#what if this shadow clone would bring you the head of not just your enemies but your friends if you wished.

[glacierbash]

Whenever I draw/write Iverelle’s dark knight shit, I want the vibes to change from whatever aesthetic ffxiv typically has to what if you merged fucked up horror shit with a beautiful bishie love interest. Except instead of a pretty boy gifting flowers and being surrounded by cherry blossom petals, it’s a beautiful lesbian aroused by murder and bloodshed. You know.

[purble-turble]

Read that one “Mac and Azure kidnap Wukong together” AU idea and wrote a lil ficlet for it.

All things considered, the farmer’s life was nice. Peaceful. Relaxing, even.

Azure Lion was happy here. It wasn’t his ideal lifestyle; but it was good. The labor required to farm their food wasn’t too difficult for him (if anything, the hardest part was being gentle enough that he didn’t tear the leaves off a carrot while yanking it from the ground) and the isolation was calming.

It was home. Just for now, not forever, but it was home.

“Oy, Azure!” Macaque yelled out to him. He was holding a pot and mixing it with a spoon held by his tail. “Hurry up and get inside! I’m already halfway done with dinner over here.”

“Coming!” He called back, picking up his basket of root vegetables to join the shadow. “You know, gardening would go by a lot faster if you just had your clones do it.”

“And let you slack off all day as I do all the hard work? Nice try, Bud.”

Azure rolled his eyes before placing down the basket in the small kitchen and wandering into the bathroom to freshen up.

“All freshened up?” Macaque asked when he came back into the dining room.

“I tried to be quick about it.” Azure said as he caught the dishes Macaque tossed him, going to set the table. “Where’s Wukong?”

“That’s a dumb question,” Macaque snorted as he started bringing out the food. “He’s in the nest. I tried to take him out for awhile but he’s in another mood today.”

“Don’t be rude. You know how hard this is for him.”

“Well maybe he wouldn’t be having such a hard time if he just got with the program.”

“Macaque!”

“We’re both thinking it!“ the monkey snarled as he slammed the final, steaming pot down. “If he just got his shit together we wouldn’t even be here!”

“I know that! But the sickness in his mind-“

“Oh, again with “The Sickness”-“

“He does not know what he wants, Macaque. We must be patient with him. You know what they did to him.”

Macaque’s jaw snapped shut with a click, shifting his head to avoid eye contact. Azure Lion sighed, rounding the table to gently grip Macaque’s shoulder.

“I want him back just as much as you do. And it’s easy to blame him for what happened during his enslavement to the Emperor. But Macaque, it’s not his fault.”

“…sometimes, it feels like he’s choosing not to be himself.” Macaque mumbled, staring at the table.

“Macaque-“

“He’ll just. I’ll see him go for the throat of a demon he’s fighting or start laughing at a dumb joke or just stare down an enemy with that twinkle in his eye and for just a second he’s there.”

“I’m sorry, Macaque.” Azure Lion sighed, and Macaque’s head snapped up in shock.

“What?”

“I’ve been trapped in that scroll for so long, but you’ve been trying to find and save him for centuries. It’s easy for me to judge you for losing your temper with him but I was never put into the position you were of watching him whither away. I’m sorry.”

“…okay, yeah, same.” Macaque said, chuckling as he shrugged off Azure Lion’s hand. “I can’t get pissed off at you for just trying to help. Now let’s stop the mushy crap and get dinner started already. You mind getting Peaches? I’m gonna check to see if we have any wine left.”

“Of course.” Azure smiled, passing Macaque as he walked down the stairs. “See if we have any peach-flavored left.”

“I’ll see what I can do!”

Azure smiled before turning to the door, taking a deep breath and summoned his sword. He started unlocking the first of many locks.

Hopefully Wukong would be calm enough to have dinner without starting a fight.

Aaaaaa Anon this is freakin awesome!! Yes, thank you for sharing this I love it 😍😍😍

Such a good inclusion of Azure insisting that Wukong is not himself and needs them to save him. I adore that motivation for these yandere type villains, and it’s something I find especially fitting for the likes of Macaque and Azure.. they just want him back to the way he is supposed to be, after all~

[nightfall-1409]

Writer's Update

Hi everyone <3 sorry things are taking a bit of time, I'm going through An Ordeal and that has regrettably been the case of late. I don't like to publicly air too much, but it's led to some delays. Not dead, but, just some updates under the cut with some snippets <3

So I, As My Mother Before Me

Obviously my mother's day side story for sabine missed the deadline, I'll get that out ASAP (as soon as its done), and the teaser for it is that it covers Sabine's 'missing' time in the fic, and threading the needle wrt Ursa, Myles, and those sorts of background elements in the fic, as well as letting me, Nightfall, meditate on what exactly I want to have the connective tissue be for her background. It's probably for the best it got delayed so much, as it'll contain some spoilers for later content in (Re)Convene, depending on how long that takes me to catch up.

Snow makes the world quiet, still, and then she interrupts it. Sabine gasps as she feels it against her flight suit, cold, and sudden, and wakes in a horrible instance. There is snow and trees all around her, and the forest is quieter still.  She knows this forest, but it’s an impossibility. She stands, barely needing a moment to collect herself before she’s calling for, “Ahsoka!”  There is no one around.  She lowers her rangefinder, scans her surroundings, ignores her gut screaming at her that she knows this place. Hu-Yang or Ahsoka would chide her, tell her that she should at least make the attempt of meeting her surroundings, connecting with them.  But that is not her way, it is not the Mandalorian way, and in an emergency scenario where she didn’t know what was happening, she’d not out herself to their enemies.   She’s bringing Ezra home.  She’s not here.  This place isn’t real.  This place is gone, and they knew that it was being destroyed when she... Her rangefinder interrupts her thoughts, and tells her that she's on Krownest, and she bangs her hand down into the soft snow of her home again in a fist.

(Re)Convene Ch. 41 (Ezra) The Flash Of the Dark

hahah I do apologize for leaving you lot on that cliffhanger...im working through it :) In the meantime, the opener.

He finds that his teacher is in the library, and there’s an older woman next to him, grave and sad.  Quinlan’s expression too is serious.  Ezra responds by shelving any and all irritation about how many different places he’d looked in before finding the Shadow here.  “Ezra.  About time,” Quinlan jabs anyway, clearly intending to be playful and Ezra bites his tongue.  “This is Master Kostana.”  Quinlan introduces; and Ezra straightens further— this is who Obi-Wan had mentioned. “Master to Sifo-Diyas.  The council asked her to visit the Archives, to aid in the investigation of the Sith compulsion.” “Oh,” Ezra pauses, piecing together what all that means, before he softens his expression.  “Thank you for your aid, Master,” He bows his head forward slightly, and she waves one hand.  “I ought to thank you,” she says after a moment.  “For bringing his lightsaber home.” Woof.  Ezra can feel it at her side.  It is not a happy thing to know, though, and further… Ezra’s not exactly good at handling those sorts of conversations.  “Well, I wasn’t the one who…”

Other fics: Things are progressing, but perhaps not as quick as I'd like... on account of the fact I'm aiming for the clone bang sign ups at the end of June! No Spoilers yet! 😘 But I look forward to revealing it in good time. I hope to get it to the 10k mark by sign ups close on the 30th, I'm about halfway to that point rn.

[iinafarawaygalaxii]

Star Wars the Clone Wars: Bloodline

The Man with Yellow Armor : Chapter 2

Timeline: 22bby

Summary: Veras days were numbered in terms of her decision to join the GAR and with the pile of work from her current job, joining the GAR didn't seem like such a bad idea. Although she did have ideals to stay away from the war, a new player joins the mission to capture her influence as this day alone changed the way she viewed her own life and the life of others. 

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: Violence, Trauma, Mention of death

Rating: SFW

Notes:

*Mesh'la = Beautiful in Mondoa

Curse word or 2?

Time can be your greatest ally or your worst enemy and for Vera, it was the latter. On the night of the first rotation she began to feel the pressure of her decision to join the GAR. The sun was already drifting to dusk and she had less than 24 hours to give the Generals their answer. After one of her busiest days working for the Grand Republic Medical Facility, she sat there in her office rubbing her temples, thinking about the advice her boss had given about what would happen when, or mostly if, she would return. A higher status in society maybe? They would want her to become the senators private doctor or (even better) become the Director of the hospital and take her bosses job... Either way, the opportunities were endless but.. Vera didn't want to think about that, at least not right now. She realized she's been given a choice to actually help the people fighting on the civvies behalf- something she never had the chance to do, especially 10 years ago. "Now Im beginning to understand what Rex meant...", whispering to herself with the memory of Rex's voice invaded her thoughts, ~"I understand that civvies will assume we get the best but you are wrong. Were created to serve the republic, we don't get choices like you. Don't assume otherwise, doctor." ~. She really messed up because at the end of the day he was right and it made her feel very guilty. What was the purpose of creating the clones in the first place? Why didn't they recruit from republic planets? So many questions, not very many answers but.... It made her think that maybe there was something bigger at play, or more importantly, she felt that there was especially since Kamino. Although she gave up on the feeling a long time ago, she couldn't help but wonder if this is what her Gods have planned. Being deeply connected to the force definitely helped get her here but a choice as big as this?  The future was clouded and the uncertainty is what brings back the horrors from her past. She felt Rex on a deeper level, one where duty and sacrifice stood. "Damn..", she sighed out placing a hand over her heart as tears began to formulate with each droplet representing the many souls lost that day. To stop the incoming panic of the traumatic experience, she rubbed her eyes and began packing up the remainder of her work for the day, trying to ignore the nasty memories that began brewing wishing Cersi was here to help navigate the feeling she never took the time to understand.

'I cant go through that again...', she whispers to herself before shutting off her office lights to head home.

-

The dim light from the candle she lit, illuminated the shadows of all the work that needed to be done on her desk at home. "So much.. paperwork", she sighed rubbing her temples realizing her life means much more than this but, this is what she chose. She wanted to feel what civilians feel, being able to go wherever they wanted whenever they wanted. At the end of the day all she truly wanted was to be free and independent but to be free always comes with a cost, making her realize life was never just black and white. It was filled with a grey area of the 'unknown' and thats what she's always been afraid of as memories began piercing down to the smallest areas of her brain, brining back the pain she felt... One she or her sister hasnt been able to escape from. Although her heart throbbed for adventure... her soul sought out peace and solace but how will she manage to obtain both? Just this question alone filled her with a curiosity so strong that it became something thats never been satiated even with her job now...

Something has always been missing.

Peering over her work realizing that this isn't what she had pictured for her life- her memories became flooded looking back at her training since the invasion and the new worlds she got to see. "I could have that again....", she thought rubbing her thumbs together gazing over at her clock seeing it was almost time for dinner. Cersi still hadnt made it home but ever since she got accepted as the apprentice for the Naboo senator Padame Amidala, her trips home had become non existent. Not that it was a bad thing, she was happy that her sister grown enough to be able handle herself being 20 and all. A low growl deep in her stomach began to rumble as she got up and proceeded to the fridge,  "Hmm, I need a few ingredients", rummaging through her cupboards seeing what else she needed to buy at the market which was only a few minutes away by speeder. Sighing, she closed her spice drawer rolling her eyes at the realization that she was, "out of Astrian spice...". There wasn't very many places that held such a unique spice, especially since the invasion. The closest spice store was by a bar, 79s, which may or may not have what she needed. "The clone bar...", she closed her eyes whispering to herself, "of course...", She instantly thought about him, contemplating if he would be there. 'A man like that wouldn't spend time there but, who knows..', she contemplated as she grabbed her long jacket, purse, and boots readying herself for a grocery trip to make her way towards the speeder. 

-

The market was bustling. Many different species were shopping and of course the patients she has seen here and there. She got all of her necessary ingredients for her roasted porg, only part that was missing was the spice, "Its only a few blocks away", she insisted, "maybe I'll just walk..", and so she proceeded to enjoy the breeze and took her time walking to the spice store. 

Coruscant is filled with so much its almost hard to have a clear path in front of you. Street marketers, solicitors, soldiers, all types of people trying to make a penny. Minutes have passed and she found herself almost directly in front of the spice shop. She walked a bit faster, weaving her way through foot traffic until she bumped into someone dropping her groceries. The person caught the bag in mid air and grabbed her arm before falling. How embarrassing. He lifted her up and handed her the groceries, "Kriff Im so sorry", Vera said turning towards the man grabbing the bag before meeting his eyes and froze;

 "Oh...the man with the yellow armor, I saw you at the GAR",

"This man in yellow armor has a name you know.", he replied picking up his helmet,

"Im sorry I didn't mean to bump into you, I wasn't paying attention", she put her bag back up on her shoulder and readjusted her jacket and hair, "Whats your name? I don't think we've been introduced yet. My name is-"

"Doctor Vera Cross. I know." The man said,

"How did you know my nam-",

"The generals have been speaking highly of you, plus, I was in charge of searching for a combat medic trainer",

"oh...", 'so he's the reason I'm stuck in this mess', 

"what made you select me then?",

She looked up to him. Their eyes meeting as her heart started to race, 'damn he looks so much like rex. Their eyes are so...',  Its either clone troopers are too tall or she was too short but overall he was very nice to look at from this perspective and she enjoyed every second of it. He gave a small grin and narrowed his eyes snapping her out of her cheeky thoughts, "We should probably move out of the way...", She nodded as he offered his arm to her. she took it as the began scurrying through hurdles of people to reach the store. The closer they got the more she seen how many clones were around drunk, tipsy, and all of the above heading towards one place, the bar next door. She honestly came in hope of seeing Rex but she knew in the end that it was a long shot. There was just so many women canoodling the soldiers that overall it seemed like a sleazy place that he didnt seem he wouldn't be into. At that point she had wished shed gone to the spice store 20 minutes away. 

They quickly arrived at their destination, Cody positioning himself in front of her. "My name is Cody. Commander of the 212th and Marshal to my brothers", he replied, "I selected you because you have the most experience, you're young, and most importantly you've been in battle before." He's right she has and its not stuff she likes to reminisce about, "Yes well I prefer to not talk about that...", She said looking down at the ground before meeting his eyes again. The memories from Genosis, Naboo and even her own home began flooding. "Thank you, for catching me and... Im sorry I ran into you Commander", she said modestly, "Its okay Doctor.. What are you doing here anyways? Seems a bit out of your way", he looks at the groceries she had just bought at the market which is a 10 minute walk away but he was right, the spice store was further than she needed to go. "I was just thinking and wanted to have some fresh air before I return to my dungeon of paperwork", she answered. He was no stranger to paperwork, she was obviously stressed about it. Her hair was tied up in a bun and she wasn't dressed to impress so her cheeks began to flush as she contemplated her look. “Obviously wasn’t ready to running into someone, sorry I look like a bum…”, She tucked a hair behind her ear and looked away in embarrassment, “You look good mesh’la”. 

Mesh’la? That’s Mando’a, a clone language specific to them that she never had the chance to study. “What does mesh’la mean?”, He grinned at her which made her uneasy, “You gunna head in? It’s a bit chilly out”, he held the door open for her prompting her to walk in. So she did, not ignoring the fact that he didn't answer her question. She heads into the store and he had followed, "So does being a commander mean you don't have answer questions?", she said stopping midway into the store that was in fact quite empty, "I'll let you find out on your own doc. You're smart enough", he pushed passed her and asked, "What are you even looking for, anyways?", picked up spices here and there. Vera smiled because she knew what game he was playing at. Something she didn't particularly mind as she realized she was begging to enjoying her time with him. She smirked and walked passed with her head up, bringing the sassiness out of her personality. "Im looking for Astrian spice. Something Ive grown quiet fond of...", She said trying to make sure that the details about her identity remain hidden. "Is this it?" he casually said, "Yeah, how did you know that?", The spice was in a completely different language and with the magnitude of product in the store she was shocked he would find it before her. "Well, easy it says Astria on the plaque above the shelf", "oh" she thought out loud realizing she doesn't pay much attention to detail as well as he does. I mean they have to right? Commanders are trained to pay attention to detail, its how they make battle plans and get themselves out of certain situations. Plus he's the Marshall which is a responsibility for over 36000 troopers... detail is kind of their thing. 

They proceeded to the counter to pay for her spice and left the store. At this point it was very dark and super chilly. They stood there looking at the people passing by until Cody broke the silence "Its pretty dark doc. Do you want me to walk you to your speeder?", She looked at him smiling at the kindness. If only her Rex started like this.... maybe he would be something she would pursue. "You're very sweet commander but I think I got it from here... enjoy the rest of the night", she responded slowly starting to walk back from him "Oh and Cody?!", he turned around to look at her, grinning because he thought that maybe, just maybe, she changed her mind, "Thank you for helping me.. don't be a stranger okay?", she smirked, "I wont", he winked back making Vera cheeks change hue. "Be safe mesh'la", he took his leave and began walking towards the bar.  'Mesh'la dammit', she thought, 'I have to look that up when I get home'.

She watched him disappear into the crowd of clones and women outside of the bar and proceeded to walk back to her speeder. He was right though, it is pretty dark and what comes with that are criminals. She did have a knife strapped to her thigh under her coat and she always bring it because at the end of the day no matter how 'safe' this planet is. Theres always criminal activity around in every corner. She continued walking in the direction of her speeder but started noticing something was off. She felt as if she was being watched. The blood started racing in her veins, activating her fight or flight because no one else was around her besides a few stragglers here and there. Of course she knew how to fight. She was a damn good fighter too because she spent years training since she was little with no only the general of her planet but the trainers on Naboo and Kamino as well.

Once she had reached the parking lot for the speeders, hers was the only one of three left from the market that had closed 30 minutes ago. Two men were standing by the speeder next to hers staring as they watched her approach. She calmly put her groceries into the back of the speeder and got ready to leave but before she was able to get into the vehicle the men started approaching her. One man with his hand on the front of the speeder and the other walking towards her with a bar. She stood there slowly reaching for her knife before BAAAM. The man with the bar tackled her  to the ground and pushed it against her neck making her hands reach to protect her fragile bones that were nearly about to be crushed. She struggled but managed to kick him off and reach for the knife.

At that point she was cornered. Two other men came, two with blasters, the others with bars... " Give up sweetie, you're highly out numbered. Give me the keys to your speeder. Now", the robber said as she scoffed and threw off her coat, positioning herself in a stance that protected her core. Everything became silent as the men began to circle her. She checked her surroundings seeing whats available to fight off 5 men. It was then she saw him, slowly creeping up behind one of the men with a blaster. She grinned, "First off don't call me sweetie, second off, look behind you" The men laughed, "This women thinks she can fight us off", not realizing how much shit they were in, "Who else did you bring along with you, another bitch?", the man turned around...

"You could say that..", 

Cody punched the man directly in the face, tripping him up and slamming him to the ground finishing him off with a taser from his blaster. From there it was an all out battle, Vera and Cody against 4 nut cases. Veras moves knocked 2 of the men out while Cody handled the ones with blasters. They fought so fluidly, every movement complimented each other that put all the men on their ass. After Cody disarmed them he used his own blaster to stun the other 4. All you could here is the screams of the stragglers running off into the distance, shaken from the current interaction that just happened. Cody walked through the men who were passed out from the stun gun to check on Vera, "Good work doc. Looks like you did some damage", he said approaching Vera. "You could say that, but you did most of the work. Thank you.. again." She rubbed the top of her head, letting out a shy laugh as he nodded reaching for his comm to call the police, having all 5 of the men arrested. "I told you it was dark out, you should've let me walk with you.", Cody mentioned standing directly in front of a slightly beaten up Vera. "Yeah well I could've handled it..", she responded tasting the bit of blood dripping at the corner of her lip. 

Cody came closer to her as lifted her chin up with one finger to wipe the blood from her lip ever so slightly with his thumb. "you're hurt, we should get that checked", he said concerned about the damage, "Ill be okay commander, I am a doctor remember?", she smiled at him as he gently let go of her chin. He looked at her with a soft gaze and grinned because, "even doctors need to be cared for...". Her cheeks began to flush as many thoughts crossed her mind. Of course that would happen now, this man is like an entirely new species to her. No one had been this kind and it nearly drove her nuts because she had no idea how to repay him just for this day alone and with the moon high in the sky illuminating the scene, Vera could only say one thing...

"Commander-" she took a step even closer to a point where their bodies were only millimeters from each other, the red and blue lights from the Coruscant police illuminated their bodies as she worked up the courage to make tonight end right. She placed her hand on his chest, feeling the warmth he radiated and looked deep into his eyes and, "Would you like to come over for dinner?"

Previous - Next

[strange-lace]

Macaque

I was in the mood to make more content for Inverted AU, so here’s a short-ish fic of how episode 9 would go in this AU with Macaque, Wukong, and MK! Enjoy the shadowpeach!

Another demon defeated but still no sign of Sun Wukong. Macaque let out a sigh before rolling his shoulders to bring relief to tense muscles. Oh well, he'll just have to keep looking, not like he hasn't been at it for years now. At least this city he wandered to was quite nice with pleasant people, nothing too out there aside from demon attacks.

"Hey! Hey you! Shadow monkey man!" Macaque wouldn't deny that the sudden voice made him jump, considering he was on top of a pretty tall building. Apparently not tall enough to stop the young man from climbing up the side, somewhat out of breath yet that didn't deter from the determined look on his face. He simply brushed his messy hair out of his eyes and adjusted his teal backpack, which looked surprisingly heavy. Macaque couldn’t help but be somewhat curious as to what was in that thing.

Wait was that the Monkey King's staff in his hands?

Indeed it was, he'd recognize that weapon anywhere.

“Ah, you must be the Monkie Kid I’ve been hearing so much about, am I right?” That got him a look of suspicion before the young man also seemed to remember the staff in his hands, causing him to let out an amused huff at his own paranoia.

“Yeah, the staff kind of gives it away, don’t it? Name’s MK though. Now whomst is you? Most of the time, demons who ask me who I am are five seconds away from trying to kill me.” Macaque couldn’t help but chuckle at that, already finding that he was starting to like this little guy and his attitude. Perhaps if a person like MK was chosen to wield Wukong’s staff, then perhaps that meant his love had finally started turning things around for the better. Maybe it meant he finally stopped being someone he wasn’t all for the sake of keeping a memory alive.

“The name’s Macaque, though, the Six-Eared Macaque is actually my full name. But what brings you up here exactly bud? I doubt you’d climb up this high just for anybody.” MK’s face showed that he wanted to argue that point out of principle before remembering his purpose for coming up here.

“Simple, teach me.”

Wait what?

“What what?” MK scoffed at the question.

“I want you to teach me to fight, like how you fought that demon back there. I don’t intend on leaving you alone until you do and that is a threat!” Macaque didn’t doubt that he meant it that way and could very easily follow through on that. Sensing he wasn’t going to get out of this, he let out a sigh before giving MK a smile.

“You sure your mentor won’t have a problem with me teaching you?”

“Bold of you to assume Wukong’s disapproval will stop me.”

“Well alright then, I think we’re gonna get along just fine, bud.”

---

“I see what you’re trying to do, you’re afraid of holding back and giving your enemy the opportunity to win. But the first strike isn’t the most important one. Every strike counts. Other people may tell you that patience and focus don’t matter but a fool allows himself to rush without restraint. While you have power inside you, you have to use it carefully. Take the power to defend others, not just destroy those who stand in your way. You’re not a weapon kid, you wield the weapon above all else.”

---

It started with a fairly innocent question from MK after one of their training sessions, him slowly going through a water bottle given to him by Macaque while the monkey made them something to eat. He needed a distraction to stop himself from taking over the cooking, years of feeding others making him feel guilt the moment someone else took over.

“So Mac, how exactly do you know the Monkey King?” To his credit, Macaque only fumbled the slightest bit at that sudden question and was able to save the plate before it crashed to the floor.

“Oh um well… funny thing about that is, well… we used to be together actually. Like y’know… together-together,” he explained while he plated their food, wincing internally at how awkward he sounded. With his back towards MK, Macaque didn’t notice him go tense and grip the couch arm so tightly that the wood underneath cracked at the pressure.

“Used to be together, huh? What happened?” Macaque couldn’t help but shiver at the chill which traveled down his spine. MK’s voice was perfectly even and calm yet he was filled with an overwhelming fear that warned him to not turn around and remain perfectly still until the danger passed.

His ears twitched at the sound of sparks behind him, magic power permeating through the air.

“I… I messed up honestly. We had an argument about something, I don’t even remember what it was so long ago. But I had to leave to just get some space and air before I said something I’d regret, something I couldn’t take back. It was only meant to be a couple hours but some stuff out of my control happened and by the time I got back… Wukong was gone. I had been looking for him for centuries after that and then… well then you found me.”

