#when they are fighting for the truth of what happened to him

[coldilikeit]

Yandere Batfam x Camp half-blood (Neglected reader)

DC x Pjo

Part 14

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"She wasn't yours to send on that quest, does her mother even know about this!? You can't just send kids on missions without MY permission! They're in my supervision, they're MY kids!" Mr D Yells at Hermes

He was expecting that supreme lord of the bathroom to go because of that damned hero complex and that Blondie likes adventures, but you? He thought you'd stay put, Mr D made it very clear that once you step outside the border, everything will kill you, so why would you go there?

And truth be told, you don't know why you went either, you were skilled yes. But this is your first quest oh right. This quest is undocumented and you three could die

Mr D was fine when they were just names.

Long ago when he was one of the gods above, just watching and listening to what happened, he would send his children on missions, some would succeed some won't

Some would die.

But it was fine.

He grieved for a while, he could drown is sorrows into wine, he could numb himself, but then the punishment came

100 years at camp half-blood.

He thought it'd be fine, a hundred years would pass like a blur

But it didn't.

Because now, he wouldn't just hear about the heroes who lived and died, he couldn't ignore them now. They were right in front of him, They were in his care!

At first he tried to ignore them, then he made the mistake of accidentally stumbling upon one of their camp nights, the children would tell their grievances through song, they laughed and danced, they didn't act like heroes that night, it was very disgraceful...

They acted like children.

There he made a mental note.

No more dead kids.

The morning after that he waltzed into the training grounds and looked after the children himself, he taught them how to fight, how to trick, and lastly he joined their camp nights on the head of the circle

It worked for a while, after every quest, his kids would come back, then the monsters started multiplying, the mist got so strong it even confused the demigods until it was too late and the monster got to them

A few more quests here and there, his kids stopped returning.

Five children would leave on a mission, two would come back.

And he didn't have alcohol to drown himself in, he had to face that they're gone sober.

So he had a new tactic

Just hate the bastards.

He had so many reasons to hate them, they were needy, weak and fragile, they were constantly immature needing guidance, he left the parenting work on Chiron

Then the quests stopped, one kid. Luke. Messed up so badly that quests stopped coming, the gods were too horrified and they didn't want their children to go on the same path as Lark did, Duke went blind on one eye.

And not dying while fighting an enemy was considered to be humiliating. It meant that the enemy went easy on you, and thought you weren't even worth the trouble killing

Can't they just be glad their kid isn't dead?

It was going well...

No quests equal No dead kids

Then Peter Johnson came along, started the quests again, fuck that kid, so what if he didn't even know about his origins as a hero? So what if he just wanted to see his mother? So what if he was being used as a pawn to start a war and he just wanted to live a normal life?

Percy Jackson was the brother of the man who abandoned his wife in a remote island

He hated Michael Jackson

Last but not the least you.

He hated you.

How could you!?

He walked you through everything! He even let Athena influence you by letting her bring the books on monsters so you'd be too scared to go out

But you just had to help Annabelle and Peter huh?

(Name)...

Fuck this.

You were going to be like one of them. A corpse, there's no point in remembering your name

(Wrong Name)... He was going to call you that from now on

Mr D would sometimes reminisce back on the times where he wouldn't care, back when the children were just names, now he knew they had a life, had dreams, had-

He should stop

He wants to drown his sorrows

He would like to be Dionysius again.

______________________________

Dionysius: oh the demigods? Not my problem!

Mr D: my babies death are inevitable so I have to act like I don't care enough to the point I don't remember their name so when they eventually pass away I wouldn't be hurt

_____________________________

@princesscosmo @kiarst @awawage @proffesorbunny @yuyuzi-ling @twentysomethingwereyote @scarletdfox @colorfulgardenerduck @kagatinkita @ryuushou @gwyneveire @nervousalpacalady @obsessedwithfanfiction @dsaar2000 @ithoughtthinks @fortunatelydifferentqueen @the-dumber-scaramouche @time-shardz @crazycaoticsimp @yunloyal @sirenetheblogger @00hellohello00 @spqce-bun @casspen-starlight @eyeless-kun @ghostdoodlen @ratchetprime211 @delias-stuff @sadslasher13 @ellaprime7 @wpdarlingpan @mountvesuvu @chinxinsomnia @nathaly36 @vanessa-boo @bat1212 @ceramic-raven @sweetconnoisseurgardener @dhanyasri @bella-wolf100 @shortnsweetsposts @roseapov @d3sperate-enuf @d3kstar @sheep-from-rad

[kitkatscabinet]

YOU LOOK LIKE YOU'VE SEEN A GHOST

Requested by @/rainbowstar

Summary: You were dead... weren't you?

