your throat at the sight of him, sapphire eyes dark and blown, desire etched into the hard lines on his face. His jeans are low on his hips and he tugs his shirt over his head and tosses it onto the couch. 

Your eyes trace over the garden of ink on his torso, a swirling mass of flames and flowers that you’ve spent plenty of time admiring in the past. It’s nothing you haven’t seen before, used to Touya lounging around the house in the warmer months in nothing but a pair of shorts, but with the darky, needy look in his eyes as he prowls towards you… It’s different now. He’s not stripping to get comfortable.

Anticipation thrills up your spine.

“Shower, now,” Touya rasps, herding you down the hallways towards your room. “And I better not catch you whinin’ cause I ain’t stoppin’ ‘til I’m through with you.”

Sunlight pours through the small gap of your bedroom blinds, but that’s not what wakes you. You’re far too used to it for that. You’re not sure what it is exactly that has you blinking awake.

Maybe it has something to do with the arm wrapped around your waist, or the thigh curled over your own. It could be the mild soreness between your legs, or possibly the stinging sensation of multiple bite marks across your body, courtesy of the perpetrator currently lightly snoring into your shoulder. 

You gently turn over, detangling yourself from his limbs as quietly as possible. Touya has always been a somewhat heavy sleeper, so it’s not like it’s hard; but he really isn't a good morning person, so the last thing you want to do is wake him.

He mumbles something and flips onto his stomach, not waking for a moment. 

You gaze at him for a moment, eyes soft. His hair is a mess, inky strands sprawled across the section of his face not buried in the pillow. After smoothing the wayward tresses covering his eyes, you sit up slowly, your gaze drawn to the ink twisting up his back. Your fingers trace the lines with quiet reverence.

It really is beautiful; you know it took Touya a long time to get it all done. The hemlock on his forearms drooping and smoking from the surrounding flame turn to vines as they spread out up his biceps, shoulders, and throat. You know on his front the vines swirl throughout a meadow of baby’s breath and gladioli down his collarbone and chest, but on his back they weave around a breathtaking lotus that’s shedding its petals one by one, the ones that fall gathering in a pile at the dip of his spine. 

“Ya done starin’?”

You jump as he rolls onto his side to smirk at you, eyes droopy and tired. Touya chuckles at your expression and tugs you to his chest, giving a low groan as he tries to get comfortable again.

“Touya, wait—”

“Just go back to sleep, alright? It’s still fuckin’ early,” he mumbles gruffly, closing his eyes.

But your eyes are wide open, filled with panic. “I said wait, Touya!” you hiss desperately, struggling in his hold to sit back up.

You can feel the heat of mortification storming across your body as you maintain eye contact with the youngest Todoroki, who’s standing silently in the doorway of your bedroom. 

His two-tone eyes are unreadable, but you know your younger brother well enough by now to know that the slight pull of his eyebrows means he’s shocked, that the miniscule purse of his lips means he’s upset.

Not that you can blame him. Walking in on your step-sister naked in bed with your older brother is not exactly prime model behavior. 

“S-shoto,” you whisper, pitched and panicked. “I, uh…”

Oh, god, there’s no good way to explain this. You’re frozen, too petrified to even shield your body from his hard stare. You’re covered in bites and bruises, hair a mess and you can almost feel your relationship with Shoto shattering to dust when Touya groans dramatically and shoves his face in the pillow.

“Seriously, Shoto, your timing is fuckin’ awful. It’s too goddamn early for this. Try again later.”

Shoto glares at his brother and you can only gape at him as he drops his bag in the doorway and sits on the edge of your bed, right by your side. “You’re too impatient, nii-san. We agreed that we were going to wait.”

“Plans change.” Touya’s words are still muffled into the pillow, resiliently clinging to the notion that sleep is not yet lost. “Snooze ‘nd you lose.”

“Wait, what?”

Shoto doesn’t answer your question, a pout forming on his lips as he traces the teeth marks on your shoulder with a gentle touch. He doesn’t miss the slight wince of your expression; Touya had marked that same spot several times over last night. 

“He was so rough with you,” Shoto says softly. “I would have been gentle.”

Touya snorts and raises his head. “Fuck off, I was gentle. …the first time.”

Shoto rolls his eyes. “Kinda hard to believe when she’s covered in teeth marks.”

You’re too busy reeling to take much notice of their bickering. 

It’s Shoto; straight-laced, kind, upstanding Shoto. The Todoroki family’s shining star. Why isn’t he telling you how sick this is, and demanding to know what you were thinking crossing the bounds of family in such a forbidden manner?

Shoto notices your rising agitation and murmurs something soothing, trying to catch your attention by cradling your face in his palms. His eyebrows furrow gently at the sight of your quickly welling tears. 

“We love you.” He says it simply, like that’s all there is to know.

Touya sits up swiftly since he obviously isn’t going to get to go back to sleep, and croons at you as he kisses the back of your neck, “Want us to prove it, doll?”

Shoto glares at his brother over your shoulder, unimpressed. “You already got to be with her.” 

“And I’m gonna have her again. If you want her at all you’re gonna learn how to fuckin’ share, little brother.”

Why didn’t you see it all before? 

Shoto has always clung to you. He was almost as desperate for your attention as Touya right from the start. He always insisted you help him study, even when you were certain he knew the material already; he would ask you to cook dinner with him on his nights. 

When he graduated he insisted you visit him every weekend so you wouldn’t drift apart; it was him who suggested his father’s agency for your internship, where he debuted as a hero a few years ago. He even wrote your recommendation letter. He would always swing by in the morning with your coffee order, and without fail walked you to your car every night.

His love just wasn’t as obvious, at least not to you. His hugs were quick, like he didn’t want to be touched; his kisses might as well have been ghostlike, like he couldn’t handle being that close. You always thought he was just copying his big brother, but out of obligation, not desire.

“You love me?” You whisper the words looking at Shoto, but the question is for both of them.

"Of course—"

“Don’t be stupid, doll,” Touya mumbles, cutting him off and sucking another bruise into a miraculously unmarked portion of your neck. “‘Course we do.”

Shoto quietly brushes a stray tear from the apple of your cheeks, his lips following soon after. They’re warm, soft against your skin. 

He smiles.

“You weren’t around when we were growing up, so it’s not obvious to you how much we’ve changed for the better since you joined our family. I can’t imagine the person I’d be right now if it weren’t for the way I feel about you.”

“Shoto…”

Shoto pulls back, his smile still warming his face, but smaller, calmer. “Especially Touya. I think if it weren’t for you, he would have left us a long time ago. Our father wasn’t…well, you brought him back.”

You stiffen in surprise, and Touya grumbles under his breath, trying to cover his embarrassment with coarseness. “Brat. Don’t go spoutin’ that shit now.”

Shoto makes a low huff of amusement before tugging you out of the eldest’s arms, ignoring Touya’s growl of protest. 

“Let me have you to myself for just a minute,” Shoto breathes.

And then he’s kissing you. His touch is so sweet and he’s so warm that you can’t help but melt into him. No part of him is shying away from you now as he pushes himself between your legs, strong arms guiding you back down to the bed. 

He’s unyielding as his tongue traces the seam of your lips, a heady desperation fueling him that you can’t help but get swept up in, parting your lips for him with a breathy moan. Shoto hums, his tongue meeting yours tentatively until your fingers curl into the collar of his shirt and tug him closer, and he crumbles. The kiss grows wet, fervent, your head swimming as he refuses to relent, content to taste you even as your legs curl around his waist, spelling your impatience. 

“Calm down,” he mumbles against your lips, giving you a small break as he nips gently at your neck, his tongue soothing the bite marks decorating your throat. “There’s no need to rush any of this.”

“I don’t want to wait.” You gasp as his lips move lower, sucking and kissing at your collarbone, down the valley of your breasts, down your navel. Sparks follow the trail he’s making, down to where he stops, his eyes staring in disapproval of more bites scattered across the insides of your thighs.

His eyes are sharp as they look to you then Touya when your head falls back onto your pillows, covering your face in embarrassment. 

“Is there no part of her you left untouched?”

Shoto glares at him, but Touya stares back, both smug and aroused. 

“Nope.”

“You’re an animal.”

“She liked it.”

“Oh my god, stop talking!” you whine, forearms still covering your face. Excitement and arousal is making your body hot and you’re desperate for Shoto to keep going, but you know they could bicker forever. You’ve seen it plenty of times.

His mismatched eyes soften as they flash back to you, and he leans to pull your arms down. When he’s satisfied you’re watching him he continues, pressing his lips to the juncture where your thighs meet your mound. 

Your chest feels tight with anticipation as his fingers grope at your thighs, kneading the plush flesh before sliding around to cup your ass. You moan when he inhales the scent of your growing arousal before his tongue peeks out to part your folds, flattening and dragging up through your slit. As he reaches the bundle of nerves at the top, he retreats, blowing on the nub lightly. Shoto’s head swims at the sound of your whine, so he does it again, desperate to hear you make that sound again.

Shoto’s fingers dig into the swell of your ass as he groans and pulls you closer, his tongue delving into your dripping cunt and lapping at your juices. You’re propped on your forearms, watching him with hazy eyes as he tastes you, your chest heaving at the assault of sensations. 

He’s gentler than Touya, but that doesn’t make it any less intense. Your fingers grip the sheets tightly as he slurps at your cunt, his tongue blistering on your slit as he draws it up to flick over your swollen clit. You keen when he seals his lips around it and sucks, the touch hot and wet. 

The sloppy sounds of him savoring you make your body ignite, your arousal spilling onto the sheets even though you haven’t cum. You’re desperate to, but Shoto’s movements are slow and deliberate—you can tell he’s nowhere near finished. 

Teal and brown eyes are not quite closed but far-seeing, as if he’s lost in something—in you. The sight of it tightens something in you, has your shaking fingers reaching for him until they tangle in the crimson strands of his left side. Shoto’s groan devolves into a whine as you tug him closer, the vibrations of his noises making your eyes roll back. The younger Todoroki doesn’t resist your grasp, he leans into it, his tongue moving deeper, more desperate.

You make a noise of approval, your hips jumping when his fingers slip into you, prodding at your walls until your legs snap closed around his cheeks. He looks drunk cushioned between your thighs, the wet sounds and his moans melding together and making your mind melt.

“Fuckin’ shit,” Touya rasps beside you, on his knees now as his fingers form a tight ring around the head of his cock.

Your head turns to him, moaning when he shuffles towards you and presses the head of his cock against your lips. 

“Open up, doll. You’re killin’ me, sound so good like that.”

With a soft whimper, you part your lips and he feeds his cock into your mouth with a relieved sigh. As he pushes deeper you drag your tongue over each metal bar on the underside of his cock, gentle with the balled ends, counting five as they push deeper.

Last night in the shower Touya finally let you have a look, grinning at your wide eyed expression as you carefully brushed your fingers along his Jacob's ladder. He’d hissed under his breath as you nudged the last set, the lorum at the base of his shaft.

“Easy, that one’s new.”

That’s what you’re reaching for now as his fingers thread through your hair, his groans rough as he pulls you deeper onto his cock, your tongue swirling at the furthermost metal beads. You preen as he curses at the wet touch of your tongue ghosting the edge of his balls.

Touya pulls out slowly before thrusting back into your mouth; you’re trying your best not to gag, swallowing rapidly as his head touches the back of your throat.

“That’s a good slut,” Touya hisses, holding your head flush to his pelvis. His cock throbs at the feel of your throat closing around him, his head tossing back. “Pay attention to me.”