“What, you hoped getting on my good side would mean that you’d win the Monkey King back?” His tone promised nothing good if Macaque kept digging himself a deeper hole.

“No! No, nothing like that at all. I don’t expect Pe-...Wukong to take me back or anything like that. I just… wanted the chance to apologize to him is all. If he wants anything to do with me afterwards, then I want that to be his choice. Nothing more, I swear.”

MK remained silent behind him before the sudden tension in the air dissipated as quickly as it appeared. Macaque let out a sigh of relief, slowly turning around to see MK still sitting on his couch, placing the staff back in his ear nonchalantly.

“Fair enough, sounds like you both were just idiots who don’t know how to communicate. If you actually intended on using me to get to the Monkey King, you’d have actually mentioned him during our training and yet you haven’t. And you can’t lie to save your life anyway. Just don’t be an idiot again alright? Monkey King… Wukong, he’s a mess and I don’t think he could handle thinking he’s been abandoned again.”

Macaque could feel his heart break at the idea that his Peaches, his love, thought that he had left permanently. He wanted nothing more than to run to him now and make things right. But that was Wukong’s decision to make, nobody else’s.

The two ate their food in silence after that.

---

Sun Wukong may have supposedly “lost his edge”  but he was by no means dense or oblivious.

And while he was certainly happy about his successor’s vast improvement over the past couple weeks, a part of him sensed something was off. Like his successor was hiding something from him. And those moves he watched MK use to absolutely demolish the old mural, the Monkey King swore he had seen them before.

But it couldn’t possibly be. He hadn’t seen him in centuries. Not since he… left, like everyone else.

“I’m impressed, my boy! Tell me, how did you do that? Have you been seeing another mentor perhaps?” Wukong asked, his typically serene smile straining the slightest bit at the idea of his son student learning from someone who wasn’t him. The sensible part of his brain was gently poking at him, reminding him that it seemed silly to get upset about such a thing as, if anything, MK had appeared significantly calmer during their training compared to when they started. This could be a good thing, it told him.

Yet it was silenced by the majority of his brain which ran on fatherly protectiveness and had immediately been plagued by images of the worst case scenario. A demon had approached MK, promising him to make him stronger while also poisoning his student as a bid to turn him against the Monkey King before stealing his powers or, Heavens forbid, harming him.

No, Wukong refused to even allow a chance of that happening, logic and reasoning be damned.

“Hey, you’re the one always going on about ‘patience and focus’, I’m just finally putting what you said into practice,” MK answered, the picture of being casual which only set off further alarm bells within Wukong’s head. But before he could question him further, MK’s phone dinged to tell him of a new text message which he quickly read over, his eyes widening slightly at the message.

“Welp, looks like I gotta cut things short for now Wukong, something came up and I gotta head out. See ya later! Don’t forget to eat something tonight and sleep, I will know if you don’t.” And with that, MK was off through the hole he had created in the wall where the mural was before the Monkey King could get a word in edgewise. 

Wukong waited long enough to allow MK to get a reasonable distance away before transforming into a bird, flying after his successor.

Something fishy was going on and the Monkey King was determined to find out what it was.

---

“Why exactly are we climbing up to this giant mountain again Mac?” MK wheezed, hating to admit it but this hike had genuinely winded him despite all his training. He had immediately gone to Macaque’s place the moment he got his text only to be told to follow the six-eared demon, leading them to where they were now.

“Well, consider this your ‘final exam’ bud! I want you to use everything I’ve taught you to fight against me, no holding back. Think you can do that?” MK couldn’t help the twitch at the corners of his mouth at the sight of Macaque’s genuine excitement as he explained, all six ears twitching while his tail was wagging like a dog. A demon who was centuries old and had fought countless powerful demons had no right looking that endearing, but here MK was looking with his own two eyes.

MK gave a chuckle before straightening himself out, wordlessly pulling the staff out his ear.

“You sure you’re comfortable getting your ass kicked by me, Mac?” With a smirk, Macaque summoned his own weapon in a flash of purple with the beginning of two shadow clones pooling at his feet. They shyly peeked from the ground from behind their master.

“Oho, a couple training sessions with me for a month and you think you have what it takes to defeat me, bud? Well then, bring it Monkie Kid!” MK didn’t hesitate to charge forward with Macaque mirroring him, weapons at the ready and adrenaline already running through their veins.

“Enough!”

A sudden force landed in between them with enough force to send them both flying backwards.

MK and Macaque recovered in time to see who decided to interrupt their duel.

Both of their hearts nearly stopped at the sight of the enraged Monkey King but for vastly different reasons.

“You have 5 seconds to explain yourself for trying to harm my-” Wukong’s rage quickly deflated as the dust cleared enough for him to truly see who it was he had thought was attacking MK. “Mango Flower?”

“Um… hello again, Peach Blossom. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” Macaque joked, voice weak as he restrained himself from acting out of bounds even if he wanted nothing more than to gather the other into his arms. It had been so long, far too long. 

He nearly broke at the sight of tears beginning to form in Wukong’s eyes.

His resolve finally shattered as the Monkey King ran towards him, arms outstretched, and before Macaque knew it his legs were moving on their own. The wind was knocked out of him at how tight Wukong squeezed him yet he returned the embrace back with gusto, ignoring the groaning of his ribs. He simply buried his face into the other’s fur, the smell of peaches still there even after all these years. Faintly, Macaque realized he was also crying once he felt a wetness on his cheeks.

Macaque let out a squeak in surprise as Wukong picked him up in the hug and spun him around, the sound of his laughter echoing throughout the mountain. The sight of such unabashed joy on his face was enough to make the six-eared demon to start laughing too, joy contagious in the best of ways. 

MK would deny it unless under the threat of death but he couldn’t help but smile as he watched the two monkeys get lost in their own little world. It made the guilt which nagged at his chest at having to manipulate the two to make this meeting happen ease up, seeing how happy the two were.

“It’s been so long…” Wukong whispered as he placed Macaque back on his feet, gently cradling his face as if afraid that if he stopped touching the other, that he’d disappear again. “But, why are you here? I had thought that you hated me, isn’t that why you…” Macaque went stiff in shock before taking the Monkey King’s hands into his own.

“What? No! If anything, I thought you hated me for leaving instead of talking things out and that’s why you were gone when I came back. I always intended on coming back to you Peaches, I swear on it.” Wukong’s eyes went wide at that, extremely close to crying again a second time that day. “I had been looking for you for centuries now to apologize.”

And now the warm feeling was gone, leaving MK to bite down on his staff to stop himself from screaming at how much those two had failed at the simple of communication.

“We’ve both been absolutely foolish, haven’t we?” Wukong couldn’t help but laugh at it all, which only worsened as he noticed all six of Macaque’s ears turn red in embarrassment.

“Yeah, I guess we have been-” His words were cut off as the Monkey King grabbed his scarf, pulling him into a sudden kiss that made Macaque jolt in surprise before he practically melted into the other’s arms. A purr rumbled in his chest and neither noticed their tails wind around each other.

The sound of MK clearing his throat, loudly, was enough to get them to break apart in embarrassment.

“If you two are done being romantic idiots, I have to beat the shit out of Macaque to prove that I’m better than him. I mean ace my ‘final exam’.” The grin on his face showed that he was lying through his teeth.

“Don’t think I forgot about all your trash talking, young man. How about it Peach Blossom? You willing to go all out with me and the kid?” 

Wukong’s face was the epitome of ‘Every part of my body wants to say yes but I shouldn’t.’ He was already terrible at saying no to MK and now with Macaque’s endearingly earnest face, he knew he was done for, at least with these two working together now.

“...Oh alright.”

The two mutual cheers at his agreement made Wukong feel slightly less guilty in letting his lessons go for a brief moment. But not completely.

But that was okay, Wukong was used to living with constant guilt.

[jewels-writes]

kakashi x injured reader

You being a long term member of Team Kakashi were on a mission along with the rest of your team. You and Kakashi were partnered together while Naruto and Sai were another pair. You two worked flawlessly together having been on the same team for over five years. Not to mention, you were the only member with medical nin-jutsu. 

Sprinting through the trees, you went through the mission’s requirements again in your head. There were rumors of an Akatsuki member causing terror to a small town that wasn’t close enough to the inner city of the Leaf for Tsunade to send patrols. So it was up to Team Kakashi to get rid of the threat. 

“Hold on a moment, y/n.” Kakashi called, signaling for you to pause and you both landed on the same tree branch.

“What is it, Sensei?” You asked, taking the moment to stretch and take a drink. 

“We’re here. Look down there.” Kakashi pointed down and your eyes followed his finger to what was left of the small village. “We’d better get going, I’m sure there’s many people who need your medical help. We can rely on Naruto’s team to take care of the rest.”

“Got it, let’s go.” You answered, taking a deep breath. Soon you both descended into the village and Kakashi was right, almost every person you came across needed healing. Fortunately none of the wounds were fatal and you were able to fix everyone up. 

You had used a substantial amount of chakra when a boom suddenly erupted from a few meters away. In an instant, Kakashi stood in front of you, using his body as a barrier for whatever threat was there. 

“Y/n! Are you hurt?” Your teacher asked over his shoulder to which you responded with a no. It was a relief to Kakashi. “Alright, good. Go find cover, I know your chakra is reaching its limit.”

“But, Sensei-” You started and saw his shoulders drop and decided to not keep speaking. “Fine, but if you need me, you know what to do.” And with that you sprinted away from the commotion and into an alleyway, taking a deep breath. 

“Shadow clones are so useful, aren’t they?” A sudden voice came from behind you and you jumped hard, pulling out a kunai. “Woah, woah! No need to get so defensive. It’s useless anyways since you won’t be alive much longer.”

“Who are you? State your purpose before I destroy you.” You snarled even though you knew you couldn’t act on your words. You’d gotten such violent phrases from your teammate, Naruto. “Wait a minute.. Those robes! You’re with the Akatsuki!” You realized and began to panic. You only had enough chakra to perform one more jutsu at best. Definitely not enough to save yourself from a member of the Akatsuki.

“And you? By your clothing you look like a medical style ninja, am I right? And that headband, you’re from the Leaf right?” The stranger smirked and you got a shiver down your spine. He reached for a 3-bladed scythe which he carried on his back. In a movement faster than you could follow, he had already struck you, his scythe digging itself into the side of your stomach. You couldn’t help but scream in agony.

In another harsh movement, he yanked the weapon out of your side and you immediately collapsed. You knew who he was now. Tsunade had a book full of different members of the Akatsuki and you remembered reading about him. You knew how his jutsu worked.

The blood from your wound kept flowing, despite your efforts to heal it. Was it because you had used too much chakra already? Oh fuck, this was really, really bad.

“Let the ritual begin!” The man said, stepping into his blood circle. “Now, where would you like to feel pain?”

“S-stop..” You muttered, somehow managing to stand up. Your knees were weak and you knew you couldn’t take much more for long. “Even if you kill me, Kakashi’s gonna-”

You couldn’t get the rest of your sentence out. Well, the rest of it turned into more screaming. The man had stabbed a sword through his own thigh and you could feel it.

“Your screams are so immaculate! Yes, yes! Scream for my God!” He cackled, slowly ripping the sword from his thigh. “Again!” He smiled and sliced his stomach open. The same happened to you and you fell into a bleeding heap on the ground. You couldn’t even move.

Is this the end? There was so much more I wanted to do.. Kakashi Sensei.. I’m sorry I couldn’t be a better student. Forgive me.. 

“Y/n! What happened? Who is this?!” Someone’s voice said from above you. It was your teacher.

“Sen..sei..” You rasped, blinking open your eyes to see the worried eyes from Kakashi. You were surprised he had his Sharingan exposed like that. 

“Stay with me, you’re going to be okay. I need you to tell me about the enemy. My dogs are holding him off right now, it’s okay.” He muttered, brushing your hair out of your eyes. “I can take care of it, just tell me how.”

“Any.. any damage done to him while he’s in that circle is done to me too. But he can’t die.. He..” Your vision began to swirl and the edges of your eyes darkened.

“Hey, hey! Stay with me, y/n. Don’t you dare pass out on me. I need you here with me.” Kakashi’s voice had a frantic undertone to it. You could tell that he wasn’t his usual composed self. Cupping your face in one of his hands, he looked over to one of his dogs. “Go find Naruto and Sai and bring them here. Tell them y/n is injured. Go.”

One of Kakashi’s dogs who was preventing the Akatsuki member from getting closer to you suddenly bit on the man’s thigh. As soon as it happened you screamed as even more blood came pooling out of your body. 

“All of you! Back down!” Kakashi ordered to his dogs. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Get him.. Out of the circle.. Then.. chidori…” Your eyes rolled into the back of your head and you slumped against Kakashi’s chest, unconscious. 

“Are they out of it already? How pathetic. Their voice is lovely when they scream, isn’t it?”

“You sick fuck!” Kakashi shouted after placing you down behind him. His dogs had already surrounded you and were to protect you with their lives. Composing himself, Kakashi made a hand sign before teleporting directly behind the Akatsuki member and shoving him out of the blood circle. Once both feet were out, the white haired man slammed every ounce of chakra into his attacks and eventually the man was reduced to nothing but ash.

He was panting but that didn’t stop him from running back to you. You were still unconscious, your breathing slower than normal.

“Kakashi Sensei!” That was Naruto. The blonde was suddenly at his teacher’s side and looked down at your form. “Hey.. hey wake up, y/n. We did it, wake up!” Sai stood wordlessly behind Naruto as he also looked at you.

“They’re critically hurt. We need to get them help right now.” Sai pointed out.

Kakashi suddenly began ripping up his clothes into strips. He began binding your wounds so you wouldn’t bleed out. He refused to let you die. Not here, not now. Naruto and Sai followed their teacher’s lead and began ripping up some of their own clothes.

The ‘bandages’ were snug and colorful but they’d work. The three looked at each other, soundlessly communicating. Kakashi gently lifted you onto his back, making sure you weren’t going to fall off before bidding his team goodbye.

“Come on, y/n. Just hang in there. We’ll be home soon.” Kakashi muttered, placing a firm kiss to your hand through his mask. 

Three days had passed and you hadn’t woken up. Kakashi had been staying at the hospital right beside you the entire time. Seeing you injured reminded him of when he was younger and couldn’t save Obito. 

His hand never left yours. He’d always be touching you for physical comfort even when he was doing other things. He didn’t want you to feel alone.

Naruto and Sai stopped by every once and a while but they were soon sent off on another mission and weren’t able to stay.

Your finger’s suddenly twitched under Kakashi’s hand and his eye snapped up to look at you. You weren’t awake yet but he could tell you would be soon. His hand held yours tighter as he desperately looked for you to open your eyes.

“Ugh..” You whispered, blinking your eyes open. Groggy from not being awake for three days made everything blurry. “Where’s.. Kakashi??” You immediately sat up straight, remembering the situation you were in when you were last conscious.

“I’m right here.” His smooth voice mumbled. “Take it easy, okay, kid?”

“Oh thank god..” Your face suddenly became wet with tears and you couldn’t resist the urge to embrace Kakashi.

“Oh! I’m glad you’re okay too, y/n.” Kakashi said, returning your hug with just as much longing as you did. “Everything’s okay. The Akatsuki member isn’t with us anymore. We’re safe and back in the village.”

“How did.. How did I get here?” You wondered aloud.

“I carried you back. Naruto and Sai took care of the rest of the injured villagers after we fought. The mission was a success.”

(lost the motivation to finish it and also lost the motivation to remember that akatsuki member’s name so deal with it if you watched shippuden you know him)

[reallybadfeeling]

My Obikin Playlist Masterpost

I'm gonna try to explain my reasoning, but you can give each song whatever interpretation you want. Also, use them however you want if any of them inspire you to make something creative.

(PS: Sorry for my ranting on the first song. I'm very passionate about it in particular.) (Tagging @imtryingsstuff because she asked for it. Even though I was already working on this post before she asked. I have way too much free time.)

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❧ Heart + Bones - Roisin O

I've tried to sit down and write this song out Feels like a thousand times But I was always too scare of what I might find But if I keep on blocking this pain out It might be too late To heal my heart somehow Don't wanna open that wound Don't wanna replay that night Don't wanna think about you You are no longer mine Don't wanna write you a love song When I know that love is gone 'Cause if I let myself think of you I might lose my mind It's the heart and bones It's an empty soul The dreams at night that shake me to my core And I can't get up off this floor It's in the bones of me An empty soul in me The dreams at night that shake me to my core I can't get off this floor [...] Don't wanna think about you When you're no longer mine Don't wanna write you a love song When I know this love is gone [...] The dreams at night that shake me to my core I just can't take this hurting anymore [...] Don't wanna think about you You are no longer mine Don't wanna write you a love song When I know this love is gone 'Cause if I let my mind think of you I might lose it all I've tries to sit down and write this song out Feels like a thousand times

A fair warning: each and every break-up song in this playlist is basically me crying at the idea of a very heart broken Obi-Wan post RotS alone on Tatooine. But for this song in particolar I mention the repetitions with the slight differences because in my eyes they are actually HUGE! The more the song goes on, the more Obi-Wan is spiraling! The way it specifically tells that the empty soul is his the second time, like he accepts that despite what Anakin did he still thinks there's a soul there to save, and the idea of not doing so makes his soul feel empty. And the switch from "get up off this floor" to "get off this floor", literally him being so desperate he stops thinking that he wants to get up (and the last time it literally becomes "i just can't take this hurting anymore", because Obi-Wan had to see so many people he loves die, he literally can't take any more breaking of his heart). The first "you are no longer mine" is the realization hitting him, but then it becomes "when you are no longer mine" and that feels like acceptance of that realization (but then later in the song it turns back to "you are no longer mine" like he's so desperate he wants to deny it once again, distance himself from it)! The switch from "that love" from "this love", like the first time he's thinking about how Anakin no longer loves him, but then realizes that no matter how much he still loves Anakin, there is actually nothing he can do about how everything is broken. But most of all the first time it's "if I let myself think of you I might lose my mind", which is Obi-Wan still being rational about things, or at least trying not to let his mind linger on the thought of Anakin; but then at the end it becomes "if I let my mind think of you I might lose it all", because he's already thinking about Anakin and he can't let his mind linger on it, otherwise he would realize how much he lost when he lost Anakin, which is everything. And the ending too, by repeating the start, but now it has a feeling of resignation to it, like at first he was literally scared to let himself linger on his feelings because he knew he would find heart break, but now he's just empty and at the same times he knows he'll feel like that a thousand times more, because he just can't let that hurt go, he can't let his love for Anakin be forgotten. ... I love this song and it shows. I mean, the playlist is literally named after it for a good reason. I swear I'll be less wordy for every other explanation.

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❧ Black Hole - Griff

It seems like things are going really well for you I wish that I could say the same about me too I wish that I could say the same [...] Without a trace You disappeared and took some of me with you, babe Like the way I used to laugh untile my belly ached Well, that's all gone away now And boy, you know I've tried to pray, I've bruised my knees I've tried to bring you back to me I've tried my best to find some kind of peace Don't you see? There's a big black hole where my heart used to be And I've tried my best to fill it up with things I don't need It don't work like that, no, it's not easy To fill this gap that you left in me

So, I see this as a song for an AU, maybe a Modern Au. Something basic like the two of them maybe being neighbors and Obi-Wan maybe being a tutor for Anakin when he was a teen, and Anakin having a huge crush on him. But then Obi-Wan marries and Anakin is heart broken. (Don't worry the idea is also that Obi-Wan gets a divorce and comes back to Anakin, but still, the song fits for the first part of this idea). But feel free to see whatever else you want in it.

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❧ Gone, Gone, Gone - Phillip Phillips

I'll lie, cheat, I'll beg and bride To make you well, to make you well When enemies are at your door I'll carry you away from war [...] Give me reasons to believe That you would do the same for me And I will do it for you, for you Baby, I'm not moving on I'll love you long after you're gone

This is honestly a classic. It would fit with any ship, but that line about lying, cheating, etc... That screams Anakin. Like, literally canon that he would do anything to keep the person he loves with him.

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❧ What You Talking About? - Peter Bjorn and John

You used to be my hero Now you're just another boss [...] Five years as your understudy When I can't understand what you talking about [...] Tell me lies and I will listen Tell the truth and I'll be gone Tell me why I need permission [...] Shining in your shadow How could I sink this low? Our acquaintance has been so-so And I can't understand where my patience's gone

These lyrics just give me very frustrated Anakin as a Padawan trying to navigate his relationship with Obi-Wan. Not very romantic or shippy, but still relevant in my opinion.

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❧ Bruci la città - Irene Grandi

(Let) The city burn down or live in fear (that) within two hours everything will disappear anything else will disappear [...] I can't stop (myself) from screaming That I hold you to my heart To protect you from evil That I wish I could soothe Your pain, your pain [...] (Let) The stars explode (Let) The whole thing explode (Let) Everything other than the two of us die At least for a little bit At least as a mistake [...] I want to get my act together Maybe be better And shield you with my heart From catastrophe and fear

Don't really know why, but this makes me think of a quiet moment in the middle of the Clone Wars, just Anakin and Obi-Wan alone in a tent, hoping to have a moment of peace in each other's arms. (If you want the full lyrics translated let me know, I just picked my favorite parts)

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❧ Atlantis - Seafret

We got here the hard way All those words that we exchange Is it any wonder things get dark? 'Cause it's in my heart, it's in my head I never take back the things I said [...] I can't save us My Atlantis, we fall We've built this town on shaky ground [...] Now all the birds have fled The hurt just leaves me scared Losing everything I've ever known It's all become too much Maybe I'm not built for love If I knew that I could reach you, I would go

SO MUCH OBI-WAN ANGST POST-ROTS! Like, the birds that have fled are the Jedi that survived Order 66, the things impossible to take back a reference to the entire conversation between Anakin and Obi-Wan during their duel... And the one thing that always breaks me: "maybe I'm not built for love", which makes me think about that "infinte sadness" thing that comes from one of the novels. *chef kiss*

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❧ No Time To Die - Billie Eilish

I should have known I'd leave alone Just goes to show That the blood you bleed is just the blood you owe We were a pair [...] You were my life, but like is far away from fair Was I stupid to love you? Was I reckless to help? Was it obvious to everybody else? That I'd fallen for a lie You were never on my side [...] I let it burn You're no longer my concern Faces from my past return Another lesson yet to learn

Don't know about you, but this always makes me think of a lonely and bitter Obi-Wan after RotS. There's also another way of reading this honestly. This could absolutely be Anakin spiraling at the end of RotS, convinced that Padmé doesn't love him anymore; and then Vader facing Luke (the face from the past returning) and realizing the one who always lied to him was Palpatine.

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❧ White Flag - Dido

I know I left too much mess and Destruction to come back again And I caused nothing but trouble I understand if you can't talk to me again And if you live by the rules of "it's over" Then I'm sure that that makes sense But I will go down with this ship And I won't put my hands up and surrender There will be no white flag above my door I'm in love and always will be And when we meet Which I'm sure we will All that was there Will be there still I'll let it pass And hold my tongue And you will think That I've moved on

There's no doubt that this song has been overused. And it is a very classic meme, so sometimes it's hard to take it seriously. But I still love it. And I can't help but relate this to something with Vader trying to redeem himself but failing at that too, and his and Obi-Wan's relationship still being broken as fuck.

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❧ Fight the End - The playground

When it's all falling apart I'll be the one who can hold you Console you When everything's getting dark And you can't find the spark To get through I'll fight for you till the end Whatever's broken I'll mend For you If you think it's all gone Just breathe in and hold on Till the end of time

Once again, just some H/C during the Clone Wars kind vibes, but also good for an apocalypse AU of some kind.

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❧ Hanging On A Lie - Striking Matches

I'm not mentioning a specific part of this song, because the entire thing in my head is just the whole journey of Anakin turning to the Dark Side and then turning back to the Light right before he died. Seriously, up until the first chorus, it's just Anakin talking about what he feels like about Padmé's supposed betrayal. ("Baby you've been up to something / don't you tell me it's not what it looks like" but also "I might have been naive but I'm not blind" and "Don't you know you should know better than this / Than to cover up the truth with your poisonous lips/I'm not falling for it this time"). The second half of the song is Vader facing Luke. ("I'll be the one who got away from you when you / finally figure it out / you won't find me"). And the last part is Vader realizing all the lies Palpatine told him all alon. ("I'm not fallin' for it this time/try and try too little too late" and again the "you should know better than this/than to cover up the truth with you poisonous lips") A bit of a weird interpretation, that's for sure. But look at me making a song about cheating all about Anakin's journey!

