#side orders platoon

[mindfreakerr]

if pearl was constantly following me around as a drone i would smack her out of the sky

[emile-hides]

Like a quadtrillion years ago I talked about a concept I had for a Full Squidbeak Platoon AU where we have about two agents per game, and my OCs I'd made to fill in those gaps. But back then I couldn't draw as well as I can now so I just made them in Splatoon's character creator and left it as that.

But now I CAN draw and now that Splatoon 3 has ended live updates and we've been told Splatoon 4 will be stepping away from these characters, I might as well finally draw and post them, right?

[creativesplat]

side order

[jumbojazzcats93]

Perfect, Perfect, Perfect - Ghost

Summary - DOD contracted civilian is perfectly confident and brooks no nonsense at work, but when she hooks up with Simon not knowing it's Ghost, he gets whiplash seeing her other side.

Tags/Warnings - noncanon, 18+ MDNI, divider by @/cafekitsune @glossysoap @violet-phantoms @lordlydragon @quietlyignoringyou @ivymarquis @grizzersmamma @gremlingottoosilly @ghastlybirdie

"Sir, I'm not the one drawing up the CONOPs, and even if I was, arguing with me would not change any of the things outlined in them."

Ghost could hear her from his office across the hall; prickly and stern. A platoon leader from another section had come in about 5 minutes ago, guns blazing and irritation tainting the peaceful vibe of your space, demanding to speak with whoever put out "-That bullshit order to the distro." Ghost heard you try to be amicable at first, only to then get steamrolled by the captain in your office. He considered shutting his door. It was irritating listening to the prick complain, but the satisfaction of hearing you knock down someone so pompous was far greater.

Then came the angry and exasperating rhetoric of, "Well, what do you suggest I do about this than? Hm?"

"Well Sir, to be quite frank I don't really care, but I had assumed that at such a senior rank and with all the experience you boast of, that you could figure it out on your own." You aimed a rehearsed smile at him and folded your hands on your desk. Ghost leaned back in his chair, watching through the open doors and tapping his pen on his desk. Clicking his jaw shut, the captain silently glared at you for a moment before you gestured towards the open door with an elegant wave of your hand. A signal of 'you can go now' that caused an amused huff of air to escape Ghost's nose. Taking in a slow, deep breath, the captain turned and stomped from the room. Ghost just tracked him with his eyes as he turned down the hall and fled.

The deep sigh that emanated from your office had his eyes trailing back to your doorway. Whispered ranting and mockings of the bastard had Ghost fighting down a grin. You appeared in the doorway suddenly, looking at him with an incredulous look on your face and threw your hands in the air. He just shook his head in response. He didn't think either of you had ever actually said more than a few greetings to one another; you just shared silent exchanges like this one. Rolling your eyes, your hands flopped to your sides as you scoffed and stomped back to your desk.

So much attitude in that little head of yours.

Tinted lipgloss stuck to Simon's cock. Make-up tainted tear tracks stained your face from the way he was throat fucking you. He was gonna cum in the next 15 seconds if he didn't stop, so he squeezed the base of his cock and pulled you back by your hair with a breathy grunt. The way you looked up at him panting with a mix of drool and precum dripping down your chin made his cock throb dangerously. Your wet doe eyes and soft hands were not what he was expecting when he lied his way into your bed. At work you were known as a bitch. A hard ass, DOD contracted civillian brought in by Laswell to plan and track special forces missions and everything to do with them.

The image of the you from work crossed with the vision of you in front of him. On your knees with your head resting against his thigh as you looked up at him. You were the perfect image of a sweet and obedient little lover-girl tonight. He smoothed a hand over your hair, trailing it down your cheek until his thumb was pressing against your bottom lip. Humming dreamily, your tongue laved at his thumb before he pressed it into your mouth. Your furrowed eyebrows were just so cute. He'd never be able to look at you the same after this.

"You want somethin' from me, lovie?", he teased, pulling his thumb away and replacing it with his cock. You nodded with a small, whiney, "Yes, please." "Open up, than greedy girl."

You stuck your tongue out, letting him smack his cock on it a few times before kissing and licking the tip. With one hand holding the back of your head, Simon carefully eased his cock into your mouth. You held fluttering eye contact as he slowly began thrusting faster; beginning to throat fuck you once more. His mean little coworker... seeing you so different out of your usual setting and the fact that he had been practically edging himself made quick work of him. A minute was all it took before he was pulling his cock from your mouth and jerking himself off as he came all over your face. He let you continue licking at his cock as he leaned against the wall, recovering.

Simon didn't even realize his eyes had closed, but at the sound of your pathetic little whimper they shot open. Hand between your legs, cheek resting against his thigh, you looked up at him with a sad little pout on your lips. "You're a good girl ain'tcha?" His hand caressed your hair while you nodded. "Don't worry, dove. I won't dare leave ya without a reward."

He guided you to the couch and had you on your back in an instant. With your legs pushed to your chest, your wet cunt was fully on display. He wrapped his arms around your thighs and dragged you toward the edge, closer to his face. His thumb lightly rubbed your clit making your whole body twitch. A low chuckle rumbled in his chest, "Poor girl is so sensitive..." He gives your clit a wet kiss before laving his tongue along your cunt, eating you out. Your moans and squeaks had his cock stiffening again. He teased his two middle fingers into your cunt and watched your expression; carefully prodding until he saw your eyes heavily flutter and your skin flush a deeper shade. Simon pressed into that spot until your moans pitched higher and your thighs squeezed his head.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck, yesyesyesyesyesyes-" One hand pressed into your lower stomach while his other hand continued to fuck into you. He pulled his mouth from your cunt, leaving a string of spit and slick behind. You squealed, body flexing and squirming before your head fell back, squirting on his hand. He dove back in, letting you use his tongue to ride out the rest of your ogasm until you were whimpering and whining.

Simon grabbed you, readjusting you into a more comfortable position. Your fingers slid into his hair, lips brushing and eyes meeting. That soft, dopey look had him pressing in to kiss you; hand fisting into your hair, pulling your head back as he kissed down your neck. He used his other hand to wrap your leg around his waist. Feeling you cum on his fingers had his cock painfully hard again. Now it beaded precum as it rubbed against your slick cunt. Simon grabbed his cock and positioned it, slowly pressing into you and shushing you as you whined.

"Oh yeah...", he sighed. Your cunt was just as soft as you were right now. Your hand reached for his forearm and squeezed as he bottomed out. He ran his hand up your body, his gaze trailing it's path. The way your tits jiggled with his first few thrusts altered his path until he was groping and massaging your breast with one hand and gripping your hip with the other. You pushed your chest into his eager hand; your cunt clenching. The way your hips meet his every thrust... a secondary wave of arousal washed over him.

How could he ever look you in the eye after this? He'd never get another ounce of work done again with you around.

Pulling out, Simon flipped you onto your stomach and pulled you up onto your knees. For the first time, he noticed the tattoo on your back. What a little minx. His hand slid up your spine and he leaned forward to place a wet kiss against the inked skin. Suddenly his hand was gripping the back of your neck and shoving your upper body into the cushion. Whining with your face half in the pillows and pushing back into his hips, your ass rubbed up against his leaking cock. Simon chuckled deep in throat and squeezed the back of your neck. "You wanna take it so bad don't you?" Unable to nod, you whimper, "Yes, please." His free hand landed a sudden smack against your ass causing a gasp to tear from your throat. Hand smoothing over the stinging skin, he cooed at you.

Pulling his hips away just slightly, Simon slowly guides his cock into your wet cunt. He let's a low sigh out at the feeling of being back inside your pussy. This angle feels so much better, bordering painful, but you can't really tell the difference at this point. He bears down on you so close, you feel his hot breath. His hips are firmly and intentionally grinding against your ass. His dick causing shivers to run through your body. The recoil of your ass when he begins thrusting again is mesmerizing. He grabs a handful of your ass and spreads you open, slowing his thrusts down enough to watch his cock sink into your wet cunt over and over. Moving to grip your waist with both hands, Simon speeds back up; practically using you like a doll.

The way you tighten up on him is dangerous. "Shit-" He breaths panicked. Cum spurts from his cock before he can even pull out. "Shit!" He growls, quickly stuffing his cock back in your cunt to roughly fuck himself through his orgasm. His hands shake as he finally pulls out. You feel his cum spilling out of your cunt as you go to push yourself up, but his hands grab your hips and roughly pull you backwards. Simon lays back as he drags you up his chest, placing your cunt right over his face. Any words you had formulated turn to a moan when his mouth latches onto your clit. His arms snake around your thighs and hold you against his mouth. His hot mouth that feels so good. You were already so close when he came that you know it won't be long before your orgasm burns through you. His tight grip loosens when he feels you trying to grind against his face. If he wasn't 2 ogasms out, the way you moan and grip on his thighs would make his dick hard again.

One arm uncoils from your thigh to land a rough smack to your ass. He feels your pussy clench at the act and lands another light smack before he kneads the area with a rough hand. Simon can tell from the way you tighten your thighs that you're close to cumming. He decides to lock you down with one arm wrapped around your waist. His other hand trails back, wetting his fingers in the mix of fluids before slipping 2 fingers inside of your pussy. Your head is thrown back with a pleased gasp as he finger fucks you. Curling them into your g-spot relentlessly until you're squirting; cum dripping down his chin and neck onto the bed. He keeps fingering you until you're reaching back, begging him to stop with dewy eyes and weak hands.

He's grinning as he lifts your pussy away from his mouth.

"Lieutenant Riley, you're not even paying attention." You sternly accuse.

Simon takes a deep, slow breathe in as he repositions himself higher in his seat, blinking a few times to clear the haze of his daydream. He clears his throat, glances at you and nods for you to continue. All you do is purse your lips; sparing him a scalding look as you continue where you left off in the PowerPoint.

"So, first round of weapons draw is going to be 0600. Buses will show at 0700 to take the troops to the range. Second round will be 1100, so buses will show at 1200. That gives all the firers about 5 hours to hit a qual out on the range. They can come back as soon as they qual, but I do NOT want to work passed 6pm tomorrow." You turn to look at him again and your lips purse.

He must look disinterested. Not only had he already been told the timelines for the range, but the entire time you'd been talking, he had been thinking of your escapade from this previous weekend. Every time he looked at you since you came in Monday morning, he could only see the pliant little thing you'd been Saturday night when he fucked you and Sunday morning before he left. Right now though, he could see you about to throw a fit over his lack of attention toward your presentation.

"Don't worry, dove." He stood up and pushed his chair in. "I wouldn't dare to cause mess of all your hard work and planning." Simon circled the table and loomed over you. The look in your eyes shows your recognizition of the combination of the pet name and his voice.

"Well, I-"

"It's OK, lovie." He smoothed his hand over your hair and to the side of your neck until his thumb brushed your cheek. In an instant, you looked just the same as you did this weekend. Furrowed brows relaxing at the realization and a doe eyed look replacing the severe one you'd been giving him. You looked almost like a deer caught in the headlights; completely unsure of what to do.

How cute.

"So you want me to open up the Arms Room, right?"

All you could muster up was a tiny nod.

"I'll be there at 0500 to do an inspection and ready everything. I'll allow troops to start drawing their weapons 10 minutes early, too. Okay?" As he spoke his thumb traced your bottom lip. So entranced by his actions and your realization, you could only muster a breathless, "Okay." In response.

The way you looked up at him had his body moving to lean down for a kiss, but his self control stopped him before he could even get an inch. Instead, Simon just pressed his thumb down against your bottom lip and left you go. Running his tongue along his teeth, he averted his gaze from you and walked back over to his office.

[17020]

BLUEPRINT

Soshiro Hoshina is great at following blueprints and maps, always finding his way back to you. Right?

TAGS . . . fluff/crack, clingy Hoshina, reader is called 'beautiful', this is my first time writing for kn8, expect more in the future! dedicated to @nyxypoo , for helping me organize my brainrot, and also to @maruflix , for introducing me to the manga in the first place.

Soshiro "Don't get attached to anyone" Hoshina had finally come to terms with the fact that, in order to sleep he needed warmth; one which only a human could provide.

Which is why he found himself in the wee hours of the morning completely awake, unable to catch a wink of sleep. His fingers desperately tapped over the screen of his phone, typing a message. When he sent it, his attention shifted to the background photo of his chat—a picture of a certain officer watching the sunset on the dormitories' terrace.

SOSHI <3 02:41 When are you cominggg I need you

YOU 02:41 I'm going in rn, I'll be there in 5

SOSHI <3 02:42 I'll get the toolbox then Good luck, sweetheart

Having been sworn to secrecy by Soshiro himself, you could not afford to have anyone find out about your relationship with the Third Division's vice-captain. It could jeopardize your job as a platoon leader, and also put both of your lives at risk. Because gossip flows like an endless river, and could eventually reach higher-ups, or worse, an identified kaiju disguised in human flesh.

You carefully aligned the screwdriver with the last screw left. Twisting it, you took it off and placed it with the other three under your pillow, inhaling deeply before taking off the vent panel and sliding in.

You knew the route like the back of your hand, the flashlight from your phone now deemed as unnecessary, for the amount of times in which you crawled through the Third Division's vent systems exceeded the hundreds. The cameras in the hallways would deem it suspicious if you went to sneak out to Soshiro's room directly, which is why you settled on using the vents.

You crawled and crawled, turning every few minutes until you reached your opening. Poking your head out you saw your boyfriend, waiting for you with open arms.

"Aww, is my little worm ready to be carried?" he cooed, his arms now on your sides as he pulled you towards him. You scoffed at the name, "You call me a worm again and I won't help you ever again."

He tilted his head back as he laughed, heading back to his bed, which had the covers already pulled back. He climbed in and patted the spot next to him, grinning from ear to ear when you laid next to him as he took the opportunity to place his head on your chest and wrap his arms around your waist.

"You've no idea how much I missed ya, darlin'."

"We saw each other in the cafeteria a few hours ago, Soshi" you smiled, your fingers running through his hair. You felt him pout as he whined, stating that a few hours were enough to drive him wild.

"Y'know that's not enough, beautiful."

When you agreed to date the Soshiro Hoshina you knew what you were signing up for. Every breathing moment, the vice-captain had to have his hands on you, whether it was his hand grazing yours during meetings, to him latching on to you in order to sleep.

You were his drug. Plain and simple.

It didn't take long for your boyfriend to fall asleep. Your presence alone was comforting, with your body offering him the peace and quiet that he longed for after a hard day at work. Unbeknownst to him, you took a bit longer to join him in dreamland, as you first had to hear the little sentences your boyfriend murmured here and there while fully asleep.

On tonight's menu? "...jus' wanna... be like this... forever."

Apparently, 'forever' lasted for around... half a day. 'Forever' did not include an incident with a honju, which ended up in you having to stay in the infirmary, after stepping in to help someone from your platoon.

Bed rest was mandatory. Those were the orders given to you by the vice-captain, after all. Having encountered and fought a fungal-type kaiju, he demanded you spend the night in the infirmary, in case there were any issues with spores.

Soshiro eyed the photo on his phone various times, only stopping to check the time. 1:34 am. Good enough, right?

SOSHI <3 01:35 Alright beautiful, I'm going in I think you're gonna have to get up from the bed to let me in tho I'll let you know when I'm there

YOU 01:36 The iv is in my left arm so I'll be good Good luck, handsome!!

The flashlight on Soshiro's phone was on, the photo on his screen displaying the blueprint of the vent system. The trajectory was simple: go straight, then right, then right again, and then straight into the infirmary vents. Plus, it would be way easier for him to recognize, as you promised him you would play some music from your phone for him to know which room it was.

And so, Soshiro Hoshina embarked on what could be the hardest mission of his life. He wondered how you were able to do this every night without fail, then do it again in the morning before the other platoon leaders woke up. He gained newfound admiration for you as he crawled his way into your room, his forehead red from hitting his head against dead ends multiple times.

At last, he found the panel.

There it was, the soft classical music playing in the room. Weird, he thought, Yn never really listens to this type of music. He shrugged it off, believing that it might have been a special signal just for him.

"Psst—hey—special delivery coming through."

Silence. You must have fallen asleep.

"Yn" he whisper-yelled, "Angel, open the vent for me, yeah? It's kinda cramped in here."

No response.

He sighed as he pressed the call button, uncomfortably holding the phone against his ear. When he noticed your phone didn't ring, he assumed it was silenced. The vibrations surely would wake you up, right?

YOU: Soshi, are you here? I don't see you anywhere

SOSHI <3: Angel I'm here, I followed the music—didn't know ya liked classical

YOU: Classical? Baby, I'm playing Ciara.

SOSHI <3: Then whose room am I in?

The moment Soshiro heard the growl of a feline, he ended the call.

SOSHI <3 02:53 HOLY SHHIT I THINK I ENDED UP IN CAPTAIN ASHIRO'S ROOM

YOU 02:53 HOSHINA THAT WAS ON THE OTHER SIDE DID YOU EVEN READ THE BLUEPRINT???

SOSHI <3 02:54 Oh so I'm Hoshina now. You don't love me. Btw I'm stuck and Bakko found me I love you

"Vice-captain Hoshina? Is that you in the vent?"

Soshiro Hoshina swore he had shit his pants.

[mangostarjam]

by your side — kaiju no. 8, hoshina soshiro x reader, gn for the most part but referred to as "sweetheart" (and "girlfriend" at the end), hurt/comfort, mentions of injuries, written in response to this ask, 1.8k words

"Vice Captain! Vice Captain! VICE CAPTAIN!!"

You wince as Okonogi's voice pierces through the gunfire and explosions surrounding you and your officers. You shouldn't even have access to the Vice Captain's radio channel with Operations, but you've been friends for so long Hoshina Soshiro had simply shrugged and offered you a smirk.

"How else are ya gonna learn the ropes and beat me someday?" he'd asked. "It's not like lettin' ya listen'll keep your shots any steadier."

He was right, of course. Letting you listen doesn't do anything for your aim — but hearing the channel now, knowing he's fighting a kaiju that can talk — that's strong enough to control all these wyvern type kaiju? It's a testament to all these years of training together that your shots are deadly and precise, your heartbeat ricocheting in your ribcage as you breathe and brace your shoulder for recoil.

Another wyvern kaiju dives towards your group and you huff, planting your foot on a block of rubble and notching the rifle against your shoulder. "Minase! Hibino! Get out of the way!" you order, squeezing the trigger rapidly.

Your breaths are loud in your ears.

Static crackles down the line.

You wince as a yoju crashes into a building nearby, sending dust and concrete tumbling down. Your officers — Soshiro's officers, normally, except he's busy so they're yours, now — are tending to the wounded and taking down yoju behind Officer Shinomiya's two man squad with Officer Ichikawa.

You want to run.

You want to sprint.

Your fingers are clamped so hard on your rifle that they ache. The talking kaiju, the leader — Kaiju No. Ten — is huge, even from a distance. There's no way Soshiro can take it down on his own — he specializes in miniature and mid-sized kaiju, not this giant monstrosity with an itch for fighting. You should be there.

"Vice Cap—!" Okonogi's voice is hoarse from yelling. Does she have a visual of him? He must've been knocked through a few buildings or something, based on the smoke and sounds you can catch from their direction.

Not knowing is the worst.

"Okonogi… don't worry… I'm still kickin'," Soshiro's voice is way too cheerful in your ear.

"Are you alright? Hoshina-kun?" you ask.

Soshiro switches to your private channel with a hum. "Aw, are ya worried 'bout me? That kaiju really packs a punch! How're my lil fledglings doin'?"

You watch as Officer Ichikawa freezes another yoju out of the sky. "Shinomiya and Ichikawa could probably make platoon leader, sir," you slip back into formalities automatically, though your chest aches. You flex your hands on your weapon. "In fact, it looks like it's pretty much handled here. I'll head over to your location now."