You whimper around Touya’s cock as Shoto gives a harsh suck on your clit, uncharacteristic of his attentions so far, and your watery gaze flicks downward to see Shoto leveling a heated stare at his brother again.

Touya takes notice, a lopsided grin spreading across his face as leers back at his little brother. “What, don’t like me calling it like it is? She really is a good little whore for me, you know. You should’ve heard the way she screamed for me last night.”

You moan around his length as one of Touya’s hands closes around your neglected breasts, his fingers pulling at the hardened nubs to hear the desperate sounds you make as he rocks in and out of your mouth.

“You shouldn’t call her that,” Shoto mumbles, his eyes glazed as he watches you writhe under his brother’s touch. His chin and cheeks are smeared with your arousal. The beginning beads of sweat have his hair sticking to his forehead. 

Touya shrugs. 

“She seems fine with it. Hasn’t complained.” He eases out of your throat and watches you inhale sharply, taking in the much needed oxygen. 

“Still.”

The younger one sits up and slides off the bed, a smile tugging at his lips at your whine of protest. Shoto pulls his shirt over his head, ruffling his hair and dropping it to your floor before popping the button of his jeans, hooking his thumbs in the waistband to push them off.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ve only just started,” Shoto breathes, returning to the bed with a new fire in his eyes. 

You inhale shakily at the sight of him exposed, the rippling muscle a sharp contrast to Touya’s lean figure. The eldest is healthy, and in no way out of shape, but Shoto’s strict training regimen has his body in peak physical condition. 

There’s clean white and pink scars littering his chest from his escapades as a hero, but it does nothing to take away from his beauty. As he steps closer to you, your eyes trail downward to his pelvis where his cock bobs between his legs looking painfully hard, the pretty pink tip drooling. Your eyes widen; it looks heavy, thick, unable to bear its own weight and leaning to the left. At the base is a well-kept patch of hair that matches his split coloration just like the rest of his body hair. 

As if sensing your trepidation at his brother’s size, Touya narrows his eyes and rests back on his haunches so you can take a moment to get adjusted. Shoto pulls you to the edge of the bed, spreading your thighs and standing between them as his hungry stare roves over your glistening cunt before snapping up to meet your gaze. He slides his length between your dripping folds and takes in a harsh breath at the feel of you.

His voice is soft, a light tremble to it the only tell of his nerves. “Do you want me to use a—”

“No,” you mumble shyly, fighting the urge to cover your face as his cheeks pinken at your immediate denial. “I wanna feel you, Sho’.”

“Okay,” he returns, sounding dazed. “Okay.”

Shoto drags the thick head of his cock through your juices again, lubricating himself fully before pressing himself against your fluttering hole, completely focused on the way you respond as he eases himself into your warmth.

You moan loudly at the immediate stretch, head thrown back as he slowly enters you. His eyebrows furrow at your tight heat, and he groans lowly in his chest as he coaches himself internally not to just hilt himself in you. 

A strangled sound works its way up both your throats as he drags his hips back and pushes in again, trying to work himself deeper. 

“Sho,” you gasp, fingers digging into the sheets as he sinks another inch into you, your eyes screwing shut. He’s so thick you don’t understand it. It doesn’t hurt, but it’s overwhelming, fighting the urge to let your eyes roll back into your head.

“You’re so beautiful,” Shoto chokes out, gripping your thighs tightly to ground himself. “So tight, so perfect. Feels like you’re made for me.”

“Holy fuck.” The words come from Touya, and you barely register the slick sound as the eldest slowly works his fist over his cock. Sapphire eyes lock on to where your drooling cunt is struggling to accommodate even two thirds of his younger brother’s cock. 

You can feel yourself getting more desperate, wanting to ground yourself to something, but there’s nothing to hold onto. 

Touya eyes the way your chest heaves, goosebumps rising on his skin at the hiccuping mewls you keep making. With an amused huff, he drops his cock and shifts closer until he’s sitting at your side. Shoto glares at him as he gets closer gripping your thighs possessively, but the heat falls short, the feeling of your slick walls too much. 

“Just keep going,” Touya mutters gruffly, staring down at your trembling figure as opposed to making eye contact with his little brother. “You should be doin’ this yourself, but as much as I like watchin’ her squirm, she likes it when I touch her.”

His slender fingers trace over your mound before his thumb presses into your throbbing clit. 

“F-fuck!” you warble out as heat strikes low in your belly, and Shoto echoes you with a groan as your cunt flutters around him as if trying to suck him deeper.

“There’s that dirty mouth,” Touya coos, voice dripping with playful condescension. He rubs slow, soothing circles around your clit, his eyes almost predatory with hunger. “That feel better? Bet you’re soaking now. Want him to just shove it in you, hmm?”

“Y-yes, yes!” you whine, teary eyes flickering from Touya to Shoto, desperate, pleading. “Want more, Shoto, please. Deeper!”

Shoto shakes at the pure need in your tone, his thighs tensing as his cock throbs. “Shit, sweetheart. Are you sure?”

“Please!”

“You heard her.” Touya retracts his hand, sucking the traces of your arousal off his fingers as he retreats further onto the bed. 

Shoto barely hears him, adjusting his grip so that he’s holding your hips as he firmly fucks himself deeper. The gape of your lips, the tears clinging to your lashes: that’s all he can see as he’s finally seated in your pussy. It feels like the heat of you is going to melt him. He groans as you wrap your thighs around his waist and leans down to capture your lips. 

You’re taking him like it’s nothing now, your tits pressed against his chest as you arch into him, hips bucking into his as he fucks you slow. His kiss is hot, quick, desperate, but he has to fuck you slow or he’s going to lose it. His body tingles with pleasure as your moans spill into his throat, your nails raking down his back as you ground yourself.

Shoto’s mind swims as you mewl his name against his lips over and over. His head feels full of cotton as his thrusts begin to get a little sharper, jostling the bed. His grip on your hips tightens as he pulls you steadily back into each thrust, pupils blowing out at the way your cries get more desperate, your back arching as your walls clamp and spasm around him. There’s a gush of slick coating his pelvis and the tops of his thighs now, but Shoto doesn’t stop; his hands slip under your back, grasping you tightly as he pulls you up off the bed completely.

You sink deeper onto his cock with a high squeal, and Shoto cups your ass to hold you up a little, widening his stance so he can fuck into you steadily. You whimper at the overstimulation, your teeth finding his collarbone as Shoto mumbles breathlessly.

"A little more, sweetheart. Just a little more, you're doing so good."

Touya snorts. "Now who's an animal?"

Shoto whines and turns, sitting back onto the bed and laying back, raising your hips so he can watch his length pumping into you. Your release is shining between your thighs, everywhere really, sticking to his thighs and matting the red and white of his pubic hair. 

When your moans cut off, Shoto looks up to see your lips pressed to Touya's. The elder brother has his fingers between your legs again, rubbing on your clit as he curls your fist around his cock, guiding your hand to stroke it with his own. 

The tension in Shoto's gut stretches thin when he picks up Touya's low rasp, biting out between the gaps of his rough kisses.

"C'mon doll, squeeze him for me— You want a break, you gotta make him cum. You wanna make him cum, don't'cha?"

"Yeah, wanna feel him cum," you whimper, tearing your lips from Touya's to stare down at Shoto with pleading eyes. "Want your cum Sho', please."

"S-shit, sweetheart."

Shoto half sits up in his aim to reach for you, his finger’s curling around the back of your neck and pulling you back down with him as he licks into your mouth. His other arm wraps around your hips, holding you down onto him as he grinds his cock into you, moaning shamelessly down your throat at the way your walls are milking him. 

“Oh fuck, oh shit—” Shoto breaks from your lips with a low cry, clutching you to his chest; white dots his vision as he gives in, his cock jerking as he unravels, several spurts of hot cum shooting deep into your pussy. “Oh god, you feel so good. You did so good.”

A jolt runs up his spine when Shoto realizes your hips are moving, grinding down on his slowly softening cock.

“So close,” you slur into his chest. “‘M so close, Sho’. ‘M right there.”

“Keep going, sweetheart,” Shoto breathes, trying not to moan at the jolt of overstimulation on his spent cock.

It’s sensitive, but it’s bearable, especially when it’s rewarded as your fluttering walls clamp down hard, your thighs quaking around his own. Your whine is loud even as it muffles into his shoulder, your nails digging into his chest as ride out your orgasm with little jerks of your hips. Shoto can barely comprehend the feeling swelling up inside him as you babble about how good his cock feels, how good he’s making you feel; amazement, pride, and no short amount of giddiness sits warm in his chest. 

Shoto rubs a soothing palm up and down your back, mumbling sweet nothings as you relax into his chest, only to groan softly as your hips raise enough for his cock to slip out with a wet sound. His head pops up at the feel of something brushing between his legs, only to see Touya standing above you both, his hands on your hips. 

Goosebumps rise on Shoto’s skin as he feels Touya’s hand brush over the tops of his thighs as his elder brother angles his cock towards your quivering, spent pussy.

You moan weakly, but don’t shy away from his touch.

“She looks so worn out, poor thing,” Touya coos, his voice filled with a sympathy that doesn’t match the wicked gleam in his eyes. “But this slutty pussy should be able to take more than this. Don't worry, doll. You'll get used to it soon."

[chadleys]

gallons of the stuff. | roman godfrey

›› pairing: roman godfrey x f!reader

›› wordcount: 3.2k

›› genre: smut, established relationship

›› rating: 18+, mdni

›› synopsis: you've recently stopped taking your birth control. roman has a problem with that.

›› warnings: period sex, bloodplay, oral sex, dirty talk, soft dom!roman, very explicit tampon scene, both characters are in high school but 18

›› misc: i haven't written in months, very out of practice. it's true - i'm back on my hemlock grove bullshit. if you're new here, we love bloodplay in this household. i wrote this in one sitting, and barely edited it. it's probably riddled with typos.

you had just gotten out of your last class for the day; you spied peter and roman talking near your locker. ❝ hi. ❞ you greeted peter with a wave, but roman you clung to and tried to grab a kiss on tip toes from.

roman, however, took a step back before you could make it. you tripped and almost landed right in front of him.

it was peter who stopped you from falling completely, as roman had moved back even further. he wasn't speaking, instead looking strangely at you, like you had grown a few extra heads in your couple hours apart.

❝ dude, what the hell? ❞ peter chastised his friend.

you stood there, hurt that your own boyfriend didn't want to kiss you, and when roman continued to just stare silently at you, you finally waved an impatient hand in front of his face. ❝ um, hello? ❞

❝ what happened? ❞ he asked quietly. ❝ what did you do? something's … different. ❞

you shrugged, looking to peter for help. he shrugged, too, looking between the two of you.

❝ i don't know, what could be different? i mean, what do you mean? ❞ roman wasn't making any sense.

roman's gaze flickered between you and peter, his mind racing as he seemingly tried to pinpoint what exactly felt off about you. was it your demeanor? your scent? it didn't seem he could put his finger on it, but something had definitely changed since he'd last seen you this morning.

❝ look, if you're not gonna answer me and just give me the silent treatment, i'll take myself home. ❞

❝ I'll give you a ride, ❞ peter offered, but roman chose that moment to reach out and grab your wrist, pulling you back to him.