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❧ Bloodsport '15 - Raleigh Ritchie

Your love is worth it and for that I will wait And though you hate me when you have a turn I drive you crazy, but you always return [...] Although you love me, sometimes we're mean Things can get ugly, but we're still a team We are an army that breaks from withing but That's why we're stronger and that's how we'll win [...] I've got your back, and though it's stacked against us I've got your hand, it's us against consensus And I will burn the people who hurt you the worst and I will no learn Cause I am too young and too dumb to consider the terms of breaking the law And I'll curse the day that they return With a smile on my face as their heads hit the floor And they're done, now it's curtains, the bloodlust's a clusterfuck, it hurts but it's working And even if you ask me to stop, it's too late because I've already decided their fate It's not a distaste, it's pure hate and it pulsates and it works its way around my brain Anyway, what I'm trying to say is I'll protect you till the day I meet my maker So don't fight me now cause you might need me later Loving you is a bloodsport Fighting in a love war It's not what I'm in love for, I'm yours I don't know if you can help it, maybe I'm just being selfish

Soooo, basically Anakin doing to Obi-Wan what he did to Padmé: loving him so much he thinks he has to turn to the Dark Side to save him. The first part I can almost imagine said by Obi-Wan, actually. Like, he's aware that sometimes Anakin hates their dynamics, but also that they are both in love... Which just ends with total madness.

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❧ Sweet Love of Mine - Joy Williams

I was broken, I was blind Lost in a moment I thought I left behind Then you woke up this dark soul of mine Carrying a light I thought I'd never find When you found me, I was all alone The whole world around me, but nowhere to call home I heard your voice sing like heaven's choir Gathered up my fears and threw them in the fire

I'm well aware this song is about pregnancy and how the singer found herself in the experience of becoming a mother. BUT, hear me out: what about an AU with either one of them being a Sith and the other one is still a Jedi. Instead of fighting each other, the Jedi tries to save the Sith, because they realize that the Sith actually never had a chance to be anything else since they grew up with a Sith as their "parent" and Master. But if we still want to keep the pregnancy element, fuck it! It's perfect for an Omegaverse AU, with Anakin maybe about to fall when he finds out he's pregnant and that is how Obi-Wan and their unborn child save Anakin. (Is this very specific? Yes. Do I care? Nope, and that's why this song made it into the playlist.)

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❧ Senza fare sul serio - Malika Ayane

There's a post on my blog already about why this song makes me think about the Jedi Order in general. I know I should probably keep it in a different playlist. Alas, it's still here. Have a link to my previous post if you are interested on reading a complete translation and the explanation of my reasoning. HERE!

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❧ Conversations in the Dark - John Legend

I will never try to change you, change you I will always want the same you, same you Swear on everything I pray to That I won't break your heart I'll be there when you get lonely, lonely Keep the secrets that you told me, told me And your love is all you owe me And I won't break your heart [...] And we, we got places we both gotta be But there ain't nothing I would rather do Then blow off all my plans for you

It's just such a lovely love song, I couldn't help myself. This seriously gives me sappy Obi-Wan vibes in any way, shape or form.

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❧ If You Ever Leave, I'm Coming With You - The Wombats

You know I'll do Whatever you want me to [...] Take you out of this You reluctant optimist And if you ever leave, I'm coming with you Stuck to the gum that's stuck on your shoe If you ever leave, I'm coming with you [...] Am I losing you in the dark baby? No more breaking stuff No more acting up Filling your head with doubt

A song about the obsessive kind of love that hints of a way too dependent relationship? Something that mentions losing themselves in the dark? Of fucking course I relate this to Anakin and the way he loves people!

❣🅞🅑🅘🅚🅘🅝❣

❧ Transplant - Sea Girls

You're breaking all the promises tonight I'm always dancing by myself as the music plays I'm always one step behind, off-beat, out of place Now I'm looking for you, you're looking away [...] Your heart changed Mine stayed the same I don't recognize your voice when you're saying my name Your heart changed And mine beats the same way [...] Wish I could be back in the moment We were shining, we were making mistakes 'Til your heart changed Mine stayed the same

Have I mentioned that I have a lot of RotS feels? Yeah, so, in my head the "dancing" works like an analogy to fighting and the "music" is literally the sound of battle. Which is why this fits perfectly as far as I'm concerned. An even the "always one step behind" part is just Obi-Wan not realizing Anakin was slowly turning to the Dark Side. But it can be related also to how Anakin basically felt like he didn't truly belong with the Jedi.

❣🅞🅑🅘🅚🅘🅝❣

❧ Read my Mind - JONES

Can't control my thoughts But I'm trying every day [...] But sometimes I want impossible things When you hear my voice, what does it say? Need a language, we're lost in translation From impossible thoughts and feelings Why don't you know before I know? What I need to say, before I can How come you don't have the answer Before I asked you the question? Wish you could read my mind [...] It's been a long time since we've been together In the same world, just want you to look at me Like I was everything you ever wanted again [...] Just hold me like I'm everything you wanted again

A good song of the two people pining will always make me think of those two dorks. And their feeling are definitely lost in translation even in canon, with Anakin never realizing how much Obi-Wan actually cares for him because of Palpatine's manipulations.

❣🅞🅑🅘🅚🅘🅝❣

❧ So Much It Hurts - Niki & The Dove

Oh, I ask you where you've been 'Cause you always come home late nowadays What a fool was I to think we were safe From the thieves in the temple [...] Oh, won't you bring it back? After all that we've been through together Is it now you gonna throw it all away? Oh, a love like ours Tell me, was it worth it? Oh, the thieves in the temple Oh, but you said that For better for worse You would always be there for me Always be there for me Always be there for me like I'll always be there for you Good times and bad times

So this screams Padmé being cheated on. Like, Anakin still married to her, yet he is always sneaking away after they spend time together to be in the Temple with Obi-Wan. Like, Obi-Wan is literally the thief in the Temple that steals Anakin away from her. (Which I'm sure is actually a metaphor for how the couples' marriage is the temple and someone is disrespecting it by taking away the other's lover. But look at me making this literal, 'cause why not!).

❣🅞🅑🅘🅚🅘🅝❣

❧ Power & Control - Marina

Give a little, get a lot That's just how you are with love [...] Think you're funny, think you're smart Think you're gonna break my heart Think you're funny, think you're smart Yeah, you may be good looking But you're not a piece of art [...] Power and control I'm gonna make you fall I'm gonna make you fall We give and take a little more 'Cause all my life I've been controlled You can't have peace without a war

Another song for an AU, this time one with both of them being Sith, most likely being enemies too at first. Before they decide to work together against Anakin's Master.

❣🅞🅑🅘🅚🅘🅝❣

❧ No Hero - Elisa

Don't you shut your eyes And hide you heart behind a shadow 'Cause you can count on me As long as I can breathe [...] I've fallen from grace Yeah, I'm much less a saint than a sinner Oh, no I ain't no superhuman 'Cause that's just in the movies, I know But I'll carry you throught the night Through the storm Give you love, always love in return I can't jump over buildings I'm no hero But love can do miracles I can't outrun a bullet 'Cause I'm no hero But I would take one for you [...] 'Cause I'm no hero But I'd spill my blood for you If you need me to I'll be there

Another song from an Italian artist, but this one is in English! And I totally see this song for a scenario where one of the two isn't a Jedi or even for a Modern AU. But it can totally work for Canon compliant too because Anakin is the one every calls hero with no fear. It fits then if Obi-Wan tells Anakin that he doesn't feel like a hero, but he would do anything for Anakin.

☙ ✤ ❧ ☙ ✤ ❧ ☙ ✤ ❧ ☙ ✤ ❧ ☙ ✤ ❧ ☙ ✤ ❧

SOOOO, this post is getting way to long (like, it was way too long even just with the first song). And I made it to an even 20 songs. I feel like this a nice place to stop for now. Don't worry, these are just the first 20. I have more in my private playlist, but I want to make another post like this when I add them to the public one. Because I can. And that's what I'm gonna do.

[senju-sekhmet]

The Leash (Part 1)

Summary: Your rescue was supposed to be as smooth as these missions can be. However very quickly, Tobirama faces off against an enemy that has no form, color or smell - and time is running short, very fast. Unless he figures out what truly holds you hostage, your life will be lost. Warnings (for the finished work): Blood, illness, descriptions of heavy injuries and graphic violence, torture (both depicted and implied), needles, morally grey territory, human experimentation, panic attacks, character death ~6800 words (this chapter, finished work: 80.000) Disclaimer below the cut!

DISCLAIMER! This is a purely self-indulgent work I didn’t think I’d publish anywhere - but ultimately, if just one other person enjoyed this, it’d be worth it, right?. However, all of this is catering entirely to what I was feeling at the time of writing this (I’m the biggest sucker for hurt/comfort). It’s fairly possible the plot seems short on breath at times and even confusing because to me it just… made sense. I had a string of scenes I wanted to write and so I did, if that makes sense.

Now for a more technical thing - I took a fair amount of liberty with all the ‘lore’ that is offered in the original work. I’m a huge high/fantasy fan and I believe you’ll notice with how chakra is used here. Also my personal headcanons for Tobirama, uh-huh. There is gonna be SCIENCE… and science-y work… uh-huuuuh... _______________ He practically flew past the trees. His heart pounded in his ears, but it wasn't exhaustion. What fuelled his movements was sheer desperation. And ire. Ice-cold fury burning against those that had taken from him what was amongst the most precious beings in his life. How could he have allowed for this to happen? If only he had paid closer attention. If only he had been there with you, he'd have prevented this, he'd have protected you - such thoughts were futile now. He wouldn't dwell on them anyhow, he was too consumed with ending the increasingly despairing search for you. They would come back at him later no doubt, but Tobirama would devote every single fiber of his very being to bringing you back to safety. Though he tried not to think of it - he knew, they hardly kept you in a cell only. It only made his blood boil more. The news of your MIA-status had hit him nearly like the death of his brothers had, many years ago. Beneath his feet, the floor had been ripped away for a moment, a punch to the gut that left him breathless. His love, in the hands of an enemy village that was not known for treating prisoners kindly. Your high status in Konoha no doubt aggravated the situation. A woke mind like Tobirama's would paint a gruesome picture of the fate that might befall you, and his stomach roiled. The cruel logic behind the action, the tactical approach - something he himself might have thought of. That made it worse. "We will find her," Hashirama had assured him, placing a hand on his shoulder. His gaze had fixated on his brother. He clenched his teeth. "Of course we will - I will not rest until she's back here, anija," he had replied, no, growled. A fierce promise which he intended to keep, no matter what. Hashirama was unfazed by the sincerity of the statement. "Neither will I," he promised. Then his brows had knitted in a way Tobirama did not like at all. His brother was about to say something of which he thought Tobirama might not appreciate it. "She is strong, Tobira-", "I know she is," he snapped back at him, "But she will not suffer for a second longer than she has to." Hashirama closed his eyes. "No, she will not." That had been weeks ago, now. Weeks in which Tobirama's desperation had grown by each passing day. Silently he had wondered if he had ever been in more distress to accomplish a mission before. He'd have to go with no. And progress was agonizingly slow. The enemy knew well to hide their traces, and even for his superior sensor skills, the trail was faint. Barely a whisper in the lush forests of the north-west parts Fire country. The sheer difficulty of the task made him almost balk. Almost. The truth was it worried him. He never found himself deteriorating himself in any way before, even when his own life had hung in the balance. The higher the stakes, the more collected he was. But now? Now he felt he was racing against a clock. And time was running out. For even your beautifully strong mind might break eventually. And he knew what happens to enemies that have no use anymore. The thought choked him at night. To never hold your warm body against his anymore - No. He would succeed. They had picked up on their trail, finally. He clenched his teeth. They would not get away. Tobirama just needed a single thread to unravel this knot and then follow it through the labyrinth, back to you. He rose a hand to bring the squad to a halt - composed of his brother and a couple of experienced jonin of the village, all long-standing comrades. Some even from the warring states period. He closed his eyes to touch the ground and send a pulse of chakra through the area, letting his sensor abilities give him an overview of the signatures in the area. Besides the overwhelming presence of his brother right next to him as well as the far more mute team members around, all he found was animals. Except - "To the east." His voice was devoid of anything except steely urgency.He didn't even look back to check if everyone kept in formation as they followed him. Finely tuned sensory skills had locked in on his target; an unknown chakra signature. Humanoid. In an area where no travellers should pass for there were no connecting roads, no villages to visit. It was what had led them here initially: traces of chakra where there should be none. You were here. Tobirama just knew. If only he had branded you with the hiraishin seal. A regret that festered in his heart in a most painful way. How careless. How stupid. He shoved it aside for later. It was useless now. They enclosed around the signature that soon proved to be not just humanoid, but human indeed. Naturally, they wouldn't give up on the element of surprise. And there still was a slight chance this might just be a civilian. A child, even. Tobirama didn't believe that. Maybe he didn't want to. But as soon as they had a line of sight on the target, walking on a narrow path in the woods - he just knew. This was a Hidden Stone Village Spy. No doubt scouting for any intruders near their hideout. Where they kept you. Tobirama bristled with white-hot rage as soon as the target was in viewing range. Almost, he directly lunged for the man dressed in inconspicuous, earthen-colored clothes. Almost. The team had spread around, hidden in the trees. Hashirama beat him to hailing the stranger. "Greetings," he announced amicably, arms spread, trademark smile. How he was still like this was beyond Tobirama. As gingerly as the First approached, as stormy his brother followed - scowling in such a condemning way the man flinched away. "G-greetings," he stuttered, eyes trained on Tobirama who was well aware of what he looked like now. Good. Let that man be scared. He well should be. His armor clanked as he crossed his arms in front of his chest, eyes narrowed to slits, assessing. "May I ask, what brings a man such as yourself to this remote area of the Fire country?", Hashirama inquired, ever friendly, slowly enclosing. "H-herbs," the man was quick to answer, still not looking away from Tobirama. Damn, that answer was sensible - almost. "Is that so? Then where are your gathering utensils? Bag? Or did you intend to rip it all out with your bare hands and stuff your pants full of it all?", Tobirama spat back, the undertone of his voice a perfectly fine, icy growl. Hashirama turned around to give his brother an incredulous gaze. Tobirama snorted. As if that was the worst he had ever said. The logic of his argument was sound nonetheless."I-I-I h-h-have t-t-them o-o-o-ver t-t-there," the man stammered, backing off slowly, lip quivering. He pointed to the trees - where some of the team hid. Perfect, Tobirama figured. Hashirama threw both hands up immediately in an apologetic manner. "Oh, don't worry, please! You must excuse my brother," he approached the man slowly, much like a one would a startled animal. The stranger wasn't swayed. He kept backing off. Then, he started to make a run. That was all the confirmation he needed. Immediately, Tobirama snatched a branded kunai from his satchel and threw it after the man with full force, uncaring if it might hit him - and a second later, the world lurched and he landed right beside him, where the weapon had buried itself in the ground. Swiftly, he tackled the man into the side, sending him off balance and into the ground. Another few finger signals later, a shadow clone of his had picked his target up, restraining his arms behind his back with one hand and securing the head with the other. "Tobirama!", Hashirama called out, no longer bothering to hide his fury. Already, he began to run over. Tobirama ignored him. "Search the area he pointed at for gathering utensils!", he shouted, seemingly at nowhere. Then his scarlet gaze was back on the man in front of him, arms crossing in front of his chest again. "Pray they find them," he spat. With a deep sigh and a shake of his head, Hashirama came to a halt next to him. "There was no need to-" "Shut up!", Tobirama didn't even spare him a glance. His brother sighed again, now in full kicked-puppy mode. Tobirama's anger flared again. He had no time for these antics. They needed to interrogate this man, now, and then continue with the information. "Lord Hokage!", a call echoed through the forest. Tobirama's head snapped around. One of the jonin returned. Kaori held up a satchel - but her mien was grave. A chill ran down Tobirama's spine. Had he made a mistake? His gaze swayed to the man who started to squirm against his clone's vice hold, earning him only a more bruising treatment. "What's in there?", he demanded immediately, ignoring the fact she had addressed Hashirama, actually. She turned the bag upside down, pouring the contents on the ground. Kunai, flares, paper bombs. Tobirama's heartbeat thrummed in his ears. He took a decisive step towards the man who suddenly had become very still. Hashirama backed off. Wisely. "Start talking. Now." A dangerous undercurrent leaked into his icy tone. The man stared back, defiantly. "Fine." Tobirama's patience had worn out. He was by no means a master of interrogation techniques - but he knew ways to amplify the intensity of a mental assault. He'd have no qualms using every bit of his ability on this person. Already, his clone was moving the man towards one of the trees. Brutally, he wrestled both arms above his head while pinning him against the trunk. Tobirama meanwhile had picked up the branded kunai he had thrown after the stranger earlier. When his clone had both palms aligned over one another he rammed the blade through the flesh. A scream accompanied the sickening crunch as steel forced itself past the metacarpal bones. Blood trickled down the arms of the man whose eyes were wide now. Behind Tobirama, his brother and the squad had gathered at a respectable distance. They didn't say a word. Either they didn't dare, or they had accepted one of them had to take up the tainting burden of the acts that were to follow. Tobirama didn't care at all for that. His mien was ice-cold, his glare as threatening as his intent towards the poor victim. He let his clone disappear. His hand slapped down on the man's scalp, closing his eyes. His chakra wound through the man's network like a snake in prey's den. Viciously, the man fought back, but the pain he had inflicted disrupted his focus. Good. Tobirama focused his own chakra to assault the vault with the information he desperately needed - the mind. Distantly, he heard a loud, anguished scream. A shudder went through the whole of the network, another attempt to buck the intruder off and out of his mind. Tobirama clenched his teeth. Already, he knew the man's chakra reserve was far inferior to his own - he might as well be able to simply overpower him much in a way that might best be described as metaphorical curb stomping. But that bore the risk of impairing the information stored in his mind. Very well, then. He reached into his satchel, procuring a second kunai. The man barely had time to register what Tobirama was doing before the weapon buried itself in his right forearm, hailed by another anguished scream that rang through an eerily calm forest. Tobirama stared him dead in the eye with a glance devoid of any emotion as he gave the weapon, nicely lodged between radius and ulna, a twist. A snap was heard. The scream intensified - then it broke off. The man huffed. "I won't tell you anything!", he shouted, panting, face red by the blood that was dripping down. "How very wrong you are." Tobirama sounded perfectly dejected, raising his hand again to once more assault the man's mind. Who laughed in reply."You think that will make me break?", he spat, "You'll never get that bitch back!" He threw his head back, laughing. Tobirama closed his eyes. His head was swimming with white-hot rage. In a moment of weakness, his mind painted deliciously cruel ways in which he might harm this man, kill him even - ways so despicable that for a moment, he was disgusted by himself, even. Distantly, surprised he’d stoop so low. They were just thoughts, anyway. Yet his body became numb besides ire and every fiber of his being felt like bellowing his rage at this man while he mangled his body beyond recognition for the sheer mention of you. "What you're doing to me is a joke compared to what we do to her, day in, day out," he continued then, finishing with the audacity to spit at Tobirama's white fur collar. "Oh, shit," he heard Kaori mumble behind him. Not a second later, Tobirama raised his leg and kicked with full force against the left thigh of the man, aiming for the femur. The snap was audible, the pain amplified by the way he sacked against the impaling hold of the kunai above his head. The scream was harrowing. But Tobirama wasn't finished. He raised his leg again. The right femur snapped just like the left one had, the howls of the man becoming incoherent screams of anguish, paused only by gasping for breath. Cruelly, the kunai had begun to further cut open his palms and his forearm as his legs wouldn't hold his body's weight anymore due to sheer pain. "Tobirama," a voice called out to him. Hashirama. His tone carried a warning. He didn't have the information yet. He needed the information first. He needed to know where you were. Now. With his heart hammering in his chest, he raised his arm again and grabbed the man's scalp again. This time, his assault was different than the first time. Not a pointed stab of chakra after winding his way through his network - this time, Tobirama let his presence suffocate the man from the inside. His network was a mess anyway - the pain was heavily impairing his control of his chakra now and Tobirama's own gargantuan chakra moved over his like a cruel invader, sparing no mercy for how mentally painful this was to him, how he must feel like being suffocated from the inside out by someone else. Distantly, the screams had picked up again. Tobirama let his chakra encircle around the man's mind; the brain - then he pulled closer. And closer. The man must have felt like someone was sawing his skull open. A few more seconds - then it was over. The fight inside stilled completely, and his victim had given in and him free reign to access every memory of the man. A millisecond later, Tobirama halted his assault and began to assess the information. Instantly, Tobirama knew this man's name was Akio, he was the youngest member of the newly formed Hidden Stone village's espionage team. He tossed that aside quickly to rip open the figurative drawer that held all the information about this mission. He knew, then. He knew it all. Where you were kept - what they had done to you. Well, all that Akio knew of. He wasn't one of the interrogators. Through his memories, he saw your face. Anguished, gaunt. But defiant. Alive. There was time, yet. Even though these memories made Tobirama tremble. It hit him with a force that nearly knocked the air out of his lungs simply for how heart-wrenching it was. He opened his eyes again to find the man limp against the bloodied tree. He gazed at his own palm, balling it to a fist. It shook. His heartbeat was all he heard. All of himself was entirely stiff and still from the sheer, utter rage that had completely become him. Again and again, the Akio's memories thrummed through Tobirama's skull, and with them, your screams of pain, your anguish, your whimpers of pain. Slowly, the scarlet eyes settled on the sorry excuse of an enemy in front of him. He didn't feel a shred of pity- "Tobirama!", a stern voice ripped him out of the tunnel of his emotions. His head turned to find Hashirama next to him now. "Enough, brother," he said - no, commanded. His hand had gripped Tobirama's wrist. Slowly, the fires of ire within were simmering down if just by the calming presence of his brother. Objectivity returned to Tobirama's mind, piece by piece. But no shred of regret. Or disgust. Objective accomplished. That he knew. "You have the information, no?", Hashirama pushed again, not letting up on the unmistakable sternness of his own tone. "I do." Tobirama's own voice was calm, collected. In a grotesque contrast to the atrocity he had just committed. In fact, clarity was settling in - his focus restored, though haunted. Perfectly in control, but still driven by desperate urgency. If anything, said urgency had kicked up a notch now.He had his target now. "Kaori, Daichi," Hashirama called, nodding for Akio. "Stabilise him and take him as prisoner back to Konoha." They confirmed their order and began their work. Tobirama turned around, not sparing the man another look. Luckily he also knew the enemy's numbers and their capabilities, roughly, from Akio's memories. They'd be no match for him and his brother, let alone with their jonin as backup. Soon, you'd be safe again. __________ The hideout was - befitting for shinobi of the Hidden Stone village - underground. Concealed so well that without the information coerced out of Akio, it would have been impossible to find. Tobirama had to give them that. But now they did not just know where it was located, but also how to get in without setting one of the deadly traps they had laced each of the two entries with. Smart. Akio had also been so generous to provide them with a mental map of the place, of course - functional it was, a narrow corridor, just a couple of rooms. Sleeping and living quarters, a weapons and supply chamber which also seemed to serve as a tactical planning room - and finally, the place Tobirama felt physically drawn to. The interrogation chamber. Adjoined, a holding cell fitted to be bereft of any chakra. Just another form of sensory deprivation. He could barely restrain himself from rushing in there full force and eliminate any obstacle in his way. He knew in this very moment, this very second, you were down there, suffering - and the thought wound around his chest and squeezed until his breaths came uneven and his heart stuttered. Until he believed to be in physical pain. But Tobirama also knew how precarious the situation was. The team had gathered at a respectful distance to discuss their plan. Time was running short. They soon would search for Akio, and if they so much as caught a whiff of their presence, you'd slip from his grasp again as they’d flee. Or worse, they might kill you. Tobirama would sooner die himself than allow for that to happen - the mere notion let the blood freeze in his veins. At the very least, it did well to reign himself in. Still, his mind, one thing about the course of action was clear. No mercy. At the very least, they were enemies to the village. "We can easily overpower them. Use the element of surprise, and be fast in and out. I know their numbers and capabilities, roughly." Tobirama crossed his arms in front of his chest. His face was drawn in a deep frown. "That is correct," Hashirama answered evenly, holding his brother's icy glare. Probably the only person around here to do so with ease, Tobirama found. His patience for more faint-hearted had been long gone. "But you mustn't forget that Y/n is down here too-" "I assure you, anija, I am not," Tobirama spat back, knuckles white from how hard he gripped the fabric of his undergarment on his arms. His nostrils flared from the sharp breath he took, offended his brother might even think he’d forget this. "They could use her as a living shield." Hashirama was completely unfazed by Tobirama's hostility. He probably had gotten used to it at this point, in a pitiful way - his brother's predicament pained him as much as your fate did, Tobirama knew. After all, Hashirama was the gentle soul out of the two of them. That wouldn't extend Tobirama's patience, but still. "And you seriously think I don't consider that?", Tobirama huffed, through clenched teeth. Desperation was leaking into his voice more than anger did. The team held a respectful distance at this point. "There is no other way, Hashirama." "There is," he replied far too quickly for Tobirama's liking. "Enlighten me then, please." He took a deep breath, seemingly well aware his next words will not sit well with his younger brother. "We offer them to leave for their home if they release Y/n without a fight." Tobirama's eyes widened. "You must be joking." The mere notion - "After what they did-" he scowled - his voice low, dangerous. The all too familiar rage was roaring within him again, his heart pounding high in his chest. "You haven't seen what I've seen!" his voice bordered a shout, as much as secrecy would allow for right now. Without ever having wanted to, he had taken a step towards his brother, arms outstretched. They were trembling again. He balled his fist. What on earth was Hashirama thinking? "It would be safest for her," he replied evenly, not backing off a single inch. His calmness was unnerving Tobirama even more. He actually seemed to consider this a good plan - "Safest? Safest? What if they slit her throat before my very eyes to let her see me fail her ultimately? Did you consider that in your clever approach?!" Tobirama's voice had risen in volume, but even now, he was aware they were to be hidden still. But the mental image was burned into his mind, now. Your eyes - panicked first, then growing dull as the realisation of being forsaken kicked in. And then, lifelessly gazing at him. That was almost too much for Tobirama to take and the white-hot rage burned so intensely, it felt as unbearable as the thought of losing you while being so close to getting you back. The thought of all the agony you had gone through. Hashirama took a decisive step forward then, placing a hand on Tobirama's shoulderguard. "We won't lose her, Tobirama," he spoke with such conviction, Tobirama was glad to latch onto it if just to escape the dark place his mind was at now. He needed to focus. For you. He shook his head as though to free himself of emotional turmoil, momentarily. "They're still enemies to the village, trespassing in our protected country and guilty of torturing our own. We cannot let them go unpunished." His baritone voice nearly shook towards the end. Hashirama pondered before he sighed deeply. "Very well." Tobirama took a deep breath, then crossed his arms again. "We will use what means of surveillance we have at hand to locate each of them before entering. Preferably when," he cleared his throat uncomfortably and forced himself to speak the next select words neutrally and calmly, "Y/n isn't being tortured. They won't be as close to her. Then we incapacitate them swiftly before they can get to her. The hideout is small. It should be easy to corner them before they can get to her." He needed to take a few more deep breaths, closing his eyes. A hand rubbed over his forehead and happuri absent-mindedly. This plan had to work. It just had. Tobirama wouldn't compromise more, anyway. Hashirama nodded then, turning towards the squad. "Everyone heard him. Let's go." Surveillance proved to be more difficult than they had expected. With Akio's information, they knew how to approach, but the hideout was secured from sensory scanning, of course. Which meant Tobirama was as good as blind, unless he got inside. That was out of question. It turned out their only means of getting inside views were the bugs of Hoshiko Aburame, who was more than eager to show off her newly joined clan's capabilities. And amazing they were, Tobirama found. Not half an hour later, they knew the enemy currently kept to the living quarters of the underground hideout, and the interrogation chamber was empty. You were in the cell, just as expected. The news made Tobirama's heart stutter again, but he reigned himself in quickly now. His focus was required now, even though he itched to rush in there like he never had before. You were right there, alive, breathing. Alone, suffering. He wanted nothing more than to save you from all that, posthaste. Frankly the timing was just too perfect. They had to act now. And they did. Swiftly, and without mercy. They split in two groups to enter the hideout from each entrance, dancing around the traps like only a member of the Hidden Stone shinobi team could. When Tobirama heard their voices, their laughter from the chamber - he saw red. But much more than to punish them, he wanted to take the other turn - through the interrogation chamber, to your cell. Hashirama had explicitly forbidden him to. Tobirama knew, too - the enemy needed to be subdued first. You were not being tortured right now. He needed to be calm and logical now; his help was needed in the fight - you just needed to hang on a little longer. Just a tiny bit. He was almost there, with you again. The battle inside the chamber was atrocious as one might expect from such close quarters and a force such as their own. Tobirama's water release mowed through their earthen defenses as they tried to use the surroundings to their advantage with their expert knowledge of Earth jutsu - though quickly, he had to give way to his brother's wood release lest he'd flood the chamber completely. The squad each had engaged with an enemy personally, the clashes of blades echoed through the room, incantations were shouted, chakra released left and right. No matter, he figured, he was still lethal enough without his water release. With his ice-cold burning ire, he lunged for a very particular enemy: the shinobi he knew had been responsible for your torture, mostly. He just needed to recall Akio's memories of you: what they had done to you, what you looked like. Tobirama's precision was meticulous and deadly, in every way. Later, those who bore witness to the fight uttered words of fright for how the First's brother had been back then - a stern reminder never to cross this man. Tobirama's precision to kill was ruthless, chilling. Parrying maneuvers of his target where punished not just with a clash of metal but the slicing of muscles and nerves. Undeniably he did not just fight the torture master - his target was punished for every mistake in this fight. As soon as the opening for a kill offered itself, Tobirama struck without mercy. The blind rage started boiling inside him more, numbing his body to a point he was sure he wouldn't feel anything despite ire anymore. And the deep desire to get back to you. This battle was taking too long. All throughout it, Tobirama kept his sensory skills trained on the whole underground complex - and especially so on the door that led outside, to you. He would not allow for a single person to leave this room and make a run for you, or outside for that manner. Not that anyone got the chance. Soon, the Stone shinobi were decimated to a number far smaller than the Konoha team, and they realised they were being overpowered - swiftly. But there was no escaping any more. Briefly, Hashirama had entertained taking them prisoner prior to starting their assault - much to Tobirama’s annoyance. Lethal force would be simpler and faster, he argued. Another team member, Taro, had made a more sensible objection then - he doubted they'd surrender and it was questionable if they would manage to subdue them if they didn't. Well, trust Hashirama to make it possible anyway. With his wood release, he managed to ensnare them, an unmistakable sign to the rest of the squad. Fine, then. They might hold valuable information, anyway. Tobirama turned around on his heel to do what he had been wanting to do from the start. He broke down the door towards the interrogation chamber with no grace, clenching his teeth when he laid eyes on the inside. There was a table fitted with restrains - and blood. Dried blood. Your blood. His throat went dry. A flickering gaze wandered over the walls where various tools were stored, all of them kept in neat shape. Drills, saws, irons - he closed his eyes. He couldn't - he didn't want to see that anymore, now. His heart hurt, his body trembled again with sheer rage. How could he allow for this to happen in the first place? He opened his eyes again, bearing the ache the sight brought him. Briefly, his scarlet eyes wandered left and right to find more utensils: drugs. More refined tools, possibly to inflict damage to the chakra network of the victim. Various vials filled with substances, very possibly used to alter perception of reality and make a person more susceptible to torture. Bile rose in his throat. Enough of that. With a few decisive steps, he rounded the table to finally find himself in front of your door. He stared down at his shaking hand before he opened it. He was sure his heart would jump out of his chest at any moment now. The door swung open inaudibly. The room beyond was just illuminated by the dim lights coming from behind Tobirama. When his gaze found you again for the first time in weeks, he nearly fell to his knees. You were curled up in the far corner of the tiny cell, dressed in rags. Your form looked far too delicate - far too gaunt. You were shivering, your hands covered your face and your head. There were bruises on your pale skin. Tobirama swallowed a heavy lump down his throat. A prickling sensation formed in his eyes. He blinked. Wetness rolled down his cheeks. He wiped swiftly at it with his sleeve. "Y/n," he spoke, incredibly softly, entering slowly, as though you might disappear if he were too hasty. He, who was covered in blood - his fine fur collar ruffled, sprayed red. The epitome of violence. You stirred. Flailed. Slow at first, as though you had to work through a haze. To hear a voice beside that of your tormentor - it must frighten you, or so Tobirama thought. Your gaze - your gaze was the worst. It was wide-eyed, devoid of your lively spark. Haunted. Tormented. The ache inside his heart was a physically painful sensation now within his chest. Tears rolled down his cheeks again, but he did not sob. All that ran through him was the fine tremor of despair; of having finally gotten you back and yet being confronted with the reality of your capture. Tobirama knelt down near your side very slowly, just in arms reach but at a respectful distance yet. Frankly he wanted to sweep you up in his arms, kiss you and never let go of you again - but he knew better than that. Recognition had not yet settled into your gaze again. There was fear in them. It continued to feed into the ache inside his chest. It was them - they had done this to you. "Y/n," he whispered your name again, tenderly, in a desperate hope of waking your memory. Your gaze was wild as you straightened yourself against the corner, boney knees tucked towards your body as quivering hands steadied yourself. "N-No...", your raspy, quiet voice stuttered. The abuse it had suffered was evident - for quite some time, you had done nothing with it but scream, Tobirama concluded. His teeth clenched down so hard, his jaw hurt. More tears smeared his facial paint. "I'm here, my love," he finally stammered out. Your eyes glistened. More violent shivers ran through your body. Tobirama subconsciously shifted closer. He needed to comfort you, to hold you - to do anything to ease your discomfort. To help you out of wherever your mind was right now. "I- I've broken, have I?", you suddenly croaked, "They gotten into me, now they're using you to torture me-" - you threw your head back against the stone wall with an audible thud. The sound made Tobirama shudder - that must have hurt you. But it was nothing compared to your words - he understood now. You thought he was part of a genjutsu. The cruel, cruel logic behind that - his eyes wandered downwards momentarily, and he couldn't stop the broken huff that snuffed out any sob he might have made. In his crouched stance, he wiped his palm over his face. You, his beautiful woman, the love of his life - in shambles, all due to his incompetence to keep you safe. He drew a ragged breath. All he now could do was to make up for it by getting you away from here - making you realise he really was here - and keep you safe now. Ensure you'd heal. "No, my love," he answered finally, letting his own agony break into his voice that had become a husky whisper while two scarlet eyes gave you a sad, sad look. "This is real. I'm here, you're safe now. It's over. You're safe now." Signing the genjutsu release in here was pointless - the room was designed to be void of chakra. In fact, Tobirama had not even noticed when he entered - he had been too concerned with you. That realisation now was disturbing - how careless of him - but he very much felt deaf in here for his sensory skills were blocked. No chakra would leave his body, at all. It was an oppressive feeling. To think you had been in here for weeks - You kept staring at him with wide eyes. Uncertainty had settled into your gaze. Tobirama knew he needed to keep leading you out of the darkness now. He inched closer, very slowly. His glance he kept locked with yours, attentive of any sign of fear or hesitation. The last thing he wanted to do was overstep your boundaries now. You remained still. Finally, he was right beside you, kneeling. He was shaking again. As were you. "T-Tobirama...", your abused voice whimpered, the question in your tone tormented him. The magnitude of anguish the whole situation brought him pushed him to a point where wondered how he could handle it - bear it - other than soldier through and simply ignore it for now. What he knew was he had to get you out now and start to move things along. "I'm here," he repeated, "I'm real. You're safe, now. All right?", he raised his shaking hand slowly to lay it on your far too bony shoulder. Your body was agonizingly cold under his palm. "Y/n," he downright whimpered, relieved for a brief second when you did not flinch. Your gaze drifted down onto the hand he had put on your shoulder. Incredulous. The first gentle touch you had received - in weeks. "Tobirama...", you whispered again, now laced with more than uncertainty. There was pain in it. Not the physical kind - the emotional kind. The despair of your struggle to believe all this, to allow yourself to know this to be true was showing. And Tobirama grew increasingly desperate alongside to make you believe this - to end your suffering as fast as he could. His own pain would endure far longer, he knew. That didn't matter, though - his aching heart could wait, if it only meant you were safe. "I will get you out, okay? May I carry you, Y/n?", he asked in a hushed voice, as gentle as he could. When you didn't reply but also showed no sign of refusal, he let his hand slide over your neck slowly to grasp around your shoulder while his other arm reached out to tuck under your knees. He never broke eye contact again. Yours, however wandered to your own body. It shook again - a mixture of temperature and quite possibly the same reason Tobirama himself shook, he deduced. His protectiveness flared even more. It was only when you felt gravity shift towards him and up from the ground that you whimpered - and flailed slightly. "N-no-", you suddenly whispered, shaking your head and the unkempt hair on it. But Tobirama didn't want to ease up now. He just needed you out of this terrible room to make you see he was real and end this nightmare. "Please, Y/n," Tobirama countered immediately, "Trust me." He practically implored you at this point. Your flailing increased. "D-don't," you whispered, your eyes wide again, lip quivering. "I can't," you wheezed, "No more, please!" Your thin arms pawed at his chest armor as he rose to his full height slowly. Your body was far too light in his arms. Your gaze shifted to the open door slowly, the fear becoming painfully apparent, but Tobirama's eyes would never leave you. Realisation dawned on Tobirama then. And once more, he felt as though he nearly doubled over by the implication of it - what your real issue now was. "I'm not going to hurt you, Y/n, nobody is anymore," Tobirama choked instantly. "We just need to get out here, I can't use my chakra here, neither can you." he tried to reason, unsure of how much that would get through to you. He took a slow step towards the door, though the pain inside his chest made it difficult when he saw your reaction. "Please," you croaked, the fight becoming stronger. He had to close his arms around you more firmly just so you wouldn't wind out of his hold. "Nothing bad is going to happen anymore, Y/n, I promise," Tobirama whispered over your sobs. Then, he opted to take the two steps out of the cell into the damned interrogation chamber - back to where chakra could be used. You were near screaming frightened pleas for mercy then, a sound that would haunt Tobirama. But it was over the second he carried you into the other room. In that very moment, Tobirama let his chakra graze over your network already. But not before he muttered: "Release." His voice bore some relief - the crooked, defeated kind. You stilled completely then. Your eyes were back at his face, he held your gaze evenly while his chakra wrapped around yours, much like a blanket on a cold winter's night. The familiarity of the sensation - to hold you and to feel you in such an intimate way at the same time - Tobirama nearly had thought he might have never have gotten another chance to. For all his determination of the past weeks - the danger had been near suffocating him. But you were here now, in his arms. "You're safe, Y/n," he repeated, over and over. "I'm here." His eyes were glistening again, as were yours. Stray tears fell on the rags they had dressed you in. Tobirama pulled you closer to let your forehead rest against his happuri for a moment. He closed his eyes to drink in the sensation of your chakra intertwining more, feeling you. Stilling the ache in his heart, quenching the rage that had roared in him for weeks. The both of you feeling one another. "Tobirama... I thought -", you finally began, your voice finally more than a hush or a whimper. Still raspy of course. But... more yourself. You had begun to come out of the proverbial darkness back to him, again. The relief Tobirama felt made his knees weak. "I thought I'd never see you again," you finally whispered. Slowly, he pulled his head back. He swallowed. "I'm so sorry," he choked out. It was all he could say right now. But there was so much more he wanted to say. Your head slipped from his forehead to the side of his neck. Exhaustion seemed to be getting to you, too. "I'll keep you safe, Y/n," he let his arms wrap around even tighter, for a moment worrying if he might bruise you. You didn't protest though. Tobirama felt you couldn't be close enough to him now. Your frail hand reached up for his fur collar, fingers winding through it, gripping it, then sliding to the side of his neck. You didn't speak anymore. He shuddered for how cold it felt again, but it only served to make him feel more determined to take care of you now. It was Hashirama who disturbed the moment. The relief was written over his face, though his eyes were wide when they first settled on you, then on Tobirama. "Let's go home," Tobirama then announced, sighing.