"Platoon leader," Soshiro's voice is sharp. You wince and freeze. "Your orders are to lead my platoon. Don't worry 'bout me."

"But sir, that's a giant class kaiju now, and —"

"And I've got a job to do," he says. "I intend to finish it. Follow my orders, sweetheart. I'll be fine."

Warmth blooms along your cheeks even as dread sinks into the pit of your stomach. Fuck.

Your earpiece clicks back to Soshiro's channel with Operations and you bite at your lip as Soshiro informs them of his plan to keep fighting. Okonogi protests immediately. "But sir, you're in no condition to fight any longer —!"

She's right. His maximum release is deactivated and it's a giant now — at least if you're there, you can expose the core with your shots and Soshiro can cut it down. But —

"She left me in charge of the base," Soshiro mutters. Your stomach twists. You can barely see clearly as Officers Izumo and Kaguragi take down another yoju.

Instead, in your mind's eye, you're picturing Soshiro racing along the large limbs of his foe, slicing and slashing even with his diminished combat levels. Fuck. He's really going to do it — he'll let himself die before he gives up, and normally you admire his conviction and resolve, but right now you're sending your hopes out to anyone who'll listen to please save your stubborn stupid Vice Captain.

"Platoon leader, we'll be moving the wounded now!" Officer Minase shouts. You blink to clear your vision and nod.

This is not the time to lose focus.

"Vice Captain!"

Okonogi, again. Not good.

"Fuck," you bite out, swinging your rifle into place and shooting down a yoju. Fuck, fuck, fuck. "I swear, Hoshina, if you die I'll kill you. Who else am I supposed to share coffee with in the mornings? Who else is gonna tease me about the books I read?"

You hear Soshiro's choked laugh and your heart clenches. You squeeze the trigger again and the yoju in your sights dives out of the way. Soshiro sounds bad — he sounds like cracked ribs and breaths wheezing and you hear him spit what must be blood.

"Platoon leader! The path is clear!"

You provide cover fire anyway as the officers transport the wounded. The rest of the battle is a blur — Captain Ashiro's steady voice and the loud, decisive boom of her cannon echo in your ears, but you're protecting the infirmary when her order comes to hit the deck.

The blast washes over you like a wave and you shudder against the force, bracing against it even with your shield cranked to max. Your earpiece crackles and Soshiro sighs. "He's been arrested."

"I can't believe it," you murmur, climbing back to your feet with a wince. "Sir, are you alright?"

"What, back to formalities already?" Soshiro teases. You roll your eyes. "I'll be in the medic bay for a bit, sweetheart. Are you injured at all?"

"Just some scrapes and bruises," you promise, fighting off the blush creeping up your neck. "Did you check on all of your other officers already?"

Did he check on you first?

"I know you took care of 'em," Soshiro says easily. His confidence in you makes you want to cry. "Had to make sure my favorite platoon leader was alright."

The line goes dead and your heart stops. On the ranked officer channel you hear Captain Ashiro snap, "Get him to the med bay, now. I'll take Kaiju No. 8 into custody."

Your heart wrenches itself back into pumping as a sharp pain shoots through your chest. Did Soshiro collapse? Did he seriously — seriously — check on you with the last bit of strength he had left?

You spare a precious few moments to make sure your platoon (Hoshina's platoon) is accounted for and understand their orders to rest and help with securing the base, and then you bolt.

You're panting and dusty and there's still dirt smeared across your forehead when you make it to the med bay, but Soshiro's in an operation room and you're forced to pace in the hallway outside. Thoughts tumble through your brain like rocks, memories of training together and joking over drinks and shared morning coffees and all the times he's draped his jacket over your shoulders during late nights going through reports together. All the cracked jokes over your private radio channel and the silly smiles sent your way any time you laughed at one of his stunts.

You know you're not supposed to — he's your Vice Captain, after all — but fuck. You love him.

Platoon Leader Ikaruga is the one who finds you and sends you off to get cleaned up. "He's not going to be happy seeing you all banged up, and it'd be easier on his recovery if you're clean."

You can't argue with that, so you hurry to wash off the sweat and dirt and dust. As soon as you're done, you're back in the medical ward, pacing a hallway until one of the doctors finally emerges and directs you to the Vice Captain's recovery room.

"Soshiro —" your voice catches in your throat at the sight of him. His purple hair is splayed across the pillow, his bandaged chest rising and falling shallowly with every labored breath. You make your way quietly to his side and settle into the chair, resting your head on your arms as exhaustion creeps into your bones. It's been a long night.

He's okay. Soshiro's alright — a few cracked ribs and lots of bruises and stray cuts, but he's going to be fine. Dawn glides into the room slowly, lighting up the smooth skin of his neck and catching along the contours of his bandaged biceps and chest. The blanket is drawn up his torso and it's soft beneath your arms.

You fall asleep.

There's a hand patting gently at your hair, fingers sliding through the strands as you slowly blink yourself awake a few hours later. "Hey, sleepyhead," Soshiro's voice is low and a little rough. "What're ya doin' here?"

Someone's drawn the blinds shut, but sunlight filters into the room and makes his red eyes glow. You blink. "I'm here for you."

Soshiro's mouth twists. "You should be sleepin' in your own bed, sweetheart. I'm fine."

Your hand clenches into a fist on his blanket and his gaze drops to it. "You almost died, sir."

He stops petting your hair and reaches for your hand instead, tangling your fingers together and pressing his palm to yours. Your face warms at the rough scrape of his callouses against the sensitive skin of your hand. "That's nothin' new," he murmurs. He looks at you again and you can't bring yourself to look away. "We're Defense Force officers."

"You — you're more than just a Defense Force officer, sir," you choke out.

"Right, right, I'm a Vice Captain."

"Yes, but. Sir, you're also…"

Soshiro's gaze sharpens. "What's with the formalities, sweetheart? You called me by my name earlier, didn't ya?"

Your face feels like it's on fire. He heard that??

"You were asleep!"

"I was a lil drowsy on painkillers, but I heard ya loud and clear," Soshiro smirks. "C'mon. Lemme hear it."

You stare at him. He can't be serious.

Soshiro's smirk softens into something a little hesitant, a little nervous. "C'mon. I wanna hear my girlfriend say it."

Oh.

"Soshiro…"

His smile lights up the room. "Yeah?"

"Soshiro," you're blushing so hard it's a minor miracle nothing's caught on fire. "I'm gonna kiss you now."

He laughs and tugs you closer by your clasped hands. You plant your free hand beside his shoulder and hover above him awkwardly, mindful of his many bandages and the cotton taped to his cheek. "Well?"

"Shut up, or I'll dump you," you mumble, eyes darting from his eyes to his lips. You feel his free hand come up to slide around the back of your neck, drawing you closer. He laughs into your mouth as you pause, mere breaths away.

"Don't be mean," he murmurs. "I just wanna kiss my girlfriend."

[fanfic-obsessed]

For the Republic

Here’s an order 66 fix it that is the confluence of several coincidental misunderstandings. Also why outsourcing your brainwashing is overall a bad idea. 

Let's set the stage, ok?

The first misunderstanding is relatively simple, near the beginning of the war.  A case of similar words causing confusions that is never cleared up.  In this case a series of conversations between various clones and their Jedi about the Jedi’s relationship with the Republic. These conversations leave the Clones, all of them, convinced that the Jedi Order belongs to the Republic, instead of being part of the Republic. You know, in the same way that the Clones belong to the Republic (No matter which side you argue is true, this was not what the Jedi meant). This confusion is so deep that when Slick betrays them all to Ventress, his rants are specifically toward the Republic, and do not mention the Jedi Order at all.   

The second misunderstanding is a bit more complex. It starts with the earliest flash training for the clones, the basics that are pushed so deep that none of the clones have any conscious memory of them, but are buried in the subconscious. Along with the Orders that would be enforced by the chips, there was the phrase ‘Jedi have Power’.  There are other trainings that get layered on top of it, but in the deepest part of the Clone psyche the most basic definition that they have for Jedi is ‘Jedi have Power’. But Power, as a term, is an abstract that can mean so many things.   And though they never realized it, the Trainers and Jango Fett and the Kaminoans taught the Clones a very specific definition of Power.  Power cannot be had by someone who belongs to the Republic and Power only belongs to those who use it (specifically those who use it to abuse others). 

By that definition their Generals and their Padawan Commanders and what is known as the Jedi Order are not Jedi. Instead the Clones view these beings as brothers (having very little grasp of gender) of a higher rank. Again this knowledge is buried so deep the Clones do not realize they think this.  It is instinct. Frankly the distinction is somewhat subtle, and is closer to how the Jedi wish to be treated (without the higher rank part) so no one notices the shift.

When Umbara happens the anger that the clones feel toward Krell is not the disbelieving anger of an idol's pedestal crumbling, but the same anger felt for Slick’s betrayal. 

When Order 66 happens, the Jedi become traitors. Except…the people that Palpatine intended to be killed were not considered to be Jedi. For Jedi had to have Power, and Power only belonged to those who were free, and only those who showed their Power. 

The way that many of the Natborn officers did. 

So the Clones immediately turned their weapons on the Naval officers who had been abusive, primarily to Clones or Jedi, but also some instances of civilian abuse as well. 

On Coruscant, Anakin begins to lead the 501st to march on the temple. Only, as soon as they realized where they were headed, they stopped their general, confused. There are no Jedi there, they say.   Anakin says something about Palpatine having the Power to save Padme. This leads Appo to the conclusion that Palpatine is a Jedi Traitor, who has done something to their General (which yes, but also no). The 501st stuns Anakin, with some taking him to the temple for deprogramming, or whatever needs to be done to counteract whatever the Jedi Traitors did. 

The rest march back into the Rotunda to hunt the Jedi Traitor Palpatine. They are met by Fox, who shrugs and goes with them (with his own platoon of CG) without argument when Appo says that Palpatine is a Jedi.  The active chips do muffle the Clones in the Force, a deliberate feature that Palpatine never thought could be used against him. 

So Palpatine, the shiny new Emperor, is Emperor for about 20 minutes before he is shot through with so many bolts that he is basically left a goo on the floor. This bypasses every single one of his backup plans, many of which could not be fully put in place until he was Emperor, so there is no ‘Palpatine returns’.

 At the temple roughly a dozen members of the 501st enter the Healing Halls, carrying a stunned Anakin Skywalker. Even stunned the healers can tell he is in some kind of mental breakdown. The healers (who do filter out anything that is not helpful o figuring out what is wrong with their patients, so ignore the whole ‘Palpatine the Jedi traitor’ thing) take from what the troopers have to say that they believe that Anakin may be possessed by something and that he is worrying about Padme Amidala’s health, both of which are causing the breakdown.  

So Padme is collected by the rest of the 501st and brought to the healing halls, and it is decided that Anakin will be kept unconscious until his former Master, Obi WAn,  is back on planet (if he is possessed then having his loved ones there is the best bet for breaking through and of Anakin’s loved one Obi wan would be the best equipped to not be killed). The healers, upon seeing Padme’s pregnancy, insist on a full exam. During this exam it is discovered that, due to a growth on her pelvic bone, a natural birth would likely be fatal to her and possibly the children (I do love the idea that Palpatine was feeding Anakin those visions, or that the visions were caused by Palpatine or Anakin causing Padme’s death, but it is also interesting to think that the visions were legitimate and the cause was something natural). Padme is scolded for not seeking out proper prenatal care, which would have noted the problem. The healers schedule her for an induced c section closer to her due date and ask that she check in daily (or sooner if she starts feeling anything weird) to make sure there is nothing else.

 The Coruscant Guard continues to hunt through the Senate for ‘Jedi’, of which there is less than you would think. Yes a couple of hundred who meet the clone definition, but that is out of more that 100,000 beings in the building at any one time (with almost 25,000 systems represented, if  assume an average of 2 senators per system, that is 50,000 senators. With a retinue of aids, guards, interns, and others that easily clears into 100,000). 

And there is just…so much confusion (I find that I love pairing ‘Order 66 happened differently’ with ‘and everyone is confused’, it gives me great joy). 

 From the point of view of the Jedi, between on moment and the next the clones decided it was time to mutiny and the only explanation that is given is ‘The Jedi are traitors, we must kill the traitors’ as the clones continuously fail to shoot any Jedi (Like even the stormtroopers of canon do not fail to hit their stated targets this badly), though the clones have shot many people.  

From the point of view of the Senate, between one moment and the next the Clones chose high treason with no explanation (Because no one conscious on Coruscant knew that Palpatine was a Sith and the beings that knew about the chips and Order 66 ended up pretty high on the ‘Traitor Jedi’ list and killed).   

In the Force, and the Manda, respectively, Palpatine and Jango Fett were watching this happening with their own confusion. This was not the plan. 

 The Generals do eventually get an order to the clones to capture instead of kill the ‘Jedi traitors’.  By this point the Coruscant Guard had cleared the Senate and were just starting to descend levels of Coruscant in search of Jedi traitors. It is not too long after this that Mace Windu is found and brought back to the Temple, near death.  They also figure out why the Clones do not consider the Jedi, Jedi. It is decided that they cannot correct the Jedi definition issue until they figure out the ‘shoot the Jedi’ issue. 

In this version the chips do not do anything to the personalities or memories of the clones, they simply reinforce the flash training for the Orders and remove any ability to disobey. 

With the 212th, Obi Wan had spent a decent amount of time over the course of the war finding excuses to get rid of nat born officers that treated the clones as less than sentient. With his mindset of ‘a certain point of view’ he was pretty successful. There were still a handful in the higher command (the higher the officer was in the command structure, the harder it was to get rid of them) but none of the natborn officers that would be on the ground, or even in communication with the forces on Utapau.  Though the activation of the chips and the death that followed caused a bit of a shiver in the Force, it was not the screaming darkness of Canon and was lost in the madness of battle.  

So it was not until they were being transported back to the Resolute that Cody, quite proudly, announced that the Jedi traitors had been routed from the 212th.  Obi Wan had questions.  Cody answered with things that explained nothing 

Obi Wan: Jedi…Traitors?

Cody (nodding): The Jedi have been discovered as traitors to the Republic, Sir,  a kill on sight order is now in effect.

Obi Wan: I don’t remember anyone trying to kill me?

Boil (Visibly offended, even through his bucket): You’re no Jedi, general.

Obi Wan: I’m…I’m not?

Every Trooper on the ship in unison: Jedi have Power.

Obi Wan (Internally):What does that mean? WHAT DOES that mean? WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?

Cody (Now looking a little concerned): Sir, you've gone really pale. Do you need a medic? 

They head back for Coruscant.  On the way Obi Wan receives a series of messages.  First, there are no high council members currently conscious on Coruscant. There should have been five. Anakin had been stunned by his own trooper, is possibly possessed, and is being held unconscious just in case. Agen Kolar, Saesee Tiin, and Kit Fisto have simply vanished. Mace Windu had been missing but was found and is now in Bacta with extensive injuries sans one hand. 

No one had been told that those four members had been going to confront Palpatine and as soon as Palpatine had been killed (in a hallway), his office had been automatically locked down. So no one knows that behind the shielding are the bodies of three Jedi Masters. 

Second, not only was the 212th not the only battalion to commit some form of mutiny, the 501st and the Coruscant Guard had apparently abruptly decided that high treason was a reasonable action. All the while claiming that they are hunting Jedi Traitors (with not a single person they shot being a Jedi).  The senate had also apparently realized that without the Coruscant Guard, there is not enough manpower to stop the Clones from killing whomever they wished (Much of the Senate had been so proud of the cost cutting measure of reducing the non clone security forces).

Third, since the remaining members of the council were spread throughout the galaxy (with Obi Wan being the closest), as soon as he arrived on Coruscant Obi Wan would be in charge of figuring out what was going on with the Clones, before the Senate found enough people to capture them. Then deal with the political clusterfuck of mutiny and high treason (as the Clones were considered part of the Order). Find time to help Anakin. 

Killing Grievous was supposed to give Obi Wan less to do, not more.  With the knowledge that there is something wrong with the Clones, he cannot even flirt with Cody (They had an understanding about exploring a romantic relationship after the war ended, but as stress relief both would flirt back and forth and see how explicit they can get before someone called them on it-The only reason no one had yet is because the 212th had a bet going on CodyWan admitting they are together and no one wants to be disqualified by influencing the results).  

It should be made clear, Obi Wan still does not know at this point that Palpatine is the Sith. He does not know that there are chips in the clones. He has no idea that Anakin had chosen to fall (though it did not really go anywhere) and is likely going to wake up half willing to slaughter everyone. He doesn’t even really know that Padme is a week away from being induced (still early but the healers do not want to wait any longer).

So even as he is contemplating everything on his plate, Obi Wan does not even know the half of it. 

By the time Shaak Ti, who had to corral Kamino (in which roughly half the Kaminoans in Tipoca city and a third of the remaining trainers were accused of being Jedi by both the battalion stationed there and the cadets), is back in contact, the bodies of the missing Masters were found.  She is the one to float the idea of a malfunction to the chips (the report about Tup and Fives was still in the ‘to be reviewed’ queue for the Jedi Council-The Council is about 12-18 months behind on reviewing mission reports).  

The news of the chips…does not make things better.

[unexpectedtechnicality]

4 Times Cody Felt Obi-wan Use the Force, and 1 Time it Was Someone Else

This is the first time I’ve published a fic! But I got very excited for Cody day and quickly finished up this little wip I had going.

Rating: T to be safe, Cody gets pretty injured at one point, but nothing is very graphic.

Light Codywan, about 4,900 words.

I’m very new to this, please let me know if there’s anything I should be tagging!

1.

Rex, Cody decided, was a liar. Rex had fought on Geonosis. He claimed the jedi were astonishing warriors, brilliant strategists, excellent all around. 

Well, maybe the problem wasn’t Rex’s integrity. After all, he hadn’t met his general until after the Battle of Geonosis. And he had never met Cody’s for that matter.

Not that High General Kenobi wasn’t an astonishing warrior, brilliant strategist, or seemingly excellent all around kind of guy. Just…Skywalker had gotten it somewhere, and “somewhere” was starting to sound a lot like “Kenobi.”

The original plan had been solid. Cody honestly couldn't have improved upon it. The problem had come when the charges went off early, cutting off their narrow rock bridge back to the Negotiator and stranding Cody and the general on the other side. 

Technically that wasn’t the general’s fault. But if they had left a few minutes earlier…

“I’ve got an idea.”

Cody’s musing was interrupted by the general, who was staring off the edge of the cliff into the mist. 

“Sir?”

“The canyon leads back around to the rendezvous point, it’s just a few kliks further.”

Cody stared at him. He couldn't really mean–

The general looked up serenely. “We’ll have to jump.”

Cody peered down into the mist. The ground was not visible. “Sir, we have no idea how far down it is.”

“It’s perfectly alright Commander. Just a slight detour.”

Sensible, Rex had said. They’re good leaders, they think things through. Cody was never listening to a word his brother said again. 

Blaster fire sounded somewhere behind them. Kenobi smiled. “Now or never, Commander. I’ll go first, wait about 10 seconds and then jump.” 

Before Cody could protest, he was gone. Kriff. His general had just committed suicide rather than be taken by the enemy and expected Cody to follow. This couldn’t be what the Kaminoans meant when they said good soldiers followed orders. What the kriff! 

“Jump, Commander!” The general’s voice floated up from below, almost like it was too far to be heard properly. Had he even heard it at all?

A full platoon of droids appeared behind him. Cody glanced at them, weighed his options, cursed his short existence, his general, and Rex for good measure, then jumped.

He plummeted through the mist, tense, waiting for the crunch of his bones against the rocky floor. But before he could reach the bottom, the air seemed to condense around him. It was as though time slowed down. The mist thickened, and it nearly felt like he fell softly into a net, like he was still in drop training. Something felt familiar about it. Like someone he knew, or–

The mist cleared and there, a few feet below him was General Kenobi, hand outstretched and brow furrowed in concentration. Gently, he lowered Cody until his feet were on the ground, and the strange feeling surrounding him dissipated.