❝ are you hurt? ❞ he finally asked. his eyes were moving a mile a minute over you, your face and body. ❝ you smell like … blood. ❞

you blushed from the tips of your toes all the way to your forehead. ❝ i mean, ❞ you said, speaking even more quietly than roman had, ❝ it is that time of the month … ❞

but roman had been around you countless times during your period. he liked it, as any vampire would, but he'd never acted this strange about it.

roman's expression softened slightly as he processed your words, but there was still a flicker of something else behind his eyes. ❝ I'm sorry, ❞ he murmured, his voice low. ❝ It's just different today. it's ... more. did something happen? ❞

❝ okay, i'm gonna take this as my cue to leave, ❞ peter said warily, backing away from the two of you.

as good of a friend as peter was, you hardly noticed him go. you were focused on roman, and moreso on his focus on you.

❝ roman, i'm sorry, i don't … know what could be different. ❞ maybe you were bleeding through your shorts? that would be embarrassing. but no, you had just checked in the bathroom mirror before last class. there was no way your flow had become so heavy within the last hour.

roman's intense gaze lingered on your face, his mind racing with possibilities. ❝ can we go home? i'm … it's dangerous for us to be here, together, right now. with you like that. ❞ he tugged at your hand, leading you to the front doors.

as you neared the school parking lot, you remembered something. about a month ago, just after your last period, you had made a change. something you'd been wanting to do for a while.

❝ roman. ❞ you stopped in your tracks, gazing at him. ❝ i remember … i had been wanting to for a while, just to see how i'd do without it, but … a little while back i stopped my birth control. ❞

roman's eyes widened, his grip on your hand tightening involuntarily. ❝ you … stopped? ❞ he repeated, his voice barely a whisper. ❝ why … why would you … do that? ❞

❝ i - i thought it might be causing some of my weight gain, plus i was always fucking hungry. and my mood swings … i thought it would help, ❞ you answered meekly. roman was clearly upset about this.

❝ are you insane? ❞ roman hissed, stepping close to you so that no other passing students would hear. ❝ that's so fucking dangerous. you're gonna be bleeding so much more without it. do you really have that much faith in my self-control? ❞

❝ i didn't think … ❞ was all you said. of course you didn't, fucking idiot that you were. your boyfriend was upir, and here you were giving your body more of a reason to tempt his hunger.

roman sighed, his anger melting away into concern as he pulled you closer to him. ❝ we need to get you home, now. i'll … i'll take care of you. ❞ he guided you toward the car; it seemed his mind was already racing thinking about what he was going to do with you.

how he was possibly planning to ' take care ' of you was anyone's guess. he probably wanted to devour you right now …

on the ride home, you sat with your legs clamped together, as if that would help. roman drove with a hand over his mouth and nose, as if that would help.

❝ roman, i'm really sorry, ❞ you blurted. ❝ i didn't think about you, about how it would affect you, and i should have … ❞

roman's severe expression softened, and he reached over to take your hand in his own. ❝ it's okay, ❞ he reassured you gently. ❝ we'll figure it out. we just need to … be careful. ❞

he pulled into the driveway, escorting you gently inside with a hand at the small of your back. the two of you hurried up to roman's room.

you, however, were now afraid to even sit down anywhere. what if you bled through your tampon? bled on roman's sheets? that would really set him off.

so you stood awkwardly at roman's bedside table.

roman watched your discomfort with a mix of concern and frustration. ❝ baby, come here, ❞ he murmured, gesturing for you to sit on the edge of the bed. ❝ i promise, i won't let anything happen to you. just … relax. ❞

you took a seat, gingerly, making sure not to sit too close to him.

roman moved in closer, his gaze softening as he took your hand in his. ❝ i'm sorry if i scared you earlier, ❞ he said quietly. ❝ i just … worry about you. you know that. ❞ his thumb brushed soothingly over the back of your hand.

you nodded - roman typically treated you like you were some kind of treasure, one he had to make sure was safe, that he couldn't bear to lose. ❝ i know, and … i'm grateful. i promise i'll start taking it again and get back on my schedule tonight. ❞

roman kissed your knuckles, gazing up at you through his long lashes. he didn't say anything, and his expression was unreadable. slowly, his lips trailed back and forth over your knuckles. he seemed about to say something, but didn't. it seemed to you that his eyes had darkened.

you took over, flirting your fingers over roman's lips, loving how soft and perfect they were. ❝ roman? what're you thinking? ❞

roman's eyes darkened further as he gazed up at you, a flicker of desire dancing in their depths. ❝ just thinking … that it might be better if you stayed off of it. i mean … how selfish of me would it be to make you get back on, when you were having so many issues? ❞

his voice was quiet, but you heard a hint of something else. something dangerous.

your lips parted, and you slid your hand from his grasp, cradling his jaw. ❝ are you sure? i don't wanna make things awful for you or - ❞

roman's lips curved into a slow, sensual smile at your touch. ❝ darling, ❞ he murmured, his voice low and husky. ❝ you could never make things awful for me. ❞ his hand rose to cup your cheek, his thumb stroking your skin softly. ❝ in fact, i think it might be rather … exciting. ❞

❝ exciting how? ❞ you squeezed your thighs together to try and quell your growing arousal. ❝ d - didn't you just say it'll be dangerous? ❞

roman's lips quirked into a mischievous grin. ❝ sure it will be, ❞ he purred, his thumb tracing the curve of your cheekbone. ❝ but, with you being off birth control, you're going to be bleeding a lot heavier. and with all that blood going south, you're gonna be so horny … why don't you let me help? ❞ as he spoke, his gaze darkened again, the hunger smoldering in his eyes now unmistakable.

an embarrassing little moan escaped you, and you shuffled closer to your boyfriend. ❝ i'm already horny for you, roman. it's not like i don't beg for your cock practically every chance i get … you really think it'll be worse now? ❞ it had been many years since you started birth control; you weren't sure what to expect being off of it.

roman's breath hitched at your words, his desire igniting like wildfire. ❝ oh, angel, ❞ he murmured, his voice rough with need. ❝ i think it'll be a whole lot worse. but don't worry, ❞ he added, one big hand sliding down to caress your thigh. ❝ i'll take care of you. i'll make sure you're properly satisfied. ❞ his gaze smoldered with primal hunger as he leaned in to capture your lips in a searing kiss.

those words - ' i'll take care of you ' … roman had spoken them to you many times before. they always had the desired effect; to make you spread your legs and ache for him to be between them, to be true to his word.

you did so now, leaning back as he kissed you, spreading your legs wide for him to settle between them. you were still worried about bleeding onto his expensive sheets, but knew roman would take care of it if you did.

roman groaned into the kiss as he settled between your legs, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he ground his growing erection against your core. ❝ god, baby, ❞ he muttered, his voice thick with desire. ❝ you smell so fucking good. i could smell it as soon as you got up this morning, but … i wasn't sure. i didn't know what it could be. ❞

he broke the kiss to trail hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck, his tongue tracing teasing patterns over your skin. his hand slipped between your bodies, rubbing gently at your clit through the fabric of your shorts.

you let out a broken moan, clinging to his broad frame. ❝ i - it wasn't … i mean, it didn't properly start until after i got to school … ❞

your face was burning, and roman's insistent fingers pressing the rough cotton of your shorts down over your clit was making you see stars. ❝ r - roman … my clit … it's really sensitive … ❞

roman's lips curled into a wicked grin at your confession, his touch becoming more deliberate as he stroked your throbbing clit through the fabric of your shorts. ❝ sensitive, huh? ❞ he murmured, his voice husky with desire. ❝ i told you, all that blood down there … it's gonna make you crazy. i'll just have to be extra gentle with you, won't i? ❞ his fingers danced teasingly over your sensitive flesh, eliciting soft gasps and moans from your lips. ❝ but tell me, baby, ❞ he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. ❝ do you want me to be gentle? ❞

you loved when he was gentle with you. there was always a time and a place for a good, rough pounding, but you loved roman most when he made room for you, gave himself over to you completely and treated you like a princess.

you nodded with a soft pout. ❝ am i a total baby if i say yes … ? ❞

roman's lips curved into a tender smile as he brushed a strand of hair away from your flushed face. ❝ no, darling, ❞ he murmured, his voice laced with heavy affection. ❝ you're not a baby at all. you're my princess, and i'll treat you as such. ❞ his fingers continued their gentle ministrations, coaxing soft moans of pleasure from you. ❝ just relax, angel. let me take care of you. ❞

you held onto him, keeping him close as he touched you. the two of you kissed soft, deep, passionate kisses, and it wasn't long before roman was hooking his long fingers into the waist of your shorts, trying to drag them and your panties down at the same time.

❝ uh, roman. ❞ you grabbed his wrists, looking nervously at him. ❝ i still … have my tampon in. ❞

roman's eyes flickered with concern at your words, his fingers stilling in their attempt to pull down your shorts. ❝ mmm, ❞ he hummed, the timbre of his voice soft and soothing. ❝ you really think i care about that? ❞ he leaned back slightly, his gaze seeking yours. ❝ … can i take it out for you? ❞

it was so embarrassing, to have him asking you that right to your face. but you did, god you did. were you sick in the head?

you nodded, slowly, trembling hands half covering your face as roman stripped your shorts and underwear off.

roman's lips curved into a tender smile as he gently peeled off your shorts and underwear, exposing your naked bottom half to his hungry gaze. with delicate care, he reached between your thighs, his fingers deftly locating the string of your tampon.

❝ it's alright, baby, ❞ he murmured, his voice filled with reassurance. ❝ i've got you. ❞ one strong hand steadied itself on your belly as the other slid the tampon slowly out of you.

you moaned, against your will, as he took it and held it up. it was dripping, all over his bed.

❝ roman, stop! your bedding … ❞ you made to grab it, but roman held it just out of your reach.

❝ tsk, tsk, not yet. i still have business with this thing, ❞ he muttered with one of his signature cute, quirky smiles. you knew what he was going to do, but it still took you aback when he closed his pretty lips around it.

you sat and breathed heavily, watching as roman's cock twitched in his jeans the moment the tampon hit his tongue.

roman's eyes never left yours as he suckled your tampon, his tongue expertly lapping at the spongy material. he made soft, sensual noises of enjoyment as he savored the taste of your fluids, the scent of your arousal heady in the air.

you squirmed beneath him, unable to keep still as heat further pooled between your legs. you wanted him so badly, and the thought of him tasting you like this was driving you wild with desire.

as roman finished, he slowly withdrew the tampon from his mouth, a string of blood, saliva, and your juices connecting it to his lips before it snapped free. ❝ you taste divine, love, ❞ he murmured, his gaze smoldering with carnal desire. ❝ i'm sorry, i can't - ❞

with a feral growl, he dove down, pushing your legs back as he began to devour your bloody cunt.

the sight of roman between your legs, the lower half of his face all smeared with your blood and juices was enough to make you feel faint. ❝ oh god, roman … ❞ his bloodied nose nudged your clit and you sobbed, gripping the sheets.

roman was right - you were bleeding a lot more now that she were off the pill. you could feel it smeared along your inner thighs and dripping to the bed.