[princessofgayskull]

our secret moments in your crowded room // pt. 2

a catradora drabble (companion piece to this) featuring Melog

summary: Catra doesn’t want to go back to sleeping alone, and her new room in the Bright Moon Castle is too big not to be lonely

The first night Catra sleeps alone, she doesn’t sleep at all.

She doesn’t understand how anyone expects her to, either. The night that followed Horde Prime’s defeat, the first time the moons rise on a planet that finally peace, is total and complete chaos. It’s the feel of magic settling in the air, it’s clones who don’t know who they are or what to do expect stand around everywhere, it’s the victory cry of Etherians echoing across the horizon, Catra’s voice joining them for the first time. 

It was also too unfeasible to go all the way back to Bright Moon and make it there in time for anyone to get any actual sleep. Not that anyone gets much rest back at camp either, but at least those shelters were already made. The night was equal parts celebration and retribution. For the first time in years, Catra falls asleep on Adora’s shoulder with Melog sprawled over both their laps. For the first time in years, Catra wakes to find Adora still there with.

But going to Bright Moon is unavoidable. It’s unavoidable because it’s Etheria’s center, it’s where the diplomacy flows out and into the rest of the system, it’s where the new beginning actually begins and Glimmer has this idea in her head that Catra should be there and should be a part of it. What, like she’s gonna go back to the Fright Zone? There was nothing left for her there. 

Everything important in Catra’s life is heading towards Bright Moon for the next phase, and they want Catra to come with them. Adora wants Catra to come with them. And when Adora tells her that when they’re breaking down camp, her hands on Catra’s shoulders and that soft look in her eyes, that instinctual urge to run away disintegrates into nothing.

She just doesn’t expect her first night in Bright Moon to be spent staring up at a ceiling so far up in a room enveloped in the night’s darkness and the paralyzing sound of her own loneliness. Melog sleeps across her chest, a white noise machine of warmth, keeping her grounded in this reality of this room that has its own gravity. Catra can’t find it in her to close her eyes as she lays across what’s more of a pillow plush than an actual bed.

The only reason Catra’s in here is because Glimmer gifted her the room out of legitimate kindness. As it turns out, Adora got one of her own when she left Catra- sorry, defected from the Horde- because people here were actually treated like people and regardless of what Catra had done in the past, she fell into that category now. She was one of them now. It didn’t make her a princess or queen by the longest shot, but around here that counted for something.

“Pretty sweet accommodations, huh?” Glimmer had thrown her words from Horde’s Prime back at her, holding back no amusement when she had shown Catra around the room, teleporting in a craze from one piece of fancy furniture to the next.

All of the moments that Catra had spent overwhelmed and so, so out of her depth since walking into Glimmer’s palace were coming crashing down on her now and she could barely breathe under the weight of it all. Figuring all her snarky commentary about the way Royals lived was enough, Catra didn’t bother voicing her discomfort. Deep down, she hoped that the way Melog wrapped themselves between her legs and curled their tail up her thigh clued Adora- or anyone really- into how much she wanted to be whisked away from this.  

Why hadn’t Adora just asked Catra to stay in her room? Catra would’ve been more than okay with that. 

Running her claws down her face, Catra groaned. It had been stupid to think that those sleepovers Glimmer gushed about when it was just the two of them on Horde Prime’s ship would last forever now that she was a part of the gang. Not as stupid as thinking Adora would be up for some sort of cohabitating, shared sleeping arrangements with her when they’d been sworn enemies less than a month ago.

“I need to give Adora space. She’s her own person, she can make her own decisions.” Catra tells herself, trying to take a deep breath like Perfuma had taught her. “And I’ll fall asleep eventually. I don’t need her around to do that.”

This statement prompts Melog to lift their head, ethereal blue eyes wide and shining with packed judgement.

“Don’t look at me like that!” Catra hisses at her animal/alien companion. The dissonant purr of Melog’s reply fills the empty space around them.

“You didn’t ask Adora if she wanted to sleep alone. You can ask her if she wants to sleep together, and if she says she wants space, then you know,” Melog’s purr ends and Catra rolls her eyes before throwing her head back on her pillow.

“How does that help me now? Adora’s probably asleep already. Last thing I wanna do is wake her up and get punched in the nose. Again.”

Melog, keeping their eyes on Catra, withholds their reply. Not backing down form the staring contest the alien cat has incited, she glares at her companion. Which is useless knowing how she’s practically see through to this creature- wait, she stops herself, blinking. See through.

Catra has the beginnings of an idea. A creepy idea, so she doesn’t bother trying to think it through, rather pushes Melog of her legs and trips off the giant pink pillow puff that’s her bed so she can act before she uses her bravery. 

A purr makes Catra’s ear perk up, “Really? Are you sure this is a good idea?

“Hey!” Catra sent a flat look in Melog’s direction. They’re shielding her legs and making her think twice. “Laying next to that cot Adora has cloaked isn’t great but it’s better than being in here alone!” Alone with the images that haunt her, the images she’s sees when she lets her eyes close: Shadow Weaver taking her mask off before ceasing to exist, the violent green waters of Prime’s baptismal font, Adora unconscious in her arms as the world ends around them. With shaking hands she asks, “Are you gonna help me or not?”

Melog runs through her legs, rubbing her calf with their phasing mane. Catra’s companion heads for the door.

 _

Sneaking past the Queen’s Guard is child’s play. Melog has her back, keeping the both of them cloaked, as Catra sneaks around in her Horde issued bra and sleeping shorts. Maybe one day she and Adora will get around to finding clothing that can withstand the strain of battle that doesn’t carry the Horde’s symbol, but Catra doubts a shopping list is high on anyone’s priority list right now.

It’s not like any of the guards that stand at fourteen feet intervals- Catra notices- are on high alert, or would rat her out for being out past curfew. Because there’s no curfew here and that’s not their job. But Catra breathes a little easier knowing she can’t be seen. Maybe it’s because they can’t ask questions if they can’t see her, can’t make her rethink her strange stalker like actions. Maybe it’s because wearing their clothes, Catra hasn’t exactly shaken off the rust of growing up in the Fright Zone.

Melog keeps her out of sight as they walk past Bow’s room, sending her a look when they hear his snores seeping out from under the door frame. Catra shrugs. 

With no guards around, Melog starts up again, “Why did they put Adora’s room so far from yours?” which Catra knows is probably code for, “how much longer do I have to keep this up?”

“You big baby,” Catra runs her hand over Melog’s tail, “And I dunno, how I am supposed to know the inner workings of Sparkles’ mind? I’m like, the first person new here that hasn’t been a prisoner.”

Her claws trail the wall and she keeps up with Melog’s steps. 

The fact that the room Glimmer put her in was where they’d been “keeping” Scorpia didn’t go over Catra’s head. Yeah, she and Scorpia are on better terms these days, but remembering how Scorpia left her for the Rebellion still brings a sting to Catra’s throat. Remembering that it was her own fault is like the punch in the gut she didn’t ask for, but probably deserv- WHACK!

“Ow!” Beyond the pain resonating in Catra’s forehead, she can hear Adora cry out. 

“Adora?!” Melog’s cloaking falls and Catra is standing in front of her, well, sort of girlfriend, wincing and holding her forehead there in her gray tank top and shorts.

“Catra?!” Adora yells with the same tone when she realizes what the invisible force she butted heads with actually is. “What are you doing out of bed?” 

“I could ask you the same thing.” replies Catra.

Adora takes a guarded stance and Melog looks between the two of them before her shoulders fall, “I- I couldn’t sleep. I thought, um, that I could come see you? I mean, I did think you were going to be asleep and I thought I could just stay there with you-” as she speaks, a sort of softness overcomes Catra. How had she managed to survive on the other edge of Adora’s sword? No wonder her destiny as a Force Captain was doomed from the start, that her anger sputtered and left her burned out. Catra had so much love for this woman. It was always going to win out at the end of the day. “-is that creepy? I know, it’s creepy but I just really wanted to see you-”

Catra grabs Adora’s hand and looks her in the eye. “Do you wanna come lay down? With- with me?” 

“Mmhmm,” nods Adora. She intertwines their fingers together, and when Catra starts to pull her back up the hallway, she follows without hesitation.

Since they’re going back the way they came, past Bow and Glimmer’s rooms, Catra’s hand finds Melog’s forehead and the cloaking flows through their bodies. Catra and Adora don’t make any noise, don’t make any stops, beyond the looks Catra throws her over her shoulder. Right before they reach the door to Catra’s room, Adora squeezes Catra’s hand. 

“Hey,” her voice is barely above a whisper, “why were you out of bed?”

“No reason.” Catra turn her face away, hoping that the cover of the dark will hide her growing blush. She curls her tail around her waist and keeps it there to keep it from betraying her.

“Oh my gosh, Catra- were you coming to see me?” Adora throws her hands onto Catra’s shoulders, a playful instinct that Catra can’t fight the subconscious need to return.

Melog’s cloaking falls.

Grabbing Adora’s fingers, Catra pulls her sort of girlfriend to her front before grabbing her wrists and pinning her to the wall. Their noses touching, Catra lets herself smile, “Okay, maybe I was. You’re not the only person who doesn’t want to sleep alone.”

“Is it also cause you like me?” teases Adora. 

Even in the dark Adora’s the most beautiful thing Catra’s ever seen; blonde hair unrestrained and kissing her defined shoulder, standing up against the wall in her pajamas, she’s all Catra’s ever wanted.  