Kenobi grinned. “See? Perfectly fine.”

Cody could only nod vaguely, slightly stunned. “Yes….ah, sir.”

“Now come on, we don’t want to keep our men waiting, do we?”

Cody smiled, and despite his bucket still being on his head, it felt like Kenobi knew. “No, sir.”

2.

Cody jolted awake, his comm blaring. It was his off shift, and they were slow traveling through neutral space. What could have possibly happened in the few short hours he had to sleep? He scrubbed a hand over his face and glanced to his left, where his chest plate was floating next to the lumpy pillow from—

Hang on. 

Suddenly very awake, Cody surveyed the room to discover that something had happened to the artificial gravity on the ship and he was now floating in the middle of his quarters surrounded by his own armor and meager belongings. 

Just great. 

I’m assigning every man in maintenance to latrines for a month if this is someone’s idea of a practical joke. 

Cody located his comm, floating a few meters away near the door. Angling himself that way, he kicked his feet and swam the best he could with his arms. After a few minutes, he managed to grab it and stop the infernal beeping. 

“Go for Cody,” he snapped. 

“Ah! Commander, sorry to wake you. We have a bit of a…situation.”

“You don’t say.”

He could practically hear the smile in Kenobi’s voice. “Yes, well, if you could meet me on the bridge?”

Cody rolled his eyes. “Yes, sir.”

Putting on his armor proved to be quite a challenge when all of it was floating in a different corner of the room. Cody ended up kicking off every wall, and the ceiling several times just to get kitted up. It took far longer than normal. Every time he wasn’t intentionally moving, he was drifting. 

Slapping the control for the door while speeding at it was probably not the best strategy, but luckily it opened before he could slam into it. Then Cody began the arduous task of propelling himself to the bridge. Eventually he settled into a bit of a rhythm: kick off a doorway or wall, attempt to “swim” the right direction, then give up and desperately flap about until the destination was reached. Rinse and repeat. 

The way to the bridge passed the mess hall, as well as several busy corridors. He passed brothers who seemed to be moving with ease through the space, tumbling slowly through the air, gliding from one doorway to the next. He passed Waxer and Boil as he flailed his way past the mess, both of whom took one look at him and burst out laughing. 

KP for a week shut them up quickly enough. 

When the bridge was finally in sight, Cody had just about had enough. The door slid open to admit him, presenting one of the strangest things he had ever seen. 

The bridge was the picture of order. Officers floated near their work stations, calmly anchoring themselves with one hand or foot tucked into a chair or railing. As he watched, an engineer pushed off the central holo table and soared gracefully to the hyperdrive console, inputting numbers from above with ease. 

At the center of it all, floating upside down with his robes billowing around him like a flower, was General Kenobi. When he saw Cody, gripping the doorway for dear life and gaping beneath his helmet, Kenobi smiled and lifted a hand, beginning to slowly turn himself upright to his usual spot on the walkway. 

Cody gave himself a little shove, aimed for his typical spot next to the general, and crossed his fingers. 

“Good to have you, Commander. As you can see, we got into a minor skirmish with a passing neutral envoy. We came to a temporary truce, but I’m still in discussion with them to see if they will continue to attempt to blow us out of the sky. One of their shots knocked out our artificial gravity.”

Cody was struggling to keep himself near the general. His initial push had gotten him nearly where he wanted to be, but he was drifting forward. He tucked in slightly, trying to roll himself back.

“I would like your opinion on a plan of attack should it be necessary. Over half the battalion is on rest right now, and I’d hate to rouse them.”

His roll had failed. Now Cody was drifting upwards to Kenobi’s right, slowly turning away from him. Letting out a frustrated groan, Cody attempted to twist himself back to rights. 

“One option would be to— Cody?”

“Sorry, sir. Give me a minute.” He renewed his twisting efforts with more vigor. How was Kenobi staying in one place when— oh. The kriffing force. “General, uh. Would you mind—?”

“Oh! My apologies Cody. Yes, one moment.”

A light, warm pressure materialized at his right hip, then his left, and he began to turn to face the general and drift down to stand next to him. It was almost as if someone had put their hand– no, not someone. Kenobi. It was most definitely Kenobi’s hands resting comfortably at Cody’s waist, and now anchoring him to the floor. He turned to look at the general, and found his face much closer than expected, eyes seeming to bore right through his visor.

Cody felt his face heat under his bucket. “Uh. Yes. Thank you, sir.”

The general cleared his throat. Was it Cody’s imagination, or was he blushing too? “Of course, commander. Can’t have you floating away, now, can we?”

Force-Kenobi’s hands stayed comfortably at Cody’s sides the rest of the battle, and Cody…found he didn’t really mind. 

3.

His ears were ringing. Cody blinked, trying to clear his vision. What—?

There was a blast somewhere to his right. Instinctively, he tried to curl up to protect his head. Fire erupted across his left side, shoulder to knee, ripping a ragged scream from his throat. He flopped back onto his back, gasping for air. He must have been hit by a blast earlier. No way to tell how long ago.

“There!”

A med speeder pulled up next to him, and Neat, one of their junior medics hopped off.

“Don’t worry commander, we’ve got you.”

Last I remember Obi– the general was by me. The thought sent adrenaline spiking through his veins, pain forgotten.

“Neat.”

“Sir?”

“The…the general, he–”

“He’s safe, sir, please don’t move.”

Neat began running a scanner down his side, but Cody needed visual confirmation on Obi-wan. Obi-wan. He had asked him to call him Obi-wan, alone in his quarters, just a week earlier. If something had happened to him before Cody could figure out—

“Cody!”

Obi-wan came skidding to a halt next to their little party and dropped to his knees beside Cody. “There you are,” he panted. “Neat?”

Neat scowled. “He won’t lie still,” he griped, as Cody pushed up on his elbows to check if Obi-wan was hurt. “Sir, please—“

Finishing his once-over of Obi-wan (a few scratches and bruises but otherwise unharmed, unfairly he seemed to be glowing slightly in the setting sun), Cody finally let himself relax. “Sorry, Neat. Go ahead.”

As Neat did his scan, Obi-wan sent him a slightly reproachful look. “You took the brunt of the blast, Commander, not me. I’m perfectly fine.” He glanced at Cody’s side, brow furrowing.

The pain was starting to creep back, like several hot pokers lined up against his side. Cody leaned his head back against the ground. “Had to be sure. Couldn’t remember.”

Obi-wan frowned, looking even more worried, and the scanner beeped to indicate a finished report. 

Neat swore. “There’s a lot of shrapnel in his side. He’s loosing a lot of blood. I need to remove what I can to staunch the bleeding now and then get him back to base to get the rest out. Possibly put him in bacta.”

Cody was starting to get worried. He tried to look down at the wound, but Obi-wan stopped him with a gentle hand under his chin. “It’ll be fine, Cody.”

Cody. They’d agreed no first names during battle (though Cody wasn’t counting the sanctity of his own mind, the one thing that was truly his own), if Obi-wan was calling him Cody, it was bad.

“General, I’m going to start operating, I might need you to help hold him down.”

Obi-wan shifted, taking Cody’s right hand in his own and holding tight. “Ready.”

Cody braced himself, but when Neat first started prodding at his knee he couldn’t hold back the grunt, gripping Obi-wan’s hand and twitching away from the pain. Neat waiting half a second, then started back in. Every touch felt like a brand, or like the time he had picked up the wrong end of a smoking blaster as a cadet. There were tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. 

Obi-was rested his arm across Cody’s chest to keep him still.

Neat continued his field surgery. “This one’s in deeper. Take a breath, commander.”

Cody tried to do as he was told, but it was like a lance shot through his thigh. He bucked against Obi-wan’s hold, and Neat swore again as everything was jostled.

“General,” Neat pleaded. 

“One moment.” Obi-wan shifted, moving so Cody’s head was resting on his knees. “I’m going to try something different. Cody?”

Cody nodded, hissing through his teeth, trying to ride out the pain. He watched above him as Obi-wan closed his eyes, letting out a slow breath.

The strange sensation of the air solidifying around him that Cody was beginning to recognize as the force surrounded him. A warm feeling, like a heavy, plush blanket pressed down around him. Experimentally, he tried to shift his right leg, and found that aside from breathing, he couldn’t move at all.

It’s should have alarmed him. But the soft, warm feeling wasn’t suffocating…it was comforting. It felt familiar, like the net had, and the hands when the artificial gravity had been broken. Like he was wrapped in a blanket of Obi-wan, or his presence, or something. He vaguely registered Obi-wan telling Neat to continue. Obi-wan rested one hand on the side of Cody’s head, cradling his face, the other supporting the back of his head, and Cody let himself relax into the touch.

The pain was still there, in his leg, now moving up toward his hip, but it seemed…muted. He blinked up at Obi-wan, the picture of serenity.

Alright?

If he could have, Cody would have jumped at Obi-wan’s voice in his head. But it just seemed…natural.

Yes, he thought.

Sorry, I should have asked if this was okay. I was worried.

It’s okay. It’s…nice, actually.

Neat had reached his side now, the familiar cool feeling of bacta covering his thigh. One tug made Cody flinch, and the force-blanket pressed down a little tighter, like he was wrapped up in a bedroll.

The warm, safe feeling was still present all over, but it was starting to condense in one spot, right at the base of his skull, under Obi-wan’s finger. A little bright spot, almost like someone had turned on a light in his brain somehow. It felt right though, especially in his slightly woozy state, so Cody didn’t question it.

Obi-wan and Neat were talking above him, but Cody couldn’t quite make out the words. That was alright, he thought. They would take care of him. Obi-wan said something that almost looked like “sleep.”

A nap didn’t really sound bad. Maybe he’d just shut his eyes for a few minutes. Obi-wan smiled down at him.

I’ll be there when you wake up.

And he was. Everything back to normal. The blanket-feeling was gone. But if Cody really concentrated, he could still feel that little spark in the base of his skull. The little spark that felt like Obi-wan.

4.

At this point, Cody wasn’t even surprised when he and Obi-wan were separated from the rest of the men during the battle. This time, it had been a strange feeling in the force that Obi-wan had insisted on following, leading them through a strange cave system in the middle of the gigantic jungle that may have once been a temple of some kind. It had allowed them to sneak behind enemy lines and take out the tactical droid, allowing the 212th to finish the battle with relative ease, however, the feeling had also gone away quickly after, and Cody was beginning to think Obi-wan did not, as he claimed, remember the way back.

“The left tunnel. I’m sure of it.”

“Are you sure we haven’t been this way before, sir?”

“I thought we agreed on first names when we were alone, Cody.” Obi-wan set off down the left tunnel.

Cody snorted, but followed him, helmet clacking against his thigh plate where it was clipped at his hip. “We did. However we are technically on duty, and you’re being a stubborn bantha. Sir.”

Obi-wan turned with an expression of mock outrage. “Me? Stubborn? My dear commander, I have no idea what you’re talking about. Have you no faith in me?”

He gestured in front of them, and sure enough, there was finally light at the end of the tunnel. Cody just shook his head, smiling.

They emerged into the massive, muggy jungle and Cody immediately booted up his comm and nav, which hadn’t been working in the caverns anyway. The map of the surface he had downloaded popped up, with the little orange beacon marking their base. Several kliks away. 

“I thought we entered the caves just a klik from camp?”

Obi-wan frowned. “We did. Where are we now?”

Cody lifted his arm to show him. “You’re sure you didn’t get turned around in there?”

“Of course not, clearly the caves changed,” Obi-wan said primly. “Well, I suppose we could go back in.”

“Absolutely not. We are staying out here and following the route back. It’s the same distance, just with sunlight.”

They walked in companionable silence through the giant trees for a while, stopping every so often to check the map. They must have passed at least a dozen trees with trunks so wide Cody couldn’t see the other side before he broke the silence.

“Obi-wan, can I ask you something?” The other man nodded. “A little while back, when I was injured and you…helped Neat operate, I think something else might have happened.”

“What do you mean?”

“While you were…talking in my head, it started to feel like there was…a spot. A light? A little patch of warmth, right at the base of my skull. And afterwards, when I was out of bacta, it was still there. It is still there. At first I thought maybe it was something medical, but Neat scanned me again and said everything was normal. The more I thought about it, the more I tried to…interact with it, I guess, the more I realized…it feel like you. Like you inside my head somehow.”

Obi-wan looked pensive. “Fascinating.”

“Do you know what it is? It doesn’t feel harmful.”

They waded through a small stream, and Obi-wan offered Cody his hand to pull him up onto the far bank.

“In the Jedi Order, master and padawan pairs typically form a force bond. A link that lets them communicate directly with each other, often feel what the other is feeling, form a deeper relationship with that person. Usually, it’s only possible for someone force sensitive to form bonds.”

Cody pushed a branch out of their way as they climbed over some roots. He could see where this was going. “But clones aren’t force sensitive, so…that’s not what this is.”

Obi-wan hummed. “I’ve heard of a few rare exceptions. The force is in all things, Cody.”

After a few minutes, Cody worked up the courage to ask. “Do you feel anything? In your head?”

“It’s difficult to tell. I do feel quite strongly about you, but I can feel you externally in the force. I also have several other bonds. Anakin and I never fully dissolved our training bond, and I have a small bond with Ashoka as well. I have a different type of bond with Quinlan, and sometimes I can still feel the remains of my bond with Qui-gon. I suspect it would be easier to tell if we communicated through the force but you and I never seem to have the need,” he said, smiling gently at Cody.

Cody smiled back, and some of the anxiety he hadn’t even realized he was feeling melted away. He glanced down at his map. “Should be just over this ridge.”

They came over the top of the hill together, and Cody had to bite back a groan of frustration. In front of them was a downed tree, one of the super massive ones with the unimaginably wide trunks. The sun was going down. They didn’t have time to go around, and the trunk was so high Cody wasn’t sure they could climb over. His mind raced, trying to come up with a solution.

“Ah,” Obi-wan said, surveying the surrounding area. “I suppose we have to guess which was is shorter. We went left before, this time maybe we go—“

“Throw me.”

“I’m sorry?”

Cody grinned. “We go straight over. I run, and jump, and you throw me. Then you leap over after. We use the force.”

Obi-wan grinned back. “I don’t always say I believe in destiny, but surely Cody, you were sent to me straight from the force. Ready?”

Cody backed up, setting his stance. He was going to aim right for the center of the span of trunk in front of them. He nodded to Obi-wan, then took off running. Once he had reached top speed, he leapt into the air, and watched the trunk fly closer to his face until—

A warm, sweet smelling breeze, like freshly brewed tea swept him up, carrying him up, up, and over the trunk. He was so high the LAAT/is at the base below him looked like small animals, surrounded by swarms of tiny ant-troopers packing up to fly back to the Negotiator. Laughing, Cody did a somersault in the air as he flew over the tree, then spread his arms like he was parachuting and let the Obi-wan-wind carry him all the way to the ground, where he tumbled into the grass, still giddy.

A moment later, Obi-wan landed, cat-like, next to him, and helped him to his feet, laughing and pushing wind-swept hair out of his eyes. 

“You’re right commander, that was much more fun than going around.”

+ 1

Cody crept through the hallway, blaster pointed ahead of him. A light flashed on his HUD, Boil checking in. Waxer was due in 5 minutes, then Wooley. They’d set up a rotating check in system as they fanned out to scour the seemingly abandoned ship they’d been sent to investigate. If you asked Cody, splitting up was just asking for trouble, especially since no one was with his trouble magnet of a general. But it was the quickest way to get them out of here, so he’d acquiesced. 

Something rattled behind a door as he passed. He sighed, then pressed himself up against the wall, out of sight, and keyed the door open. Nothing jumped out, so he peeked around the corner.

It was a medium sized storage bay, and he was suddenly very thankful his door was obscured by crates, as he could hear vague voices coming from somewhere else in the room. The door slid silently shut behind him as he slipped in, trying to find a vantage point to see who was there through the crates.

He found a reasonably defendable spot in the corner and considered updating his men, but when he brought up his comm system it was like there was some sort of interference. Strange. No matter, they had his last location and his next check in was in only a few minutes, so someone would come join him eventually.

Through a gap in the crates, he could just make out two figures, one in a cloak and speaking to another cloaked figure who– oh. One figure, one hologram. Strange. They’d found no sign of crew aboard this vessel. He turned up his mic, trying to make out what they were saying.

“...plan has worked perfectly. They’ve already arrived,” the hologram was saying.

“Then they will soon be dead,” the other replied, and Cody’s blood ran cold. He suddenly had a very, very bad feeling about this mission. He knew that voice.

“I will leave you to your work.” The figure standing in the cargo bay removed her hood and knelt, confirming Cody’s suspicion.

Ventress.

Kriff. He had to get out of here, or signal his men, Obi-wan. He checked the time. His check in had passed two minutes ago, they’d be getting worried now. Slightly frantic, he tapped at his comm, willing it to work. What was the point of the kriffing antenna on his shoulder if he couldn’t get through? He remembered what Wolffe had looked like when he visited him in the med center after his encounter with Ventress. He couldn’t face her alone. 

The crates surrounding him suddenly blasted away, leaving him exposed in his little corner. Cody looked up to find Ventress stalking straight towards him.

“Poor little clone, where did your friends go?”

Cody leapt to his feet, blaster already primed to shoot, when a wall of pure something slammed into him, forcing him to drop his blaster and throwing him against the wall behind him. Immediately he scrambled to get up, but Ventress threw one hand out, and a freezing cold vice closed around his throat, lifting him off the ground.

He clawed at the invisible grip, but there was nothing there. He choked, straining to get a breath, but it was pointless. She dragged him through the air, until he was just a few inches from her face. Cody’s bucket floated itself off his head, flying away and clattering to the ground somewhere. The pressure on his neck eased ever so slightly, and Cody sucked in as much air as he could before it tightened again.

“Aren’t you a handsome one?” Ventress crooned, tracing one fingernail down his scar in a grotesque facsimile of how Obi-wan sometimes did when– focus, Cody. “Now. As much as I’d love to just kill you and get on with it, you know what part of the ship our dear Kenobi is on, don’t you?”

Cody tried to jerk away from the clawed fingers tracing his temples, but found the ice cold vice had spread to his entire body. He could breathe now, barely, but he couldn’t move even a single muscle. It was nothing like when Obi-wan had used the force around him before. That was…gentle, personal, it felt safe. This was anything but. Never before had Cody understood the raw power force users had at their disposal. It wanted to rip him limb from limb. Fear gnawed at his stomach. If only his comm had worked–

“Somewhere in that head of yours, we just have to find it.”

In his head. That was it! Desperately, as Ventress bared her teeth, Cody reached for the last warm spot on his being– a force bond, Obi-wan had called it. HELP, he thought, OBI–

Pain like he had never felt erupted from his temples, and he vaguely registered Ventress laughing as twin ice picks drove themselves through his skull, behind his eyes, in his brain, in whatever it was inside him that made him, him. 

Cody screamed, frozen in the air, no way to escape as she tore through his mind, looking for whatever it was she wanted, Cody couldn’t remember any more. There was only the freezing, burning pain.

It could have been hours, could have been minutes, but without warning, the pain stopped, and Cody found himself flying through the air and into the far wall. Pressure like a million duracrete bricks immobilized him a few feet off the ground, limbs splayed out like a pinned bug. Blinking the haze out of his eyes, he was confronted with two blurry forms whirling around the room; red and blue lights flashing. As his vision finally cleared he could make out Ventress, locked in combat with–

Thank the stars, Obi-wan. There was a fierce expression on his face as he met Ventress blow for blow. As Cody watched, Obi-wan glanced his way for a split second, then went back to the fight with renewed vigor. Unable to do anything, Cody found his eyes drifting shut.