❝ touch me, ❞ roman murmured, as he added two long fingers into the mix. he slid them easily, hungrily, into your wetness. ❝ touch me - pull my hair, slap me, scratch my back, whatever you want. i'm yours. ❞

you could feel your wet, open, bloody pussy trying so hard to clamp down on his fingers. but everything down there was so wet and open, roman's fingers glided almost too easily in and out of you.

you did as you were told, reaching down to card your fingers through his hair.

roman groaned softly against you, his lips working fervently against your clit as he added a third finger to the mix, stretching you open even wider. he was relentless, his movements becoming more frenzied as he devoured you with unrestrained hunger.

your fingers tangled in his hair, your nails grazing lightly against his scalp as you tugged him closer, urging him on with desperate need. your body was on fire, every nerve ending electrified by the exquisite pleasure coursing through your veins.

as your climax approached, roman's fingers quickened their pace, driving you ever closer to the edge of ecstasy. ❝ do you wanna cum like this? or d'you want something else? ❞

that third finger was exactly what you needed. you nodded, tugging and pulling harshly at roman's hair. as much as you loved his cock, you didn't want even a second break from this, for him to whip it out. and you knew roman would give it to you any way you wanted it. ❝ just like this … please, roman, make me cum … ❞

roman's lips curved into a wicked grin as he redoubled his efforts, his fingers working feverishly inside you while his tongue danced skillfully over your sensitive clit. your entire body tensed beneath him, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you teetered on the brink of release.

with a guttural groan, he applied just the right amount of pressure, his fingers curling inside of you as his lips closed around your swollen bud. he sucked and licked with abandon, driving you wild with pleasure until you'd had enough and shattered around him, your cries of ecstasy echoing in the air.

as your climax washed over you, roman didn't let up, continuing to lavish attention on your throbbing center, prolonging your pleasure until you were trembling with the intensity of your release. only then did he finally ease off, his lips trailing a path of fiery, bloody kisses up your trembling body.

you were still shaking as he reached your lips, a questioning look in his eye. you grabbed the back of his head and pulled him quickly down, kissing him deeply.

tasting your own blood was … odd. not unpleasant, but certainly not as pleasant as it had been to roman.

roman, who was panting, his mouth smeared with red, dripping onto you, your shoulders, your chest, the bed.

❝ we need a shower, ❞ you grunted, afraid to even close your legs with the slippery mess down there.

❝ i don't see what the problem is, ❞ roman laughed as he gave you another kiss.

[hatsukeii]

i think i’m gonna pick up a 🎸 with a few 🎵 decorations including a ‘rivals to lovers’ guitar pick and a ‘cooking class au’ strap. and lately i’ve heard that osamu is my biggest fan ;)

got it! the band you’ve joined is…

hell’s kitchen / timeskip!osamu miya x reader

genre(s): fluff, slight crack, rivals to possible? lovers, culinary class au! food!

warning(s): nothing!! im worried that osamu might be ooc here or it's not rivalry enough but i hope it works out!>!!>!

wc: ~1.7k

your first gig is at…a culinary class?!

setlist:

🎵girlfriend, hemlocke springs

🎵comedy, gen hoshino

🎵get him back!,olivia rodrigo

How many things can someone possibly put in a rice ball? To slurp, or not to slurp? Better yet, is slapping somebody with a whole head of pickled cabbage a viable course of action?

It's humiliating, almost, paired with Osamu Miya in every culinary class. Not because of his lack of skill- he's good, too good even. But he smacks his tongue audibly against the roof of his mouth every time he digs into your cooking, slurps until showers of broth come spitting from the bowl, wipes his hands on his apron, slathering emulsifications of aioli and hollandaise onto rough canvas fabric, then grabs your waist to walk behind you. Every quirk of his is incomplete without his signature, shit-eating smirk. Every class has you considering swinging whatever tool you have in hand into his face.

Unfortunately, that day is not today. Onigiri only requires hands, and seeing that Osamu has formed six seemingly perfect balls of seaweed wrapped rice, he is clearly much better at using them than you are. Handiwork training is what today's chef called this atrocity. To move beyond being a cook to a chef, you must learn the first tool of cooking- your hands, he said. From the corner of your eye, you catch Osamu's amused glances towards the two funky looking shapes on your plate, and the panicked pulses of your palms against a handful of slippery, seasoned rice. He picks up one of the six onigiri of his own, the rounded tip of the triangle disappearing into his mouth as he chews, agonisingly slowly, smacking his tongue the way he knows you hate. A grumble elicits from your throat, your hands squeezing tighter against the sticky grains in your grasp, only for more chunks to fall apart.

"Let me help."

"No."

"Whatever you say."

He walks over now, biting a second corner off his onigiri as his hips lean against your side of the counter. His lips smack together obnoxiously, teeth squelching and grinding at rice and salmon. You irk your brows when the rice in your grasp seems to stop sticking to each other. It takes one look at your now opaque bowl of water for you to realise that you've washed all the starch off in your attempts to release the grains from your palms. Osamu figured it out when you dipped your hand into the bowl for the seventh time.

"Mix it into the rest of the rice that you have. That helps."

You hate that he's right, because when you do what he's told you to, the rest of the rice comes around the wet grains and sticks to them like they're supposed to. He pops the rest of his onigiri into his mouth, swiping his hands together before rubbing them over the sides of his rice-decorated apron. You try again, scooping up a lukewarm ball of rice. Flattening it against your palm, you search for the bowl of salmon, eyes landing on an empty bowl adorned with sad, pink flakes of salt-grilled fish. Osamu's already sliding the rest of his salmon over the counter.

"Need extra?" His mouth is still stuffed, a single piece of rice sticks to the corner of his mouth.

"Thanks."

You dump a spoonful of salmon into the centre of your rice pattie, before sticking your free hand into the water and folding your palms into each other. The rice sticks to your fingers when you pull away, and you groan, pushing harder. At that, grains begin to crack away from the ball, bits of salmon beginning to stick out from the bottom. Osamu swallows half of the contents in his mouth, his cheek jutting out like a hamster hoarding sunflower seeds. He watches your inexperienced hands, clawing at and tossing the rice to shape it, and he reaches over to rinse his hands over the sink.

"Just let me help you out."

Grains of jasmine rice stick to his wet palms that come around your hands, squeezing and pushing at a ball of rice that falls apart at each movement. The fuzz of his rolled up sweater sleeves rubs against your forearms as his fingers work their way onto yours. Starchy water trickles down the back of your hand when he forces them to loosen around the mess of grilled salmon and rice, and you sigh in defeat, letting him move you as he pleases.

"Look, I'm not sure why you dislike me so much."

"I don't."

He chuckles, pushing your hands into the rice now. You study the pressure he applies to the ball of rice, learn the shape of his fingers around yours, memorise the cup of his palms around the back of your own.

"Yes, you do. You always look at me like-"

You snap your head around to meet his eyes, and he's so close that for the first time, you have to angle your head to look up at him. He's not smirking anymore, moreso observing. You aren't sure what there is to observe on your face, but it's welcome nevertheless.

"Like what?"

He purses his lips, huffing out a dejected sigh.

"Like that."

He lets go of your hands, stepping backwards, and you hold the perfectly moulded onigiri up to eye level. The rice is glossy in a sheen of vinegar and water, yet pertains its fluffiness in the tack of starch against your fingers. The handiwork of a true chef.

"You're so good at this class that I can't even get annoyed at you openly. It's infuriating."

"What did I ever do to you?"

You laugh sarcastically, waving the newly formed onigiri in Osamu’s face, before taking a bite. He laughs, mouth forming a taunting oh when you smack your lips against each other the way that he does, the flakiness of salmon spreading char and salt across your tastebuds. Then, you place the onigiri aside, rubbing your hands up and down your pristine apron, before grabbing his waist to move him to the side so you can walk past, making sure bits of rice and fish stick to his apron. He chuckles, clapping tantalisingly slowly at your imitation of his habits. You give him a fake bow, and he drops his hands to his hips, shrugging.

"That's it?"

"Yeah, pretty much. Petty rivalry and kitchen hygiene."

"Mind you, I am very hygienic. My shop hasn't been shut down for a reason."

You watch Osamu's hands dig into the remaining portion of your rice, his tongue sticking out as he moulds and shapes it into another perfectly rounded triangle. You scoff at his defensiveness, arms crossed in front of you. He wraps a rectangle of seaweed across the centre of the rice ball, and holds it up to your face. It is swiped from his fingers by your own, and you stuff half of it into your mouth, chewing without a sound and swallowing the mouthful.

"You do not have a shop."

"Where'd you think I learned how to do all this?" His hands shoot out to wave at his perfect collection of hand-made onigiri, and you sigh, rolling your head to the side.

"Okay, sure. You have a shop. It's a surprise you can be this annoying and keep it running."

"Loosen up, I just wipe my hands on my apron and eat loud. It's not like I'm spitting in my food. Besides, being that uptight ends up with your onigiri coming out more like...that." His head nods towards the funky ones on your plate, bits of fish sticking from the crevices between individual grains of rice. You shrug in acceptance, taking another bite from his onigiri. Osamu clicks his tongue, grabbing your wrist to bring the rice ball to his mouth instead, consuming the final corner of the triangle in its entirety. He swallows it with a hum, his fingers still around your wrist. He's not letting go. Now, you're interested.

"Should I pay you a visit? Need to see for myself that you're running it to safety standards."

"Are you flirting with me? Because you should keep going."

You roll your eyes when you see him wink at you from above your hand, but an toothy grin creeps its way onto your face, and Osamu smiles at his tactics.

"Whatever you say, Miya." His last name finally makes it out of your mouth for the first time since the two of you have been put together for this course, and he drops your wrist.

"You know, I could teach you how to make those onigiris properly if you show up to Onigiri Miya. You'd be almost as good as me by the end of it."

You flick a grain of rice at him, and it sticks to his apron unceremoniously. He's even named the shop after his family name. How cute. Despicable.

"Don't try your luck, chef."

"Chef? High praise."

The supervising chef sounds a bell, harsh waves of high pitched ringing echoing throughout the room. And as Osamu scrubs at bowls and lathers soapy water onto plates, he watches you tap at your phone with clean hands. Your sink is already empty, the two bowls and one plate that you used in total sitting on the drying rack already. Your onigiris sit in a takeout container, lined up neatly in two rows. His own are still on their plate, and he reminds himself to grab a takeout box for himself. You look up to Osamu, and he looks back at his wet hands and soapy dishes.

"Found you online. I'll be checking your place out soon." You remark at him, and the corners of his mouth curl up into a grin.

"You sure you're not there to check me out instead?" You snicker at his blatant flirtations, and pretend that he's completely incorrect.

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves now, Miya."

You shove your phone back into your pocket, swipe an onigiri off his plate, and wave at him as you turn your back to leave.

Osamu watches your silhouette push open the door as he slots his dishes into the drying rack. He hopes that you'll become his favourite regular at Onigiri Miya.

author's note:

i just KNOW im gonna have so much fun writing for this event ngl i hope i get more so i can see what people come up with but I HOPE U LIKE THIS!!! rivalry is more like friendly banter here and lovers is more like he's into you and you're slowly getting into the grroove of it but hopefully you enjoyed it regardless my bbs<333 i'd frequent onigiri miya ngl i love onigiri sm also hell's kitchen needs to be the name of a band icl

anyways tags!!

@chuuya-brainrot @staraxiaa @wyrcan @4ngelfries @catsoupki @bailey-reeds @fiannee @kuroppiii @akaakeis @hiraethwa @zzwon

interested in joining a band? come on over to the build-a-band 900 !!

[lightwise]

They Don’t Know: Where Our Characters Are at Going into TBB Season 3

Something I want us all to remember, partly in response to the leaked scene for TBB, and partly something I’ve been thinking about:

We, as the audience, know the full story (out of what they’ve chosen to show us so far) of what each of these characters has been through since season 1: Hunter, Wrecker, Tech, Echo, Omega, and Crosshair. We’ve seen them together, we’ve seen them separated into pairs, we’ve seen Omega’s times of being captured, parts of Echo’s stint with Rex, and we’ve seen Crosshair’s time and journey with the Empire.

The last time these characters all saw each other in the same space at the same time, was Kamino Lost. The end of season 1. The platform.

There is an entire season worth of character growth, experiences gained, lessons learned, and hardships endured, that each of our Batchers has gone through—that the others don’t know about.