“You idiot,” Catra kisses her lips, “it’s actually because I love you.”

_

Catra wakes to a warmth against her back. A chest rising and falling, a hand lain across the crook of her elbow. Opening her eyes, she sees that it’s not only light out, but that the dawn has come and gone, turned in midmorning without their permission. There’s no way she and Adora haven’t slept in way past the time the promised to be up and ready to take on the challenges that awaited them in peacetime.

“Adora,” she mutters, rolling over and buries her face in the space between Adora’s shoulder and head, “you’re hogging the blanket.”

Adora doesn’t open her eyes as her grip on Catra’s waist tightens, “‘S’not fair. You have Melog.”

Running her hand down the side of her animal companion, Catra lets out of a breath. She’s sandwiched in between Melog and Adora’s warmth, the little spoon wrapped in Adora’s calm embrace. There’s nothing Catra would change about this. This is the way she’d keep things forever if it were up to her.

“We have to get up soon,” Catra tries, yawning and stretching her arms out.

Her girlfriend’s hands come down over hers, “Don’t want to.”

“Adora-”

“I want to stay with you, Catra,” her sleepy voice reverberates over Catra’s ears and they flatten under her chin. Tail winding around Adora’s waist, she pulls her closer and sighs.

“What if Rainbow and Sparkles come looking for us?” 

Adora, eyes still closed, lets out a happy sigh. “Let them.”

It goes without saying that Catra never has to sleep alone again.

reblogs > likes!

[jango-fettish]

The Ruler and the Killer (Syrena Aster x Sunburst Squadron)

Rating: R or M (I don’t know, yo)

Word Count: 7,376

Warnings: DEATH (there is character death in this you have been warned), canonical-type violence, cursing, the Heretics are meanie butt heads with meanie butt head rules, brief mention of a blowjob (im proud, i only used cock in this once), my possible typos and grammatical errors (please let me know if i should warn about anything else!!!)

A/N: Thanks to @jangofctts​​ again for creating the Sunburst Squadron and letting me use them. And thank you for letting me kILL MAX. Also, thank you to @weebblossom​ for letting me steal your Heretic personality for Fenn. 

Someone once told Syrena, when she was a young girl still surrounded by the loving embrace of her mother, that a person can be brought back to life just by remembering them. If that were true, Syrena had a long list of names she’d like to bring back. Most with a black check next to their name: the people she wanted to bring back just to kill all over again. People who deserved to die for a second time, like her mother who once held her so tightly to her chest and promised to love her till the end of time. 

But there were a few she would bring back because, truthfully, they did not deserve to die. She shouldn’t have killed them and she would do anything to turn back the hands of time to fix her mistake...her error that resulted in the blood of an innocent spilled on her behalf. But like Death, Time was a fickle friend to Syrena and once something is done, there wasn’t enough money or praying in the world that she could do to change it. 

Syrena frowned to herself, a dark unsettling feeling sinking in the pit of her stomach. It was the type of feeling someone wouldn’t want before they were about to commit a crime against the Republic. She’d had it once before, when she took her first solo job after her training finished. She had just turned sixteen. Three innocent people died that day, three names added to her list that she would bring back. Syrena looked around the ship, wondering if the others had the same feeling, but they were all preoccupied with checking their weapons on last time. 

“What’s on your mind?” a sweet voice said, tearing Syrena away from her thoughts. 

She looked up to see Nettie, a plucky Rodian that had a knack for getting too involved in other people’s business. Syrena supposed it fit: Nettie was a hacker, a damn good one too, so of course she would try to get as much information out of a person as possible as she did with a computer. Nettie’s bulbous black eyes stared down at Syrena, trying to silently unlock the secrets she held. They looked as if starlight was streaking through them. It made Syrena uncomfortable and only added to the unsettling feeling in her stomach, making it expand upward and try to claw its way out her throat. 

Syrena had known Nettie for some time now, probably the most out of anyone on their four person team. They had been roommates during the beginning years of training, spending nearly six year stuck in the same small room together and trying to survive. Nettie was sweet and soft, everything a Heretic wasn’t supposed to be. They spent years whispering secrets and crying to one another, only letting the other person in. They were each other’s rock during those six years. The only reason why they went their separate ways was because they had to choose their speciality, to continue their training and become the deadly weapons the Heretics were known throughout the galaxy as. The Rodian chose technology and hacking, while Syrena stuck with combat and weaponry. 

“All this trouble just for some information,” Syrena said, rubbing the palms of her hands on her thighs. The ship they were on lurched to the left again, the various weapons hanging from the walls clinging together. “Seems a little overkill to have four people for this.”

It was rare for there to be a mission that required more than just two Heretics. And even then, one was usually good enough. But for this specific mission, there were two teams of four. They didn’t even know what information they were after. 

“Get in, get the information, get out. Kill anyone that gets in your way, if necessary,” the Creator had told them when giving the assignment. The Creator wanted everything, so they would get everything. The other team would take care of the distraction. 

“Knowing your enemy from the inside out is the only true way of instilling fear,” Nettie said, slowly sliding into the open seat next to Syrena. 

Syrena recoiled at her words, “Since when was the Republic our enemy? We haven’t chosen a side in over a millenia.”

“Perhaps our current Creator wishes to change that,” the Rodian pondered. 

“‘Bout time, if you ask me,” another voice said, cutting through their conversation. The melodic tone clashed with Syrena’s patience like loud cymbals being beaten together over and over again. “The Republic has been taking advantage of the Heretics for decades now. Glad we finally have someone in charge that has a clear vision of what we should have always been.”

“Oh, piss off back to Dothomir, Fenn,” Syrena said, rolling her eyes. She leaned back and shut her eyes, barely catching the snarl form on the Zabraks face. “The Heretics shouldn’t take sides. We’re nothing more than the shadows that charge the wealthy bastards of the galaxy a bit too much to do their dirty work.” 

“Rich coming from you, snake,” Fenn hissed, stepping closer to Syrena. 

“You got something to say, Pointy? Say it.” Syrena’s eyes were still closed, but she could feel the heat and rage radiating off of the Zabrak. 

“You’re fucking a clone. We all know it.”

Syrena’s eyes shot open into a glare, “Who I’m fucking isn’t anyone’s business, especially yours.” 

“If it clouds your piss poor judgement on a job, then yeah it is my business.”

There was a shock of electricity throughout the cabin of the ship. In an instant, Syrena was on her feet, the blade she kept hidden in her wrist vambrace shot out and pressed against the Zabrak’s neck. Fenn, for all of her faults, was just as quick as Syrena. Her own vibroblade was pointing upwards against Syrena’s stomach. One movement from either of them would result in a painful and bloody death. They were snarling at each other, animalistic noises coming from their throats. 

“Alright, that’s enough,” Alyze said.

Alyze was one of the oldest Heretics. They were well respected in the community and had a favorable opinion with the Republic after helping to train the clone ARC Troopers at the beginning of the war. It was a well paying gig, one any Heretic would jump to take. But Alyze was the best choice for the job. 

Syrena and Fenn continued glaring at each other. Syrena pressed the knife harder onto Fenn’s skin, satisfied when the Zabrak winced at the sting of the freshly sharpened blade. Alyze finally stepped close to the two, wanting the situation to diffuse. If Alyze was in a worse mood, they would have physically stopped the encounter, but their thoughts and care were focused on the mission. 

“I said enough,” Alyze barked, their irritation with the two smaller women growing, “We’re almost at the drop location. Get your heads out of your asses and get ready for deployment.”

Fenn hissed at Syrena before drawing her vibroblade away. Syrena could only laugh to herself as she retracted her blade. It slowly slid back into its secret compartment.  

“Unless your mouth is the one on my pussy, shut the fuck up about who I’m sleeping with, got it?” Syrena warned. Fenn went back to her seat, keeping her glare on Syrena. 

Syrena approached Nettie again, holding onto one of the overhanging bars. The closer the ship got to the drop point, the bumpier it became. 

“Fenn has a point you know,” Nettie said, looking up at Syrena. “Your infatuation with the clone could be detrimental to this and future missions. I give it a 88% chance of failing and resulting in the death of the clone or yourself.”

“Nettie, can you just,” Syrena sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose, “just not be a know-it-all right now.”

“Interesting, though, how they are allowing this relationship to continue.”

“What are you talking about?” 

“The powers that be. The Creator. Myrkos.” Syrena frowned at the mention of her old Master. “They stopped Alyze’s relationship with that Jedi on Kamino before it became....a hindrance to the Creator’s objective.”

“Well clearly they don’t think that this is anything more than me screwing around.”

“For now,” Nettie said, her voice sounding far away. “Though, you have been put in their favor since you provided the intel on when the troopers change their shifts, giving us the perfect opportunity to drop in. Does your clone know that you used him for information? Is that the type of bedroom talk you can get out of him? Impressive.”

“Nettie, just...just shut up, please.”  

“My apologies, no harm intended,” Nettie said with a smile. 

She was beginning to make Syrena feel uneasy, and rather guilty. She had gotten the information out of Bruiser during one of their more...intimate encounters, but he didn’t have to spill the beans. It was his choice to tell her, his choice to trust her even though she had warned him not to.

“Syrena,” Nettie began again, “I don’t know what gods you pray to or if you even believe in any. But you better hope that they are on your side. Who knows exactly what would happen should you lose favor with them. Or worse, lose favor with the Creator.” 

“Let’s go,” Alyze interjected before Syrena could fully process what Nettie had said, “we’re at the drop zone.”

Getting into the Republic military outpost on Coruscant was easy, especially with the knowledge Syrena had provided regarding trooper shift changes. In the end, it was an easy drop, with a quick landing on the roof before the four of them got in through the ventilation system. Surely by now the Republic would learn to get smaller vents. 

“It changes all the time,” Bruiser had said to her in confidence, his words breathy as her tongue swirled around the head of his flushed leaking cock. “Never know until, oh kriff, never know until we’re called.”

She only hoped that they weren’t stationed there today. She usually warned Bruiser if she was involved in any unsavory Heretic business. Though it was typically only a, ‘Hey I’m arriving in like five minutes to fuck shit up, see you then,’ type of warning. But five minutes was better than nothing. 

“Syrena,” Alyze harshly whispered, pulling her out of her memories, “Get your head in the fucking mission.” 

“Sorry,” Syrena mumbled, checking the hallway for the third time to see if anyone was coming. 

They just needed to clear one more hallway before they made it to the main room containing anything and everything regarding the Republic’s Military Intelligence. Just two more blast doors and then the easy part would come. Nettie was ready, her gear already hooked into the security system and working on encoding the firewalls. 

“Their systems are as protected as this building,” Nettie scoffed sarcastically. “Ray shields are down, we can proceed.” 

“Good, let's get this shit over with,” Fenn said, walking down the hallway with her blaster drawn.

Alyze and Nettie trailed behind her, their own weapons at the ready. Syrena, however, looked back the way they came, the unsettling feeling rising once again. She could feel the Force stirring ominously, hear the way the electricity cackled throughout the walls. Something was terribly wrong, but Syrena had no idea what it was or if she could do anything about it. 

“Syrena,” Nettie said. Syrena turned, almost slamming straight into the Rodian, “Let’s go.” 

Syrena nodded shortly, following the shorter woman carefully down the hallway. Her nerves were on high alert and she couldn’t read the energy in the Force anymore. 

They got into the room quickly, Nettie making her way to the main computer to set up her gear. 

“Syrena, you stay here with Nettie, make sure everything goes alright. Fenn and I will scout the hallways,” Alyze ordered before looking at the spunky Zabrak, “We’re here to incapacitate only. I don’t care what the Creator said, I don’t want any unnecessary deaths.”

“What’s the fun in that?” Fenn whined, “If you ask me, the only good clone is a dead one.” 

“It’s a good thing no one asked you,” Alyze snapped before looking to Syrena, “Lock the doors behind us.” 

Syrena nodded, sending a seething glare towards Fenn. She truly would not care if something happened to Fenn during this mission. If she had the opportunity to, Syrena was sure she would just step to the side and let blaster fire turn the Zabrak to dust.

She watched as Fenn stalked back into the hallway, putting her brass knuckles on. Syrena had been on the receiving end of one of Fenn’s beat downs. She knew the power and aggression behind Fenn’s hits and only hoped that whoever would be receiving them today truly deserved it. Alyze grabbed Syrena by the arm, pulling her close to their side. 

“You need to promise me something,” they said, their dark box braids brushing against Syrena’s forearm, “I need you to be one of us if your clone and his friends are the ones here. I need you to remember who you are.” 

Syrena looked up at Alyze, their dark eyes boring into her own pink ones, “You ever regret it? Letting them determine who you could be with or love, like a good little Heretic?” 

Syrena’s words cut through the air, her accusatory tone causing Alyze to recoil. They dropped Syrena’s arm, “You’re the reason why we are here, Syrena. Don’t forget that.” 

Syrena watched Alyze follow Fenn out the door, a small twinge of regret surging through her bones before she shut and locked the blast doors. 

******

“How long until we are back online?” Commander Fox asked into his commlink, his station in a frenzy since they were locked out of the security system. He had taken a small group of troopers, along with Commander Blanche and most of the Sunburst Squadron, to go hall by hall, looking for the intruders. Two of the members were needed elsewhere. 

“Won’t know for awhile, sir,” the trooper on the other end responded. “We keep coming across more and more viruses.”

“Can you tell me anything?” Fox asked exasperated. 

“Got a good photo of the perps. It’s ‘bout 20 minutes old, can’t confirm where inside they are. Forwarding to you now, sir.”

He looked back to Commander Blanche, signaling for him to come over. With a long stride, Blanche made his way to Fox, speaking once he got close enough, “I think it’s best if we split up, my squad will head to the east while yours goes west. Cover more ground that way.” 

“I agree,” Fox said with a nod. In an instant a hologram photo was pinged to his wrist link. “These are who we are dealing with. Their running facial recognition now.”

Blanche took a long look at the hologram, his face dropping into a frown as he recognized one of the faces, “Dank farrik, Heretics. We need more troopers.” 

“Well that explains the other attack,”Fox said to himself. “Working simultaneously.”

“Other attack?” Blanche asked.

“Another group of four, what I’m assuming now, Heretics bombed a hospital. Thorn has the rest of my men and the 104th to help with the wreckage. 212th are trying to track them down.” Fox looked back to his wrist link, the blue hued photo flickering as the communication systems surged. He had dealt with Heretics before, lost men to them. They were feral and unyielding beings with no clear allegiance, which made them even more dangerous. “You recognize any of them?” 

Blanche took a closer look at the hologram, his face dropping when he did recognize one of the small figures, “Syrena Aster. She’s, uh...helped us a few times, been against us more.” 

If that were only the case. Blanche took a quick peek back at the rest of his men, his eyes settling on Bruiser’s large form before looking back at the hologram. 

“Do you trust her?” 

“I trust her about as far as I can throw her, and even then she’d probably turn around and stab me,” Blanche scoffed. 

“Do any of your men trust her?” 

Blanche was silent at this. It wasn’t a secret that Bruiser had some sort of relationship with the Heretic. Blanche and the General had both warned him against it, but Syrena had the heavy infantry trooper wrapped around her finger. 

“We don’t know what they are after or who paid them to get it. I need to know if any of your men would hesitate at any moment with doing their job.” 

“They’ll do their jobs,” Blanche snapped. “It’ll be fine.” 

Fox paused for a moment before nodding curtly, “We’ll meet back here in 30 minutes if we don’t find anyone.” 

“Got it,” Blanche said.

“And Commander,” Fox said, dropping the informal nature of their conversation, “If they went to where I think they were going, we can’t let them get away with that information. Engage if your team finds them, kill ‘em if necessary.”

Blanche nodded again, his hands clenching and unclenching. He turned away, stalking back to his team. His mind was a mess. It just had to be her with them, couldn’t have been some faceless Heretic that they didn't know. But this was Syrena and although most of the squadron found her just tolerable, there were others that liked her, that needed her. 

“We know who we are dealing with, Blanchie?” Max asked. Just his soothing demeanor was enough to calm the Commander down. 

“She’s short, blonde, and green,” Blanche said, “and more annoying than a Gungan.” 

“Syrena’s not that annoying,” Max argued softly. Blanche could picture the smile on the sergeant’s face under the helmet. “Plus, she makes Bruiser happy.”

Blanche grimaced under his helmet, keeping a rather mean comment about how it was her mouth and cunt that made Bruiser happy, not Syrena herself. “You’re too nice for your own good.”

Max sighed. Maybe he was, but he’d rather believe that Syrena wasn’t as bad as everyone believed than condemn her to be just an evil seductress. He looked over to Bruiser, “You think he knows she’s here?” 

“No,” Blanche admitted, watching as Bruiser checked over his Z-6 rotary blaster cannon, “And let's keep it that way for now.”

Max nodded stiffly. He didn’t like keeping things from his team members, especially something like this. Blanche maybe didn’t see it, but Max had noticed the way Bruiser and Syrena were around each other. How they seemed to be each other’s center of gravity. He heard the noises coming from Bruiser’s room and the soft words they whispered to each other. He knew he wasn’t the only one that saw their searing looks and secretive touches. It was like they were making sure that the other was actually real, that they weren’t just some spectral being about to fade into the ether. 

The team moved out, Blanche only relaying that there were four possible perps: highly armed and highly dangerous. The hallways had been long abandoned, any officer or staff member told to evacuate the building when the alarms first went off. They went door to door, checking to see if anyone was hidden in the dark corners of unlit rooms. 

Blanche realized as they passed another empty set of rooms that they had transitioned into the Naval Intelligence headquarters and were approaching the main intelligence room. All of the GAR’s battle strategies, outpost locations, and other important information was stored there.

“I hear something,” Jaws said, positioning himself behind a large column. He signaled for the others to find cover. 

There was a large bang, like the sound of blast doors shut, followed by two bickering voices. 

“You egg her on anymore and I’ll let her kill you,” one said. 

“You would take that bitches side,” the other voice sneered, “You are both whores for Republic dogs.”

“Fenn,” the first voice dropped low and threatening, “if you speak to me that way again, I will tear your heart out of your chest and eat it before letting her finish you off.” 

The troopers were silent as the footsteps of the Heretic’s retreated down another hallway. 

“We need to get those blast doors open,” Blanche said. 

“I can shoot at it?” Bruiser suggested, lifting the blaster cannon up a little. 

Max shook his head, “Takes too long, buddy. I got some detonators, but I need to get closer.” 

“Alright,” Blanche said with a nod, “Sweets, Fuse, Blue, you three stay here and watch our backs. They might find a way to circle around. Bruiser, Max, Jaws, and I will approach the doors. Has anyone heard from Kami or Void?” 

“Kami said they shot down a ship that tried to escape to the lower levels, but can’t confirm who was in it or if it was even the one they were after,” Max said, “Void’s up in his arms in injuries.” 

“Alright, let’s make this quick so we can rendezvous with the General and others,” Blanche ordered, getting his blaster at the ready. He hoped it would be quick and simple. He hoped Syrena would see them and somehow convince her team to just back off and leave. 

But nothing was ever simple with Syrena.

The four of them slowly approached the blaster doors, their footsteps silent against the shiny floors, their warped reflections inching closer and closer to the intended target with each step. Blanche looked back for a moment, watching as Sweets, Fuse, and Blue’s figures got farther and farther away. The hallway seemed longer, more narrow, than it actually was. Blanche’s heart was racing, he could feel his hands and neck sweating the closer they got to the blast doors. 

“Fenn, You hear that?” a voice said. It sounded like it was coming from everywhere as the crisp sound echoed off the hallways. The four troopers quickly took cover behind columns and sections of the wall that jutted out.  

“No,” the second voice, Fenn, responded with a giggle, “but I can smell them. Looks like we’re going to have some fun after all, Alyze. Come out, come out wherever you are, boys. We just want to play.” 

Fenn’s voice was melodic and sweet, almost like she was singing to them. She was the one to fire first, sending a scalding red blaster shot where Jaws’s head had been seconds before. 

It happened all at once, blaster fire coming from both sides, igniting the hallway in angry flurries of red. It was so loud, so aggressive. The hallway flooded with smoke as the blaster fires sizzled and seared into the walls. 

“One coming from our end!” Blue called into the commlink. “I repeat, one coming from our end.” 

They had been able to find their way through the maze of hallways, with one Heretic approaching from the blast doors, while the other took charge from the other side. Though the Heretics were outmanned, their skills and ferocity made up for it. 

Blanche heard a strangled cry before Blue’s voice echoed through the comms again, “Sweet’s been hit. He’s alright, just a shot to the shoulder. Can’t see the perp though.” 

“Stop hiding!” Fenn’s teasing voice echoed above the blaster shots, “I want to play!” 

Blanche turned to Max, “Are we close enough?” 

Max peaked over the side of the wall, a blaster shot narrowly missing his head. It singed the cheek of his helmet, leaving behind a blackened streak of soot, “I can’t tell. Might get the door, might miss it. It’ll be a good distraction though.” 

Blanche thought for a moment. They hadn’t seen or heard from Syrena. She was either inside of the room or Blanche had  misidentified the person in the holophoto. He secretly hoped for the latter. 

“Do it,” he ordered Max, “Get that kriffing door open.”

Max nodded, reaching to his side and taking out two thermal detonators. One was bound to hit the door, right? He pressed the bottoms on the top, making sure the red light was blinking before he crouched down. He swung his arm back, ready to release the detonators before Bruiser’s voice on the other side of the hallway made him hesitate. 

“Syrena?” Bruiser called. He ceased fire as he saw Syrena appear from behind the blast doors. 

“Wait, wait! Max, wait!” Blanche hurriedly said, looking down at Max. 

But, it was too late. 

The sudden change in order didn’t catch up fast enough with Max’s hand and one of the detonators was released, rolling down the hallway. He quickly shut off the other, the red light disappearing as it powered down. He let it drop to the ground in a thud. But the other one continued to make its way down the hallway right towards Syrena.

Max and Blanche both looked at each other, before looking back at the detonator. Max attempted to scramble forward to get it, but a blaster shot from Fenn forced him back. Blanche watched as Syrena’s face contorted from confusion to panic and she took in the scene before her. He realized she didn’t know they were the ones that would deal with the intruders.

She didn’t know. 

“Oh no,” Max and Blanche whispered at the same time, as Syrena’s expression changed again to horror as the detonator rolled past her foot and into the room.

****

Syrena watched as Nettie continued to shift her way through the Republic firewalls, installing virus after virus so that they wouldn’t be able to stop her, while she simultaneously scoured through the information. It was taking the Rodian longer than expected to get to everything and scramble it to her server the created just for this. The uploading process was the longest, having to go through multiple security systems in order to begin the upload. 

The two heard loud blaster shots coming from beyond the blast doors, ricocheting off of the thick metal with a booming twang. They had started only a minute ago, getting louder and louder as whoever was out there closed in. 

“How much longer?” Syrena asked, stepping behind Nettie and looking over her shoulder. She scrunched her nose, unable to read the various symbols and numbers that Nettie was typing. 

“This one file is giving me some issues,” Nettie said, her teeth gritting. “Go see if they need help.” 

“Alyze told me to stay with you,” Syrena argued. 

“I know what they said,” Nettie snapped. She clenched her fists once, taking a calming breathe, “Your energy is just too much for me to handle. Just go...I should be done any minute now.” 

Syrena bit her lip, leaning back up and stepping away from the workstation. Nettie’s shoulders seemed to relax as the shadow of nervous energy retreated with Syrena. 

Syrena clicked her wrist link, “What’s going on out there?” 

“We’re taking on heavy fire. Hurry up in there,” Alyze answered. 

“I’m opening the blast doors,” Syrena said. “Nettie’s almost done, we can hold up in here until she’s finished.” 

“That’s a negative,” Alyze growled, “Don’t open the doors. That’s an order.” 

“Oh, bite me,” Syrena quipped back. 

She walked to the blast door, clicking the controls for them to open. As they slowly began to unlatch, that unsettling feeling settled in Syrena again. It was painful and tight, slowly swirling through her chest and stomach all the way to her fingers and toes. The door continued to open and Syrena ducked to evade a stray blaster fire. 

“Syrena?” a familiar voice said, the booming sound muffled by the blaster fire. 

She looked up, recognizing the voice. Realization slowly melted into her bones as she watched Alyze and Fenn fire at the Sunburst Squadron. 

“Wait, wait!” a man hurriedly called out, “Max, wait!” 

Syrena watched as the clone sergeant rolled a circular thermal detonator towards the opening door. It was like time had turned to cooling lava, thick and heavy and moving slowly, and all she could do was watch. Her breath hitched in her throat as it rolled past her feet and towards where Nettie was seated. 

“Almost got it!” 