Pairings: Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Bruce Wayne x gn! reader.

A/N: Unedited. Can you tell I sort of ran out of steam by Bruce :(

DICK GRAYSON

Blood stained his suit, his hands, drips from his hairline and over his domino mask. His blood sluggishly oozes from the various cuts littering his body, but it’s Slade’s blood that soaks the rooftop.

It’s Slade’s blood that’s splattered across his face and heaving chest like a macabre painting. Yet somehow, the ounces of blood spilled still pales in comparison to the sight that had greeted Dick in your apartment months ago. He still sees it in his nightmares, the blood, your blood saturating what was supposed to be your safe haven.

Slade’s gargled laughter that fills the air as he spits out mouthfuls of red tinged saliva. It’s Slade lying at his feet, at his mercy.

Mercy.

The thought of sparing the madman still smirking wickedly up at him, of granting any form of leniency for his crimes reinvigorates Dick’s fierce anger.

Slade won’t beg for mercy and Dick won’t grant it. Two truths they both know. Slade won’t beg like you wouldn’t have, and Dick won’t give any, the way Slade hadn’t.

Neither of them spoke as Dick pressed Slade’s own blade against the man’s neck, the thin scarlet line of blood that forms trickling down his skin quickly with the increase in pressure.

"Always knew you had it in you, boy wonder." There's an ounce of smug satisfaction in his tone that has him pressing the blade further into his neck.

"You seem awfully relaxed for a man on death's door." Dick sneers.

"I'm not too concerned with your ability to follow through."

Dick sees red, his arm swinging back, ready to dole out his vengeance, when a hand suddenly grabbed his wrist from behind, twisting it behind his back as a foot kicked his knee out.

He lands harshly on a knee, dropping the sword, he braces both hands on the ground, lashing out with his good leg. The assailant grunts but catches his foot forcing Dick to wrench himself free.

Slade doesn't rejoin the fight, which sets off all sorts of warning bells. Yet they all go ignore the second Dick lays eyes on his attacker. The bottom half of their face is covered by a mask, but their eyes, your eyes, are on display. Only there's no recognition there, only a cold and calculating gaze.

"Gorgeous, aren't they? Do you like my new masterpiece, Grayson?" Slade mocks, and Dick lunges, only to be stopped once more, by you.

He squeezes his eyes shut, yet when he opens them you're still there, still staring at him with those cold, dead eyes.

He's still stuck in this nightmare.

JASON TODD

Jason has a lot of regrets in his life. None so big as Ethiopia, than you. He regrets going to say goodbye to you before leaving, and more than anything he regrets letting you convince him to take you with him.

Jason's drowning in regrets but he could never regret loving you, not even if the pain of losing you was a raw wound that would never heal.

He hadn't forgiven Bruce for not killing the Joker for him. He'd begrudgingly come to accept Bruce's reasoning, but he'd never accept it, not after what that psycho had done to you.

He'd promised the Bat he'd stop killing, but as far as Jason was concerned, the next time the Joker busted out of Arkham, it was open season.

Yet annoyingly, every time it happens, one of his nosy family members is suddenly hanging off his arm. It's like they know what he's planning and make it their personal mission to ruin his day.

Not this time.

It's like fate had suddenly decided to smile down on him for once instead of mercilessly fucking him.

He'd been the closest to the asylum when news of the breakout hit the police scanners, and he'd be damned if anyone fucked this up for him.

It's not that hard to hunt down the clown, not when his grating cackles ring out through the air.

"Hoodie!" The madman greeted excitedly, laughing at the sight of the gun raised and aimed at the space between his eyes. "We both know you won't, don't wanna piss off daddy Bat— " A shot rings out, and Jason watches, stunned, as the Joker slumps, his brains splattering across the road.

"Hood!" Nightwing's caught up already, great.

"Wasn't me." He denies, the two vigilantes watching as a figure emerges from the shadows, a booted foot nudging the Joker before they empty a clip into the Joker's body.