And especially related to Crosshair—all the other Batchers know, is that he potentially did something that gained him the ire of the Empire and put him in Hemlock’s possession. And that he sent them a warning message on an old comm line that could or could not even have been him. That’s it. That’s all they know. They don’t know what he did, or what has been done to him. They don’t know about the 32 rotations (I don’t think). They don’t know about his mission with Cody. They don’t know what his thought processes have been. They don’t know he’s been tortured. They don’t know that he helped and tried to avenge a reg. They don’t know the physically and mentally weakened state he is in.

Hunter, in particular, doesn’t know what’s happened to his brother, where he is at, how he looks or how he’s feeling right now. He doesn’t know. He’s been trying to hold his family together in a changing galaxy like sand slipping through a clenched fist, and the last grains are threatening to fall through. All he knows is that every last one of his efforts to keep his family safe have ended with the opposite effect.

And Crosshair doesn’t know about Tech. He doesn’t know how badly his brothers have missed him, even if they don’t talk about it. He doesn’t know about Cid or what’s happened with her. He doesn’t know how the rest have been trying to survive this whole time. He doesn’t know the hard choices that have been made, the questions that have been pondered, the decisions that Hunter has stood between, the potential lives that had opened up for them that were brutally snatched away the second they landed on Eriadu. He doesn’t know they tried to save him, that they were (finally) coming back for him. He doesn’t know how much Omega has learned, and grown, the relationships she’s forged, the smarts she has. All he knows is that he gave his last efforts of love and care toward a family that he thinks abandoned him, one last-ditch effort to keep them safe, and it backfired. The very thing he was trying to protect Omega from is the very situation she ends up in.

He doesn’t know (Crosshair). He doesn’t know (Hunter). They don’t know.

And it will be a shock and a turning point when they finally see each other again, see how worn down and battle-weary and utterly traumatized they all are individually, how much has been lost, how much has been broken, how much things have changed in their second time period apart. And what they choose to do with the broken pieces of who they each are now, will determine how they can heal together, going forward.

We know. But they don’t, yet. Let’s give them grace as they each learn who each other is again. And hope they can give that grace to themselves and each other, as well.

[itsabea]

Drunk!March x Reader who doesn't drink

Description: When you get given some beer from your favourite Blacksmith on a Friday night, who are you to say no? Well, part of you does, since you've never really had alcohol before.

Warnings: slight angst at the end(i didn't mean to- i swear!!), alcohol, swearing, slight social pressure to drink(inflicted by reader),

thank @xxoomiii for getting my brain in a writing mood from her writing. the piece is here for those interested :))

this ended up changing so much from my original idea of "two people getting drunk" to "social anxiety about not drinking alcohol" because i just dont like alcohol- imsorryyyy- i didn't mean to turn it into angst..!!

You were so ready to have a night at the Inn today. That day was filled with farming, foraging, and fishing, and you were so ready to put down your 'Town Helper' hat and put on your oh, so lovely 'Tired, Rest Needing Citizen' hat.

When you entered the Inn, everyone was doing their own group activities or mingling already. Instead of going to the first group you saw after entering like usual, you decided to take in the whole room for a moment before letting out a heavy sigh. This is exactly what you needed; the cosy atmosphere, the sound of lively chatter, and the tight-knit community of people that were all so welcoming- Well, almost everyone.. But that exception would no doubt be drunk off his chair and have the most joyous grin in the room plastered on his face.

And without a second of delay, you heard March call out to you like clockwork. "Heeyyyy..!! C'mere, c'mere- Haave a drink!" March slurred out after somehow both whining and singing your name.

March's words worked like a charm anyway, having you head to him with a slight eye roll and humoured smile as you went. The thing is, you were quite fond of March- Exceedingly more so when he was drunk, which was a fact you didn't like very much. But either way, something about him had you intrigued and interested in him.

At first it was simply platonic curiosity, like how a scientist would want to test their theory. Only, it didn't stay that way for long, and now you had a much stronger emotion tailing you; having you think about him on a near daily basis.

And now it was a sad routine you'd partake in on a weekly basis: talk to March and get insulted, talk to March and get a huff as reply, talk to March and get told to get out of his way, talk to March and get insulted once again.. And then there was the one day of the week that when you talked to him, he wasn't a complete ass.

It made Friday's so much nicer, even though you still knew it was likely fake.. But at this point you would take whatever you could get.

Scooting in next to March, you smiled at him and pushed back your previous thoughts. "Hey, March. How many drinks are you on now?" You asked with a cheeky grin, only for March to grin back and hold his head up high. "Ten." He said confidently, which only made you burst out laughing at his blatant lie.

"He's on his second beer now." Hemlock clarified by half whispering to you from over bar. After you smiled and nodded at Hemlock as a small thanks, you turned your attention back to March, hoping to have a non insult filled conversation- But you froze, smile dropping when March spoke up.

"Oh, hey! We should get you a drink..! Hey Hemlock, can you get us another beer??" March said, smiling away like an idiot as Hemlock denied him the drink. "Finish the one you've got and if you're still standing we'll talk, March." He said, frowning slightly as March clarified. "No, no..! Not for me." March smile out, pointing to you as Hemlock agreed and set out a beer in front of you.

You didn't quite know what to do.. You've never really drunken alcohol before - apart from the time that you first tried it alone and thought it was disgusting. Should you decline and apologise? Or should you just get it over with and try the dreaded beverage again? After all, it might taste different, and it was March that was paying..

You took an experimental sip, and it defintiely tasted just as bad as when you had first tried alcohol. It was just so.. Yeugh that it made you wonder why people even drink the stuff. So much so that you took another, much smaller, sip to make sure it didn't have a hidden taste to it..

Nope! The before taste, during taste, and after taste were all bad. And after having made he face of slight disgust, you heard March laugh slightly from beside you.

"Hahaha..!! Do you like wine or somethin'??" He asked, making you pout slightly and shift in your seat uncomfortably. "No.. I haven't tried it.." You said, looking down at the beer in your hands with a frown. Maybe if you drank some more, you'd end up liking- "But if you don't like beer and haven't tried wine.." March said, trailing off as he gave himself a moment for his thoughts to catch up to his words.

You decided to give the guy a break and answer for him, not prepared for the reaction you were about to get. "I don't drink.." You mumbled out as March's brain cogs seeming to stop, only to start up again to take in your words. "You don't.. Drink.." He repeated, making you slouch in on yourself in embarrassment. "Oh...." March exclaimed, frowning deeply as you sighed.

This wasn't how your night was supposed to go.. You were supposed to be enjoying yourself, not getting all nervous over some stupid, horrid tasting drink. Part of you wanted to leave.. But the next thing March said kept you in your seat.

open ended?? part 2????

idk but thats it for now cause i'm tired and can't deal with much angst in my word diet(i really didn't mean for this to take that kind of turn.. it was supposed to be fun....!)

[niobiumao3]

Horrifying/amusing tidbits I have contemplated

--

Phee is flying in the clips from Juggernaut because it's her ship. Tech is shooting and is giving piloting 'advice'.

"If you accelerate into the turn without applying the left directional thrusters you can--"

"ExCUSE me whose ship is this?"

"I am simply attempting to--"

"Nuh uh. Only boyfriends get to critique my flying."

"Fine. I am now your boyfriend. If you accelerate into the turn--"

Hunter, losing his mind. "Can we not do this right now????"

--

Tech returns to Pabu, exhausted, probably injured, but alive! ...sees the goggles somewhere that Phee has them. (On a table? Anyways.)

He picks them up carefully. "Where did you get these?"

"Wrecker and Hunter had them."

Tech goes to find them. "You went back to Eriadu?"

Wrecker scoffs. "Oh, hells no!"

"Hemlock tried to use them to get to us." Hunter makes a face. "Almost worked, to be honest..."

"Hemlock?" Tech is now tearing them apart. "Hemlock gave you these."

Echo looks concerned. "Yeah..." He closes his eyes. "Fuck."

Tech pulls out a little chip-thing from the recording device, holds it up, throws it on the ground, smashes it.

"Was that what I think it was."

"it was. We need to leave. Now. Everyone."

"Brown Eyes how do you think we're getting hundreds of refugees off this planet on a moment's notice?"

"No idea. But we'll think of something."

(And then the Empire drops out of Hyperspace!)

[twinsunstars]

The Medic - a Star Wars fic

Summary: In another version of a galaxy, far, far away, a clone trooper gets his name through his own skills.

Word Count: 1,794

TW: blood, some abuse

Notes: I was inspired by @warsamongthestars's post about the alternative names for "Hemlock" and one being Kix and @paperback-rascal's drawing of Kix that was based on that post. I really wanted to write something about this concept since it sounded so intriguing, so I hope you all like this! HIGHLY RECOMMEND you view the posts before reading below! Let me know your thoughts! :)

also up on AO3, read under cut if you want to read on here!

As a cadet, CT-6116 grew to have multiple interests in different areas of medicine. Chemical, botanical, anything that involved studying items that would help people heal. Though, many of these things had potential to be deadly, and CT-6116 loved learning more about them. 

All clones were primarily bred for the purposes of being a soldier. With CT-6116, he would be out in the training rooms with the rest of his brothers, practicing with a blaster and going through various strength exercises. Sometimes, he was put with a few Kaminoans to learn about healing practices. CT-6116 was allowed to operate on many clones who got injured during training sessions, preparing for his purpose as a soldier and a medic out in the battlefield one day. The Kaminoans supplied him with various files and readings about many plants and substances that could help to heal injuries. CT-6116 enjoyed practicing with any of the substances he was given, often teaching himself how to make supplements to help clones heal. 

CT-6116 often spent some nights studying these files, expanding his knowledge of everything that could become useful to him one day. Many of the medical plants had various locations spread across the galaxy. There could be a high likelihood that CT-6116 could stumble upon one or many of the planets in his lifetime, becoming wonderful opportunities to gather these plants to make use of. 

He swiped to the next small reading on his datapad, coming across a bright green plant that was labeled as one that was highly poisonous and could be found in various distinct sectors of the Outer Rim. The plant did also have a separate species that was mostly used for healing purposes at the utmost caution. CT-6116 was intrigued by this plant, and it had various names in different dialects. 

Hemlock. Or Kex. Another alternative. Kix. 

That one sounded like it had a nice ring to it. CT-6116 kept the name in mind. 

As CT-6116 grew rapidly over time and closer to his chances of becoming a soldier in the Grand Army of the Republic, he had kept a journal of everything he had learned from the Kaminoans regarding medical practices. Kamino had a small sector where they kept many plants and medicines collected from outside worlds, and CT-6116 had gotten the chance to visit that sector multiple times to aid the Kaminoans in their experimental endeavors. 

During a training session, CT-6116 witnessed one of the trainers in charge of getting the clones ready for the war harassing a fellow clone cadet he was close with. CT-6116 hid behind a wall, listening closely.

“You barely hit any of the targets assigned to you!” The trainer slapped the young clone hard across their face. A bright red mark remained on the clone’s cheek. The trainer grabbed the clone’s face, their sharp nails digging into the clone’s flesh. The clone let out a whimper from the pain. 

“Oh, you’re a crybaby alright. You’re bred for war, yet you display the weakest of skills apart from your other kind.” The trainer’s claws dug deeper into the clone’s skin. Blood was exhibited within a few seconds, dripping down the clone’s neck. 

“You know you can be better,” the trainer growled, letting go of the young clone. The clone cadet hung his head down, avoiding the trainer’s gaze. He refused to cry in front of him. His lips trembled as he slowly picked up his helmet from the ground.