“Nettie, move!” 

Syrena and Nettie shouted at the same time, the Rodian not seeing the explosive stop just shy of her feet. Syrena began to rush forward, towards Nettie and the bomb. 

The explosive went off and Syrena was launched out of the room in a burst of smoke and flames. Her head slammed against the metal floor and she felt a sharp pain through her side. Syrena could only hear the yells and screams of everyone around her before she succumbed to the darkness. 

She woke up to Fenn screaming at someone to stay quiet, followed by a loud crunch. Her eyes shot open, realizing that they were back in the room her and Nettie had been in. Though, it looked nothing like the room anymore. It was like a bomb went off. Syrena slowly remembered that a bomb did go off. 

Her eyes followed a body sized streak of blood leading from the blast doors right to where she was located, propped up against a cabinet. She was sure she would have remembered being dragged back into the room, but everything was a blur since the explosion. Syrena tried to take a deep breath, tried to blink away the black spots that clouded the edges of her vision, but her lungs stung. She sputtered out a cough, phlegm and blood dripping onto her chin as she took in her surroundings. 

The tightness in her chest and burning in her lungs increased as she saw Nettie’s mangled and charred body lying peacefully on the ground. She was missing an arm and the lower half of her left leg. Syrena blinked away the tears that threatened to spill over as she was overcome with grief. She remembered letting Nettie expertly braid her hair when they were younger and the countless hours they spent consoling each other after a particularly rough day. She remembered her final goodbye as Nettie moved out of the tiny space they shared, the silent words of sisterly love and adoration for one another passed through the Force.  And now, nothing. Nothing in the Force was signaling to her that her fellow Heretic...her friend was alive. 

Syrena heard another one of Fenn’s engaged screams and she looked to the commotion. Alyze and Fenn, in their rage, had somehow managed to incapacitate every member of the Sunburst Squadron, bringing them to the center of the room and binding their hands together. Not all of them were awake and in her haziness, Syrena couldn’t tell who were the ones that were lying motionless on the ground.  She could see the rise and fall of their chests, soothing the panic that rose. They were all alive. 

But Nettie was dead.

“Syre, can you hear me? It’s Ja-”

“I said shut the fuck up!” Fenn screamed at the helmet clad trooper, her brass knuckle covered fist slamming to the side of his head. The plastoid cracked under her punch and his helmet was launched off his head. 

Jaws. 

“That’s enough,” Alyze said, cutting through Fenn’s rage. They were close to Syrena, hurriedly scouring through a medic bag. 

Fenn growled something incoherent as a response. She gripped the collar of Jaws’s chest plate, dragging him over with the rest of the members. She wrapped a piece of fabric around Jaws’s mouth, mumbling how tired she was of his pleas and sobs. 

As she blinked away the black spots, Syrena could make out the bruised and bloodied faces of those without helmets: Blanche, Max, Jaws, and Bruiser. Her heart clenched and she attempted to get up, but a sharp pain in her side stilled her movements.

Alyze bent down next to Syrena, grabbing the green woman’s face in their scarred hands, “How do you feel?” 

“I can’t,” Syrena coughed out, bile rising in her throat, “I can’t fucking breath.” 

She touched her chest and her stomach, her breath hitching once again when she felt a piece of smooth metal sticking out the side of her abdomen. She gripped the metal, yelling out in pain as it moved inside of her. 

“Syrena,” Bruiser called, trying to break free from the restraints. Fenn hit him across the face, telling him to be quiet. It only caused Syrena to move around more, wanting to wrap her hands around the Zabrak’s throat and squeeze until the bones cracked.

“Calm down” Alyze said softly, their larger hand wrapping around Syrena’s. 

“I have a fucking piece of metal sticking out of me, Alyze! I’m not going to be fucking calm,” Syrena growled, “Get this thing out of me so I can kill that bitch!”

“You always were so impatient.” Alyze rolled their eyes, “On the count of five, we’re going to take this out and then I’m going to stuff the wound with bacta and cover it. It’s not going to be pleasant.”

“You know what isn’t pleasant-” Syrena started, glaring at them. 

“Will you hurry it up already?” Fenn snapped, interrupting Syrena, “We don’t have the time to diddle daddle around.” 

Syrena took a deep breath in before looking at Alyze and nodding stiffly. 

“Okay...one, two three-” Alyze ripped the piece of metal from Syrena’s abdomen, a thick river of blood running out of the wound. 

“I thought you said on five!” Syrena snarled. She felt like her entire body was on fire as Alyze stuffed the wound with bacta. The pain was almost unbearable.

“You’ll live,” Alyze quipped. 

They put one large bacta patch on top, covering the rest of the wound. With careful hands, Alyze wrapped gauze around Syrena’s abdomen and stomach, tying the ends tightly. It was already stained on the edges with her blood, but it would keep her alive until they found a doctor. Alyze slowly helped Syrena up, allowing her to lean against the cabinet. She would need help to get back to the ship, further setting them back. But Alyze couldn’t lose another person.

All three of their wrist links beeped, causing the Heretics to look at the notification, though Syrena’s movements were lethargic and slow. Nettie had done it: the last of the information had been uploaded to their server. 

“Let’s go,” Alyze ordered, wrapping their arm around Syrena’s middle, “Leave them here.” 

Alyze began to take their first steps forward before Fenn’s growling voice stopped their movements.

“We can’t leave yet. We have rules for situations like this Alyze.”

Alyze shut their eyes tightly and cursed under their breath. They hoped that the surprise of the explosion and the news that they successfully completed their mission would be enough. But Fenn liked to follow the rules and was stubborn enough to risk them getting captured to see them through. 

Alyze gazed down at Syrena, expecting her to make some sort of sarcastic remark, but she was silent.  They had seen Syrena take worse hits and injuries. Kriff, Alyze had been the one doing the damage to the shorter woman a few times. But here, as she leaned against Alyze’s body, it looked like Syrena was about to fall to the ground dead. She wasn’t even looking at Fenn. Her pink serpent-like eyes were bleak and focused entirely on the clone troopers kneeling by Fenn���s feet. 

“This is the one that did it,” Fenn said, standing behind Max and pushing him forward. He fell hard onto his hands. 

“We don’t have time for this,” Alyze tried to argue. 

“Well, make time!” Fenn yelled, “Nettie is dead because of him. Syrena is injured. He needs to die.” 

Blanche, Bruiser, and Jaws all protested at once, Jaws’s voice muffled by the gag. 

“Please,” Blanche pleaded, his lip split and left eye swelling from Fenn’s beating, “Please, I’m the one that gave the orders. Leave him.”

“Blanche,” Max said softly. 

“No! Just-just shut up, Max.” Blanche looked to Alyze. “Take me instead.”

“We are not as lawless as you might believe, clone,” Alyze said, “We do follow a code. You may have said the orders, but your hand was not the one that released the detonator.” 

“I’ll do it,” Fenn said, taking her vibroblade out. 

“No.” Alyze looked from Max to Syrena. “Syrena has to be the one to do it.”

“What? No,” Bruiser said harshly, “No she isn’t doing anything. Syre...tell them you aren’t doing anything.” 

“You can’t be serious, Alyze,” Fenn scoffed, “She doesn’t have it in her. She’s grown soft. If anything, we should tell Myrkos when we get back and have her sent to the Pit or, better yet, decommissioned.” 

Syrena was still silent. Her gaze went from the Sunburst Squadron to Nettie’s body. She wished she had been quicker to realize what was happening, faster on her feet. She was a Heretic for crying out loud, she could have Force pushed Nettie out of the blast area. But she was too focused on the Sunburst Squadron, too focused on worrying about their safety. In that moment, she allowed them to make her forget who she was and it cost her friend her life. 

“She is the only survivor of the attack,” Alyze explained, “She knows the rules, a life for a life, and she will follow them.” 

“Syrena, please,” Blanche begged. 

“I’ll do it,” she whispered, her eyes tearing from Nettie to Max. All she could think of when she saw him was her failures. Her failure to keep Nettie alive and her failure to keep the Sunburst troopers safe and out of Heretic politics. She didn’t want any of this, but it was happening and she couldn’t stop it.

A cacophony of no’s and pleas came from the clone troopers as they all tried to break free of their constraints. Fenn backhanded Blanche, causing him to stagger to the side. He spit out to the side, a mixture of his blood and salvia splattering against the concrete floor.

As Syrena staggered towards Max, Blanche and Bruiser continued to plead with her, offering their life in exchange for his. It was a noble appeal really, but Syrena knew that it wouldn’t meet the most rigid law of the Heretics. And she knew Max wouldn’t allow it to happen; he wouldn’t let one of his brother’s suffer a gruesome fate for something he did. He took a life, so he would pay for it with his own. 

Syrena didn’t want him to die. She knew Max, knew the kind of person he was. He was kind, almost to a fault. He was nice and welcoming to her the moment they met, something not even Bruiser had been. 

But rules were rules and Syrena was ready to follow them. She would be the one to watch the light leave his eyes, to feel his last breath waft against her face, to add him to her list of lives that she wished she could bring back.

She would be his murderer. 

Syrena slowly kneeled in front of Max, ignoring the searing pain in her side. She blocked out the room, shutting out Blanche and Bruiser’s cries and Fenn’s yells for them to be quiet. She focused entirely on Max, taking in how he had sat back on his knees, his shoulders slumped forward and into himself. He hadn’t looked up since Fenn had brought him forward. His eyes were locked on Nettie’s body, and Syrena could see a few tears begin to stain his tanned, flushed cheeks. She reached out and touched one of them, rubbing the tear between her fingers.

“I didn’t mean for this to happen,” he whispered softly to her. “I didn’t mean-I didn’t want to kill anybody.” 

“I know,” she replied, her hand moving to rest on his shoulder. “You understand that I have to do this.”

He finally looked up at her, a small warm smile appearing on his face, “Yeah…It’s alright.” 

“It’s not alright.” Syrena couldn’t help the way her voice broke, as she settled her other hand on his other shoulder. “Are you afraid?” 

“No,” he said, shaking his head, “Are you?” 

“Terrified.” 

Max nodded back to Bruiser, “Take care of him will you? Take care of all of them. They need someone to keep them on their toes.” 

“Can hardly take care of myself,” she replied with a small smile. 

“You aren’t as bad as you think you are, you know? I can see it in your eyes.” 

Blanche’s broken voice cut through the air, “Please, Syrena. Please don’t kill him. I’m begging you.” 

She could hear the sobs he tried to hold back. She wouldn’t look at Blanche or the others. She couldn’t. So instead, she let her pain and anger take over, allowing the Dark Side to wash through her system and act as a crutch. Syrena didn’t want to feel this.

Max turned his head, his sweet smile still on his face as he looked at Blanche, “It’s okay Blanchie, I got this.” 

His last syllables were short and stuttered as the hidden knives in Syrena’s wrist vambraces sprung out, sinking deep into his chest. Bruiser and Jaws choked out sobs, their cries flooding the room as they were unable to form words. And Blanche. Blanche was beyond broken. 

Max turned his head back to Syrena. She had gotten him in the weak points of his armor, piercing down into his heart. She watched, her face expressionless, as his sweet face, still smiling softly at her, became still as he slumped onto the ground. His wonderfully warm eyes faded into nothingness. 

A life for a life.

“NO!” Blanche screamed, trying in vain to get up. All he saw was red, all he felt was pure agony and hatred as Syrena slowly pulled her hands back, revealing the red covered blades. “No!” 

Fenn put her vibroblade to his neck, “You clones just don’t know when to shut up do you?” 

“Back off Fenn,” Syrena said weakly, unable to tear her eyes from Max’s body. She hurt all over and her side stung. 

“Maybe I’ll have to make you shut up,” Fenn laughed, ignoring Syrena. 

“I said back off!” Syrena shouted, Force pushing Fenn away from Blanche and the others. She was on her feet in an instant, ignoring the dizzying pain on her side and head. “We got what we came here for, now let’s go.” 

“Syrena’s right. They’ll be fully online and operational soon,” Alyze said. 

Fenn grumbled curses under her breath before putting away her vibroblade. She bent down and picked up Nettie’s body, slinging it over her shoulder with ease. They would need to give her a proper burial, a Heretic’s goodbye. 

She stopped by the Sunburst Squadron on her way to the blast doors, sneering at them. She was enjoying their pain. Enjoying how they seemed unable to process what happened. Bruiser and Jaws cried for their fallen brother as Sweets and Void began regaining consciousness. What a sight to wake up to: the body of their beloved sergeant dead in front of them and a seething Blanche. 

Fenn grabbed Max’s helmet from the ground, tossing it once in the air before smiling ruefully at Syrena, “A nice trophy, don’t you think?”

Before Syrena had the chance to lunge at her, Alyze wrapped their large arm around Syrena’s middle again to keep her from falling. She hadn’t even realized that she was losing balance. Her wound needed immediate medical attention.

Syrena didn’t look at the Sunburst Squadron as the three Heretics made their way out of the room. She didn’t watch as they scrambled to Max’s side, didn’t see Blanche’s binded hands grab his face. She tried to block out their cries and broken Mando’a, but their words and pleas for Max to wake up invaded her mind. It would be the sounds to haunt her dreams for the rest of time.

Alyze pressed the button on the controls for the blast doors, the heavy metal doors slowly shutting behind them to lock the clone troopers in the room. Syrena, with the last of her fleeting strength, waved her hand, sending a burst of Force energy to the troopers. All at once, their bindings fell to the ground, allowing them to hold each other and hold Max. 

The blast doors closed with a loud bang and all Syrena felt was pain and regret.

[nevertheless-moving]

This Crackship has Inspired Me

inspired by this by @maulusque which is the funniest star wars ship i’m somehow only learning about just now.

Palpatine listened with the same idle half attentiveness he always reserved for Skywalker’s ramblings about his wife, smiling and nodding genially at the appropriate intervals. At least his rants about blasted Kenobi or his monstrous little Padawan yielded tactical insights into the Jedi Order’s weaknesses. 

There was very little he could do with ‘shine of Senator Amidala’s hair’ or the ‘brilliance of his speeches.’ Of course, he always found something to use but there was an awful lot of nonsense to sift through.

“...I still can’t believe she married me. I don’t know if I’ve ever been more...” Skywalker trailed off.

“You deserve every happiness, my boy.” Palpatine said kindly.

Anakin looked down, a shadow falling over his face. He stared into his drink.

“What is it?” Sidious pried gently.

Skywalker hesitated. “Can I tell you something...and can you promise not to...think to badly of me for it?”

Palpatine leaned forward, disguising his keen interest behind a reassuring ‘genuine-warm-smile.’ “Of course, Anakin. I couldn’t lose my confidence in you anymore than you could lose yours in me.”

The anxious Knight took a fortifying sip of Soulean brandy before leaning forward and confessing in a low whisper, “I was happy of course during our wedding- but- more than that- I felt. Satisfied. Victorious. I mean.” Skywalker took another gulp. “Jedi aren’t supposed to get, you know, possessive of people. And slaves...its complicated.” 

“Whatever you say, I promise it will never leave this room.” Palpatine encouraged him with his best grandfatherly-tone.

“On Tatooine...” Skywalker’s voice was barely audible, and Palpatine had to restrain himself from shaking the words out of him. The boy typically preferred not to discuss his most easily manipulated vulnerability.

“In the slave quarters...the most valuable thing a person can own is themselves. And even if you can’t be free- you can choose to have a different master. It’s not- it’s not the most common form of s-secret marriage. Or even the most approved. It’s actually a little taboo.”

Skywalker hunched in on himself and Sidious kept his face gently neutral.

“But- I remember feeling so good when I won that podrace. I earned something important and it was me who did it. And this was better than that. Padme- she didn’t even love me that much at first - I think I was always going to let her have me, if she just asked. It was one of the first things I thought when she walked in- It was one of the first things I thought when anyone wealthy looking came in the shop, ‘what if they buy me?’ And she was so clean and beautiful and I thought that if it was her maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. But somehow I won her and she chose to bind herself to me. So...we both kind-of have each other but-”

Skywalker dropped his head in his hands.

“It’s probably wrong- I know it’s wrong- but winning her? A smart, headstrong, gorgeous person who should by all rights want nothing to do with me- I don’t think I’ll ever match that sense of victory. Of power. No matter how many battles I win or enemies I destroy. And- that’s what I felt during my wedding.” 

Palpatine leaned back, impressed despite himself. He had always despaired over the boy’s seeming lack of desire for power for its own sake. But that was almost...poetic. He had never been much for ‘romance’ but he did very much enjoy when his enemies chose, under their own power, to play into his hands. Making that happen on such an intimate level... well he could almost see the appeal. 

Out-loud he said, “I think that feeling is perfectly natural, my boy. Nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Really?” Anakin said, pathetically hopefully.

How to phrase this...

“I myself enjoy a sense of, well, power, over others. From time to time. Of course, I know its not the same, but when I manage to pass a tricky piece of legislation the feeling of winning over another often personally overshadows my anticipation of the joy my work will bring. It’s perfectly normal and harmless. It’s not as though that feeling of victory over another diminishes the good my actions do. And you and the Senator are so very good together. Don’t let shame yourself for a...harmless bit of perceived darkness.”

He clasped Anakin on the shoulder and the idiot beamed back at him adoringly. 

Long after the evening ended and his future Apprentice departed, Darth Sidious sat in his office musing.

A simple probing into an exploitable flaw had revealed a dimension of power Palpatine had, shockingly, never considered. Sex was enjoyable, but ultimately not a priority. And rape was one of the less creative forms of torture. But love- tricking someone into falling in love- earning someone’s absolute devotion- there was a certain appeal. 

Obviously he had sycophants by the score, but Skywalker had incredibly said it himself: ‘a smart, headstrong, gorgeous person who should hate him.’ Now that would be a triumph. And Senator Amidala even knew about her husband’s less traditionally tasteful sides! Anakin really had pulled off a bizarre coop, hadn’t he? His pretty face probably helped give the whole process a boost, but Sheev had a rather impressive amount of personal wealth in need of a new mechanism for display that should serve the same function. He decided to keep the matter under consideration.

A week later, during a briefing with Commander Fox- who he would decommission for the sheer number of senatorial secrets he possessed were he not proving so uniquely invaluable at suppressing food shortage riots- the idea reemerged.

It would tie up a number of loose ends if those secrets were wholly under my control- and there would be a delicious irony in having one of my most elegantly designed weapons choose to serve me so completely before the choice was taken away...

Palpatine was nothing if not patient, and decided to bide his time, carefully observing before committing any real energy or resources.

Another week after that, the Commander came in for another meeting, absolutely professional but clearly projecting the wincing sensation of a hangover as well as...nerves? The over-promoted clone was usually freakishly adept at maintaining natural mental shielding, but apparently the over-indulgence had weakened him. 

Throughout the briefing the nerves gradually hardened into determination before his typical mental walls came up to block any other easily-gleaned insights. Palpatine was intrigued.

After the conclusion of their scheduled business, Fox cleared his throat. “That’s a very...flattering robe you’re wearing.”

Palpatine raised a brow. The commander usually didn’t try flattery on him, not because it never worked, but simply because he seemed to find it beneath his skills.

“That’s very kind of you to say, Commander.”

“I can be very...kind. When the mood strikes me. And red is a very...striking color on you.” Palpatine blinked rapidly, genuinely shocked for the first time in quite a while. That was absolutely a suggestive tone of voice. Could his mere idle thoughts somehow have already manifested themselves?

“Oh?” Palpatine responded calmly. “I can’t say I knew that, Commander.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, sir.” He drew out the last syllable in a... new way. Typically when the Guard Leader said ‘sir’ it was either sarcastic, neutral, or inexplicably pronounced like a slur. This time he seemed to caress the word in a manner that wouldn’t be out of place in a bedroom.

Before Palpatine could think of how he wanted to reply, the clone bowed lowly and marched towards the door. At the exit he paused and pulled off his helmet.

Free of the vocalizer, his voice was much smoother, “And please, when we’re alone...feel free to call me Fox. Sir.”

“Thank you, Fox. Safe travels,” Palpatine called weakly as the figure slipped away.

Palpatine leaned back, grinning wickedly. Well. This was an interesting development.

[vegalocity]

In your Oblivion fic, do you think red son would have some ptsd of what happened with Porty clone? Like he still trying to return to his old life but has flashes to what Porty clone did to him or it could also be like he tries to attack MK in another evil scheme but he can't bring himself to hurt his beloved Xiaotian, ooooor i read somewhere that red son would have trouble talking about what happened and would lie unconsciously about what Porty clone did to him

ooohhhhh Afterstory trauma i love thinking about afterstory trauma!

(funny how I got this right after i finished up that art there -x files theme-)

TW: discussing addiction

Okay so Yeah Red Son is totally walking out of this with some new nightmares thats for sure, If we assume the ‘fixing’ process was done in more of an ‘addressing the magic elements enabling this’ way, thus enabling more of a ‘snap out of it’ sort of fix, he would definitely WANT to return back to Business as Usual, but find himself unable to

But I think what would really bother him isn’t in the classical PTSD way like fashbacks and stuff, so much as it would be really leaning onto the addiction aspect of this whole thing. Cuz like, Red Son didn’t really have any coping mechanisms to deal with stress before all of this, that mental state, no matter how unhealthy and messed up it was, had been a releif from constant pressure, that was part of the reason why he fall into it so easily. And I could imagine that THAT’S the hardest thing to get rid of. That if he’s working on a project or pounding through a thesis and it’s just.. a LOT. If he’s just really highstrung and stressed over it-

-he might find himself still wanting it. Fantasizing about the darkened club with the neon lights and how he’d feel when the music played, how there was no space in his head for stress and anxiety...what would be the harm in testing out if that old trigger still worked? He could just lock the door and set an alarm like he used to and take just a liiiittle hit-

The words are on the very tip of his tongue and his fingers are positioned in a snapping motion when he catches himself. It’s bad enough having his autonomy forcibly taken away, but the fact that he’d been convinced that he wanted it was the part that wasn’t shaking so easily, because he still doesn’t HAVE a healthier way to deal with stress, so he’s stuck constantly disgusted with himself for still wanting the only relief he’d ever had from it.

I think he might not be able to trust that he was ‘fixed’ as it were, with that lingering desire as proof.

Sure he’ll provide tech for his parents schemes but lowkey plead to not have to go out into the field for actual missions. Not until he can trust that he’ll be okay, that he WON’T immediately fall back into that mindset the second he sees Xiaotian the Noodle Boy and fall to his beck and call. Though then the worry comes if he’s being too obedient to his parents too, was he always like that? He'd always wanted their approval sure, but he would also be fine with acting alone, didn’t he? Did- Did he really always want their approval or did he not care as much but he’d been convinced he did to make it easier for him to fall into line? Did he ever actually have feelings for Xiaotian The Noodle Boy or was THAT a lie too to let the clone sink his claws into him easier? How would he know? how COULD he know? Should he treat any desire to please someone else as a red flag? Should he be acting more rebellious just to make sure?

And maybe that part of him that still longs for the peace oblivion would give him whispers that it would be so much easier if he still had someone who could just TELL him what to think about all of this, no matter how little sense that made in the context of the problem itself.

He doesn’t show up for battles for AWHILE. And the first time he does he doesn’t even fight, just lingers in the shadows, so if there ARE some lingering effects at least nobody will see him struggle with them. I don’t think he actually REMEMBERS a lot of what happened granted how much Porty Clone was fucking with his memory, or if he does it doesn’t completely feel REAL, like the memory of a dream, but the first time he claps eyes on Xiaotian after all of this is when it all properly snaps into focus, and he finds himself caught between three very extreme reactions, rage, fear, and unsettlingly, longing. He- he wanted to hurt the damn Noodle Boy for all he’d put him through intentional or not, no he wanted to run to turn heel and get the fuck out of there before anything could go wrong, No he wanted to- To....

No that’s the bad one, that’s the one that wasn’t his. Xiaotian’s eyes flick to the side and unintentionally meets his gaze, and for a moment the longing almost wins anyway because he remembers, he remembers clumsily trying to seduce him on that disgusting lumpy couch and his warmth and his scent and- He chooses fear and runs.

He doesn’t go back out into the field for a long while if he can help it.

Ideally his parents did find out about all of this beforehand so they’d probably be understanding and leave him to work things out on his own.

..

...

though if a bitch wants some extra fucked upery i wouldn’t put it past at least Iron Fan to try and see if there’s anything that... lingered... that they could use, like imagine how fucked up it would be if Red just feels like he’s in the zone while tinkering and is maybe excited that that means he’s deriving joy from his work again and that HAS to mean he’s really on the mend only to accidentally evesdrop on a rare yet INTENSE argument between his parents...and finds out his mother’s been using his more fragile mental state and possibly making him WORSE because ‘he’s more efficient like this, doesn’t talk back near as much’

Well he’s certainly gonna be talking back NOW-

If we go That way then Red Son hits a proper rebellious phase, actively fighting off any upset he has over disappointing his parents because clearly that’s not him. he has to not actually care, he HAS to, feeling physically sick at the idea of them looking at him with disappointment is just another thing the clone DID to him. He’s fine. He HAS to be fine.