He woke a short time later when he tumbled to the ground in a heap, the force holding him to the wall having vanished. Obi-wan was hurrying over to him from across the room, Ventress presumably having run away. Cody groaned.

“Full evac, effective immediately. I’ll meet you back at the ship with the commander,” Obi-was was saying into his comm, several tinny “yessirs” echoing out of it. 

“Cody, are you alright?”

Cody carefully felt along his throat with one hand. “Fine, I think. How–” he grimaced. His body felt like one giant bruise. He was still freezing. “How did you find me?”

Obi-was smiled wanly. “You called. I suppose it is a force bond, and does work both ways, though I can think of several other ways we could have tested it without you being in mortal peril.”

“I’ll try to remember that for next time.”

Obi-wan shook his head, reaching one hand out to the side. Cody’s bucket flew into it like it was magnetized, and Obi-wan carefully fit it back over his head, then gently pulled him to his feet. Cody half-expected Obi-wan to call on the force and simply levitate him back to their ship, but instead he hefted Cody’s over his shoulder and wrapped his own around his waist. His other hand came up to support Cody’s chest.

Cody leaned into him as they trudged back to the ship, letting Obi-wan take a fair amount of his weight.

“For the record,” he said, “I like it much better when you’re the one throwing me around with the force.”

“Careful commander,” Obi-wan teased, raising an eyebrow, “If someone hears you say that they might get the wrong idea.”

Cody glared at him, and concentrated all his effort on lifting one arm to smack him lightly in the chest. Obi-wan laughed, and Cody felt the world slide back into place around him.

“But yes, Cody, I much prefer that also.”

[bleedingintogold]

The medic leaned over his captain, wiping away the sweat on his forehead with a damp cloth. The man himself was out cold, as he had been for the past day. Tan skin had become a pale shade and a strong body had been reduced to a limp shell of itself. Heavy breathing became the only thing that showed he was still alive and struggling to be.

He wasn't getting better.

The wound had festered and the infection must have gotten into his bloodstream. Medic had been too late to notice and the captain had been too occupied trying to keep as many of his men alive as he could whilst completing their mission. The platoon stopped advancing yesterday when their captain collapsed right in front of them.

But the general had had enough. One man wasn't enough reason to abandon their assignment.

"He can't even sit up by himself, sir! He won't survive if we-" "We aren't bringing him. He will stay here," "With all due respect sir, this platoon needs their medic with them-" "I said that your captain is staying here. Not you," The medic's heart dropped when the general's words started to register. He was being ordered to leave behind his captain. His brother by everything but blood. "Look at him, medic. I doubt he will still be alive by tommorow. You're wasting your supplies," "General! He isn't dead yet! He just needs time-" "Time that we do not have, soldier. We will move by sunrise tommorow. We are advancing without him,"

A small whine answered the general before the medic could, making both men turn to the weak body on the cot. The general sighs as he walks to the young man's side, placing a gentle hand on a too warm forehead. The captain's eyes were hardly open, but he was conscious and had heard the whole conversation. "I'm sorry, son. You were a good soldier and one of my best men. But this mission is of higher importance," "My men...take care of 'em, sir," "I will. For your own good, you need to let go. You don't need to hold on anymore, son. You've done your part," The medic's hand trembled as he watched the two high ranks.

"m' sorry, sir...dying...is not as easy as I thought," "I know. Which is why I will help you. You don't have to suffer like this anymore, son," The general said as he passed the medic a small packet of white powder. "Sir?" "It's cyanide. Mix some into water and feed it to him tonight," "You're...you're asking me to kill him, sir?" "He's in pain, soldier. You're going to do him a favour,"

The captain was partially conscious now but he had seen the powder. Medic made the mistake of meeting the captain's eyes, seeing the fear in them under the haze of sickness. "I will allow you to bury him properly before we depart. Make sure it is done by sunrise," the general said before leaving the tent.

-----

Medic cradled his captain's upper torso, the mixed concoction of poison ready in a canteen. The captain's head laid limp against Medic's shoulder. Medic noticed that his captain was trembling.

No, wait. It was him.

He was trembling.

A weak voice pulled the medic out of his haze. "Medic...I...I don't want to die," a voice he didn't recognize said, soft but shaky. "But...you're in...pain. You won't survive anyway-" "I don't wanna die...please...I'm scared..."

Medic put the canteen down, instead wrapping his arms tightly around his captain. The captain was built bigger than medic, but he seemed incredibly small in his brother's arms. "Okay. Okay. You're not going to die, alright? I'm not...I won't do it," "But...the orders..." "Fuck the orders. I am a medic. Your medic. My task is to keep the men alive, not kill them,"

The captain didn't answer, savouring the warmth of his brother holding him.

[xokohaneazusawa]

- Being a platoon leader of the second division was nothing to sneeze at. I mean of course you weren’t the captain, or even the vice captain, but you were still in charge of quite a few people who were constantly waiting on orders anytime you headed into battle, but at the end of the day, you were just a simple person. One that happened to catch the attention of the infamous First division captain, Gen Narumi. Lucky or not for you. You had only met the guy a couple times, and never once did you actually have the chance to talk to him 1on1, and the only other time you heard about him was when your division captain, Jura Igarashi, was complaining about him at the last meeting. He did seem a little funny, hearing how he always had to have the last word and was constantly picking fights with others. It wasn’t until the day the second division and first division had to pair up on a mission that you ever actually got to talk to him. It wasn’t often that you would see the second and first division working together, normally they would take care of things themselves, but with the rise in Kaiju numbers, missions were getting more and more difficult to take care of with only one division. The day of the mission was quite.. Hectic… to say the least. It started off okay, but the second Narumi opened his mouth to give an order he was shut down by Igarashi and they just kept going back and forth until Hasegawa and the second division vice captain shut them down. So when everybody was released there wasn’t a set in motion plan which is how you ended up in this situation, stuck in the basement of a building. All the exits blocked, with only one other person. Division Captain Narumi. The room was silent besides the footsteps echoing as you both tried to find any sort of exit, or soft spot that you could create an exit from. Within a couple minutes, and checking most of the spots around the walls you groaned and leaned back against one of the walls. “..Sorry, Commander Narumi..” He turned over his shoulder to look at you for a second. “It’s whatever. Your commander is the real issue; Why is she so.. Ugh” He turned his attention to the blocked staircase. “Say… Platoon leader {Last Name}...” You looked back up at him, a little shocked. How did he even know your name? “Before you ask, I heard about you from Hasegawa, and maybe from me trying to find something I could use against Igarashi, but that’s not the point here.” He put up his hands, leaning his bayonet on the side of one of the walls, before making his way over towards you. “Ya know… You’re kinda cute… but only kinda.” He mumbled. It shocked you for a second, before you smiled. You had never once heard the captain Narumi ever say anything that nice to anybody. “Thanks… Maybe if we ever get out of here we can get together some time and talk..? Like when our lives aren’t in danger” You laughed slightly as he gave a small smile. “How do you feel about video games?”

Tag List - @nian-7

[mistyresolve]

| Malicious Compliance - Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!Reader

Word Count - 6k

Summary - After a near-miss on a mission Diver (reader) decides it might be time to reconcile with Ghost the next time they get a chance. Unfortunately (very fortunately), the next chance they get is when they are forced to take refuge in the world's smallest safe house. And Ghost had never been one for words so he shows his forgiveness in a more unorthodox way.   

Tags/Warnings - 18+ ONLY (mdni), explicit language and content, foreplay, size kink, slight breath play, he’s your superior and he’s all about you, p in v,    

A/N - yup, more porn with plot because it’s fun and i’ve been ✨inspired✨ 

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Ghost wasn’t in the wrong for being angry with you. He was one of the more reasonable LTs, but you tested his patience, questioned his authority, and disobeyed his orders. Not only that, but you disappointed him. You had completely disregarded his orders and nearly got yourself and a crew mate killed in the process. 

You were angry with yourself too. If it were just your life on the line you would have been smug, but you put another at risk. You prided yourself in your ability to get yourself out of any sticky situation, sometimes it was by the skin of your teeth. Hence the alias “Diver”. You received it from your first platoon leader because you dive into every risky situation. Usually, eyes closed. Usually, with no plan. And somehow came out the other side every time.  

Usually, you got a yelling at and the occasional latrine duty.    

This time was different. As soon as the team landed back on base Ghost stalked over to you. He ripped the rifle out from your hands and shoved you with enough force that you stumbled, barely catching yourself from falling. Oh, he was livid. 

“You forget yourself, Dive,” he tossed your gun back into the chopper and pressed onto you again, “Your recklessness is going to get someone killed one of these days. And you better hope that someone is you before it's anyone else.” 

The words stung, but he was right.  

“Get on the ground and give me a hundred,” he barked. He would write you up later tonight and inquire about other punishments.   

You dropped to the ground, your fingers splayed out on either side of you and waited for his go-head. 

“Hands together.” 

You shifted your hands closer together, creating a diamond shape with your fingers. The change would make the push up’s only a little harder but it would catch up with you eventually. 

“Down.”

You lowered your weight. 

“Up.” 

You raised yourself, arms snapping. 

“Down,” he repeated and you listened, eyes searing into the ground beneath you. When he you gave the command to continue on your own you did. Lowering yourself down, nose almost touching the ground. The breath that pushed out with every extension of your arms blew at the dusty pavement. Your movements were practiced and full of power. This wasn’t the first time you had to drop and give 100 since you had a bit of a reputation. 

You were on 30 when he growled, “Stop.” 

You paused, your nose to nose touching the floor and maintaining your body weight in the down position. 

“Restart and make sure you count this time” 

“One,” you blow out, not because of the exertion but because you yourself were angry. Each breath felt like it was stolen, “Two. Three. Four…” The muscles in your arms began to burn something sweet. You leaned into the pain, using it as a crutch to remain levelheaded. You earned the pain. You glared at the black boots that were planted two feet in front of you, “…Sixty nine. Seventy.” 

“That’s enough,” he was still angry, but he had places to be and watching you wasn’t a priority. He would take care of the rest and you later. 

You didn’t stop, wrenching your gaze to his. Temper simmering. Sweat beaded at your temples and dripped down your arms. Sweat droplets stained the pavement. You continued counting. He said 100. You were going to give him 100. 

He matched your glare, his own eyes narrowing on you, but he didn’t try stopping you again. Instead, he pivoted and left you there. Counting. You watched him leave, watched as he rolled his shoulders, trying to rid himself of his own fury. In the chopper, he looked like he wanted to throw you out the side and watch you freefall back to earth.   

You didn’t stop even when his form disappeared. Your teammates had been kind enough to leave with him, knowing you didn’t want the company. The last 15 push ups were the hardest and the slowest. For the last 5 you shook, strained, and ground your teeth together, gathering the last dregs of strength. When you hit the 100 you brought yourself to your knees, allowing time to catch your breath. 

The pilot was sitting on the side helicopter, your gun resting in her lap, “You deserve it?’ she questioned and held out the rifle for you. 

Breathless you say, “Yeah. Yeah, I did.”              

She might not have been there for the actual incident but she most definitely didn’t miss out on the aftermath, “Kinda wish I brought popcorn with me on missions. You guys always leave me with a show,” she kicked off the platform and added with a wide, fox-like smile, “Especially when he’s on board.”

It wouldn’t take a genius to discern that she was talking about Ghost, who had a certain affinity for the dramatics. You shrug a shoulder at her, grabbing your gun and picking up your day pack, “He and I don’t get along on the best of days, and I’m really good at pissing him off.” 

She hummed, “You better figure that one out before it gets to the point where he starts grounding you.” 

“What, give him flowers and an apology card?” 

“He seems like a chocolate kind of guy,” she started walking with you towards the hangar. She gave off the vibe that she thrived off the drama. Not in a nosey, malicious kind of way, but she would have no qualms about being a spectator. 

“He’d kick my ass if I did that,” and he would. He would kick your eyes just for bothering him with your presence. 

“If that’s what it takes for him to come around, let ‘em,” with that she parted from you, twiddling her fingers over her shoulder as a goodbye.

Mud splashed beneath your feet with every running step, it splashed up your pant leg and covered your boots. You had lost your guy's tail hours ago but it was still raining hard enough that you started running the last miles to the supposed safe house. You used the term house loosely because as you came up on the fire watch tower you had to double check with Ghost to make sure he had the right location. He assured you with a nod. 

The latter to the spiralling stairs had since been removed and he had to intertwine his fingers to give you a foothold and hoist you up to the platform. You reached for his day pack first, then extended a hand for him. He’s heavier than he looks because you were far from weak but even with your free hand clamped to the railing you struggled to heave him up with you. 

“What do they feed you?” you groaned, rubbing at your shoulder. 

“Children. Let’s go,” he quipped, grabbing his bag and taking off up the stairs two steps at a time. When you reached him at the top he was already thumbing the key out of the whole carved out of the wooden railing. 

The fire tower was decommissioned years ago, but all the maps and posters were left behind. The Osborne Fire Finder in the center of the room was left on the coordinates of whatever last fire was called in. You scanned the room and Ghost closed and locked the door behind you. There was a rounded table pushed into a corner, and a small counter and a sink adjacent to it. A desk that was littered with old reports and notes, remnants of what must have been the radio station, and a tool. And a singular bed. 

“Cozy,” you dropped your bag onto the desk and started drawing the curtains to the millions of windows, “What’s your plan, LT?” 

“We need to get our radios working and contact HQ for an exfil,” he was already removing his radio from its pouch, its antenna was missing and the headset that usually accompanied it was left behind. A bullet clipped its’s earpiece and ripped it off his head to be exact. Adrenaline was too high for anyone to bat an eye at the fact that a couple of inches to the left and he would have been dead. That was also moments before he called a withdrawal and you and he got separated from the rest of the squad. Your radio has also seen better days, it took a direct shot. It saved your life but the fact that both of your radios were damaged was beyond unlucky. You tossed your radio to him, or whatever was left of it. 

“Were you trying to get shot?” he examined the device before setting it on the table next to his. He turned on a propane lamp, it hissed to life and its unmistakable smell quickly filled the room. 

“Were you?” 

“Shh.” 

You started to remove your vest and soaked jacket. Ghost hung his vest on the chair opposite him and got as far as unzipping the top of his jacket before he got distracted. He squinted at the desk, searching the radio parts when he spotted what he thought he could use. Finding what he was looking for he grabbed it all and returned to the table. 

The rain hammered against the glass panes and the wind whistled through the cracks around the door. This tower wasn’t the best insulated and combining that with the years of neglect meant it wasn’t retaining heat like it probably use to. You searched the cupboards and chest if see if someone stored blankets here beforehand.

“Aha!” you pulled out a green military issues blanket out of one of the chests, “How long think that’ll take you?” You asked as you leaned against the desk, the blanket wrapped around your shivering shoulders.     

“If I can,” he sighed, “I’ll have it figured out by morning. Just have to improvise…everything,” he already disassembled everything and he was inspecting each component. This wasn’t the first time he’s had to rebuild his radio or the first time he’s had to improvise. It was just that every time he caught a glimpse of yours he lost his train of thought. That bullet was meant for you and it was meant to be fetal. That fact was nagging at him, pulling at his chest.        

You chewed the inside of your cheek as you watched him fiddle about. The last couple of weeks you had been preparing what you were going to say to him about the last mission. Practicing how you were going to apologize to him. You cleared your throat, “I, uhh,” he looked up from the table, sensing your unease. For a brief second, you considered going and sitting out in the rain just to get away from him, “About our last assignment. You were right about me and I was out of line.”  

 He rested his temple on a fist and glowered at you from beneath his brows, his expression angry.    

“Would you stop mad dogging me so I can get through my speech,” you snapped, throwing the blanket onto the bed. 

He threw up a hand in the what? gesture, “I’m not mad dogging you.”   

“You are.” 

“’m not.” 

“Just,” you waved a hand at the radios still disassembled before him, “glare at that so I can concentrate.”  

He rolled his eyes but lowered them to the table, pretending to be considering the materials and parts. 

“Thank you,” you blow out a breath, recollecting your half-prepared speech, “I didn’t think he’d run in after me,” you confessed, “People aren’t usually dumb enough to do that—”

“You are.”

“Yup. Let me finish. I understand that you as a superior have to consider everyone’s safety, and I haven’t exactly made that easy for you. The last thing I want is to put you and my team at risk. On the other hand, I work better on my own. Like you,” he looked back up this time some of the anger had dissipated, but he looked like he was rallying to say something so you put a hand to silence him, “I’m not asking you to relieve me from the squad. I’d miss them too much. I’m asking you to give me a chance to prove myself. Let me prove to you that I can go solo. Or atleast let me join you every once in a while so I can learn.” 

“Dive, you have no idea how much paperwork you’ve cost me,” he pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut. 

“I have a little bit of an idea,” you mumbled shamefully.  

“I can’t take you on my assignments, and I can’t send you on solos,” he looked uncomfortable. Or maybe uneasy, “You need to prove to me that you can follow the orders I already give you.”

“I will,” you almost started pleading, “I promise, and if I’m alone I won’t be putting anyone else at risk.”

“It’s not just about your squad, Dive,” he picked up the casing from your radio, the plastic and metal left a mangled mess from the bullet, “I need you to stay alive, and I can’t make sure of that if I let you run off on your own. One day you won’t make it back.”     

You blinked at him. 

I need you to stay alive. 

He wasn’t mad at you for being brash, he was scared that one of these times your luck was going to run out. He was scared you were going to die on him. That you were going to leave him behind. 

He tossed the casing back onto the table, defeated. 

“Ghost, I didnt—” you hesitated, searching for the right words. 

I didn’t know that you cared that much.  

If you did your interactions with him would have been very very different. 

“Don’t,” he shook his head. This was not how he was planning on exposing himself. Not that he ever planned on confessing in the first place. He was going to take it to his grave. He was planning to get rid of the sickly warm feeling in his chest every time he saw you. Every time he was around you or thought of you. 

You pushed off the desk and made your way to stand in front of him, in between his legs. He tilted his head back to look up at you, his hands twitching in his lap. You took one of his hands and crouched before him. Even in the dimly lit room, you could see his pupils flare as you placed his hand on your chest, right about your pounding heart. The heat from his palm soaked into your still damp shirt, warming the skin underneath. 

“I’m alive, no?” you placed your other hand on top of his, the size comparison between your hand and his made your toes curl in your boots. 

“Yes,” he was utterly still as he searched your face. He was all analyses and contemplation. He touched you like he was afraid you would dissolve before his eyes; like if he spoke too loud you’d slip through his fingers like smoke.    

“Go ahead,” he didn’t need to verbalize whatever he was thinking because you could see it in the crease at his brow, the tightness in his jaw.  

He glided his hand up to your face, his bare thumb drawing a line from the side of your mouth and across your cheek. His fingers curled around the back of your neck, diving into the mess of wet hair. The sound of the rainstorm outside faded into nothing when his other hand cradled the other side of your face. You reached up to his mask, fingers finding their way underneath to pull it up over his mouth and nose. You half expected him to stop you, for him to tell you all the reasons he shouldn’t be touching you, but he didn’t.

He didn’t give you time to admire him before he was leaning down and his soft mouth was on yours. The kiss was sweet and innocent, nothing more than him wanting to feel you closer. Something about the kiss was tentative and unsure and in an attempt to soothe his uncertainty, you entangled your fingers into the lapels of his jacket, pulling him even closer. He tilted your head to open the kiss and allow him better access. He nipped at your bottom lip when you didn’t immediately open your mouth to him. His tongue swiped at the same spot on your lip as if to apologize before delving in to explore. You moaned into him as his tongue found yours and as he licked and kissed his way with you. 

The kiss may have started off as a manifestation of tragic tormented desire, but it very quickly morphed into something desperate and hot. He kissed you like you were opium and he was chasing a high. He tasted you like he was craving you. 