“Be better tomorrow, or I’ll make the Kaminoans scrap you like a droid. Understood?”

The clone cadet shook his head nervously, his hands shaking while holding his helmet.

“Get out of my sight.”

The clone cadet walked away quickly as the trainer left. CT-6116 quickly grabbed the young clone’s arm, hiding with him behind the wall. The clone cadet gasped and raised his fist, ready to attack. 

“Relax. It’s me.”

The young clone relaxed upon seeing CT-6116. CT-6116 examined the clone’s face, blood continuing to drop down from his face. “Come on. I’ll patch you up. Do you want some of the warm herbal tea you like a lot?”

The clone cadet nodded. That trainer was going to pay. 

***

CT-6116 arrived at a medical room, where the Kaminoans would be needing his assistance with some medical experiments in precisely an hour. He gathered a few supplies, preparing the table. 

“Hey, you’re one of the clones the Kaminoans train in medicine, aren’t ya?” 

CT-6116 turned to see the same trainer who had hurt the clone cadet walking in. He kept a straight face, waiting for the trainer to talk more. 

“Say, I’ve got a real bad migraine. Could you whip me up a drink to help it?”

CT-6116 swallowed. He thought for a moment. 

“Right away, sir!”

He grabbed a cup and heated up some water, having an idea in mind. “Be right back, sir. I will grab some things that will be useful for you.”

 CT-6116 headed over to the sector where all of the medical plants were kept. He grabbed a few, ready to use them in the drink. He returned to the medical room, brewing the plants in the hot water and mixing them together. 

“Here you go, sir.”

“Finally.” The trainer moaned, the pain of his migraine increasing. He raised the cup to his lips and took a sip. Another. 

Within a minute, the trainer began to cough violently, dropping the drink on the table. His hands shook as he coughed and wheezed. CT-6116 tilted his head, observing the trainer suffer from the side effects of the drink. 

“What… is this?! Are you trying to kill me, clone?!”

CT-6116 shrugged. “You asked me to whip up a drink for you, sir. So I did!”

The trainer coughed more, the taste of blood coming near. “You know… what I mean…”

CT-6116 came closer. “Ah, that. I don’t take kindly to trainers abusing their power over cadets, silly.”

The trainer understood what he was talking about. This clone had seen him yesterday. And now he was trying to make him die. He stared at the leaves that were in the drink. “How did you… What did you put in this? Some kind of weed?”

“Maybe,” CT-6116 said. “It’ll hurt for days, but you’ll live.”

The trainer tried to breathe. “You’re a danger, a poison.” He coughed again, feeling like he recognized one of the plants in the drink. “Is there a hemlock in this?”

CT-6116 didn’t answer. There was the name of that plant again he was so intrigued by. The trainer called him a poison. CT-6116 was made to be a soldier and a medic. He knew he had much more potential to do good for others by punishing evil, and everything he had learned about chemicals and plants were his open gateways. 

CT-6116 grinned. “Possibly. But I like Kix a lot more though.”

***

Becoming one of the 501st Legion’s soldiers and its primary medic, Kix did all that he could to help heal clones from their injuries in the battlefield. It was difficult learning that he couldn’t save many of his brothers, but it was a hard reality he had to face.

The 501st had recently captured a Separatist spy after discovering he wasn’t all that he seemed to be. He was pretending to be an ally of the Republic, though the clones managed to see through his deceit and the way he would mistreat the clones. 

The clones were getting ready to head back to the Republic with the prisoner in transport. General Skywalker had said he will meet them there after taking care of another issue the Jedi Council had assigned him to. 

The Separatist prisoner was handcuffed and left with Kix. He had been severely injured during an attack, and Kix was assigned to patching up his wounds so that he could be in a good condition to talk in a jail cell at Coruscant. 

Kix applied bandages to the prisoner’s injuries, keeping a close eye on the prisoner in case he tried anything to escape. He turned around, picking up a cup and handing it to the prisoner. “Drink.”

The Separatist prisoner looked up at Kix, letting out a scoff. He took the cup with both his hands, gulping the drink down. The prisoner spat the drink out, coughing from the bitter taste. His eyes watered and he felt sick to the stomach. 

“How… why…”

Kix just chuckled. “I don’t take lightly to my brothers being mistreated by others. Especially by Separatists.”

The prisoner choked, trying to clear his throat. “How did you…”

Kix grabbed the prisoner by his shirt’s collar. “Next time you try to murder and hurt my brothers, I won’t be forgiving. I am not called ‘hemlock’ for nothing.”

***

Kix woke up cold one day in the galaxy, met by a rugged crew of pirates. He would soon learn that the Clone Wars were long over, and so were the days of the Republic. The First Order spread its terror across the galaxy with its reign. 

Everyone Kix had known were likely all dead by now. The pirates said that all clones were extinct by now. It was just him that was left. 

All Kix remembered was trying to get back to the Republic to tell General Skywalker the truth about the “virus” that had caused Tup to act strangely, and that Fives was trying to warn them about. Everything had gone black, and he never got his chance to tell him. 

Out of options, Kix joined the pirates to survive, traveling through the changed galaxy and looking for lost treasures. He would often tell people stories about the clones, keeping the lives of his brothers alive. Kix listened to stories about what happened to the Jedi and what the Galactic Empire would do during the time it ruled the galaxy, and how the rebels and a certain Jedi managed to bring their tyranny to an end. Kix couldn’t believe what he was hearing when he heard the name “Skywalker” after so many years. 

Whenever the pirates went undercover, Kix used the name “Hemlock” as a code name. He still used his medical skills to his advantage, and his ability to poison someone whenever it was needed. There were still dangerous people out there in the galaxy harming people who didn’t deserve to suffer under the hands of evil. 

Kix had never gotten to learn that there used to be a doctor alive many years ago with Hemlock as a birth name, responsible for the torture of many clones. Unfortunately, that doctor’s name never reached the former Galactic Empire’s history books, yet Kix’s stories kept the names and tales of his brothers alive. The galaxy would forever remember the bravery and strength of the clones who served the Old Republic.

[lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom]

MASTERLIST

Crosshair

You're Different

Synopsis: Ever since Crosshair made a snide comment about leaving a team member to die, you've had a lingering thought. Even though you knew he loved you, doubts rose.

Okay Again

Synopsis: After spending months on Pabu recouping from the empire, Shep gets under your skin. You blow up at the unfair treatment, and Crosshair helps you calm down.

Forgiven

Synopsis: You reminisce on the first time Crosshair fought against you and his brothers. He thought you'd never forgive him, but he is surprised when you reunite.

Dog Days

Synopsis: You met Crosshair while he was taking Batcher for a walk. Passing your house quickly became a daily task you all looked forward to. Is it wrong to say you caught feelings for him? And was Crosshair really jealous of the attention you gave Batcher?

CX-2 (Clone Assassin)

Does the End Justify the Means?

Synopsis: CX-2 never planned on forming a relationship, but once he did he had to protect it. Even if it meant killing hundreds to keep you away from Hemlock. MENTIONS OF BURNS AND TORTURE!!

Echo

Confessions on the Marauder

Synopsis: You and Echo finally have a moment alone on the Marauder. Of course the pressure gets to one of you, and confesses.

Worst Case Scenario

Synopsis: After an ambush from the Empire, you, Echo, and Omega must escape by yourselves. Hunter and Wrecker sacrifice themselves to let you three live. Based on Season 2, Ep. 16

One Day

Synopsis: Echo is, understandably, not taking Techs death well. Comfort ensues!

Hunter

Knight in Rusty Armour

Synopsis: After a bad run-in at a market, Hunter has to save you and Omega. You can't help but feel like a failure for not being able to protect Omega by yourself...

Marry Me?

Synopsis: After an insufferable separation from you, Hunter realizes his true feelings. That he never wants to be apart from you- that he wants to spend the rest of his life with you.

Wedding Planning

Synopsis: Now that Hunter has popped the question, you and Omega start planning the wedding! Little do you know, Hunter overhears and falls a little more in love. Part 2 to 'Marry Me?'

Something Just Like This

Synopsis: After getting your happy ending, you spend some needed down time with Hunter. Oh, and your two kids! This is a part 3 to 'Marry Me?' (Could be read by itself)

I Will Protect You

Synopsis: As a defective Jedi you are reassigned to The Bad Batch. How can you resist Hunter? Especially when he confesses after seeing how good you are with Omega.

Calming Waves

Synopsis: After finding out Omega has been taken for the third time, you and Hunter must comfort each other. Set at the end of s.3 ep.11

Moment of Peace

Synopsis: Hunter relaxes after a hard work day on Pabu, only to be interrupted by Gonky and reader. Fluff ensues!

Tech

Absurd Thoughts

Synopsis: During a regrettable moment of insecurity, you think Tech considers going off with Phee. Assurance pursues, Tech only wants you.

Familiar Faces

Synopsis: Tech's death was not a reality you were ready for, you relied so much on his love. After months of grief, you find he might not actually be dead.

Bookworm

Synopsis: You and Tech have a moment alone on The Marauder. What better way to spend it than reading! Accompanied by Tech on his datapad, of course.

By Your Side

Synopsis: During an escape from the Empire, you break your arm. Tech is quick to be at your side, fixing you up. At the intensity of the situation, feelings are revealed. Warning for descriptions of broken bones!

Wrecker

Headaches

Synopsis: Wrecker always goes to reader for help with his constant headaches. Based on S 1, Ep 5-7 when Wreckers inhibitor chip was giving him bad headaches!

Back Home

Synopsis: After searching for months, Wrecker is finally reunited with you. You couldn't be happier.

Bundle of Joy

Synopsis: Wrecker is scared he might hurt your newborn baby. You reassure him he won't, and that he is a good father. Warning for descriptions of birth!

Performance

Wreckers sees your performance as an acrobat and immediately falls in love!

Clone Force 99 (platonic)

Winning Approval

Synopsis: You felt as if you were living a purpose-less life, so when Hunter asks you to join his crew, you say yes! Not everyone on the force is as happy though... Takes place during and after Season 1, Ep. 2.

Brandon Stark

Following You to the Ends of the Earth

Synopsis: Your time with Bran, Meera, and Hodor in the Three-Eyed Raven's cave. Unsaid feelings become said.

Part Two.

Zuko

'Fake' Feelings

Synopsis: In a pinch, you have to pretend to be in a relationship with Zuko. Little do you know it was never pretend for Zuko.

CREDITS: @thethreeeyed-raven

[indouloureux]

hihi honey :] today i am simply thinking about kissing eddie. i know he's the grossest, messiest kisser in the world, and if you have anything to add to that, i'd be a very happy gal <3

mei my baby!!!! this is for u honey <3 (i tried to make it messy. i really did!)

you find comfort in the calloused skin of his palm that cradles your face. the rough texture of his denim tickles the inside of your thighs, legs on either side of him. his hot breath aerates your plump cheeks that his thumbs keep caressing, nose meeting in a soft impact whenever he tilts his head. your joint lips crescendos the faster and the quicker your lips break apart as avidity amplifies.

it's as if his lips are hemlock and mithridatism titles itself vain as you melt and dissolve into his pacifying kiss. eddie swallows your moans and heavy breaths, one hand steering down to grip tightly on the pudgy flesh of your ass, impelling your chest against his; his mouth is greedy, omnipotent, so fucking saccharine, and messy.

eddie kisses you idly with a wide mouth and a tongue that ventures the inside of your mouth, his thick muscle grazing your own—if not, entwining. your hand tangles itself in his hair, tugging just the way he likes it, feeling the fire that surrounds robust as you go deeper against him. he grunts, moving his hand up to your waist, the other tilting your head to the other side as he leans up.