And he should probably look into doing something different with his time because he is NOT helping with any schemes if he can’t find it in him to even FACE their enemies, AND his mother has been messing with his head while he’s at home when he’s running support staff.

Possibly even moving out for awhile because oh geez he doesn’t feel safe in his own home anymore.

[labyrinth-runner]

can we be alone for a bit? For obi wan x reader, please? 👉👈 thank you

Title: A Royal Flush

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: None

Summary: Reader is a Queen returning home after war. Much has changed and she must learn whether she will change for it, or fight against it.

I know I use this gif a lot, but he just looks so soft in it. Thank you, @coredrive​ for posting it because its truly lovely.

Because I’ve watched way too much Bridgerton, I shared a yearning list, so here’s some yearning. Thanks, @the-mandalorian-clone-lover for putting up with my incessant questions.

The battle had been long and tiring, but eventually it was won. You’d lost so many, and there were still so many more wounded as he siege to take back your kingdom came to an end. Your kingdom was yours again, free from the clutches of your enemy. Now, you were to negotiate a deal with the Republic, represented by the man at your side. Their assistance for yours. It was simple enough after the months of fighting, but you knew the fight was far from over. While you knew you owed the Republic everything, you also knew that some of your court would not feel the same. That would be another battle entirely.

Walking up to the castle across the bridge felt odd. The scorched earth on either side of the path left an acrid smell that stung your nose. It mixed with the singed smell of your dress from where you’d narrowly avoided becoming one with the Force multiple times over the course of the week as you traveled with the warriors to rid the world of the last few holdouts. Your knight and protector had insisted this was no place for you, but you had reminded him that you were not defenseless, knowing your way around a weapon.

“It will be a while before the earth is viable again,” you commented to Master Kenobi as you walked side by side.

“Unfortunately,”  he agreed with you, “We can only limit the damage so much.” His brow furrowed as he struggled to ask you something.

“Speak, Master Kenobi,” you bade him, “You know I’ll always listen, even if I don’t take your words to heart.”

“Are you nervous?”

“About coming home to my people?” you asked as you stopped to look up at the palace in front of you. It was large and imposing, towering well above the landscape and leaving you swathed in its shadow. The shadow of the crown that had always been heavy on your head, but even more so now with the deaths of your people on your hands because you had been too naive. “Yes. I’d be foolish if I didn’t worry about them blaming me for all of this.”

“Why would they blame the one person who fought the hardest for them?” Obi-Wan asked incredulously.

“Because at the end of the day, they were left defenseless. I should have known that the kingdom would be invaded. I was too naive to think that being neutral could have spared us. In the end, the people suffered. My people suffered,” you said emphatically. “Now, come on, my people have been waiting long enough.”

You walked faster, pushing your way into the throne room where the rest of the court waited. A hush fell upon the room as they all turned to look at the intruder. There was a man in your seat. You set your chin in a hard line. 

Obi-Wan came to a stop behind you as you started to stride forward. One by one, heads bowed down and knees bent for their fierce warrior queen. You were covered in soot and ash, and your hair was falling out of the intricate braids they had been woven into, but you were relentless. Your footsteps were confident and sure as they carried you back towards your throne. The man vacated, stepping to the your left. You sat, looking out over the awed assembly.

“Welcome home, your Majesty,” your advisor to said.

You leveled him with a gaze, “It is good to be back at court. However, our presence brings with it some conditions.” You looked up at Master Kenobi, your lip tugging up ever so imperceptibly at the sight of him. “We owe the Republic our lives, and that is a debt we intend to pay.”

Master Kenobi held your gaze until you broke it, turning to address the people around you. “We will have a treaty drafted by the end of the week. That will give the troops enough time to recover before they are sent somewhere else.”

“They have earned that much,” a man said from the doorway as he strode over to you.

You raised a brow at the man, having never seen him before. “And you are?”

“Kane Gridlow, your Majesty,” he said, dipping into a low bow at the foot of your dais.

You cast a look on your advisor who cleared his throat. “Lord Gridlow has kept the court together in your absence, your Majesty.”

Your eyes flashed with slight anger and hurt that some man could give your people the strength you could not. “Well, we thank you for your service, then,” you said as you sat up straighter.

“Your Majesty, I was hoping to get a moment of your time,” Lord Gridlow murmured, looking up at you imploringly.

A pit of dread formed in your stomach as you caught your advisor’s eye and nodded. “Leave us.”

The court filed out, jostling Obi-Wan with it and you were left with your advisors and the man who had ruled in your place.

“State your purpose, Lord Gridlow,” you ordered with a dangerously even voice.

He shared a look with your advisor. “Your Majesty, the advisors and noblemen seem to think that it would be best for the stability of the kingdom if we wed.”

You almost scoffed. Almost. Until you noticed that your advisor looked gravely serious. “You wish to corner a queen into a marriage.”

“We just think-”

“Not we, you,” you corrected. “We are the acting authority.”

“You were absent.”

“We had no control of that,” you shot back. “And we do not appreciate being spoken to like this.” You stood up and came to stand in front of him. “We will not be forced into things. Not by our enemies, and certainly, not by you. Dismissed.”

“Your Majesty-”

“Dismissed.” You repeated.

Lord Gridlow hung his head, giving you a mocking bow. “As you wish, your highness.”

Your eyes narrowed at his retreating figure. How dare he insult you by using the wrong honorific? Rounding on your advisor, you saw him wither in the crosshairs of your eyes.

“Your Majesty, I can explain-”

“Oh, can you? You can explain how you were willing to just give us out to the first nobleman that came knocking? Is that it? You were going to whore your queen out for the good of the kingdom?” You asked, voice rising in pitch. It was rare that you were mad, but beneath it all, you were hurt.

“The nobles will not support a treaty if you are alone,” your advisor simply stated.

You looked down at your folded hands, feeling quite young despite the power you held. You dropped all pretense and all formality, becoming the woman in a man’s world who was the only heir. The only option. You’d always known that they had never really wanted you, but you never quite felt that until now. You swallowed the lump in your throat and gave him a sad look, “I fought for you. I only ever ask that you should do the same.”

You gave him a nod of dismissal before crossing over to your balcony to look out over the courtyard. Leaning on the rail, you took in the people milling about below. They were preparing for a ball to mark your return. Perhaps they also thought it should mark the announcement of your betrothal as well. You looked up to the heavens as if asking for strength to get you through it all. You’d always told yourself that you would do what must be done for your people, that in the grand scheme of things, you were but one, the sole guardian of the many.

The weariness in the people passing by was apparent upon second glance. Young women wore the worry lines of widows who wondered how to feed their children. Children laughed in sparing doses, the knowledge of the world weighing down their mirth with the absence of their innocence. They looked how you felt: tired. The campaign had been hard on all, but on your people most of all, you could now see.

Yet, could you commit yourself to that odious man who had prostrated himself in public, yet dared to berate you in private? Was that the man you were expected to grow old with? Your eyes fell to the statue of your father in the middle of the square. He had married your mother for love, turning down multiple arrangements before you could even talk in order to give you a fighting chance at the same. A sigh passed your lips at the realization that it was all in vain.

“If I could choose,” you murmured wistfully as you looked down at a young man in a brown robe who had stooped to smell a rose, “I’d choose you.” 

As if sensing your gaze upon him, he turned to look up at you. The action dropped his hood from his face, shining the sun on his auburn hair. You gave him a sad wave and his brow furrowed in concern. His eyes held a question in them that you couldn’t bring yourself to answer. You never wanted to lie to him, but you couldn’t burden him with the truth either. Casting your eyes down, you backed away, retreating to your rooms in order to finally take the bath that you should have had days ago but never seemed to have the time for.

You dismissed your attendants as soon as the water was filled. Having spent months on the battlefields, you had learned to take care of yourself. You knew it was an honor to be a part of your retinue, but right now all you wanted to do was be alone with your thoughts. 

Lazily, you took your wash cloth and ran it over your skin. With your eyes closed, it reminded you of the time you had cut your arm during a fall and Obi-Wan had cleaned you up. He had teased you for being so stubborn and actually fighting, telling you that he never met a monarch with a death wish before you. He had been so gentle with you that night, kind. A kindness you might never know again. Slowly, you let yourself slip below the water, exhaling a barrage of bubbles as you opened your eyes. The light refracted along the water, glinting off the gilded tub. Only when your lungs started to burn did you resurface, sputtering water as you did so. Your lungs heaved at your stupidity, and you soon found that you were crying as more water droplets splashed into the water. You looked down at your reflection in the water and threw the wash cloth into it, sending ripples through the water. Taking a steadying breath, you got out and wrapped yourself in a towel before heading into your room to be dressed.

“Your Majesty, it is good to see you,” a voice murmured as you sat down at your vanity. You met the owner’s eyes in the mirror and smiled.

“Not as good as it is to see you,” you reassured her.

“It’s been too long,” she squealed before going to find you the perfect gown. “But, I must ask, what is the story of the man who came in with you?”

You turned on your stool to face her, “Liz, he’s off limits. Their kind don’t take wives.”

“He doesn’t look at you like he’s off limits,” she said coyly.

You felt your face heat up at her words. “It doesn’t matter now,” you sighed sadly, “They wish to marry me off to that Lord.”

“What they wish and what you do should not always be the same thing,” Liz said pointedly. “They do not have to live with all the consequences of that decision. You do. You are their Queen. Make your decision, and they will surely fall in line.”

“They won’t support the treaty otherwise,” you replied. “With the Republic at war, they need safe passage through the kingdom. They helped us defeat their enemies on our soil. It only makes sense that we should pay that good will forward.”

“I’m sure they’d understand if you couldn’t,” Liz replied.

“I gave them my word,” you replied. “I need him- them, I need them to know that means something.”

Liz looked down at the dress in her hands and sighed. “Well, should this be your last night of freedom, then we will make it your best. We will make you look so good that they will still believe in the divine right of kings.”

You cracked a smile at that, “Well, I’d certainly like to see you try.”

“As the old monks used to say, ‘do or do not, there is no try,’” Liz winked as she set about to work a magic that was often unappreciated by other nobility, but not lost on you.

By the time she was done, you were exquisite. Your hair was a series of intricate twists and braids that cascaded in all the right places to frame your face. Your dress sparkled in the light as you tentatively ran a hand down the intricate beadwork. It was white and pure. You looked like an angel that had descended from the heavens specifically to save them all. To add further evidence of your right to be there and the fact that you and you alone were their cause for freedom, Liz nestled your crown atop your head.

“Lest they forget who their true ruler is,” she remarked.

“I had almost forgotten how heavy this was,” you mused.

“Heavy the head,” Liz murmured as she pinned it in place, a hairpin held in the corner of her mouth as she added, “If he doesn’t confess tonight...���

“Lord Gridlow?” you asked in confusion as she finished and stepped back.

“No, Lord Kenobi,” she said pointedly.

You blushed, “Obi-Wan isn’t a lord.”

“Obi-Wan? You use first names, your Majesty?” she asked with a waggle of her eyebrows.

You shook your head slightly at her as you got up from your seat and slipped into your shoes. “Titles mean nothing on the battlefield. All are equal when on the end of a blade or a blast.”

“Do you view him as an equal?”

You looked at the crown on your head, “Yes. I do believe I do.”

Music drifted up the corridor from the ballroom down below. 

“I believe that is my cue,” you sighed as you went towards the doors.

Your footsteps were light as you followed the melody, but your heart was heavy. As you came to a rest at the top of the stairs, you could see the party down below. Murmurs ceased and heads bowed in deference as you floated down the stairs. All eyes were on you, but your eyes scanned the crown for a familiar brown cloak. Disappointed when you could not find it, you reached the bottom of the stairs, casting your gaze to your feet.

“Your Majesty, may I have the honor of your first dance?” a lightly accented voice inquired.

Your eyes flicked up to the owner and you allowed yourself to smile. “I believe the honor would be all mine.”

Gently, you placed your hand in his. He held it like it was the most precious thing in the world as he led you towards the middle of the ballroom. He bowed. You curtseyed, and then you danced.

“I almost thought you didn’t come,” you murmured, “I hardly recognized you.”

“It’s been a long time since I’ve worn clothes like these,” he admitted with a smirk that didn’t meet his eyes.

You wanted to melt into him, but instead you just allowed yourself to be as close as was proper.  “You look very handsome, but uncomfortable.”

“I could never hide anything from you, could I?” he asked softly. “And neither can you hide from me. Darling, what happened earlier?”

You wanted to admonish him for the use of that pet name. After all, it wasn’t proper, but you loved the way it rolled off his tongue. He hadn’t always called you darling. It was a term of endearment that you had earned about halfway through the campaign on one of the instances you had almost died. A blast from a canon had knocked you clear off your feet and into the dirt. Your ears had been ringing and you could feel the blood trickling down your face from where you had hit a rock. In a minute, he had been at your side, begging you to hold on.

Darling, stay with me.

“Darling?” Obi-Wan asked.

You blinked, refocusing on his face. “Hmm?”

“Stay with me, I know I’m a horrible dancer, but it’s almost over,” he grinned, but his eyes showed concern.

“There’s nothing horrible about you,” you replied as the song came to an end.

He was left speechless in the wake of you as you withdrew to mingle with people you hadn’t seen in over a year who you were certain could not care less about your presence here tonight.

In your bones, you had known this wouldn’t be the triumphant coming home that you wished it would be, but that still didn’t make it sting any less. An inconvenient queen without a King. That was all you were.

Lord Gridlow asked you for a dance and you could not refuse, however every spin around the room had you searching for Obi-Wan’s eyes. When you deemed it proper to take a break, you went to stand by the sidelines as you sipped a drink.

“He seems dreadful,” Obi-Wan murmured as he stood next to you.

“They would have him be King,” you replied absentmindedly.

Obi-Wan blinked for a moment at your indifferent attitude to it all. “Does the Queen not have a say?”

You looked at him out of the corner of your eye as you felt the warmth of his hand next to yours. Your smallest finger brushed against his. His hand moved to envelope yours, but then you remember not only where you were, but also who you were. You cleared your throat and prepared to make your rounds. “Excuse me.”

After the lukewarm reception you received from the majority of your nobles, you began to feel the weight of your crushing reality. You had won the war for them, but in doing so had lost their respect. You wanted to laugh, but most of all, you needed air. 

It felt wrong to stand in the stuffy high society after experiencing the hardships of war. There were villages that were decimated, children who starved, and yet here they were practically throwing wealth out your gilded windows in your absence. They wouldn’t notice you were missing, not with Lord Gridlow taking care of their interests and protecting their investments. The nobles, you realized, were content to watch the world outside the palace burn so long as the flames stayed far away. Hell, you thought, they might as well use it to warm themselves without remorse as well.

Slipping out of the crowd, you made your way into the night. The air cooled your skin and filled your lungs. You wanted to scream. You weren’t cut out for this. Not anymore. You stood on your balcony as you looked up into the starry night. A feeling of disappointment settled in.

“You can see less of the constellations from here,” Obi-Wan mused as he came to stand beside you.

“Light pollution,” you replied, remembering how clear the sky was when you slept under it during the campaign.

“Can we be alone for a bit?” he asked softly.

A breath of relief passed through your lips, “Yes, please. I need a moment.”

A small smile tugged at his lips as he nodded, offering you his arm. You wanted to laugh at the formality of it all as you slipped your arm into his.

“You followed me,” you murmured as the two of you started down a path towards the hedges.

“I’m always following you, darling. If you blaze so many trails without looking where they lead, then I have to,” he said with a small smile.

“You shouldn’t say such things,” your face burned at his comment. The two of you came to a stop next to a fountain. It was all perfect. The stars above, the hedges around, the faint music heard over the bubbling of the fountain. He was your prince and this was your fairy tale. Except it wasn’t. You knew it couldn’t be. 

You settled on the edge of the fountain, taking the crown off entirely and holding it in your hands. “It’s so silly,” you murmured. “One circlet of precious metals and stones represents my station.” You tossed it into the fountain.

Obi-Wan’s eyes widened and he pulled up his sleeve to fish it out.

“Are you alright?” he asked, knitting his brow as he reached up to fix your crown on your head.

“Do you ever doubt your duty?” you asked him, turning to face him, to study him as he answered.

“I fight for freedom and peace,” he replied. “There can’t be a nobler cause than that.”

“What about love?” you asked softly.

“I suppose at the root of it all, I fight for love,” he admitted, looking at you as if in a new light. “Do you fight for love?”

You paused, drowning in the depths of his eyes. You fought for the kingdom that you so dearly loved, and now you found yourself willing to stop that fight when it came to the person that you loved. 

Averting your gaze, you murmured, “No. Not always, at least. Sometimes I fight out of duty.” Like now, you thought, as you were fighting your feelings for the man in front of you.

“Where is this coming from?” he asked softly, tilting your chin up to look at him. His eyes searched yours as he looked for meaning.

You licked your lips, feeling your mouth go dry. Your cheeks burned under the scrutiny of his gaze. 

There had always been a pull towards Obi-Wan Kenobi. It was a pull that made men follow him into uncertain situations. It was a pull that made conquered villages want to thank him. Now, that pull was making you want to leave your kingdom behind for him if that were the only way for you to be with him. 

His gaze flicked to your lips as you leaned into his hand on your cheek, allowing yourself the comfort of his touch for the briefest of moments as you closed your eyes. In that moment, you could see it all: the two of you, together, happy and laughing arm in arm as you took on the world. A dream that could not be. His nose bumped yours and you pulled back. 

“I... I can’t do this,” you breathed out, feeling like your lungs would collapse in on themselves. Getting up, you raced to get away, but a hand came around your arm to stop you.

You swallowed, looking up at the owner as his eyes pleaded with you. There was a fire there that threatened to consume. It spread through his body and into yours where you touched, licking up your arms and sending a wave of shock through your spine. Your eyes locked into each others and in that moment you made a decision.

Regardless of what happened after the dust settled in your kingdom, you wanted to know Obi-Wan in a way that only a few did. 

Your hands slipped up into his hair as you pulled him into you, crashing your lips against his. His arms encircled you, pulling you flush against him as he kissed back with the same ferocity as he fought. You wanted to lose yourself in this moment, to hold onto it forever, but you knew it could not last. It was the nature of a moment. They were short, fleeting. To hold onto singular moments was to miss the grand scheme of life, but moments, too, were pivotal. You could see where things had changed between the two of you so very clearly now. In hindsight, it was, in fact, a gradual fall. A domino effect of hundreds of tiny moments that led to the two of you crashing together like two planets on an inevitable course of collision. You could only imagine what wreckage would be in its wake. Should people find out, you thought. So they just mustn’t find out. You pulled back, knowing that to continue to prolong this moment would only risk further exposure. 

Obi-Wan’s eyes widened at the sudden retraction. The crown felt heavy on your head.

“Darling-” he started to say, reaching back for you.

You ran. 

[libradusk]

Touch Starved | Captain Rex

Word Count: 2,129

Pairing: Captain Rex/CT-7567 x Reader

Summary: Grief is a frightening thing to deal with alone

warnings: mention of injury and death + heavy themes of wartime ptsd

a/n: Set just after the Battle of Umbara, someone give this boy a hug

Part of the Touch Starved miniseries

He’s not sure how long he’s been staring at the wall for now.

Amidst the heaviness clinging to his bones, he’s half aware that at least half an hour has passed by at this point, between him all but stumbling into his private quarters and finishing up slumped forward and crumpled on the untouched bed.

There's something calming about staring into the vastness of plain durasteel. It's almost featureless aside from the grey sheen that coats over it. There are no harsh lines to writhe against the room’s shadows, no bright flashes of colour for him to squint against without the safety of his helmet.

The whole space is solid, clean - coldly familiar despite the room remaining almost untouched. The irony of it serving as compensation for his Captain’s rank wasn't lost on him, considering said position’s duties meant he was scarcely granted the leave to actually use it. Home comforts hardly existed for Clones, but compared to the trenches of Umbara the quarters might as well be paradise.

Captain Rex is grateful that the panelling isn't reflective, because he's positive he would fail to recognise the man staring back at him if it were so.

He looks like shit. General Skywalker had practically told him so word for word when the surviving strain of the 501st had returned back to base mere hours before. Any other General may have taken offence to the dishevelled appearance unmasked behind the grime-splattered surface of his Captain’s helmet. Dark roots have sprouted amongst his overgrown buzz cut, and there's grime and stubble smeared across his face and neck that refuses to wash completely away. Rex is confident that the blood rusted amidst it wont leave until he hacks the whole thing off. It reaches crumbling fingers to scratch and irritate down his chest and back even now in the sterile air of the room. It feels foreign and invasive - he's not even sure if all of it is his own.

A shudder rattles across his bones before he can strangle it back, and his head drops to his hands, breath expelling between tanned fingers and winding down his wrists to bind them in place.

The floor greets his eyes with the same, featureless metallic surface, disturbed only by his shadow as it steps across it. It’s smoky and hunched in the faint light offered by his bedside lamp. The longer he stares at it, the deeper it seems to pool. His gaze climbs slowly up the wall once more, hoisting itself up by his neck before the shadow threatens to drag the rest of him down into it.

Anakin had relented the moment he had looked into Rex’s eyes and seen the same hollowness that scraped across the cheeks of his surviving men. The Captain’s heart had sunk further towards his stomach the moment realisation had twisted across Skywalker’s features. The Jedi had silently noted the missing faces across their ranks and the sight of an almost catatonic Dogma restrained in his binders. Rex had hardly even been able to conjure the energy to raise his arm in salute, and now he was finally alone his limbs felt heavier than ever, weighted down with bitter remorse and a pain that sunk deeper than just his bones.

Even with the guilt and fatigue clamouring over him, Rex knew that the contrasting fire of fury and remorse that blazed across Skywalker's eyes would stay with him forever.

The rage he had emanated felt like a precursor to death. A prologue, perhaps.

Rex knew within him that right now he should be feeling the same way, but he had no energy left to sacrifice, even breathing felt the most difficult it had ever been. It was as though every one of his ribs were splintered and mangled around his lungs, smothering his heart until he could feel each pound of it screaming in his ears.

Why was it so loud? Why did his skin feel like there was something crawling beneath it?

His programming must be faulty, because this battle had truly knocked the wind from his sails, and that is something that should never happen to a Trooper. His use-by-date must be fast approaching, it's the only justification he can clamber to reach, though the thought provides little peace for him to cling to.

No. There was no exact moment to pinpoint where it had all changed for Rex. This descent into agony had come slowly, like sinking into quicksand. This was just the breaking point for a build up that had been clawing away at little parts of him for a while now. He feels pathetic, shame cutting through the numbness and threatening to cleave his fingernails through his palms.

Fives had even been kind enough to fill out Rex’s reports for him - the Captain wasn’t even sure that decision was part of the correct protocol, but he couldn’t bring himself to complain, even if he wanted to. Even so, it served as another stab to his conscience.The ARC Trooper had no doubt suffered as much as Rex himself after experiencing what they had all gone through, and yet Fives had felt compelled to stand in for his own Captain’s incompetence... Perhaps Rex truly was too battle-damaged to function properly for the remainder of the war, he hadn’t even been able to put down Krell himself.

...No. He had to keep going, he owed his men as much - both to those who perished in the darkness of Umbara and those who had found the strength to keep on living.

His death needed to mean something - to push them further towards victory for the Republic. He had to fight off the urge to curl into the durasteel and disappear for at least another night.

Good soldiers follow orders, after all - that much was still ingrained within him.

His hands curl into fists then and he forces himself to look at them. They’re clammy and gloveless, coated with smatterings of grime and smear from where he's rubbed at his face and neck. Rex notes then that he hasn't seen them bare in some time, having resolved to sleep in his full blacks and as much armour as possible for the entire Umbara campaign. The tanned expanse of his skin looks alien, the cold plastoid plating of his uniform felt more familiar at this point, and the thought frightened him more than it probably should for a Clone Trooper - Captain or otherwise. He notes then, that he hadn’t even managed to completely strip himself of armour before slumping onto the bed. How ironic that his own flesh felt more out of place on his body than hard, synthetic material.

What pieces he had managed to tear away were stacked halfheartedly in the corner. His helmet stares back at him across the room, its visor appearing endlessly dark even with the light offered to it. It sits atop the rest of the display, throned ritualistically as it always had been. Once Rex had stared at it with pride each night as he attempted to drift off to sleep, yet now it sat crooked and war-tattered with filth. Looking at it felt like staring into a shattered mirror. Rex knew he ought to repaint it, along with the rest of his gear, yet that thought was quashed as quickly as it appeared. To paint over the blood of his brothers’ felt like a cheap way of blanketing their deaths, their own sacrifice to the war.