A hand dipped down to your waist and he tugged at you till you were straddling his thigh. He ran his hands up and down your body before gripping at your hips. His thumbs dug into the sensitive flesh there. Not once did either of you pull away. Not even for a breath. You tug down the zipper on his jacket, and then immediately dove under the bottom of his shirt desperate for the feel of his bare skin. He groaned at the contact, his muscles tightening at your chilled fingers. Heat and pleasure shot down to your core at the sound. 

He could feel your cunt pulse against his thigh, and he thought his soul had left his body. He fantasizes about having you in this exact position before, riding his leg. Riding him. He’s thought about you underneath him, begging for more. If he wasn’t so desperate for you he would have been giddy. 

His grip tightened and it was sure to leave marks that would last for days, “Go ahead, Dive. Grind on me,” he kissed a constellation from your lip across your neck, sucking bruises into the delicate skin. 

You rolled your hips once and the unhurried pace only amplified the pleasure that shot up your spine. You mewed at him when he guided you into a slow gentle pace and leaned back into the chair to get a better view. His lips were red and swollen, and his lids were heavy with lust. You pushed a side of his jacket off his shoulder, a silent command that you wanted it off. He took his hands off you just long enough to shrug off the jacket and yank off the shirt underneath. He was all hard muscle, golden skin and ink. Scars mottled his skin, some old and some new enough that they were still in the healing process. Each one was a near-miss and a miracle. You would find time later to kiss every one of them. 

With tender hands, he lifted the thin material of your shirt. The speed and precision at which he removed your bra were enough for you to make a mental note to ask him just how many times he’s done that maneuver afterwards. If only to get a rise out of him. 

“Lemme see you,” his eyes roamed over your body leisurely, his rough hands scraping against your supple skin, “You’re fucking beautiful,” his eyes nearly rolled into the back of his head when you started rocking your hips again. What he wouldn’t give to be in this moment with you forever.   

A lewd haze made your head heavy forcing it to fall back, your mouth hanging open with a moan. A hand reached up to catch the back of your head, fingers curling, “Keep your eyes on me, Dive,” he laid his accent on thick. You locked eyes with him, his pupils were blown. You braced your hands on his leg, nails digging into the fabric and the muscle underneath. The friction was just where you needed it, and every motion was like electricity in your veins. 

Heat flooded your cheeks as you realized what exactly you were doing. You were grinding your wet pussy on your lieutenant's thigh, while he murmured obscenities into your skin; and it should have made you feel ashamed it instead made you feel like every nerve ending was firing. It was naughty and deviant but it only made it more thrilling. The probability of someone finding out, or the sexual tension that was sure to follow was exhilarating. 

He dragged his mouth from your neck to your breast, sucking a hard nipple into his mouth. His teeth nipped at you, only for his tongue to follow to alleviate any pain. A hand reached up to knead your other breast, his thumb flicking over the sensitive bud. 

He felt like heaven and each point of contact was absolutely divine.    

Small pants turned into throaty moans and your hips stuttered as you chased your climax. You were teetering on the edge with eyes closed when you heard, “Atta girl, come for me,” and you crashed into the orgasm. Your mind went blank and all you could think about was him, all you could feel was him. Ghost helped lull you through it with strong hands holding you down on his leg and guiding your shuddering hips.

“Oh my god,” he groaned. Pure electricity was streaming through your veins. More. You needed more of him. You could feel the slickness between your legs and it was most likely seeping through your pants and wetting his. Good. You wanted to be all over him. Moving in for another kiss and immediately opened his mouth for you, letting your tongue dominate his. He buckled his belt with one hand as he adjusted your positions, shuffling you backwards until the back of your knees met the bed. He pulled down your pants and undergarments before settling you back onto the bed. Leaving you completely bare for him. You were at the perfect height to lick a long, sloppy line up his defined stomach. His wide shoulders and narrow waist made him look delectable. 

“Tell me what you want,” he ordered, pulling the belt from the loops, and going for the zipper next. 

“I want you to fuck me,” you bleated. You would have said anything he told you to. 

The wolfish smile he gave made you squeeze your thighs together, “You’re going to have to prove to me you deserve that first.” 

When he didn’t move to pull his pants down you reached for them yourself, you wanted to see what he hid under there. Licking your lips, “How do I do that? Want me to suck you dry?” 

He grasped your wrists, stopping you, “Touch yourself for me. Show me how you do it when you think of me.” 

Of course, he knew. Of course, he knew you whimpered his name while you touched yourself at night. He knew from the way you looked at him when you thought he wasn’t paying attention. The way your attention lingered on him, on his  

“I thought you weren’t going to send me on any solos?” you retort, spreading your legs even further apart. His pupils flared as he watched your arousal drip down into the sheets and the groan that followed sounded like he was in distress.   

“You’re a brat,” he knelt on the bed, one knee in between your legs to block you from closing them on him when he dragged a hand up your leg, stopping just before your cunt. The proximity and promise were intoxicating, and you worried you would cum again before he even touched you, he brought his lips just shy of a kiss, “Touch. Yourself,” it was a command. He held onto his self-control like it was a living, breathing entity. He teased it just to the point of discomfort before reigning it back into submission. 

“Are you going to pull rank on me, LT?” you lifted your hips towards his fingers, and he allowed for the contact. He dipped them into your arousal, drawing a line from your core back to your thigh. His head dipped down to look at your mess, and his next breath was short of a gasp. 

“Do you want me to?” he questioned, although he sounded far away. Not far in physical distance, but his mind was someplace else entirely. He was imagining the taste of you and the way you’d push his face further into your pussy if he dropped to his knee and eat you out. He would have done just that if he hadn’t already set his foot down, “Now, Dive. Or I leave you like this,” This time when he met your eyes you were met with sadistic honesty. He would. It would nearly be the death of him, but he would leave you wanton on the bed. He would turn around and finish fixing the radio. 

Your breath caught in your chest and then your hand slid down your stomach before reaching your center. Still sensitive from your earlier climax you jolted at the first bit of contact. You bit down on your lip to keep from crying out when you pushed a single finger in with ease. You were already ready for his cock, you would have taken all he had to give you, and more. He palmed the thick bulge through his pants with a hand as he watched, matching his strokes with each pump of your fingers. 

Your fingers were nothing compared to how he would feel but knowing he wouldn’t give you his frustrated you beyond belief. You rubbed tight, swift circles around your clit, while your other hand worked your cunt, needing every bit of stimulation. He hooked an arm under your knee, holding it up and to the side to allow him a full view. 

“Such a pretty little thing,” he shook his head in disbelief that you were actually beneath him and pulled his cock free from its confines. He was massive. Long, yes, but he was thick. The head alone would hurt going in. Pre was leaking from the tip and his thumb swiped it to coat the underneath of his shaft. You were expecting him to be big but he was next level. He was going to tear you apart. 

No wonder he wasn’t preparing you so thoroughly. 

You practically pounced on him. Well, tried to. He moved faster than you and shoved you back onto the bed, his teeth flashing in the dim lamp light, “Did I say stop?” 

“Please,” you could only hope you didn’t sound as pathetic as you felt. 

You did. 

“Please, Riley,” your wet fingers wrapped around the arm that held you down.

“Say my name, baby,” he tilted his head to the side, his chest heaving in anticipation. 

“Please, Simon. I need you to touch me,” please, please, please.      

With one hand still holding you to the bed, his other hand replaced yours. Shoving two thick fingers into your weeping cunt and the wet squelching sounds it made were offensive. But, oh my god, he felt like sex itself. Long awaited and godly. He wasn’t rough but his fingers were snug and every pump was fast. His fingers curled and he hit the spongy spot inside you. He brought you to the edge fast and hard. You bowed off the bed, hips raising. If it was to get away from him or to somehow get him closer, you couldn’t tell if your life was dependent on it. You choked out a sob and another climax threatened. 

He moved with your every jump and shake, he heeded to your body and listened to every sound that escaped you. He cataloged every expression and reaction. 

As your orgasm suffocated you the moan that followed morphed into a scream from the force of it. Your vision evaded you for a second, and stars swam. Your legs gave out on you and trembled as he rode the high with you, his movement slowed and tender.    

If he so much as asked you for your name you wouldn’t have been able to remember it. Faintly you could feel his hands rub calming circles onto your thigh, murmuring affirmations. He had his fingers in you mere seconds and he had to dumbified. He was too good at it. 

At base, there was a group of girls that gossiped about how some of the men are be in bed. You’d be lying if you said you haven’t taken part in some of those conversations. All out of boredom and fun and Ghost was a subject in those conversations a couple of times and just as you expected his reputation precedes him. You knew he’s been with other women, you’d heard from those same women the specifics, but you couldn’t help the jealousy that bubbled up like soda.    

He slid his cock into your pussy and bottomed out before you could comprehend what was going on. He slowly stretched you out deliciously and you were so full of him it felt like he was in your stomach. You felt a hand brush away hair from your face, the action bringing you back to your body. 

“Tell me when,” he murmured into the space between you, his voice was like velvet. You felt him twitch inside you, his own restraint taut. Every muscle in his body was tensed, readying for your approval. You made a cautious roll of your hips. The discomfort liquefied into sensual heat, and you sighed at the release.

He moved methodically and with unhurried thrusts. He listened and watched to know when he needed to stop and give you a moment to collect yourself. He was so careful with you. So gentle.

In and out. In and out. In and out. 

His strokes went from languid to rhythmic snaps. He leaned down for a kiss, bracing himself on the bed with his elbows. In between kisses, he whispered to you about how good you were doing taking him. Honey dripped from his tongue and coated his words.    

The head of his cock knocked against your cervix and you clung to his tattooed forearm, teeth sinking into the flesh and ink there. He growled at the sudden pain, his fingers fisting the sheets. He would accept whatever marks you gave him, and he would show them off. He would come crawling back for more before the old ones could fade away.                                      

“Fuck me,” he huffed into the sheets and gritted his teeth, as your nails raked across the span of his back in an attempt to bring him closer. A thin sheen of sweat coated your bodies. 

“Faster,” your hand disappeared under the back of his mask to find silky hair and tugged. He was more than happy to do as he was told. He shifted back on his knees, throwing both your legs to one side so you were still on your back but he could enter you from behind. Somehow, Somehow he was able to stroke deeper inside of you, with an angle that felt euphoric. The moan he unleashed from his chest was downright obscene.    

You were practically drooling and your eyes rolled, “Yes, yes, yes,” you weren’t going to last. Your skin felt too tight and your blood was too hot. Judging by the downright obscene moan he unleashed from his chest, he was close too. 

Again his hand found your breast and squeezed hard enough to bring attention to it, before sliding up to your throat. His fingers encircled and tightened just enough for it to become a little difficult to breathe. 

He’s killed grown men with that very same hand around their throats. He could do the same to you in an instant and yet you didn’t shy away from him. Your trust in him drove him absolutely wild. His thrusts became sloppy and irregular. 

“Cum with me,” you begged, not just with your words but with your eyes. You needed him like air like he was pleasure itself. 

It broke him, your words broke him. It was all he needed for the tether to sanity to snap and he drove himself into you, his fingers digging into flesh and muscle in an attempt to ground himself to his own body. His new vigour was merciless and forced whimpers from you, ripped them right from your chest. 

Your thirst climax was devastating, so intense not even a sound could escape you. Your mouth fell open in a silent moan, your cunt spasming around him. If he didn’t pull out to release himself on your ass when he did you probably would have kicked him off you from overstimulation. His groans and ravaged pants conveyed his own fatigued and satisfaction before his words could. Strength betrayed him and he plopped onto the bed beside you, taking your achy body with him so you were laying across his broad chest. You laid silently for a time and you traced the lines of his tattooed arm and the bite mark you had given to him. His heart hammered against his chest, and his voice resonated against your ear as he spoke, “You felt exactly how I imagined you’d feel,”

A sheepish smile spread across your face, “You felt better than I imagined you’d feel,” and he did. A man hasn’t made you feel that good in…well, ever.   

He made a sound that resembled a laugh, “We better get you cleaned up,” he delicately moved you off him, offering the blanket you found earlier for warmth while he dressed. He wet a tea towel with the canteen of water underneath the kitchenette and helped you clean up his and your mess. Then he tossed you a clean shirt from his day pack, “Get some rest. I need to finish fixing this damn thing so we can get the hell out of here.” 

You don’t know how long it took him to fix the radios (or if he slept), because you fell asleep shortly after but when you awoke in the morning he had already packed everything up and called in an exfil. They were going to pick you two up in 20 mins, and you and Ghost spent that 20 sharing hot, sloppy kisses with your body trapped between him and the door. If the chopper took any longer you were sure he would have taken you right there. 

You readjusted your satchel for the third time, tightening the straps till you couldn’t anymore. The pilot was the same woman from your last mission, her all-knowing eyes widening when she saw you, “You been working out more, Ghost? Or did your vest shrink in the wash?”  

Oh, shit. 

He looked down at the badge on the chest, before jerking his attention to the badge on yours, of the lack thereof. 

Somehow you’d mixed up your vests on your way out the door. 

“Honest, mistake,” he shrugged and removed it with expert efficiency switching it with you for his.   

“I’ve never made it,” the pilot teased, not even trying to hide her smile.

Masterlist  ❤︎  Tag List Form

A/N - he’s so yummy

Taglist - @thychuvaluswife ❤︎ @shuttlelauncher81 ❤︎  @lostinsideourminds ❤︎ @v1naco ❤︎ @purplefishingline ❤︎  @konig-breedme ❤︎ @wolfyland07 ❤︎ @dog55teeth ❤︎ @cumbersome-robes​

[deadsetobsessions]

I am waiting for my terrible decisions to come feast upon my corpse (I had four slices of mozzarella cheese and I am wildly lactose intolerant) so tall can have this thing I wrote while my bowels attempted to curdle up and wither.

——

Jason laid face down on the floor of his safe house, cheek miserably smushed to the carpet as his joints screamed in growing agony.

“Oh, shit, you good, little wing?”

Jason groaned, not even having enough energy to flip his face to the other side as a pair of boots came into view. Dick.

“Jason, are you okay? Where’s the wound?”

“C’mon Todd, even Timothy knows the importance of addressing open wounds.” Shit, the brat was here too.

“You coming down with something?” Tim’s voice asked from his other side.

Great, Jason grumbled, the whole idiot platoon is here.

A warm hand shook his shoulder, Dick’s concerned mug showing up in Jason’s- huh, when did it get this blurry?- sight. His face scrunched up in worry.

“You look stupid.” Jason said, though it sounded more like ‘yew loo stew pud’ with his face still smushed onto the ground. Reluctantly, he added, “No wound.”

“Tim, help me out.”

Jason groaned when the world spun as Tim and Dick hefted him up.

“What’s happening, Jason? Talk to us.” Tim said sharply, knowing that the tone would get Jason to respond.

“Growing pains.” Jason mumbled. “Laz pits side effects.”

“I see,” Damian suddenly said, and suddenly Jason was so much more grateful for his presence. The demon brat understood. “Richard, Drake, get him to bed. I will retrieve the ice.”

It probably spoke levels of how bad he looked that Jason’s brothers didn’t bother to even comment on the brat’s orders. Jason was lugged to his bed and tucked in.

“Sorry,” he mumbled at Dick.

“For what?” Dick patted him on the head as Tim went to get a glass of water and the painkillers he stored in the bathroom mirror cabinet.

“I’m heavy. You have old man knees.”

Divk gasped, mock offended. “Excuse me?! I’m not old! You’re fine if you’re talking shit, Jay.”

“Feels like shit…” Jay paused. “Not as shit as your gray hairs.”

“Tim! Jason’s bullying me!”

“Gray is a good color on you, I think,” Tim said, walking back in with water and meds. They helped Jason drink the meds as Dick alternated between whining about not being old and indignantly sayin ‘respect your elders, you brats!’

“Here.” Damian walked in with both bags of peas and actual ice packs. “It should be better after you have rested, but if you don’t, mother knows an acupuncture treatment that would help.”

Jason shivered as they applied the ice packs.

“Ugh, fuck off.”

“Just sleep, you raging asshole.” Tim said, sweeping a blanket onto the crime lord. “Oracle’s got Steph covering your routes until you’re better.”

Somehow, surrounded by his brothers, Jason finally found the energy to fondly flip them the bird and fall asleep.

[mixelation]

more (a)synchronicity. the meetcute <3

ummm okay so one thing to remember is that minato has met tori TWICE and simply does not remember her because he hasn't realized she's the main character. but she remembers him. not fondly.

*****

There was a platoon of Kumo-nin squatting in a small riverside village. Minato killed them, as part of his general orders to keep enemy ninja out of the smaller countries as much as possible. He also found that getting on civilians’ good sides made his life easier. If he was lucky, they’d tell him some info and offer him food and lodging. 

He killed the first three Kumo-nin almost instantly when they came out of a home to confront him. The fourth and fifth took a couple minutes to hunt down, as all the villagers ran around and screamed and fled into their houses. The seventh had taken an old lady hostage in her own home, which was just pathetic. Minato caught the old lady as the Kumo-nin’s body fell. 

“Hey,” he said, putting her back on her feet. She was shaking, and he had no idea if that was just an old lady thing or she was upset. He smiled his most harmless and disarming smile at her. “Are you alright?”

He didn’t hear her answer— which didn’t really matter, because no one looked into his nicest smile and didn’t think they were okay— because someone stepped into the doorway. 

Like most of the homes in the village, this woman’s house was a single room. The Kumo-nin had darted in here at random and left the front door open. Minato turned, expecting to see a village leader or warrior. That’s usually who came and talked to him, before he could properly trot out his charm. Civilians were often terrified of ninja, especially in the small countries where they could be attacked or displaced by their wars at any moment. 

It wasn’t a leader or a fighter in the doorway though. It was a young woman, who watched him with curious dark eyes. Her dark hair was pulled back tightly, and the only thing that seemed slightly remarkable about her was that her frayed dress was an uncommon style to this area. 

“Hi,” Minato said brightly, friendly as can be. “Um— I just saved your grandmother here from those nasty ninja...”

“She’s not my grandmother,” the woman replied. She leaned against the doorframe, casual as could be. “But thanks, I guess. You’re not a nasty ninja too?”

“I’m a ninja,” Minato confirmed. He winked performatively at her. “But I’m not nasty. I’m from Konoha.”

She snorted, unimpressed. Well. He supposed his charm couldn’t work on everyone. 

The old lady was still shaking terribly. Minato helped her into the big plush chair she had at the foot of her bed. As he did this, an older man he’d bet was the village leader appeared at the doorway, and the woman explained, in a surprisingly bored drawl, he was Konoha and that he’d killed all seven Kumo-nin. 

The seventh one’s body was still in the middle of the room. Minato stepped over it to greet the leader. 

“Is everyone alright?” he asked first. The leader boggled back at him. The woman just raised her eyebrows. 

The leader had barely acknowledged her. Minato was drawing a blank for what her role might be. Not important, not impressed by ninja, even charming helpful ninja… Village weirdo?

“I’m Minato, a Jounin of Konoha,” he introduced himself, jabbing his thumb at his headband. “Those ninja that were harassing you were Kumo. As your ally, I’m happy to—”

“Konoha isn’t our ally,” the woman said, eyes meeting his. A tiny smirk crossed her face. “You’re on the Grass side of the river. The Kumo-nin were our allies.”

Minato had known this. He introduced himself as an ally to basically all civilians in the smaller countries, to help with his friendly persona and promote Konoha’s image. People rarely called him out, because during this war, ninja were almost uniformly horrible to civilians outside of their homelands. A lone handsome and friendly Konoha-nin was almost always anyone’s preference, even if their country was technically at war with Konoha. 

“Also— why do ninja always talk like we have no idea what their hitai-ate mean?” the woman asked.