Jason's in too much disbelief and more than a little satisfaction to chase after the masked individual but Dick isn't. He lunges with his Escrima raised, yet even Jason can tell there's not too much heat behind his actions.

Their masks slip off in the ensuing tussle, and Jason freezes in his tracks. Your name falls from his lips in disbelief. He watches with his heart in his throat as your face scrunches up in confusion.

"Who the fuck is that?"

TIM DRAKE

He can't remember the last time he slept, nor will he, not until he's found you. His family are worried, he sees the pitying glances they throw his way as they try to get him to rest, to pull him away from his all-consuming quest to find you.

Dick had even resorted to sedating him once, Tim wasn't stupid enough to fall for that one again.

They say that you're dead. That he needs to give up his useless search because you're not coming back. Tim had nearly broken Damian's arm for saying that.

He doesn't care that the amount of blood covering that warehouse, all your blood, would have been impossible to survive losing. He doesn't care that you've been legally pronounced dead because he refused to believe it. As far as Tim is concerned, until he sees your body, you're alive.

He knows he's been more violent than acceptable lately. Tim can't find it in himself to care that he may have permanently disabled a few of Penguin's goons, if anything, he wishes they were dead. One of these lowlives knows what happened to you, where you are.

It's Damian who finds him, kneeling in the warehouse he'd lost you, fingers lightly tracing the old blood stains.

"Drake." The usual scorn Damian reserved solely for him wasn't present for once but the disapproval is still evident.

"Not now, Robin." His tone is cutting, he's too exhausted to fight right now. Not here.

"Father needs you, the Court —"

"Good thing he has you and everyone else then." Tim scowled.

"What's this? Some baby birds far from the nest?" It's all the warning he gets before he has to spin and block an incoming blade. Speak of the devil. Talons.

Damian and Tim do their best to fend off their attackers, but Tim's so exhausted he's practically deadweight and they just keep coming.

He hears a yelp, Damian goes down, and he's too far away to help. Panic flares, he moves, but he's too slow. He's going to lose someone else in this godforsaken building. Except suddenly, one of the Talons is turning on their own.

Beggars can't be choosers. He'll deal with the rogue Talon later, but for now, they just have to survive.

When the dust settles, Tim's got all sorts of questions, none of which he gets the chance to ask when they remove their mask, and it's your face glaring at him.

"Why are you looking for me?"

Tim's not sure whether to laugh or cry. He does both.

BRUCE WAYNE

For years, he'd been afraid to let someone in, let someone get close for fear of them being used against him. But you were persistent and refused to let him push you away.

His children loved you. He loved you and when months passed without incident Bruce finally started to open up to you, to let you into his life and heart.

He promised to keep you safe and he did. For 8 years he'd kept you safe and protected. Nobody ever made the connection between you and Batman, none of his rogues ever even thought to target you.

But he'd let his guard down, he'd forgotten that Gotham was a cesspool of misery seemingly determined to ruin his life.

It's not the Joker that takes you from him. It's not the Joker or Two-Face or the Penguin or Freeze. It's not any of the various villains he's tangled with over the years

It's a stranger with a gun. You were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. A simple coffee date with one of your friends in a small cafe had ended with you dead, lying in the morgue, with Bruce having to make the identification. Having to tell his children why you're not coming home. Why you'll never come home again.

He moves listlessly through his days, refusing to plan your funeral or let anyone else do it. He knows he needs to put you to rest, but doing so will make it even more real.

Just another regret of his. 9 days after your death, he gets the call, your body is missing.

Bruce Wayne drowns publicly in his grief. Batman ruthlessly rains down his fury on the criminals of Gotham.

He tears through the streets like a hurricane, practically annihilating every gang and every low-life criminal apart on his hunt to find whoever took you.

Talia insists it wasn't the League; Jason rips his way through them anyway. Bruce doesn't dissuade him from the killing.

The JLA try to intervene, but Bruce nearly kills Superman for his concern. The fight is bloody and brutal, with Bruce inflicting weeks of fury and grief on his friend.

His knuckles are bloody, probably broken from Clark's stupid Kryptonian body when a voice, the voice he'd been hearing pleading for him in his nightmares screams at him.

He turns just in time to receive a wooden baseball bat to the jaw.

It would have been easy to dodge, to block or disarm them. But Bruce is so stunned by the appearance of a person with your face that he lets the attack land.