They deserved to be mourned, to be remembered. If Rex didn’t, then there were few others that would.

Nothing would be the same again, and it shouldn't. That thought would keep him going, he would ensure it would.

But in that moment, as he stared at the sickly red that stained across the blue and white plating, the echo of blaster fire tore open his memories and dragged the screams of his dead brothers behind it.

The durasteel walls begin to spin.

….

..

.

.

“...Rex?”

The voice that edges through the doorway is purposefully soft, barely above a whisper in fact - yet it still triggers him to flinch in response. His throat feels like it's on fire now and he has to fight back the urge to claw at where his pulse drowns in bile. The bodysuit clinging to his skin now feels much too tight, and he resorts to tear open the buttoned collar as he twists in the direction of the open doorway, shame already sinking its clutch into his veins.

It’s you, if you had knocked before opening the door it had never registered to him.

Had he even remembered to lock it in the first place? At that moment he couldn't remember anything aside from the tragedy he had barely just scraped through. The blastdoor seals itself shut as quickly as it opened and the hiss it exhumes drags him back to the present. You're cloaked in the same dim lighting as he is now, it spreads your shadow and melts it across the floor towards where he sits, half facing you and frozen in contemplation. Even with the low light, he doesn’t miss the way your face falls once his sunken eyes drag over to you. Your expression frightens him more than Anakin’s ever could, because he can't help but feel directly responsible for the immense sadness glassing over your eyes in that moment.

Rex fights the instinct to duck his gaze in disgrace. You've never seen him in this state, hell he doesn't recall ever being as big a mess as this before. The Captain had always kept his weaknesses guarded - from his men and his enemies alike - from you - even when you had allowed him to stumble into your own.

This feels humiliating, but he also doesn't feel that he deserves to object.

The twisting has traversed to his stomach now and his toes twitch with the urge to run despite the heaviness weighing down each and every part of him.

But he also knows you well enough to be confident you wouldn't let him hide anyway.

You're striding over to him now, your shadow oozing closer and wider with the movement. Within three quick strides you're in front of him and then beside him on the stiff, military grade mattress. It doesn't take long, after all the room is tiny despite being built for a Captain, but now there is truly nowhere left for the Trooper to hide. He wonders then, if the dull bedside lamplight paints him as sickly as he feels. It wraps around you too, brighter and more clearly than when you had leaned against the doorway. Up this close he can see the pity pulling at your frown, as he had expected it to, but nestled alongside it is something softer. It's frighteningly warm and only spreads wider as you sigh and wrap your arms around him with no other hesitation. He can't help but crumble into the safety you extend to him, leaning in and allowing the glow to envelop him completely. In those precious seconds you had quickly become the only solace he had left in the world, one that was safe and warm and cared about him.

By design, Rex was not a selfish man, but just for a moment he allowed himself to fall to pieces for the first time and sink into the fantasy that there was no war, no death, no regulations - just two people that cared for each other above all else in the world.

Yeah, just a moment wouldn't hurt.

He's sure you're uncomfortable, pressed up against a half-armoured body that's stiff with anxiety, but you’re relentless as you drape him in delicate empathy and affection. He's not sure if it's your tears or his own wetting the plains of his cheeks, but it doesn't matter - he feels like he's drowning all the same as you begin to slowly rock the two of you back and forth.

The touch you give him is so different to all he's known for the past weeks. Your arms and hands are not dictated with adrenaline soaked desperation, and there are no exposed bones, no bloody, mangled hands or rattling last words to be heard, there is just you.

In that moment, you are the softest thing he's ever known and he clings to you like a lifeline. You continue to hold him like he could break and shatter in your arms, and he does, shoving away instinct and indoctrination to bury his scruffy face in your shoulder and sob.

He would survive, he had always vowed to come back and continue fighting no matter what else was thrown his way.

But for now he would lay down his armoured soul and let it grieve alongside you.

[castiel-barnes]

The meeting.

The mandalorian and the Jedi series. Chapter 1.

Pairing: Din Djarin x Jedi! Reader.

Summary: After being assigned a bounty for an asset, the last thing that Din expects is to meet a jedi.

Warnings: angst. Swearing maybe. Mentions of blood and torture.

Wordcount: 1.9k

Chapter 2

Masterlist.

A/N: Decided to make another series. This is probably gonna be bad because my writing is crap but here ya go.

Tags: @scribbledghost @phoenixhalliwell @farfromjustordinary @ginger-swag-rapunzel

Din had been to Karga to get the credits he got from his latest bounties. He'd picked up a new job and headed to the building. Walking inside he was greeted by 4 stormtroopers and the client. The guy who was hiring Din for the job, was imperial.

Din was informed that the asset was fifty years old. And that was it. The only things Din had to help him find the asset was a chain code, last know location and a tracking fob. Not an easy bounty then.

The job was to get an asset on Arvala-7, a desert planet quite barren and quiet.

*********************

Arvala-7:

Din landed on the planet in a canyon area, with a few land marks so he could remember where he landed. Looking through the scope of his pulse rifle, he checked for anyone or thing that might be around. But then out of nowhere a blurg attacked him.

After helping an ugnaught named Kuill with the blurgs, and showing Din the way. He arrived at said compound where the asset was meant to be.

"Damn bounty droids." Din muttered to himself as he saw an IG unit enter the compound.

"IG unit stand down!" Din shouted,

The IG unti turned around and shot Din in the pauldron, which threw Din to the ground winded slightly.

"I'm in the guild!" Din exclaimed sitting up slightly,

"I thought I was the only guild member on this job." The IG unit replied.

"That makes two of us." Din stated. The next few moments happened to go almost down hill. Din and the IG unit got into a huge blaster fight, with the guys who worked and protected the asset at the compound. Entering the room where the fob was beeping erratically, Din and the IG unit scanned the room for the asset.

"They said it was meant to be 50 years old." Din stated quietly,

"Some species age differently, but we'll never know." IG responded pointing the weapon at the small green child like creature.

"No! We'll take it in alive." Din stated firmly but it didn't shake the bounty droids choice. Standing there looking at the child, Din pulled out his pistol and shot the IG unit.

'It's a kid dank ferrik. Im not going to kill a kid.' Din thought to himself, and that's when he heard movement in the corner. Turning around, he quickly fired shot only for it to be deflected by a lightsaber.

"Step away from the child mando." You said calmly emerging from the shadows,

"Why should I?" Din asked.

"Because that child is far more skilled than you and is highly important." You replied in a protective stance moving closer to the child,

"Are you a jedi?" Din asked again.

"If I was, what would you do?" You straightend your posture a little,

"Well im not sure, I've never met one before but I know that mandalorians and jedis never got along in the past." Din stated,

"You're right there mando." You said,

"What is your deal here?" You asked him staring down. He was quiet for a moment,

'There's a bounty on this child, why are you here?' Din thought to himself.

"I'm protecting the child." You smiled,

"Wha- I didn't ask anything." Din said baffled.

"You were thinking it." You replied. The two of you bickered back and forth for almost an hour, discussing why mando shouldn't take the child or why mando should take the child and you come along. It was starting to get a bit annoying.

************************

On the crest:

You wasn't sure how you ended up on the mandalorians ship. But here you were sitting in the co- pilot seat, looking out of the window in hyperspace.

"You always keep that bucket on your head?" You asked,

"Yep." Din replied not looking away from where he was looking. "We can only take them off in front of your riduur." He continued.

"Riddur?" You asked again,

"When you get married." He said. You must've fallen asleep at some point in the chair, because the next thing you realised you was dropping out of hyper space. Waking up fully you find that you're approaching a volcanic planet.

Getting off of the crest, you hid your lightsaber as best you could under your robe and followed the mandalorian.

Walking into a building you were greeted by 4 stormtroopers and you instantly tensed up.

"Mandoalrian it is good to see that you've acquired the asset." The client stated, "and who might this be?" He continued looking over at you,

"An aquintance, what are you going to do it?" Din asked tensing even more,

"No questions asked, isn't that the guild policy? And as for you my darling I know exactly who you are." The client said looking directly at you.

"How?" You asked,

"There are archives left over dear one, you're lucky that you escaped order 66 given by the emperor." The client explained.

"What is he talking about?" Din asked,

"Nearing the end of the clone wars when I was a youngling, the emperor gave order 66 which was to kill all jedi, jedi masters and knights even the younglings. I was one of few to escape, along with the child." You explained looking down, trying to forget those moments.

"And that is why we are lucky that the mandalorian bought you here to help us with our... experiments." The client stated,

"What?!" Din exclaimed stepping forward just to be stopped by a trooper. "This wasn't part of the deal." Din continued looking at you.

"Of course it wasn't but now you've helped us significantly and you will get your reward." The client replied getting a trooper to get the container of beskar.

Din looked at you,

'I'm so sorry. I didn't know this to happen, I didn't know that they were going to experiment.' Din thought and all you could was nod and looked away,

'Don't fight them, it'll make it worse.' He thought again. You looked up at him with a tear in your eye and smiled a little. The stormtroopers pushed the child's pram roughly to a door and grabbed you taking away your lightsaber and pushing you through the same door.

"Hey be gentle!" Din exclaimed frowning under the helmet,

'It'll be ok mando. I'll look after the kid.' You said in his mind.

"Your payment mandalorian, beskar that is rightfully returned." The client stated given the beskar to Din. Din nodded and turned away glancing once more at the door.

Walking out the door he made his way to the covert, beskar in hand.

Din sat there in the armoury as the armourer melted down the beskar he had received to make new armour. He sat there thinking what he had just done. He just gave away 2 jedis or what he thought were jedis, to people from the old empire so they could be experimented on? What kind of sick person would want to experiment on people?

Walking out of the covert and back to the crest. Din sat there for a while thinking. He didn't know why, but he wanted to help you and the child. He was angry with himself. And he didn't know why. He felt like it was his duty to protect you, even though in the past Jedi and Mandalorians were enemies and he knew you could handle yourself.

**********************

The cell:

To say the least you were in far worse shape than the child. Which in your mind was a good thing. You didn't want harm to come to him. But it also meant that you had gotten hit a few times using the force to protect the little guy.

“I’ve seen a lot of good soldiers die at the hand of a weapon like this.” The trooper said igniting your lightsaber in front of you.

“Good?! The empire is the complete opposite of good you ignorant asshole, all you done was cause pain for them.” You hissed back, 

“Watch it Jedi scum, you might end up having your own lightsaber used against you.” The trooper replied placing the lightsaber directly in front of your face. Something exploded somewhere in the building which caused the stormtrooper to go off balance, causing the lightsaber to jolt leaving a nasty cut over your eye. You fell back and screamed in pain until the trooper hit you hard enough to cause you to go unconscious. And he left.

Outside of the building, Din had returned and was causing chaos for the stormtroopers. Sneaking back into the building, Din stuck to the shadows and killed any troopers that he came across. He came across the kid first and he picked the kid up carefully. Somehow he managed to find your lightsaber. Luckily Din had a bag that was big enough to carry the kid, so that if needed be he could carry you aswell. And it was good that he did bring the bad, because then he found you.

Entering your cell quietly, he found you unconscious. Blood rolling down your left cheek from a nasty slash across your eye.

"Hey, hey you got to wake up. Im getting you out of here." Din said shaking you a little,

"M-mando?" You replied falling unconscious again. Din undone your restraints and picked you up gently. Din got stopped by some troopers who had there weapons drawn.

"Give them up mando, we have you outnumbered 4 to 1." A trooper stated,

"I like those odds." Din replied laying you down gently, then all of a sudden he let his whistling birds go and all of the troopers in the room dropped.

Managing to get back to the razor crest with some minor inconveniences from Karga and the rest of the guild. All the while the mandalorians at the covert helped Din, he got you and the child safely back to the crest. Laying you down gently on the floor of the crest, Din made the jump to hyperspace so that the three of you would be somewhat safer.

Coming back to where you were, he saw you still unconscious and now he looked at you properly. Your hair was matted slightly with blood in it, a split lip, bruises everywhere and a nasty slash going right over your left eye.

He picked you up carefully, and laid you gently on one of the cots then walked off to get the med kit. Softly dabbing your cuts with bacta, he moved his hand up to the cut on your eye. As Din went to apply bacta to the inch cut over your eye, you stopped his wrist. Opening the one eye that wasn't swollen and bloody, you looked up at him.

"Mando? What happened?" You asked barely aware of your surroundings,

"I went back for you and the kid." Din replied quietly. "You gonna give me my hand back?" He continued.

"Hmm? Oh yeah sorry." You responded letting go of his hand,

“This might hurt a bit ok? I’m going to apply bacta to your eye, it’s gonna leave a scar. Hold still.” He stated applying the bacta as gently  as he could. You winced a little and clenched the blanket that was under you. Once Din was done he placed a bandage over your eye to help it. After he done that he sat by you for a moment in awkward silence.

“I’m sorry.” Din whispered not directly looking at you,

“It’s ok mando I swear.” You replied patting his hand a little bit.

“It’s not ok, get some rest. We’ll talk about it later.” He stated standing up and climbing up the ladder to the cockpit. You laid your head back and suddenly everything from hours before came into affect in your body. You was tired and still in some pain, so you laid there and closed your eye trying to focus on anything except the pain. You tried thinking about your Jedi training and what your masters had taught you.

As you laid there you slowly drifted off to sleep. Needed rest. You didn't know where Din was taking you, but you hoped to maker that it was somewhere better than where you just were.

[star-ting-over]

Fic : A night on the Resolute

The wounds from Umbara were still fresh, and Rex wasn’t going to get any sleep. Instead, he paces the halls and finds everything, and nothing has changed.

Also on AO3

Dogma was snoring again. Rex glanced over at his brother, face down, passed out from exhaustion on the sparing floor matt that was serving as his bed against the wall of Rex’s cabin. Dogma didn’t sleep much these days, but when he did, he snored. Like a Gundark with a sinus infection. Rex honesty wasn’t aware that a trooper could make a noise like that before Dogma had taken up residence on his floor. Rex didn’t think Jesse would follow through with his half-hysterical threat of stabbing Dogma in his sleep, but he had the younger clone bunking with him just in case. If anything, it prevented another fight in the barracks, Tup apparently more than willing to jump to Dogma defence with his fists at the slightest provocation. There was an angry, aggressive streak in Tup that hadn’t been there before Umbara. Or maybe it had, and Rex just hadn’t noticed.

Rex dug the heels of his hand into his eyes as he sat up. He wouldn’t be getting any sleep tonight. Swinging he feet over the side of his bunk, he rose as silently as he could so as not to wake his sleeping brother and headed for the door. Stepping out into the corridor, more people were milling around than he would have expected. Then again no one on the Resolute was getting much sleep at the moment and clones, by nature or by training, did not like to spend much time sitting still. Rex paused briefly to consider what his men might make of their captain pacing the halls in the dead of night in nothing but his blacks before quickly deciding that he couldn’t bring himself to care.

His first port of call was the med bay. It was trip Rex made after every campaign, but there was always something jarring about how the casualty numbers matched up with the brother on the beds. 300 injured didn’t seem real until you saw your men lined up on gurneys against the wall waiting for the medics to clear a bed for them. Kix always complained, with Rex privately agreeing, that if it were up to him, every member of GAR command should be dragged into the Medbay after a hard campaign to tell the medics and injured brother to their faces that a Venator, with a complement of 3,000 only needed 40 bacta tanks. If General Kenobi had managed to source 30 extra each for The Negotiator and The Resolute, Rex wouldn’t mention it.

Umbara had, by all metrics, been a hard campaign. Kix’s tired face and tight smile gave him all the information he needed to know. It could have been a lot worse, but it was worse than they could have imagined. Glancing over at the rows of occupied beds, his eye was drawn to Skipper, the lightsabre burns across his chest that should have killed him and the look in his eyes that said it might as well have done. That was enough of the Med bay for one night.

Back out in the corridor, Rex decided that if he weren’t going to sleep, he could a least be somewhat productive. As with any catastrophic, traumatising incident, Umbra had generated a lot of paperwork, most of which Rex had neglected to deal with partly out of spite but mostly out of exhaustion. No one had chased him for it yet, but it was only a matter of time. It wasn’t going to complete itself, so Rex headed towards mission control.

Expecting to find the room empty, be paused in the doorway at the sight of General Skywalker stood in front of the holo-transmitter, the flickering blue backs of General Windu and General Kenobi between them. Rex was all for turning and leaving, but General Skywalker had seen him, a subtle beckon dragging Rex into the room. Rex loitered just out of the holo-projector range as his General said his goodbye to the two Masters. He didn’t need to be a Jedi to sense the sombre mood that the conversation had left in the room; he could guess what they had been discussing. How many times had Rex stood in this spot late at night, listening to the best-laid plans of the Jedi? Old wisdom said that no plan withstood contact with the enemy and that was true even for Jedi, but until recently Rex had never had any reason to doubt that the General’s plan, any General’s plan, was the best one available. But now it was like a shadow had been thrown over everything. It wasn’t fair; Rex knew that. General Skywalker may be reckless, but he wasn’t malicious, he didn’t lead his men to their deaths deliberately.

As the projector shut off, the General turned to him. The flicker of the generals’ eyes made Rex suddenly very aware that he wasn’t in his armour. He suddenly felt vulnerable, exposed. He had never felt this way before, but it wasn’t hard to figure out what had changed. Up until very recently, Rex hadn’t had a reason to feel vulnerable in the presence of a Jedi. Something in General Skywalers expression closed off, and Rex wondered precisely how much of what he felt was being communicated through the force.

“How’s Jesse doing?” the General changed the topic of a conversation they weren’t even having.

Jesse had held it together well on Umbara, as calm and competent as always, but almost as soon as he set foot on the Resolute, it was like it caught up to him at once. Rex wouldn’t call it a breakdown. Clones didn’t have break downs. Right? Right. Rex wasn’t sure what he would call it. He wouldn’t sleep, he wouldn’t eat. His hands shook so hard Rex wasn’t sure he could still hold a blaster. Kix said he was having nightmares about the firing squad. Nearly being executed was bound to mess you up. It had messed Jesse up at least, Fives seemed fine, at least as far as Rex could see.

Kix was doing his best to help Jesse where he could. The seemed that it was the sight of Dogma seemed to be what set him off more than anything, and it wasn’t like Rex didn’t understand why. Everyone understood why. Even Dogma who since his rather miraculous, if temporary, reprieve had turned out to be surprisingly good at making himself scarce at least until it came time to sleep. He hadn’t even taken four steps into the barracks, a full hour after lights out, before trouble had reared its head. In the interests of a concise incident report, it was summarised as Jesse had lost it on Dogma, Tups had swung at Jesse, Fives tackled Tup, Kix had set Jesse’s broken nose and Rex had one more headache to contend with. Rex didn’t see any need to mention the tears that had streamed down Jesse’s face, the calm oddly detached look on Dogma’s face as Jesse threatened to kill him or the feral, deranged glint in Tups eyes as Fives pinned him down.  

“Getting there, sir” Rex had no idea if that was true. He and never seen anything like this before. The General nodded, face grim. He opened his mouth to say something before thinking better of it and turned towards the monitor against the far wall. Whatever he was about to say, he didn’t want to be looking at Rex for.

“The trooper who shot Krell…” Rex suppressed a wince. He didn’t like hearing that name in his own mind.

“Dogma” Rex interjected quickly. It might have come out a little sharper than he intended.

“Right, Dogma,” Skywalker gave him a long look out of the corner of his eye. “Dogma has been summoned by the Jedi Council for questioning as soon as we arrive” Rex felt something that might have been fear, bubbling up, but it was quickly replaced by rage. He swallowed that impulse down. He knew this would be coming; after all, it had been a condition of Dogma’s temporary release. Raging wasn’t going to help his brother. He hadn’t been quick enough it would seem as he watched General Skywalker’s eyes narrow.

“He shot a Jedi Rex.”

“With all due respect sir, he shot a traitor.” The General sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“It's out of our hands, Rex. We could stop him from being shipped back to Kamino, but there is nothing more I can do.” What you be doing if it was me, that was being hauled in front of the council? Rex wanted to ask but couldn’t bring himself to utter the words.

“Get some rest.” General Skywalker uttered those words without a hint of irony. It was a dismissal if ever Rex had heard one. There was a part of Rex what wanted to replay with a ‘Thank you, sir, I’m fine’ but was sure the phrase would go straight over the Generals head. Rex turned on his heels and headed for the door.

“Rex, let… er.. let the trooper know what's going on.” Rex turned, giving a quick nod and headed through the door. Rex knew that rest wasn’t an option, so he decided upon a different course of action. The ship's gym should be relatively empty, especially as most would be too tired from the recent campaign to feel the need to exercise. And if it just happened to be the furthest thing from rest, well that was just a coincidence.

Typically the gym was nowhere near as empty as Rex would have liked. More than a few pairs of brother were having a spar on the mats. There were a few spare treadmills along the left wall, but it was the punching bags in the back corner that Rex was after. One was already in use. Tups bun made him easy to spot from behind. Rex wasn’t sure the younger trooper even notice his presence as he approached. Rex decided not to disturb him; he looked like he was… working through some stuff.

Taking the bag farthest away from Tup, Rex when through his pre-workout stretches on autopilot before sinking his fist into the bag. He had hoped punching something would help focus his mind, but it didn't seem to be working. His conversation with the General had rattled him. A deluge of hows and whys and what-ifs that he had been desperately trying to hold back broke free.

It all came back to one thing. It should have been him that pulled the trigger. It was his call, his duty to his brothers and the Republic, he should be the one to bear the consequences of the decision. Whatever they would be. They had put Dogma back into his cell after shooting the General, after Fives had retrieved his pistol from Dogma’s limp hands. He had sat stock still for hours, just staring unblinkingly at the Jedi’s body left to go cold one cell over. Kenobi’s arrival, Rex’s desperate pleas to Cody, Cody’s appeal to his General and Skywalkers obstinate instance ensured that Dogma would face Jedi justice and not a sham of a court marshal at the hands of the GAR high command. Rex hoped that the Jedi would be more lenient, but he didn’t know. All he had to go off was that it was hard to picture a Jedi firing squad. When Dogma had been temporarily released for the trip back to Coruscant, he hadn’t said a word. In fact, Rex hadn’t heard him utter a sound, besides his snoring, since Umbara.

Rex wondered if it said something damning about him that he wasn’t able to take that shot. He considered himself someone willing to do whatever it took to ensure victory, to keep his brothers safe. Did this just prove that to be untrue? General Skywalker had said the though Dogma and Rex were alike and superficially perhaps they were. Fiercely loyal, devoted to the cause… trusting. But Dogma took the shot that Rex couldn’t, because Rex couldn’t, but why? Was he afraid the consequences, afraid of what it would mean to be a Jedi killer? Say what you would about Dogma he didn’t really factor in personal consequences into his actions.  

Would the outcome be different if it had been him? Rex wasn’t sure. And if it was, what did that say about the GAR? What did that say about him? Was his life worth more than Dogma’s? Because he was older, more experienced, because General Skywalker had taken a liking to him? Was he more deserving of mercy because he happened to be a Jedi’s favourite clone? Because General Skywalker could remember his name when he always seemed to forget Dogma’s? Rex was spiralling, and he didn’t know how to stop it.

One last strike of his fist into the punching bag and Rex all be collapsed. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see that Tup had stopped as well, at some point having been joined by Fives. They were both watching him, concern on Fives face, Tups expression was drawn. Looking down at his hands, Rex realised belated that he had forgotten to wrap his knuckles before starting, blood trickling from the split skin, staining the bag.

“You should go see Kix for that sir.” Fives voice seemed thin a far away. Rex recalled Kix’s tired eyes for earlier that night. He didn’t need to adding anything more to his brother plate tonight, he’d speak to him in the morning. He told Fives as much. The ARC gave him a reluctant nod. Rex glanced back to Tup, stood staring at the floor shoulders hunched, looking like he was about to throw up. Catching Fives eye, he received a second nod. The ARC would make sure that Tup was ok, that he got back to his bunk. Rex gave Fives a tried smile before turning to leave that gym. The next morning Fives wouldn’t mention how Rex’s stumbled from exhaustion as he walked and Rex wouldn’t mention the telltale red rims to Fives eyes.

Finally, back at his bunk, Rex though he might finally be tried enough to get some rest even though Dogma’s snoring. Upon entering Rex found the room empty, it would appear Dogma had made himself scarce once again. Rex would tell him the Generals news in the morning then. For now, he would finally grab a few hours of sleep.