Well. It had never occurred to Minato that people in a backwater town might be well-versed in ninja customs. 

“Reina…” the village leader said, shooting the woman a warning look. Then he turned back to Minato. “The Kumo-nin were stealing our food, disrupting our work, and harassing our women. We’re thankful you got rid of them.”

Minato smiled. Reina rolled her eyes and walked away. 

The leader went on to say that he would happily host Minato for the night as thanks, but he would have to report the attack to Kumo. He apologized that the message would likely reach the nearest administrative camp quickly, only giving Minato a few days to vacate the area before they were alerted. 

“It’s okay,” Minato said cheekily. “I’m fast.”

The village buzzed to life after that. The Kumo-nin bodies were moved, rolled in cloth and lined up in the shade of the town square in case Kumo wanted them. Villagers rushed about, checking on friends and family. The old lady’s actual grandson bowed deeply to Minato in thanks. 

Minato sat on the edge of the bone-dry fountain in the middle of the square, watching all this. The villagers seemed a little jittery around him— eyeing him in evident fear whenever one scuttled past— so he didn’t want to do anything that might scare them. It was boring, but he obediently sat still and tried not to bounce his leg too much all day long. 

The village leader’s wife came over and introduced herself, and then offered Minato with some onigiri to snack on. He asked about the old lady and was assured she was fine. 

“I wouldn’t mind,” Minato said, turning up the charm as he accepted the riceballs, “chatting with you and your husband about anything interesting going on around here.”

“Around here…?” the wife said. “The most interesting thing is you.”

She smiled bashfully. Ah, well. At least his charms were working on someone. 

“No other ninja?” Minato pressed. 

“Oh,” the wife said. “Well, I’ll ask around. My husband will surely tell you more at dinner.”

She left. 

The sun lowered in the sky, and the village calmed. Reina sauntered over to him. 

“You look bored,” she said. “Do you want to do something useful?”

“Sure?” Minato replied, half-convinced she was going to tell him to go clean something.

“Don’t worry,” she said, and finally offered him a real smile. “It’s interesting.”

Minato hopped to his feet. 

Reina led him through the village, seemingly completely unbothered to have a ninja at her back. Civilians were like that, he guessed. It was weird, but it wasn’t suspicious. He watched the bun at the back of her head loosen ever so slightly with every step as she marched down the main road. 

(Improperly tied hair… also a very weird civilian thing.)

“There’s a ninja paper down in the river,” she explained as she walked. “I noticed it a few days ago. I guess the Kumo-nin put it there, but I don’t know why.”

“Ninja paper?” Minato asked.

She turned slightly to look at him with one eye as she walked. 

“You know the… special paper.” She drew a few random circles in the air with her finger for him. “With the squiggles?”

That was, actually, potentially, extremely interesting. It could be evidence left by their mysterious fuinjutsu user. It could be the final clue Minato needed to find them. 

Or, more likely, given the mystery fuinjutsu user tended to paint or carve onto natural objects, it was just one of the Kumo-nin’s fishing traps. But it could be a clue. 

They passed the border of the village, and the cobblestone street turned to a packed dirt path. Minato quickened his step slightly to walk next to Reina. 

“Is it doing anything?” he asked. 

She gave him a look. “Doing anything…? Don’t they just explode if you step on them?”

Not doing anything then, okay. So she just thought it was a safety hazard she’d need another ninja to get rid of. 

“You said it was in the river?” he prompted instead. 

“Yeah, it’s in the water,” she said. “It’s like… um…” She made a few hand gestures which were meaningless to Minato, and then had the grace to look embarrassed. “Well, you’ll see.”

The path rose over a slight hill, and then they could see the river down below. It wasn’t very big or impressive here, but a lot of trade traffic would come through here in peace times. The banks were manmade stone walkways, to aid with the horses than sometimes lead boats. 

“It’s up there,” Rein said, pointing. She stepped off the path to make a more direct route across the grass down to the riverside. “I marked it so I could find it again.”

They walked maybe thirty minutes. Minato didn’t mind. The breeze was nice, and this area of the country was all open fields, meaning he could see down the river for what felt like miles. It would be sunset soon, and the sun was already glinting off the water in pretty ways. He still preferred the shade of Fire Country’s forests, but it was nice to be able to see so far every once in a while. 

He did try to talk to Reina, as they walked. She didn’t seem like she had much to say about the maybe-seal she was walking him to, but a good shinobi was always fishing for information. 

She seemed cagey at first, but with some light, half-joking flirtations that made her make unimpressed faces at him, he got her to open up about her life. She complained the village had nothing to do and that she had to walk to another town if she even wanted to buy a book. When he asked why she didn’t leave, she looked at him like he was stupid. 

He was almost starting to take those looks personally. 

“Because I have no money, and ninja are shooting fireballs at each other all over the place,” she said. Then she looked away, kicking a pebble down the embankment and into the river. “Plus someone has to raise my little brother.”

At some point, Reina’s bun loosened to the point where she had to take it down. 

“Ugh,” she said, pulling the tie and then shaking out her hair. “Did you know war can make hair tie shortages?”

She held up a deformed elastic tie for him, as if making some sort of point. 

“Why don’t you just… use a ribbon?” he tried. He knew Kushina liked the elastic ones because she was always complaining about snapping them, but Kotone had only ever used cloth ties. 

Reina stared at him like the thought had never occurred to her. Minato smiled uncertainly back. She was a village girl. Surely she knew about traditional hair ties? Or pins? What were hair pins for? He’d picked them out of lovers’ hair before. They must have been doing something. 

Minato suddenly felt like he’d only ever known two women in his entire life. 

“Your hair is curly,” he observed, and then immediately felt deeply stupid. 

“Oh,” Reina said, a hand resting where her hair fell over her shoulder. It was quite long too, although not as long as Kushina’s. It was also clearly tangled and unwashed. “Well, right now it’s more like a mess…”

“I think it’s pretty,” Minato said, flashing his best, most charismatic smile at her. “It suits you.”

He wasn’t even lying. It really did make her look like the village weirdo, suiting her perfectly. 

She turned away, her cheeks clearly pink. 

Ha! Gotcha, Minato thought. Finally. 

They came to the right part of the river a few minutes later. Reina had stacked up a tower of flat river stones right at the edge of the embankment. Minato stood next to the tower and peered down into the river. It was only maybe knee-deep at the edge, and the water was clear enough that he could easily make out every stone at the bottom. 

“It’s further out,” Reina said, pointing. 

Minato watched her over his shoulder as he stepped out onto the water, waiting for her look of wonder as she realized what he was doing. Instead, she just sort of smiled blithely at him and squatted next to the rock tower. Minato felt bizarrely disappointed. 

What are you expecting, Namikaze? Minato chided himself as he plodded out across the river. What had he become, that his ego needed him to be able to impress this random civilian woman? She’s just the village weirdo. Who cares if she doesn’t think you’re charming?

He spotted the “ninja paper” soon after. It was a standard tag tied to a kunai wedged in the rocks below, waving gently in the current. Minato squatted, squinting down at it. He couldn’t make out the actual seal on the tag, but it was the wrong shape for an exploding tag. 

“Well?” Reina called. “Aren’t you going to go get it?”

He turned his face to look at her. One of her hands was absentmindedly tracing a pattern over the top rock of the tower. She was watching him eagerly, more eager than she’d been all day. 

“Go on,” she said, a nearly flirtatious tease in her voice. “Dive down and get it, Konoha.”

“No,” Minato said slowly. Something was wrong. “It could be a trap. Reina, how did you see it all the way out here?”

“Hm?”

He stood fully. His hand twitched at his side, itching for a kunai. But— no— she was a civilian. He didn’t want to scare her until he was certain. He could still get info out of her village, and he’d make that job a lot harder for himself if he freaked out their weirdo. 

“The ninja tag,” he said. “How did you find it?”

“Oh,” Reina said, blinking at him in what seemed like full understanding. 

Then her little smirk was back, sure of herself in a way that almost looked dangerous. The setting sun glinted in her hair, caught in her curls and turning them almost red. She pushed the rock tower over, the stones plopping into the water. 

Minato did not react immediately, because she was just a civilian tossing some rocks in the river. But then, suddenly, he was underwater, and the water was boiling. 

The pain kept him from reacting immediately. Every inch of his skin lit up in pain. There was a force sucking him down, preventing him from moving his limbs and escaping the way his brain was demanding. He squeezed his eyes shut to protect them and grabbed mentally for any Hiraishin marker. He had no idea where the one he picked was— his brain was confused and screaming at him about the pain and he couldn’t tell which way was up or down. 

Then he was on land, cold air on his blistering skin. He took a deep, calming breath. Everything hurt, but now it hurt in a way he was more accustomed to. He could focus. He was in an empty field. The civilian woman had tricked him— had— had— he had no idea what she’d done. He didn’t know anything that could make that happen, except maybe a very creative and pissed off Kiri-nin. 

He teleported to the Konoha hospital next. Leaving a marker there had seemed like a convenient idea to him when he’d done it, but he’d left the marker in the room he’d been staying in when he’d made the decision. The nurse currently in there screamed. 

He got immediate medical treatment, though. 

Kushina came to visit him on the second day of his hospitalization, and he succeeded in not crying in front of her. She succeeded in holding back on making fun of him for being a light shade of pink. 

“Stupid,” Kushina told him from her seat by his bed. “You’re lucky you didn’t boil your eyes out of your head.”

He’d gotten out quick enough he’d done no permanent damage to himself, at least not with Konoha’s medical intervention, his medic-nin had said. He hadn’t corrected her that any damage done to his person would have been inflicted by a random civilian woman. The report he was going to have to write on this would be embarrassing enough. 

If he’d been in the water much longer, he'd have been at risk for boiling his organs, including his brain, which not even Tsunade-hime could undo. He was certain this would have happened if he’d listened to Reina and dived for the tag. If he’d floundered for a minute more, he’d be literally coked. 

“I think it was the fuinjutsu user,” Minato explained to Kushina, after he’d filled her in on the whole story. Talking hurt, because he’d damaged almost all of his skin. “The village weirdo must have… figured out how to use the seal, or they taught her how, or something.”

“All that in one little seal, though?” Kushina asked. Her brow was furrowed, like she was trying to figure out a puzzle. 

“It’s not impossible,” Minato said, but Kushina looked doubtful. 

He was inclined to believe her doubt. Jiraiya liked to brag that Minato was a fuinjutsu master, but the only thing he had on Kushina was more experience in space-time fuinjutsu. If she disagreed with him on anything else, well, she was probably right. 

“How have you been?” Minato asked. Kushina puffed up her cheeks and exhaled. 

“I spent ten hours yesterday decoding a report,” she said. “I swear to every god there is, training genin was better than this—”

Minato relaxed back into the lumpy hospital pillow to listen to her rant. Kushina had recently switched to a purely office role for a pay bump, and because she wanted a break from training “brats” up to be battlefield ready. She’d thought she’d be spending all her time on fuinjutsu development, but she was frequently being saddled with administrative odd jobs. This was, to Minato’s understanding, just something that happened now due to the war. More and more able bodied shinobi were being sent out, and so there were fewer people to do the gruntwork at home. 

“If you're bored,” Kushina said, suddenly brightening up. “You can decode reports, and I can go back to trying to figure out a water purification seal that also fits in a canteen.”

She came back later in the evening with a convenience store bento (which was vastly superior to Minato’s hospital dinner) and a stack of coded reports. 

“Have fun!” she cooed. 

Minato thought about just not doing the work, with the excuse that he had burns on over 90% of his body. But… he was bored. 

Needless to say, when he was finally released a week later, he was itching to do something, even if he’d been warned off anything but “light” exercise. Interrogating a civilian would be light, wouldn’t it?

At least one of his markers was still in the village in Grass Country, left on one of the kunai he’d used in his initial attack. He dressed in his uniform, double checked his weapons, and went in. 

He landed on a table, which groaned and shifted under his weight. A man with a Kumo hitai-ate was two feet away from him, and he let out a sad muted scream of surprise. Minato slit his throat before he could properly finish his yell. 

There were two other shinobi in the room, but they were both dead a second later. 

Minato took a moment to assess the situation. The room matched the same style of single-room home as the village, so he probably was actually there. The rickety table held all three kunai he’d left behind: one of his Hiraishin ones, and two standard issue ones. There was also a scroll unraveled, where someone had evidently taken notes on the incident where he’d killed seven Kumo-nin.

Annoying, he thought, lips thinning. If Kumo was using their brains, they’d have sent more than these shinobi. Minato spun a kunai in his fingers a couple times, preparing for a fight. This still counted as light exercise, right?

In the next ten or so minutes, he combed the village and hunted down and killed a grand total of fourteen more Kumo-nin. His heart rate was barely elevated by the end of it. No way his medic would be mad at him. 

When none of the villages came out to speak to him, he went to the house of the village leader and knocked on the door. 

“I need to speak to Reina, please,” he said. As an afterthought, he smiled. 

“She’s gone,” the leader said, clearly nervous. 

Minato raised his eyebrows. “You really don’t want to be lying to me,” he said. 

“N-no,” the leader said, putting his hands up defensively. “She really is gone. We thought she left with you.”

Minato narrowed his eyes. “A young woman just disappeared with a ninja, and you didn’t follow up?”

“I…” The leader was fidgeting now. “I apologize if she offended you. She’s not one of us. None of us know who she is or where she came from. If she did anything, it doesn’t have anything to do with us.”

Minato stared. What the fuck?

“P-please,” the leader said. “Kumo is already fining us for the other shinobi you killed. We can’t afford—”

“Tell me more about Reina,” Minato pressed. 

He didn’t care about the leader’s cowering or begging that he just leave them alone. He was done trying to charm and play nice; he’d already killed too many ninja in this village. No amount of smiling and happy words would redeem him, and he was feeling too impatient for that today anyway. 

Reina, apparently, had shown up only a few days before the Kumo-nin, claiming to be a distant relative of a recently deceased elderly man, sent to clear out his things. She’d presented his death certificate as proof. She’d been living in the man’s home and hadn’t spoken much to anyone. Everything she’d said about her life in the village to him had been a bald-faced lie. 

“Anyone can get a death certificate,” Minato said. “That’s not proof. Why did you trust her?”

The village leader was clearly upset. His voice shook as he spoke. 

“We didn’t… we didn’t think like that…” 

Oh good, so the whole town had just believed her story with zero follow up questions. 

The village leader seemed to realize how little MInato thought of him. He tried, “She was useful. She wasn’t afraid to speak to the ninja for us. We never questioned her.”

Minato asked some more questions, but the leader had nothing else to share. Minato made him show him the old man’s home. When he told the leader he no longer needed him, the man ran from him. 

Minato searched the house. For a place she was supposedly cleaning out for several weeks, there were still a lot of things left behind, to the point that it was unclear if Reina had taken anything at all. Minato found no valuables, so either she’d taken them, or the man had none to begin with. She had… eaten all of his nonperishable food?

There were a couple of items of women’s clothing tossed into a laundry basket, and a mug decorated with cutesy cartoon crabs on the table that Minato doubted had belonged to the old man. There were still a few sips of coffee in the mug. Minato poured out the coffee and stored the mug and the clothes in a scroll. 

He went down to the river next. It only took a few minutes at ninja speed, but with the stone tower now gone, it took him a while to relocate the site where she’d attempted to boil him alive. He spotted the kunai eventually, still wedged into the bed of the river and sporting a tag. 

Minato was hesitant to stick his hand back in the water, even if it was now a completely normal temperature. He’d taken a fire poker from the old man’s home, and he used it to hook the kunai and pull it up. The water wasn’t deep; he probably could have stood up if he hadn’t been busy being boiled. 

The seal on the kunai’s tag was nonsense. It literally did nothing but move chakra around inside of it. That was, it would do nothing but move chakra around if it had any chakra in it at all. 

Minato walked back to shore and sat on the stone embankment, feeling completely flummoxed. The tag was completely nonfunctional. 

So, Reina was some sort of run-of-the-mill conartist, but he didn’t understand what her goal had been, or how it connected to the mystery fuinjutsu user. Maybe the Kumo-nin occupying the town had disrupted her plan? But who had made the boiling trap, and how had she known how to activate it? The mystery fuinjutsu user had a history of helping civilians. Had they told Reina she could use it on the Kumo-nin, and instead she’d decided to use it on Minato?

He turned that last idea around in his brain for a while. Setting a death trap for ninja was pretty consistent with the mystery fuinjutsu user’s MO. But seven ninja was more than they usually went after. They did not seem to care about confronting high-ranking ninja, but they usually isolated ninja before acting; for whatever reason, they were opposed to facing multiple opponents. Besides, Minato could not see how this trap would even work on seven people. 

And how had the trap worked at all?

Minato sat cross legged on the embankment and closed his eyes, focusing on replaying the moment in his mind. 

He thought of Reina, in her out of place dress that was out of place because she was. He remembered her coaxing him to dive, and then her face when he’d asked her how she’d found it. 

She hadn’t been afraid. He thought about her eyes, wide with understanding, her lips slightly parted. That wasn’t the face of a woman realizing she’d been caught in her own trap. That was her realizing she’d won. 

She won, Minato realized. She’d won the second he hadn’t drawn a weapon, and she’d known it. She’d known exactly how the trap worked, and exactly how ninja worked. She couldn’t be as fast a ninja, but she knew how to take advantage of a moment of hesitation. 

No, she won before that, Minato decided. She’d won when she’d gotten him on the water and told him to dive. If he’d not found her suspicious, he might have dived, or he’d be distracted getting the kunai, and she would have activated the trap and maybe killed him. If he’d found her suspicious, she could choose not to activate the trap, and he would have pulled up a useless kunai and left her alone. The worst that would have happened is that he’d found out she’d made up a brother for some reason, but he’d have no reason to be personally offended over that.

But instead of any of those options, he’d found her suspicious and then hesitated like a damn fool, and she’d recognized her opening. 

He thought about her triumphant smirk, about how her curls had framed her face, how the sun had lit her eyes up a warm brown. 

Then she’d dumped her rocks in the river. 

Minato pushed down his nervousness over the water and stepped in, picking up rock after rock along the riverside. 

An hour later, he had four rocks with half-faded seals painted on them. 

This was a really creative but nasty trap, he had to say. This would have killed most ninja. 

It was... almost exciting. He hadn't lost to anyone in forever.

He got out his storage scroll to add the rocks to the things from the house. It was dangerous to seal a seal into another seal, but the chakra on the rocks was long faded. They wouldn’t be boiling anyone alive. 

He frowned at the rocks as he put them away one by one, mentally cataloging his first impressions of them. 

Even if Reina was given the trap by the mystery fuinjutsu user, why had she been so confident about how it worked? It was clear now that she was comfortable around ninja and had probably worked with them before, but… 

On a hunch, he unsealed the mug. He turned it over in his hands. Cartoon crabs marched around it in rings, and every few crabs was a heart. 

Village weirdo, Minato thought, almost affectionately. Then he flipped the mug over. 

On the bottom, drawn in a practiced hand, was a seal to keep the mug warm. 

Ah, he thought.

Reina was the mystery fuinjutsu user. 

[matramancer]

If I Were Stronger. [Narumi Gen x Mitsuri! Reader]🌸

🌸Synopsis: What if Mitsuri! reader was there during the fight with Isao Shinomiya?

Part of the Mitsuri! reader series

tags: angst with comfort, MANGA SPOILERS (ch 51), character death, narumi x reader, fem!reader, Mitsuri!reader, reader and Narumi are kikoru’s mentors, kikoru and reader are close, hopeful ending.

It’s quiet in the First Division base.

On a solemn morning, the flags of the base are lowered. Everyone stands in formation, giving a final salute to the loss of a legend.

Standing up front, Narumi Gen holds himself strong in front of his troops, his back so far away. Despite the respect he earned, the high praises,  the honor of dying in the battlefield, no one can deny that the death of General Shinomiya was a tragedy.