"your lips..." he mumbles suddenly, lips hovering yours, slanting for an upcoming kiss yet your mouths never abut. your eyes flutter open, peering through your eyelashes to gaze into his darkened umber eyes, pupils blown in reverential lust. "taste so fucking amazing,"

you chuckle shyly, your hands resting beneath his jawline to camber his neck upward. eddie smiles, pearls glinting. "is it because of the weed, or the mac and cheese?"

he tucks a stray hand behind your ear, smile falling lightly to gaze up at you like some deity as the sun that peers through the window descends above your head like a deformed gilded halo; eddie moves your head down until his lips meet your forehead, a cold, wet but soft texture pressed against it. "just you, sweetheart,"

"flirt," you trace a finger across his jawline down to his neck. "you're already kissing me. cut the moves, munson."

"never,"

he kisses you this time. messier. grosser. his tongue darts out, grazing the sides of your lips just so they'd meet yours. you break apart in wet, almost lewd clicks, his teeth biting lightly on your bottom lip, tugging before he lets it go and watches it plop back in place before he sucks lightly on your tongue. you moan, eyes rolling to the back of your head before his mouth invades yours once more.

you're grinding on his lap now, feeling something acute growing beneath you that lifts you up just a bit. you whine softly, spit smeared across eddie's lips, now swollen. but he looks so pretty. so pretty.

and with that, his hand lifts and lands down to slap your ass. you jolt, gasping in his mouth, only for him to sit up and wrap his arms around you like a bear hug to make your mouth even wetter. your chin's got a sheen layer of saliva from his slobby kisses, and he finds it so interesting that eddie smiles.

"eds," you move away from him, wiping the back of your hand across your mouth. "baby. 's getting messy,"

he shakes his head, whines like a petulant child. "nuh uh. more. come here."

when he kisses you again, eddie's grunting now like an animal. lips covetous, avaricious, selfish for more of your taste; the wanting to usurp horrifying to others but oh so luxurious to your hedonistic pursuits. it's evergreen that burns beautifully in the fires of hell.

[fieldsofwriting]

A/N: I made a banner and dividers (I found the stars on pinterest) 😌 look at me go. But, once again this is tagged as x reader as well. Feel free to use a word replacer for this :) (I also know that March’s eyes are black. However, I decided to take creative freedom.)

Summary: Violet has been in Mistria for just a little over a week now. But she has never experienced drunk March before.

Warnings: Just drinking at the Inn on friday night!

Settling into her new life in Mistria wasn’t hard. Violet got up everyday bright at early, watered her crops and tried to clear her farm for a few hours before she’d inevitably run up to town and buy seeds to replenish the ones she harvested. She’d stop at the inn and get some soup, talk to Hemlock or Jo when they were there. Then she’d run around a bit more, stopping in to say hi to everyone. Maybe go do some fishing or check out the Western Ruins to see if there was anything else so could donate to the museum. But there was one thing she never skipped. And it was saying hello to everyone, that was always the number one priority.

She’d never skip March. Despite his prior attitude, and as much as she wanted too. Violet had to prove to him and everyone else here that she wasn’t going anywhere. But, her first Friday in town as she shuffled into the Inn after getting her farm- mostly cleared off she was met with Reina’s bright bubbly voice.

“Violet!” She grins, running around to get to her faster. God- that action alone made her want to scoop her up into her arms and spin her around. Reina was so sweet every single time without fail. She felt like a friend that Vi could talk to for hours while laying in her lap. And normally she would share the same enthusiasm as her but, Violet ended up looking up slowly from the pure exhaustion she was experiencing; those rocks on her farm were no joke. And while Reina was always a delight to see, she just wanted soup. That creamy delightful smelling soup that was bubbling in the cauldron. Was that cheese? God she hoped it was cheese.

“Mm?” She grumbles but it doesn’t deter Reina. She quickly gets her a bowl of soup and slides in next to her. Violet's whole mood increasing tenfold as she digs in and looks at Reina.

“You have to make sure to come to the inn tonight!” Reina beams, with the stupidly gorgeous smile she had. “It’s always a blast on Friday nights! Everyone has so much fun! Tell me you’ll come!” She pleads with her. And Violet is a simple woman.

With food in her system, finally the farmer smiles. “It’s really that cool? I guess I’ll have to come check it out. But i’m working on getting the bridge repaired for the Saturday Markets. So, it might be later in the night.” She replies smiling at her new friend. Reina grins and claps, reaching to give her a hug which Violet quickly accepts. It was like hugging one of those giant stuffed bears you won at carnivals.

“Yes! That’s fine! Whenever you can!” She beams. Violet had to admit, her enthusiasm was nice. Everyone seemed so excited to integrate her into this town as if she was always apart of it. It…was refreshing. Violet gives Reina a nod.

“You have my word, I’ll be here.” Vi smiles, and she meant it. She'd be there. It would be nice to relax and hang out with everyone at the Inn, she just hoped she could get the bridge done before then.

———

It felt silly. Violet felt completely and utterly foolish. Standing in front of her mirror, just minutes before she was going to head over to the Inn trying to decide what to wear. Surely everyone would be wearing their normal everyday clothes. She kicks away the little black dress. But why- why did she care so much about her own outfit?! She could just wear her normal outfit. It would be fine. At least that was what she was trying to convince herself of. But somewhere in the back of her mind, she knows that this might be a good chance to show off for a particular red head-

She shakes her head, "No." She says quickly pointing at herself in the mirror. "No, no, no, Violet. You are not falling for a red head! He's not even a real red head! You can see his roots! You are not doing this." She scolds herself. "This is your chance to distance yourself from anything and anyone. We are not fucking it up because we need therapy!" Violet lets out a big huff. Running her hand through her hair, and nodding. She'd just- wear this. Her normal outfit. Stripped shirt. Overall dress. Knee highs. It be fine.

Once, she enters the Inn she can see why Reina was so insistent. Everyone is there, sitting at various tables doing whatever it is- they were doing. It was bustling, it was lively...it felt like home.

"Violet!"

The Violet in question looks to see Reina rushing forward, a warm smile on her face. "You made it!" She cheers, god- she was so fucking sweet. Violet just wanted to curl up with her and pour her heart out to her. She was so wonderful, Violet can feel the smile spread.

"I told you! I wouldn't miss it!" She gives Reina a hug. Resisting the urge to melt into her arms. "But...everywhere looks so busy..." She whispers.

"Oh! Don't worry about that, just walk around and chat! Everyone kinda does their own thing, you'll find your place in time." Reina reassures. Those words- she had no idea the amount of tears Violet is holding back in that very moment.

"Y-yeah..." Violet nods, "Right." She gives Reina a nod before going over to the Eiland, Celine, Balor, Adeline, and Holt.

"Hello, Violet!" Eiland greets, his smile isn't as warm as Reina's- at least not in the same capcity. Where Reina's smile was like curling up with a blanket, in front of the fireplace on a cold winter morning? Eiland's was like the sunshine, like when you were a kid and played too hard during the summer falling to the ground and feelings the warm ground. “We’re playing Dungeons and Drama! You’re welcome to listen for a bit.” He offers.

“Yeah.” Violet nods, sitting next to Holt with a smile. Everyone introducing their characters had her smiling as she went to enjoy some of the other groups as well. She’d never tell a soul but The Bearded Bad Brad was her favorite so far.

At the next table, she played around of cards before she realized Olric was just- unbelievably lucky. She frowned, she hated loosing. And, everyone was starting to get rowdy because of his unbelievable luck. So, she politely excused herself from the table. Making her way over to the bar-

“Violet!” March said, but that was way too enthusiastic to be March. Slowly, she turned around, and it was in fact March. Or a clone of him? It had to be, standing there with the biggest smile she’d ever seen him have. Slight blush on his cheeks, “Come over here! Sit next to me!! You’re always so busy during the week!” The clone said.

“March is quite the lightweight.” Elsie speaks up. Violet looks over at the regal old woman. “But it is him, he’s a kind drunk.” She gives Violet a nod. She turns back to March.

“You’re telling me that’s not a clone?”

A roar of laughter from the bar. “No, dear.” Elsie smiles. “That very much so is March, our grumpy little blacksmith.”

“Violet!” He whines, “Come here!” He pouts even more. How could she refuse? Making her way over to the drunk March, she can’t help but smile at him. His hair was mused from him running his hands through it, his cheeks were rosy from the alcohol. His smile was contagious, especially as he realized Violet was walking toward him.

“Hi March.” She smiles gently. Her heartbeat picking up, starting to sound like a kick drum in her ears. He was so- devastatingly pretty. Up close, March looked so fucking good. His stupidly nice jawline, dazzling hazel eyes. Violet blinks- Hazel? Weren’t they black? She tries to subtly move further away, watching as the light hits them different changing the color. Making it appear a darker almost black color.

March, does not like that Violet is leaning away. He wanted to examine every part of her face. The way that her cheeks moved when she smiled, the perfect plumpness of her lips, how her eyes shimmered like jewels in the light. The purple hue catching the light like she melted down a purple sapphire and let it pool in her eyes. He also needed to know why she looked so confused, reaching a hand out he gently pressed her back into his side. “You look confused.”

“Your eyes aren’t black.” She mumbles, still looking at him like that. Almost like her gaze was pinning him to his spot.

March raises an eyebrow, smiling and letting out a small laugh. “No. They aren’t.” He grins, “Why? Do you think it make me prettier?” He says batting his perfectly dark eyelashes up at her. Violet lets out a soft laugh, wrapping an arm around his broad, sturdy shoulders. Caldarus strike her down now. She was touching him. She was touching March, and he wasn’t mad. He wasn’t pushing her off, she felt her stomach doing flips at the proximity.

“No, it just shocked me. They normally look black when you’re next to the forge.” She comments softly, still entranced by them. She wants to reach up, cup his cheek and tilt his head up so she can see them better.

“Mm.” March nods, leaning his head on her shoulder. Violet can feel her face heating at the action. She can feel eyes on her from the other patrons, and if she could muster a look at them she’d glare. But if she looks anywhere but firmly behind the bar, she’d explode. “Olric’s got them too.”

“Yeah?” She breathes, looking down at March. “Good to know.”

“Do you like them?” He looks back up at her. Violet’s breath hitches as she sees the swirls of green and brown in his eyes even better. The light from above emphasizing more of the green. “You look like an angel.”

Violet shakes her head. “Wh-what?” She says with a shocked laugh.

March gives her a big smile. Reaching up and tucking some of her hair behind her ear. “You look like an angel. The light is like-“ He moves his hand around her face, to signal the halo of laughter around her.

She needs air. She needs space. She can’t do this- March can’t be that sweet. No matter what Elsie said, this had to be a clone of March and the real one was plotting her demise somewhere. “M-March…” Violet says quietly, taking a step back. But he frowns, pulling her back into him.

“I like when you say my name.” He mumbles. Still looking at her as if she was the most precious thing in the world. As if he would give her the world. Violet couldn’t do this. She steps away from him, dodging his arms again.

“Goodnight March.” She whispers quickly, slapping some money down on the table to cover her food for the night and rushing out.

A/N: I know that March’s sprite has black eyes- but consider. No. Kfjjfjfksks no in all fairness I just thought it be interesting if he had hazel eyes, my brother does and they change the intensity depending on the lighting he’s in. So I thought because he’s around the forge so much it be interesting!