A few steps behind him were the other platoon leaders, and for a moment, time had stopped. No rowdy battle cries, no arguments. Not even the bounce from their resident bright ball of sunshine.

it’s quiet. It’s unlike you.

As your eyes drift to Gen’s backside, the black fabric feels like an abyss peering into your memories. The scar from that day that you shared with him. Fresh wounds that you tried not to show. 

You were there when it happened, after all.

“GENERAL SHINOMIYA IS ENGAGING WITH KAIJU NO. 9! ALL UNITS, STAY ON HIGH ALERT!”

As you stopped to turn to your right, you could hear the clash of weapons, as well as the sound of falling debris and rubble. Was that them?

“Platoon leader (L/N) speaking. I’m near the main site and approaching!”

It was a race against time, one where you prayed that you could make it. Narumi and Kaiju No. 8 were speeding ahead too, surely, with the four of you against #9, you could stop him.

You didn’t even register the long run it took from your area to where General Shinomiya was. Not even the pain from the multiple wounds you sported. All you remembered was rubble flying everywhere, and racing to Kurusu’s front as soon as you spotted him.

“Kurusu-san!” Kurusu coughs from breathing out the dust from the rubble you sliced into pieces. 

“Platoon leader (L/N!)” He exclaims in disbelief, still holding onto his laptop whilst you provide cover. As you tried to study the situation, more and more rubble threatened to hit Kurusu. The general was standing strong, his number’s weapon holding against #9. “Please don’t worry about me–provide cover to the chief!” Kurusu stated, before getting interrupted by Isao himself.

“(L/N)!!” Stunned at General Shinomiya’s booming voice, you and Kurusu turn towards him. “Evacuate Kurusu!”

“BUT SIR–”

“AT ONCE!” at General Shinomiya’s orders, you immediately change your stance, picking Kurusu up.

“YES SIR!” Without a moment’s hesitation, you hastily jump away with Kurusu, not knowing what the general had in plan. You hoped he had a plan at all. You could still move, you were strong. You had to do something.

Kurusu’s words brought your attention back to him. “High energy levels–is he planning to use No. 2’s blast?!” Gasping as you let him down at a clearing, the two of you immediately fell to your knees at the sheer amount of pressure suddenly forming from the spot where Isao stood. So that was why…

You nearly flinch at the gunshot from the ceremony, the sound bringing you back to the present. Narumi’s back was still in front of you, only showing a part of his side profile.

It must’ve been so heavy on him. You knew, even from how stoic he was with everyone, that Narumi meant a lot to him. That General Shinomiya also meant so much to Narumi. That their bond, though unspoken, was strong. 

And now he’s gone. He was taken from him right in front of his eyes.

But it wasn’t just Narumi that had a mentor taken away from him.

The ceremony ends, and you excuse yourself as soon as you find the chance. 

A girl lost her father.

“GENERAL SHINOMIYA!”

Your mind drifts back to the battlefield, towards the seconds where you returned to General Shinomiya.

It’s eerily silent. You hated it.

“General Shinomiya! Do you copy?!” You breathed through your mask, twirling your sword through the air to get rid of the dust obstructing your vision. 

The news from Kurusu shocked you to the bone. Two shots. Kaiju No. 2’s main burst twice in a row. General Shinomiya…

Your heart rate quickens. You had to support him fast. There’s no way his body could last. Please, please don’t let this happen again. The Defense Force can’t lose another leader. Especially not its director.

Memories of your late platoon leader flash through your mind, but you blink them away. Now’s not the time.

In the distance, you could see Narumi and #8, finally arriving on the scene. With your combined manpower, you could at least make sure that the general had time to recover.

Your feet ached as you caught your breath once more, now back in the building. You don’t know why or how your body took you here, but there you stood, hands on the lavish wooden doors, hearing the silent sobs of Kikoru Shinomiya.

Heart clenching, your knuckles turned white as you tried to calm your breathing, feeling your throat clamp up. You felt anger, felt grief. But that’s not what matters right now. You had to be there for her.

“Kikoru-chan,” at the sound of your voice and the creak of the door opening, her sniffles paused. You set aside any formalities, nevertheless how the both of you were technically trespassing. You were probably going to get an earful from your superiors too, with a member of your platoon skipping such an important event, indulging AND partaking in breaching what counted as private quarters. But that didn’t matter. Kikoru wasn’t your star student right now, she was just a girl.

You made your way closer to her, letting your stern demeanor falter as you stood in front of her.

“It’s okay, I won’t tell anyone. It’s okay to cry, Kikoru-chan.” You hushed her, slowly bringing your hands towards her.

When she started to sob again, you took her in your arms, sinking onto the floor as her body shook. 

You hated the quiet. You hated this.

You hated how #9 disgraced Shinomiya Isao’s image in front of his own daughter.

The door creaks open again. This time, a heavier set of footsteps made their way to the late general’s desk. You didn’t have to look up to know who it was.

Perhaps Narumi and you were on much more similar wavelengths than you thought, because he at least disregarded how lax your behavior was as a platoon leader. 

“You sure you didn’t want to see him off?”

The three of you shared a strange yet not unwelcome sense of acknowledgement and understanding in that room.

A shared wound that could only be understood by those who were truly there.

The horror you felt when #8 screamed the news to Narumi rang through your body like a bomb.

As you approached rapidly to the sight of what you thought was the general, you saw him turn around.

“GENERAL SHINOMIYA!” You cried out, mustering all of the power in your legs to reach him. 

It wasn’t enough.

“THAT ISN’T THE CHIEF!”

You failed your role. Failed to be that barrier between what you sought to protect. 

Kurusu and the others watch in horror through the feeds as the desecrated face of what used to be Isao turned, as if to mock him.

It was horrifying.

Letting out a gasp, you barely registered the giant blast he sent towards the three of you.

As the rubble cleared, you stood aside Captain Narumi and Kaiju no. 8, still in disbelief.

Hearing him speak about how he killed the general made your blood boil, your knuckles turning white.

But it broke your heart to see Kikoru just behind him after.

Clenching your fist, you and Narumi sprang forward in full offense.

“How dare you.” You swore, in a silent whisper that had never left your body before. As you twisted your body and launched yourself upward, you put your full force into slicing several of #9’s limbs, giving Narumi an opening.

But just as Narumi swore with his entire being that he would destroy #9 in Shinomiya’s place, #9 stopped the fight, throwing a casual remark about how he was going to “call it a day.”

Narumi has never lost his composure, and he doesn’t plan to. But he would not stand for such blasphemy–nor would he ever let #9 get away from him alive.

As he launched his attack, you followed suite with #8 into the fray, bearing your sword like a whip. 

“LETS RAIN HELL ON HIM! #8! (L/N)!”

“SQUADRON STYLE BAYONET TECHNIQUE NUMBER ONE!”

“SECOND FORM: LOVE PANGS!”

 Yet no matter how many hits you got in, no matter how many times Narumi charges at him, no matter how strong #8’s hits was, the three of you were still being pushed back.

You prayed again, prayed that through some high power, no matter what it takes, that you’d be able to end this right now.

“!!!” Your eyes widened as a shot from #9 misses you and hurdles itself towards Kikoru instead.

Without thinking, you immediately move to defend her, taking the brunt force of the hit with your machine gun. “NO!” You yelled. You can’t afford to lose her either. 

Kikoru stares at you with wide eyes, as you steady your balance and change stances to use your other weapon.

Breathing heavily, you let out a cry as you shot at #9 relentlessly, acting as suppressing fire for Narumi and #8.  

It was always in your nature to protect. And you couldn’t afford to fail with Kikoru as you did her father.

Her suit had probably overheated, she was out of commission. The least you could do was–

You let out a string of coughs, a metallic taste in your lips.

Suit overheat. Suit overheat. Cooldown required.

“(L/N)-SAN!” Kikoru screamed, distressed at the data reading of your suit. She cursed over how she was frozen to her spot.

“I still have some fight left in me!” You put your arm in front of her. Kikoru was a bright girl, with a bright future ahead of her. The more you could spare her now, the better.

You were about to put away your gun to slow down your overheating, but just as you did, the sight of one of #9’s attacks slipping between Narumi and #8’s defenses entered both you and Kikoru’s field of vision.

Your eyes widened, feeling the burn of your body as you forced yourself to move.

“KAFKA!” You yelled, taking the hit for him.

You knew Kaiju no. 8–No, Kafka was special, not just to the Defense Force, but to those that cared for him. He was loved. By Kikoru, by the 3rd Division. You had the utmost pleasure of bonding with him from the start of his stay in the 1st Division. You were one of the first to accept him.

And you couldn’t bear to see Kikoru hurt even more.

Narumi’s eyes widened as red splotched your suit, your machine gun wrecked by #9’s burst.

He knew that with your caring personality, you’d always take the choice to wedge yourself to be that layer of protection. He hated that about you sometimes, but especially this time.

But there was no time to worry, you wouldn’t allow it. “RESUME ATTACK, CAPTAIN AND NO. 8!” You choked out, barely nailing your landing. The attack burned through your machine gun and messed you up good. 

As you scramble to get on your feet, your legs caved in, making you unceremoniously thud to the ground. Now you’ve really done it. “I messed up…”

Narumi swears he saw red. He’d never say it out loud, but the grip he had on his bayonet was so hard, he swung, uncaring if his nerves could snap in half.

You could hear the sound of fighting continue just a dozen meters ahead of you, but your vision was going black. You felt something warm running down your forehead and covering your eye. Your ears were ringing.

As strong as The Love Pillar is known to be, she was still a human.

You could barely even hear from your comms now. Was that still Kurusu talking? “REROUTING (L/N)’S SUIT TO FULL HEALING! PREPARE PARAMEDICS!”

No, you can still fight. For your place in the Defense Force. For your oath to protect, for the 1st division that welcomed you so warmly. For Captain Narumi. For Mr. Shinomiya.

And humans always had an exploitable weakness. 

Suddenly, the air stiffens just as your hearing returns to hear Kaiju no. 9. “Ah, I should have done this from the beginning.” 

“What…” You and Kikoru’s eyes widened at the sudden incoming blasts moving towards the both of you.

You stiffen up as your instincts tell you to fight back. To draw your machine gun or to jump out of the way. To protect Kikoru. 

…But you couldn’t feel your legs.

“BASTARD!” in a haze, you only hear Narumi’s yell from a distance, still trying frozen in place.

The last thing you saw was his back in a protective stance, shielding you from the blast.

And the body of Isao Shinomiya flying to the sky, waging war to all of humanity.

It hurts to think, it hurts to remember. It hurts to see the people you care about skewered by guilt and sadness.

It hurt you the most when Narumi sat on the stretcher next to you, hunched over whilst gripping his head in his hands when he thought no one was looking.

You were unknowingly clenching onto the fabric of Kikoru’s uniform too, you realize, as you hear her talk to Narumi. How she wouldn’t even let herself grief.

At the sound of that, Narumi declares something.

“I’ll make you the strongest after me.” You and Kikoru look up in surprise. “I’ll drill what mr. Isao drilled into me to you.” 

As Kikoru’s tears ran, so did her newfound determination. The fight isn’t over. It’s just begun. She swears to it, as you and Narumi bear witness.

“(L/N).” He turns to you, causing your body to stiffen. “I’m entrusting this duty to you. Direct orders,” you straighten, getting back on your feet.

You’ve never seen Narumi like this before.

“Sir.” you fix your appearance, trying your best to look stern. You were never really good at it.

“Get stronger.” You bit the inside of your cheek at his words. It wasn’t just an order, it was a statement. “Train Shinomiya. Be at each other’s side,”

“Show me results.”

***

It’s very awkward to have to take an elevator ride with Captain Narumi after that whole ordeal.

You didn’t even know where to look. For once, no conversations flowed through your mind.

“This is bad!!! This is very bad!!!” You internally panicked. Never mind the constant headaches and large amount of medical treatment you still needed to undergo, you were fretting over what he would say to you as a platoon leader trespassing and enabling a rule breaking cadet! “I can’t look him in the eye!”

“Um…” You broke the silence, yet Narumi made no effort to look in your direction. “Captain.”

You bit your lip. What were you to even say? Yes, you and Narumi were close, but this atmosphere… the weight of the world was on him. Could you even be there for him?

But you remember how hard this was for him. How much of a front he’s handling right now. So, you merely soften your voice, to sound as respectful as possible. Then, you bow. “I’m terribly sorry for your loss, sir.”

Narumi still doesn’t move. Not like there’s anywhere to go.

You wonder if you’ve overstepped any boundaries. He was still your captain, even if you sort of had a strange bond with him. Maybe not as strange as what he has with Vice Captain Hoshina, but still. He was a friend.

“Thank you, (L/n).” Your shoulders immediately relaxed, letting out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“I’ll follow your orders to the end. I’ll get stronger, Narumi-kun–” you hold your tongue. “Ahem, Captain Narumi.”

Finally, he turns to look at you. Maybe if your head wasn’t still pounding and you weren’t so fussy over how the bandages felt wrapped around your head, you’d notice how his gaze softened. “You’re still recovering from your injuries. You’re forbidden to go to the training hall.”

“Eh?” You blinked. “Ah, ok. Yes sir.” You twiddled with your fingers, now embarrassed. Right, you weren’t even supposed to be out and about yet.

As your gaze landed on the floor, you failed to notice Narumi’s sight falling onto your figure, furrowing his expression at your slightly limped stature. You had sustained much more severe wounds than him, even if you were still standing. 

But that was just it, you were still standing, and he was god damn thankful for that.

It was a much better sight than seeing your unconscious, limp body in his hands before you were passed to a stretcher and flooded by paramedics, his sight refusing to leave you even as another pair of medics tried to assess his own condition. 

The heat he felt searing through you as he cradled your unconscious body burned through his own skin as a reminder that you were alive–but you were in bad, bad shape. You had paid the price of increasing your abilities past what your suit could handle, reaching a fever of nearly 40 degrees and immediately requiring an IV drip. he had to bark at Kikoru to keep her distance, under the guise that the paramedics weren’t done with you, that she needed medical attention herself, but he himself knew that wasn’t the full cause of his reasoning. He didn’t want her to see you like this.

You were so unlike yourself, motionless on that stretcher, lacking the life and luster that enveloped you.

It was terrifying.

When the paramedics left and he finally got a moment to himself, all he could do was hunch forward, hands grasping roughly at his scalp. The incident flowed through his mind like a waterfall, from the desecrated face of Isao Shinomiya, the war Kaiju no, 9 had waged against him and humanity, the pained face of his disciple, and lingering feel of your lifeless body cradled against him.

He would never let this happen again.

The elevator shakes a bit as Narumi straightens his gaze.

“And…” Your head perks up again, bright eyes meeting his fuchsia gaze. “Loosen up. I’ve had enough of formalities today.” 

He breathes out your name, in a fervor unheard of from the image of Japan’s strongest. A more boyish, young tone. “Show me results like you did when we first met, (Y/N).”

Your mouth gaped a bit, before the familiar smile you always sported, albeit softer, makes its way back to your face. “At least grieve properly, Gen. I know how much he means to you.”

Maybe it was how you operated, your clockwork, but Gen feels a realization with how a part of him had been laid out to you without him knowing, and with that part alone, you had studied and lived with so graciously, that the way you had softly soothed him with your presence had taken him off guard by how welcoming his subconscious was to it.

You were unlike anyone else he had ever met. No one had ever read him like this.

Even when he was silently processing your words, you simply watched him in understanding, your gaze never making him uncomfortable. He was just so accustomed to your presence.

Had you always been so close, he wonders, when he finally realizes that his fingers had grazed yours. 

Looking at each other in mutual shock, you were the one to recover first, to boldly squeeze his hand with an unspoken vow, to pull him into your presence. To let his grief flow.

It flashes through his mind then, his youth with Isao, all his efforts to earn his gaze, how he fought so hard for results. How he’d never see that damn old man reel back in tears over how much he’s achieved now.

It squeezes his heart.

But at last the memories flow.

And he lets the feel of your warmth meld with his skin, the calloused bumps and slight burn from your bandages rubbing against his own as he finally squeezes back, not even out of his own accord. His fingers moved on their own.

When the moment ends and your touch becomes that of a ghost, Narumi is taken aback by how his hands nearly chased after yours.

He wonders how you feel, but at the ding of the elevator floors, you had awkwardly flitted the topic of the conversation away again, leaving unanswered questions.

“I’ll still oversee Shinomiya’s training. It’s what she needs most.” You stare at the cold doors of the elevator, not really knowing why you’re still letting your mouth run. “I know we both believe in her. She has a bright future ahead.”

You feel Narumi’s gaze land fully on you now. “Exactly why I said what I said. Better not see you slack off and let her catch up to you as fast, (Y/N).”

His tone is lighter now, you note. Your heart fluttered a bit at the more casual honorific too. That relieved you, bringing your smile back. “I have no intention of losing, Gen.” 

The entire incident still felt heavy in both of your hearts, knowing what happened. But as long as you can be there for Narumi, you’ll support him in whatever way he needs.

The elevator dings as you both reach the ground floor. “One more thing.”

You turn to him, blinking. 

“Once you’re healed, report to my office.” He walks out first. “Mr. Isao probably wanted to see this for himself, but–”

“You’re eligible for a numbers suit.”

--

A/N: Whew that was a wild ride.... i might do numbers suit reader or meeting hoshina soon!

The thought of mitsuri! reader fighting on field and hanging on through sheer willpower alone is so admirable... wow, u have a really cool gf gen......... though u dont even have the guts to ask her out yet, wow

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are Weird: The Horrors of War

( Please come see me on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord Every bit helps)

The small village was little more than kindling now. Repeated cannons had vaporized what defenses the enemy militia had erected before the attack had even commenced and after the bombardment the majority of those who could fight ran. A few attempted to put up a fight but by then the alliance forces were just mopping up the remnants.

Jimbari stepped carefully over the still cindering rumble as his squad made for the center of the village. A was thankful the helmet filters were still working and absorbing most the stench otherwise he would not have been able to make it three feet with his people’s overly heightened sense of smell.

Taking a look around the ruins he wondered why his team was even here to begin with. Command had ordered them to support the terran advance along the front but the Terrans had never requested assistance before. To the contrary, they seemed more inclined to keep their allies away from their section of the front. Yet command was insistent that this time a Jimbari’s squad help them regardless of the terran’s intentions.

Climbing a small mound of bricks Jimbari lost his footing and stumbled down the other side harshly. He could hear his squad coming over to him as he swept the dust off himself only to find himself face to face with a terran soldier pointing a compact launcher right at his face.

“Callsign.”  The human spoke with authority. Jimbari could hear the footsteps of his men reaching the top of the mound he had just fallen down but the terran never took his eyes off Jimbari.

Quickly holding up a hand for caution to his own men before they mistook the situation Jimbari responded “Red Frank.”

The terran kept his gun pointed at him for a few moments more before pointing it away and offering a hand.

“Sorry about that,” they said as Jimbari took the offered hand and hoisted himself up, “can’t be too careful these days.”

“A wise precaution.” Jimbari replied smoothly as if the terran had not almost killed him. “Lesser warriors have fallen victim to such lack of caution.” The terran grunted acknowledgement and then let out a high pitched whistle.

From the surrounding buildings emerged an entire platoon of terran soldiers. Covered in dirt, mud, dust that expertly camouflaged them; Jimbari was thankful he was able to defuse the situation before a lethal firefight broke out.

From the corner of his eye he watched his own men lower their weapons and slide down the hill to join him as the human who had pointed the gun at him held up a hand in a weak salute.

“Lieutenant Mccao of the 31st.”

“Sunrunner Jimbari of the Scar brands.” Jimbari replied as the pair began walking together to the center of the town.

“We were told we had some reinforcements coming, but command failed to mention what you all looked like; just a call sign to be answered.” Mccao informed Jimbari. He noticed that even though they were now surrounded by both their respective warriors this Mccao kept his eyes watching the surrounding ruins and his hands clenched tight around his weapon; a truly battle hardened warrior indeed.

“Would you have killed us if I had given it wrong?” Jimbari replied amusingly, but was shocked when the lieutenant nodded.

“Out here mistakes get you killed.” They replied coldly. “If you’d have given the wrong answer you and your whole lot would’ve been dead before your body hit the floor.”

“Such alertness is to be…” Jimbari began but found himself unable to find the right words. He’d never fought alongside allies who could so easily kill without hesitation. Thankfully the terran cut in before the silence became more awkward.

“You can save the dick sucking for someone who cares; let’s just get this done.”

Jimbari was going to ask what they meant when they finally reached the village center. The perimeter of the area was encircled by a couple terran soldiers each facing outwards being overseen by an officer whom Mccao broke off from Jimbari to go and speak with.

 Lined up against the village chief’s home were several locals all bound and on their hands and knees. None of them appeared clean and they looked as if they were the only ones to have survived the short run battle through their community. There were even a couple of infantile ones clinging to what he assumed were their birth givers and weeping as the birth givers spoke softly to them.

He pointed to the infantile ones bound in rope. “Why are they held like this?”

Mccao looked over his shoulder and followed Jimbari’s eye line to the captives.

“Survivors from the battle,” Mccao replied dryly, “we’ve just finished questioning them.”  Jimbari was unsatisfied with the answer and pressed the issue.

“Why are the…what is your word….”Children”, held like that?”

The terran Lieutenant looked at him surprised as if the answer was simple. “All designated combatants are to be detained for questioning; no exceptions.”

Jimbari could not believe himself. “Since when are children combatants?” he demanded of the terran.

“Since one of them walked up to me friend and detonated a plasma grenade they had in their pocket.”

The answer was harsh as it was truthful. Jimbari could see the pain of the moment in question that haunted him burning behind the terran’s eyes. This warrior had seen things that could not easily be forgotten.

Unsure how to proceed, Jimbari changed topic. “Have you learned anything useful?” To which Mccao shook his head.

“Imperial forces pulled out of here three days ago and left the militia here as a rearguard.” The Lieutenant answered. “They didn’t think they could hold out long so half the weapons they got were sparking scrap.”

As if to emphasize his point he kicked over the broken remains of an Imperial plasma rifle. Jimbari looked at the weapon’s remains and could tell there had been a power overload causing the blast of super-heated plasma to backfire into the wielders face rather than expelling from the elongated barrel.

“What can we assist you with then?” Jimbari asked the Lieutenant.

The Lieutenant looked at the prisoners then at his second who gave a shrug before turning back to Jimbari.

“Like I said, we’re pretty finished up here but there is one thing you could do.” They pointed at the gathered prisoners who were now being dragged backwards and placed against a wall.

“Kill them.”

Jimbari looked at the terran in confusion then tapped his helmet several times; sure that his translator unit had malfunctioned.

“Kill them?” Jimbari asked as if he had heard wrong, but Mccao nodded.

“Yes, all of them.” He said as he waved his hand across the gathered lot of prisoners.

From behind him Jimbari saw his men looking uncomfortable as they heard the terran’s order.

“But they are noncombatants; innocents.” Jimbari countered. The terran surprised him by laughing and wiping a hand across his dirt covered face.  

“This is war; innocence is always the first thing to die.”

From the corner of his eye Jimbari could see the humans who had been watching the perimeter had turned around and now encircled the lot of them. Turning back to the lieutenant he saw the human’s hand had quietly flicked the safety off their weapon; their trigger finger resting slightly against the guard.

“I can see you are looking at this from a morality perspective so allow me to give you a taste of the real world.”

Walking over to one of the younger prisoners clutching to their birth giver, they grabbed them and dragged them over before Jimbari. The birth giver cried out and tried to stop the terran only for one of their soldiers to step forward and drive the butt of their weapon into their chest sending them to the dirt hard.

“Stop this!” Jimbari demanded as the Lieutenant grabbed hold of the little one’s face and forced them to look up at Jimbari.

“You see this little fucker?” Mccao said as he tightened his grip making the young one cry. “This little guy here just watched us blow the fuck out of his dad.”

With his rifle he pointed over to a nearby corpse lying against a wall. It was riddled with puncture wounds from where the bullets entered and part of the face had peeled away leaving it hanging limply in the breeze.

“Pretty much everyone here we killed was from this village and these are most likely their families.” The terran continued.

“They are militia so that makes sense; but-“ Jimbari continued but the terran cut them off.

“So tell me then; what do you think this little kid here will grow up remembering of his childhood? Do you think it’ll be going down to the river with their friends to fish? Or maybe about that crush they had with their neighbor? Or, now this is a wild one, how some alien monsters came into their village and murdered their family and friends?”

The young one said nothing as they struggled in the terran’s grip. Streams of yellow tears running from their pores as they wept much like their birth giver who still struggled to reach them. Jimbari fixed the terran with a cold stare that had made his men quake in fear.

“Put the young one down.” Jimbari demanded, his hand tightening on the grip of his weapon now.

“So he can grow up and kill us later?” Mccao laughed. He brought the muzzle of his weapon up and pressed it against the head of the young one.

“I said PUT THEM DOWN!” Jimbari shouted. He brought his own weapon up to cover the terran as the two sides of former allies trained their weapons on each other. A chorus of shouts to disarm went back and forth as each Jimbari’s team and the terran platoon; neither side willing to lower their weapons.

“Careful now,” Mccao spoke, his voice thick with a dark menace, “with you acting all scary you wouldn’t want me to-“

Jimbari never heard the last bit as the loud discharge of the lieutenant’s weapon went off. He watched the head of the young one cave inwards from the bullet’s impact before shooting out the opposite side in a violent display of gore.

Roaring in rage, Jimbari made to pull the trigger of his own weapon before feeling several sharp pains throughout his chest. He looked down to see several puncture wounds dotting his armor that now spilled out his life blood.

Behind him he could hear the roar of terran weapons going off as the rest of his team was cut down like wheat before they could even retaliate. The terran’s had taken their time during the argument between Jimbari and Mccao to encircle the group and line up kill shots on the entire squad. His team were dead the moment Jimbari brought up his weapon.

Collapsing to his knees, Jimbari clutched his chest trying to stem the bleeding but there was little hope. He looked up to see the terrans turn around to their captives and unleash a lethal barrage of fire, killing them all as they begged for mercy.

Mccao stepped over to Jimbari and looked down at him; his expression a mixture of disappointment and indifference.

 “One day, you’re people will learn the realities of war.” They said as they brought up their weapon against Jimbari’s skull. “It’s a shame it wasn’t today.”

-------------------------- After Action Report 737 Location: Zenellie Village Statement from: Lieutenant Mccao. “We entered the town and cleared out the militia rather easily. They had little to defend themselves with so after we killed a few the rest surrendered too us. We had just gathered them in the center of the village for questioning when Sun Runner Jimbari arrived to support us.

Not long after Jimbari’s squad entering the square a series of explosions went off throughout the village. We dove for what cover we could find as new combatants emerged from the ruins of the village to engage us. I assume they had been hiding inside the village waiting to ambush us all when we were entirely surrounded.

Jimbari was ordering his squad to engage when he was cut down by the previously held captives. They had broken free of their bindings and had stolen several of our guns which they then turned on us while we had been distracted by the counter attack.

I would like it mentioned for the record that he and his men fought bravely, but were cut down by the villagers before we could intervene.  I saw him cut down by a young child of one of the villagers as they unloaded an entire clip into their chest before I got a shot off and took them down.

By the end of it the entire village was reduced to kindling and all of the villagers were dead. We did our best to recover the bodies of Jimbari and his men to be returned to their people for proper burial before heading back to our lines.

In light of such devastation, I would recommend that all captives be treated as dangerous combatants until this conflict is over. “

[awkward-tension-art]

Darkness on Umbara Chp.6 (Rex x Reader)

Chapter 5. Chapter 7.

The Gorge

cw: Rex x Reader, Reader is a medic, incorrect military procedure, graphic descriptions of injuries, blood, swearing, death and battle, Spoilers for the Umbara Arc, Pong Krell is an asshole, reader insert, names of non-canon dead clones, reader is gender neutral, no use of (Y/N), if i miss a tag LMK

Minors DN

Airbase. 

That’s the priority. That's why the 501st had retreated away from the capital. 

A fucking airbase.

You could see it in the distance from where you were. The tall tower was clearly marked by a bright pillar of light that reached towards the clouds.

As Fives, Krell and Rex inspected the area on a cliffside, you and Kix weaved around the men, treating any injuries you saw. Sadly, painkillers were getting to low levels, so you decided to use them for the truly brutal wounds. For those you had to deem were suffering beyond comprehension.

You regretted using them on yourself. 

But, everyone else…well, they were big boys. They just had to handle it. Judging by the uninterested look that Hardcase had while Kix stitched up his shoulder, you were confident that the men weren’t going to complain. 

Your gaze swept over the battalion. The dark, tentacle-like trees had fanned out from the jungle, allowing an easier view of the soldiers. You counted the silhouettes, their white and blue armor stark against the ash colored ground. 

By the end you were right. A majority of the battalion had been injured in some way. Wounds were expected. But this many…It was getting hard to keep up, and judging by the way Kix swayed slightly when he stood, he was feeling the same thing.

“Alright men, we’re splitting the battalion,” Rex called, getting everyone at attention, “Half of you will remain here. The other half, follow me down to the gorge.”

You sighed and watched them go. Your tired steps were about to go to your medical speeder, but Krell halted you, “Doctor, you will be going with them.” He stepped between you and your goal, which was to resupply.

“Respectfully, sir,” you looked up into his small yellow eyes, “I think it would be better if I remained here and-.”

“My orders are for you to go with the platoons down to the gorge.” the besalisk crossed two of his four arms, surprisingly, he wasn’t yelling at you. Instead, his tone was icy and yet uninterested, “I’ve seen how you are during battle, and your expertise is wasted as a backline medic. You will be with the men on the front.”

You blinked and nodded. Was that a compliment? 

“Understood, sir.” you saluted with your uninjured arm and followed the platoon. At this point, arguing with him about your training would only result in a bad outcome.

You found your position next to Kix, who looked very unhappy to see you, “please don’t tell me…” 

“He complimented me,” you gave a sarcastic smile, “Said my expertise was wasted by not being on the front.”

Before Kix could respond, Rex began to speak, getting all the attention onto him, “Alright listen up!” His voice held authority with every word, “We’ll assemble the squads into two divisions. We’ll move straight up this gorge to the airbase on the far side.”

The medic beside you snapped, “The casualties are going to be high!” 

Tup scoffed, “Is Krell trying to get us killed!?”

“You know, I wasn’t sure that Krell was crazy before.” Jesse snarled, helmet in his hand. He practically glared at Rex as he continued, “But now, I’m positive!”

“We had to retreat from the capital because the general pushed a flawed strategy!” It was Fives’ turn to argue, “Now this?”

Hardcase raised his heavy weapon, “I don’t know! Could be fun.”

“Well, I, for one, agree with the general's plan.” Dogma chimed in, seeming much more confident than anyone else. 

“What plan?” You turned to face him, “Blindly rushing into the unknown without a care for the costs isn’t a plan!” Your words might’ve struck Rex, truthfully, you couldn’t look at him to find out. 

You had all the faith in him. You just had no faith in Krell or his tactics. But arguing would seem like you were against your lover and not the temporary General.

“We are running out of time and this is the best option!”

Jesse spoke up again, royally pissed, “No recon? No air support? We don’t know what we’re up against!” He waved his helmet in the air in frustration, “They have weapons we’ve never seen before!” To punctuate his point, he tapped his helmet to his head a couple of times. 

The 501st captain stepped forward, attempting to reason with everyone, “A few of General Skywalker’s plans seemed reckless too, but they worked.”

His words did little to ease the rising tempers, “Yeah, but General Skywalker is usually leading his men up in the front not bringing up the rear like General Krell!” Fives stepped towards Rex, riling up everyone else, “A full frontal assault would leave us too exposed!”

The other men rose up in dissatisfied chatter. They were clearly unhappy with the plan.

“We have to look at other options!”

“It's going to be a meat grinder!”

Rex sighed, frustration clear, “Fives.” He commanded the ARC trooper to follow. The two stepped away, out of earshot. 

“What supplies do we have?” Kix turned to face you, “This…is going to be difficult.”

Wordlessly you took off your pack and knelt to go through the packs you carried. Luckily the both of you stocked up as well as you could from everything on the medical speeder. But it never hurts to check. 

Bandages and bacta were the most needed, and hopefully, you had enough to see this through.

You attempted to get your pack back on by lifting it with your bad arm, only to drop it and hiss in pain. 

“Damnit.” you swallowed, feeling the very bone pulse in agony. It’s only been a few hours since you were shot. Your arm was nowhere near healed. 

Kix put a hand on your uninjured shoulder to hold you steady, “Take it easy.”

“I’m fine,” You mumbled, adjusting your pack, “The men have survived worse than this. How would it look if I burst into tears every time I get hurt?” 

“Nearly getting your arm blasted off isn’t just ‘getting hurt’. If you need a break, the others will understand.” He argued softly.

You shook your head, “And what about you? You’ve been unsteady on your feet from exhaustion for hours and yet you still run around helping those who are wounded.”

“Only because you’ve been taking a majority of them.” Kix responded, though he didn’t argue with your point. 

“Are you two done?” Dogma snapped from his position, “We’re about to start moving.”

“Hey, Dogma, have you considered shutting the fuck up?” An ARF trooper, Jumper, leaned forward on his AT-RT to silence the ground soldier, “How about you don’t pick a fight with the two people keeping all of us alive.”

“Hey-!”

“Everyone, enough.” Jesse finally stepped in to get everyone quiet, “Now is not the time or the place.” A mere minute later instructions were given. 

You’d go with Rex and his half of the platoon. Kix would go with Fives and Hardcase and their half. 

Splitting up…wonderful idea. There’s no way that could ever go wrong. 

You hung back, keeping your position behind a majority of the men. Noct and Nax, however, were walking on either side of you. As if they were intending to guard you from threats. Your nod to them was in appreciation as both platoons marched forward slowly and carefully. 

Three of those flying beasts that attacked on the main road flew overhead. They didn’t make a dive or move towards anyone on the ground. Instead, you’d think they were fleeing something.

A rapidly approaching rumble cut off your thoughts. The ground was shaking, and it was only getting worse. Nax grabbed your wrist to keep you steady as the vibrations got stronger and louder. Even the AT-RT’s were unstable from the sheer power of the sway.

You raised your comm and began to speak, “Kix, what is going-.”

In the distance, you heard the commotion. Shouting. Booms. It sounded like something was…howling? 

Everything around you was shaking violently, and Kix finally responded, “We’re under attack!”

Without wait, Rex diverted off the original path to aid his brothers. You all ran as quickly as you could despite the dark, dense plant life that hindered your movements. Once you made it over the ridge, you paused, taking in the battle.

Chaos. Chaos and mayhem. At the center of it all, was a tank in the shape of a centipede, marked with blue lights. It roared before slamming down, killing all soldiers under its massive body. 

“Get those rocket launchers down there! Move it troopers!” Rex commanded, pistols in hand and immediately running to aid the soldiers.

The blaster guns that ran down the centipede tanks back were firing in all directions, making it difficult to maneuver or navigate. Still, you managed to get close enough while remaining behind the cover of a massive tree and its roots.

One of the green shots hit Jumper’s AT-RT, killing him in a burst of neon flames.

Another name to your list.

“Watch out!” The ARF trooper next to you called as another tank shot up from the ground. He was hit almost instantly, knocking down from his vehicle. immediately your hands were on him and dragging him behind cover. 

“I got you, Dia.” you reassured, pulling off his helmet.

Pupils uneven. Head injury. Concussion. Watch for seizures or signs of stroke. Traumatic brain injuries were difficult to deal with in such a chaotic environment, but you did what you could with the supplies you have. 

One of the tanks swung its massive head, slamming into one of the troopers that had a much needed rocket launcher. He hit the ground, but curled his body to protect the precious weapon. Once the Umbaran tank turned to continue its destruction, Kix leapt out from the black and red foliage. Thank whatever gods decided to keep him alive!

He grabbed the trooper just as Hardcase got the rocket launcher. You rushed out to join him, taking hold of one of the troopers shoulders, “Follow me!” You shouted, leading the medic to your position of cover hidden in the dense trees. When you returned, there were already several more injured that were taking refuge.

Behind you, there was another explosion. The now headless tank roared before it melted into a screech. Its massive silver and blue body twisted and spasmed as every section burst into flames and destruction. You spotted Fives and Hardcase sprinting to avoid getting hit by its thrashing legs.

Rex called out, tone commanding yet anxious, “Everyone regroup, now! Take cover!” 

The platoons scattered, fleeing into the dark and foggy forest. Luckily the thick trunks and roots of the red, glowing trees were condensed enough the tanks couldn’t push through. 

“Move it! Move it!”

“Let's go!”

“Go! Go! Go!”

You swallowed and looked up at Rex. He was breathing heavily, but still standing. However, you didn’t miss the blood on his wrist. 

You reached into a small pack on your thigh and took out clean bandages as you approached. He would always opt for bandages and not bacta. At every battle, if he got hurt, he’d reject the medicine, saying ‘save it for the next soldier you treat.’ So you’ve learned to just accept his selflessness and use standard first-aid supplies if the wounds weren’t so bad.

“We’re safe for the moment, but they’ll be coming around any second,” He continued to lead the men, not stopping even when you grabbed his wrist and began to bandage it up, “Bring up the launchers, spread detonators along that corridor. Trap them in the bottleneck.” The captain nodded in appreciation once you finished your work. He continued, “We’re going to blow those things sky high.”

Fives rushed past you to a soldier, Hana, who carried explosives in a large pack. He grabbed several of the bombs before running with the other to the narrow part of the gorge. Several others followed the ARC trooper. 

You remained with the injured, just like Kix. Your focus was on the trooper, Hek, in your arms working to stem the bleeding on his chest. However, no matter what you tried, he slipped away under your hands.

Hek. One more death to blame on Krell.

Your priority shifted to Silk, who had sat down and waited patiently with a bleeding, smoldering neck and shoulder wound. Either he was the most patient man in existence, or mentally gone. It didn’t matter though, because you began to patch him up, using whatever you could to save him.

After a few moments, the ground shook violently again, causing you to hold him close to your chest to protect. From the direction of where the men placed bombs, you heard the booms and crackles of their explosives detonating. The tanks they destroyed howled and wailed as it sounded like they crashed into one another, ripping each other apart.

Soldiers had run back to your position to take cover from the resulting explosions. Hardcase dove to your right, getting behind the massive root protecting everyone from the fire. Rex, who was thrown from the force of the bombs, landed on his front right next to you and Silk. Fives and Jesse stumbled, also hitting the dirt after getting shoved by the burst of heat and flames. 

It was a few seconds later when your ears were blessed with silence. Seemed everyone was waiting for…something. Another attack? Or just appreciating the brief moment of calm.

The captain got onto one knee, turned his head to you, and his shoulders slumped slightly with relief, “Good job.” he stood, addressing his men, “Be ready to move out in five.”

Five minutes to rest.

Hardly enough time for you and Kix to tend to all those that were sporting injuries, but you could at least handle the more serious cases. And in those five minutes, despite your best efforts….

Fyre. Vim. Oz. Ringo. North. Gabe. Tro. Tess. Zeb. Sante. Reign. Pheon. Dawn. Nim. Jamie. Jumper. Hek. Recon. Mav. Zeo.

You added a few more names to the list of the dead.