[leapingbadger]

Very new here and still trying to figure this out but wrote a mini Bad Batch story to try and fill the gaps in my head. Some mentions of grief and loss. Takes place after Season 2 finale. Hope you enjoy.

Hope

Hunter sat in the pilot seat of the Marauder, staring at the hypnotizing blue swirls of hyperspace as his brother, Wrecker, snored loudly from the back of the ship. The hum of the engine, the random clinks and bangs that were ever present background noise a few weeks ago were now so pronounced Hunter would occasionally flinch.

Even so, it was too quiet. Echo had stayed with them for a week or two, but suggested that Rex and his network would be the best shot at Intel that could lead them to Omega. Hunter understood his reasoning but Omega’s words rang in his ears whenever he thought about it.

“…but he’s not here. We’re meant to be a squad”.

They weren’t much of a squad anymore. With Crosshair lost to imperial custody, Omega kidnapped (again), Echo off with Rex and Tech…

Hunter ran his hands through his hair and over his face, stubbornly wiping at the tears that had formed at the thought of his lost brother. He looked to the copilots’ seat to see Tech’s goggles, lifelessly staring back at him.

They hadn’t known what to do with them at first. Wrecker had spent the first two days gingerly cradling them as he moved about the ship. When he finally put them down, in the pilots chair the three of them paused in silent tribute. They had since been moved to the copilot’s seat, always on watch. They couldn’t stay there forever; they all knew that. But it was as good a place as any for now.

Hunter let out a sigh and heard Wrecker grunt and roll over on the bunk. He was unprepared for what was next. Had been all along really. There were no leads, he had no strategy, they were flying but he didn’t really know why or where. Echo’s comms were infrequent at best. Whatever he and Rex were up to, it was time consuming, and he couldn’t help feeling like Omega should be the priority. She had to be.

Hunter had this buzzing in his brain that got louder whenever he thought of Omega, especially the last few days. This was the longest they had been apart since they took her off Kamino. The Marauder seemed so lifeless without her, like every sun in the galaxy had shut off at once. He missed her giggle, and how she hovered too close as he practiced twirling his knife and the way her legs dangled from the gunner mount as she snuggled with Lula. He looked back through the ship to the tooka doll slumped under Omega’s chair.

They had stopped to gather supplies and every time desperately asked around as if by some miracle she had passed through.

“Have you seen a young girl, blonde hair, wide, bright, amber eyes”. They were always asked who she was to them, and Hunter always struggled to answer. She was the youngest member of their squad, their sister technically, but what she really was to him got caught in his throat. It was a word that clones didn’t use, had no use for really… Daughter. That’s what he wanted to say. “She is my daughter, our daughter” but how do you explain that? Besides, he knew it was useless. Omega was lost to Hemlock’s secret base. There would be no trace on some random planet. He knew that but it didn’t stop him asking, every time.

 A button on the far side on the console trilled and Hunter leaned over and flicked it off more aggressively than was necessary. Echo should still be here. He thought glumly. If Echo were missing, Omega would stop at nothing to get him back. How could he leave her? Leave them?

Hunter stood up and kicked the console to his right. Sharp pain radiated from his foot and up his leg like electricity. Yeah, that’ll fix everything, he thought bitterly, a broken toe. He wanted to brake things. He wanted to rage. Where was a battle droid in need of dismembering when you wanted one? He closed his eyes and took a breath. He had to focus. He had to plan. There was no margin for error, or doubt, or pain. He had to push it all down and push all the fear away. Because that’s what it was. Fear.

He had lost Tech. That was on him. His plan, his squad, his loss. He was responsible. He had left Crosshair. That was on him too. What if he was dead now too? What if he never got a chance to make things right? Omega was taken from him, from them. She was a child. She was his responsibility, and he had failed her too.

There was nothing about war that scared him, had every scared him really. It’s what they were made for. He feared for his brothers’ safety from time to time but as the war went on and they pulled off one daring, insane mission after the next, even that didn’t cross his mind. Wrecker using his head as a battering ram, okay. Tech hacking a separatist ship when they were outnumbered thousands to one, sure. Crosshair taking out a Tactical droid for 12 clicks, easy. But since Kamino, since the Republic fell fear was gnawing at his chest and now. After everything that had happened, that feeling seemed like it would consume him completely. The crushing weight of the last few weeks, few years, came crashing down on to him.

His hands shook. His breath rattled deafeningly in his ears. Fat tears fell onto his bandaged arm and refused to stop. He didn’t know how long he stood there, hunched over the console, arm outstretched as though to catch him if he fell, as if he had any strength left.

Just when he thought he wouldn’t be able to catch his breath, just when he thought he would die from his despair and utter hopelessness, he felt a shovel sized hand grab his shoulder and pull him into a suffocating bearhug.

 Even with enhanced hearing, Hunter hadn’t known Wrecker was there until he was on top of him. He was too consumed in his overwhelming grief to notice. His body was shutting down. He was giving up. Wrecker’s mountainous form engulfed him so completely he had to tap on his shoulder to get him to loosen his grip. Hunter wasn’t much of a hugger, but he didn’t try to pull back.

Wrecker pulled away when Hunter’s breathing started to return to normal and gave his brother two sharp claps on the shoulder blade.

 “we’ll get ‘er back Hunta. We’ll get Cross back too.” he said earnestly. “it’s been days since you’ve slept. Why don’t you get some rest. I’ll keep an eye on things up here?”

Hunter steadied himself. His breath, his body, his mind. He gave his brother a curt nod, wiped his face on his uninjured arm and straightened his bandana over his forehead.

He wasn’t the type to lose control. There was always a way, there was always a plan, there was always…hope. 

[clownery-and-fuckery]

Alright buckle up here's my actual genuine reaction....

First episode:

First of all, I regret asking for more Hemlock, this was fantastically awful, I will not be recovering.

Second of all, that shaved clone has done things to me. Horrible, horrid things that made me actually pause it and look away. It made me physically ill, it was the worst. Great, but the worst.

The passage of time really did fucking get to me BUT HER LITTLE PONYTAIL UGH

crosshair..... I need a moment

EMERIE !!!! CANT STAND HER !!!!!!!!!!! SNITCH ASS BITCH

I literally don't care that she was allowed to keep the doll, btw. I dont give a shit. I hope Emerie dies in a fire.

nala se.... ew............

I think the whole episode was just pure horror, it was so fucking disgusting to watch, idk about you guys but watching the clone who had probably faced the true horror of SCI-FI warfare crying alone in his cell genuinely had me pausing the episode. Really great work there, Jennifer, I will be billing you for my therapy

Crosshair and Omega bonding !!! The little "What's your mission objective" was definitely a tactic he used on his brothers to have them pay attention, I refuse to acknowledge that he's the youngest, he just isn't. That's big brother keeping his little brother(s) on task behaviour.

Everything about Hemlock gave me chills. I love him. I hate him. I hope his guts cover the screen. I am fascinated by him.

I had a sneaking suspicion Emerie was taken under Hemlock's wing, and her undoing will be her endless loyalty to him... they did not have to say it as obviously as that, though. Glad they did.

Crosshair is sick. There is no way you show us all these sick, dying clones then Crosshair and expect us not to figure that out. He's going to die. His shaking is just the first symptom. I am not ready.

I definitely have more smaller notes I will make once I am not sobbing hysterically about it !!!!

Episode two!!:

This is the one that made me cry, actually.

Watching Wrecker and Hunter march in, quiet and covered in countless injuries, made me so sad. I couldnt recognise them. Those aren't my lads.

Wrecker begging hunter not to go because people didn't make it back.... hunter I get you're desperate, but you will NOT survive another brother being killed. I can't bear to watch him tear himself apart and neither can Wrecker.

WEEPED LIKE AN ACTUAL BABY WHEN I SAW THOSE CLONE BABIES.... THEYRE TOO YOUNG.

"99ers???" THERES FUCKING MORE ??????? I want to know the lore behind this line particularly.

Theyre so cute..... they're so CUTE ugh sedate me immediately

THE WAY HUNTER WAS LOST AT THE START BTW WITH THE TECH AND HE WAS GETTING FRUSTRATED AND HE IMMEDIATELY LOOKED TO OMEGAS STUFF AND LET HIS GRIP LOOSEN ON THE DATAPAD HE WSS THINKING OF HIS YOUNGEST TWO SIBLINGS I WILL NEVER FUCKING RECOVER DAVID AND JENNIFER LET THEM BE HAPPY !!!!!!!!!!!!!

anyways that little fucker who was good with tech..... I see you. I love you.

They were so used to letting Tech do his thing.... they immediately moved to cover fire....... for a second they forgot it wasnt him, I'm weak

THE CRATE FROM S1 YOU HORRIBLE BASTARDS WHEN WILL YOU LET ME DIE

wrecker playing with the kids..... laughing with them....... ohh i will not cope when he dies.

Hes going to die, btw. In case you didn't know. I know. I am aware. I am unprepared. I dont want to discuss it.

PABU..... THEYRE GOING TO PABU WHEN I TELL YOU I SOBBED. MY MOTHER HAD TO HOLD ME. I WAS INCONSOLABLE FOR FIFTEEN WHOLE MINUTES!!!!!!

i cannot express my feelings for this episode.

Episode three!!!!!!:

I want that man. Yes, i do mean that masked man we saw for two seconds, I want him.

The Emperor had me actually screaming. I was so hyped. He scares me so bad.

Hemlock!!!!!! Evil !!!!!!!! CUNT !!!!!!!!!!!!

nala se was so obvious about her "Get tf out" speech..... why don't you say it louder, the whole fucking room couldn't hear you

The fucking timer. Chills. CHILLS.

Crosshair and Omega !!!! He was so unserious I love that

....sorry to all the lovers tho, have to say i DIED laughing at his "gUaRdS"

And the SCREAM he scrumpt when the door opened, who allowed that 😭😭 it was so fucking funny whbeisbwiba

They were so messy this entire ep, they're everything to me......

"Of course he did" DO YOU WANT ME TO FUCKING DIE ?!?!?!? WHO FUCKING GAVE YOU THE RIGHT CAUSE IT WASNT FUCKING ME

Crosshairs trigger finger shaking so bad he gave his position away....... that's a major fucking problem, isn't it? That's gonna bite him in the ass.

I want more of Hemlock having a damn tantrum, that was fantastic. Him this season has me in a chokehold. I can't wait to write more of him.

This entire season so far is amazing. I can't wait to watch more, there are so many more points I wanna make, I'm freaked. I'm so happy, I'm still crying, I can't wait I can't wait I can't wait !!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Making more coherent thoughts about them soon <3

[homunculus-argument]

Woke up this morning with the words kultainen kieso in my head. Finnish. First word was immediately familiar, "golden, gilded", but I had no idea what the hell "kieso" is, though I was vaguely aware that whatever the context of the dream was, it was something that was either inherently gold-like in colour or shade, or gilded on surface, like sprinkled with gold dust or such - not a statue or model of one made out of gold. Whatever this kieso would be, it was the real deal, and not something artificially constructed. Nor was it something that's golden normally, but this particular one was distinct from the others by being golden in some way.

Kieso sounds like a finnish word, some sort of a flower or plant. I know the names kielo - lily-of-the-valley, and keiso - water hemlock. Or perhaps a bird of some sort, it could be the name of a bird. The image of something like a peacock, except in shimmering shades of golden brown, came to my head as well. But not exactly a peacock. Some bird, some flower, some one splendid particular specimen that stood apart from its own kin by being golden. I was so sure that this word has to be the name of something, it has to mean something, that I had to google it.

Turns out it's the name of some dude who writes textbooks about accounting.