It's Superman who disarms you, attempting to calm you down as he defends Batman. Defends Batman because you, the person resembling you, don't seem to recognise Clark, let alone your own husband.

Bruce doesn't care, he hugs you tightly against him, face buried in your neck, even as you squeak and writhe in offence. To which he can't help but smile.

Memory or not. This is you, and he's never letting you go again.

[sodapopper]

I have something to say about Soda, and y’all are not going to like it. But I have to speak my truth.

I absolutely love that as a fandom we’re starting to humanize him and recognize his character for more than just a comedic bystander. But sometimes it feels like the pendulum now swings too far in the other direction, and some of these takes have turned him into a completely different character.

Yes, Soda is more than just his sweetness. He’s got anger and recklessness and grief, too. But exploring and developing that hidden depth shouldn’t be at the expense of his compassion and good-nature, which are still fundamental parts of his character. The sweetness doesn’t stop existing just because he’s also capable of darkness. They can and should coexist: that’s the entire point of complexity.

I keep seeing posts that use Ponyboy’s unreliable narration to argue away Soda’s sweetness, and I’ll be honest, it irritates me. Ponyboy is misguided, but he’s not outright wrong about what he observes. Darry is hard and cold. Johnny is frightened and nervous. Dally is tough and mean. And Soda is reckless and compassionate. Ponyboy might miss the subtlety of motivation (Darry is harsh, but not because he hates his brother) but he’s truthful about what’s externally obvious.

And yes, Ponyboy idolizes Soda, but the cause of his hero worship is rooted in Soda’s kindness towards him. If Darry were more emotionally present, Ponyboy would likely idolize him, too. But Ponyboy’s hero worship doesn’t cause him to erase Soda’s flaws. In fact, he calls them out on multiple occasions—Soda’s recklessness, his academic failures, his inability to take anything seriously. Pony is even embarrassed by Soda when Cherry asks about him dropping out.

Similarly important to note is that Ponyboy isn't the only one who puts Soda on a golden pedestal. Darry is equally guilty of idealizing his brother, and it's because of the emotional labor Soda does for his family; not because Ponyboy has crafted a completely different version of his brother for the readers.

The fandom wants a complex Soda, and so do I. But complexity doesn’t equate darkness! His core traits don't need to be erased to prop up a version of the character that’s unrecognizably gritty and twisted. Soda is interesting because he’s kind. He’s interesting because he’s emotionally intelligent. He’s interesting because he listens. These things don’t make him perfect! They’re both his strength and his weakness.

Soda who lets himself be walked over. Soda who keeps the peace at the expense of voicing his honest opinion. Soda who hides pain with a manic glimmer in his eyes. Soda who holds it in until he can’t. Soda who explodes in grief or anger when pushed to his breaking point. Soda who can’t sit still. Soda who embraces his “stupidity” like a badge of honor to hide how much it hurts. Soda who nobody really knows, because he protects himself by focusing on others. Soda with a fear of abandonment. Glass child Sodapop. Beautiful and invisible. Slowly being killed by the pressure of a role he’s not strong enough to perform.

And yes, he's also angry. He's also reckless. He's also easily distracted and can't sit still and likes to fight. But good characterization happens when you explore these traits within the context of the other ones. The gentleness and roughness are not mutually exclusive; they can and should go hand in hand.

Instead of “oh I bet Ponyboy is lying, Soda probably yells at him all the time,” consider: what in Soda’s life would be hurtful enough to push him to yell at Ponyboy? Instead of “Ponyboy’s naive, I bet Soda drinks like crazy,” consider: what deeper motivation might keep Soda from drinking?

That's complexity.

Of course everyone has a right to interpret the character differently. And I'm not arguing against headcanons and aus—I just wish we could recognize them as headcanons, instead of trying to twist canon into supporting our own personal characterization. The dark takes are certainly interesting, and fun to toss around. But please, don't discredit the rich depth of his canon characterization as "not gritty enough;" Soda doesn't have to drink, scream, or be Dally to be interesting.

Make him go feral, please—but consider doing it in a way that makes sense for his character, and expands on who he is, instead of erasing it.

[multiversefanfics]

Touch Starved

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader Warning: nothing but fluff Summary: Dean is touched starved, he needs you to keep him grounded. Word Count: 644

Dean Winchester — The man, the myth, the legend, the big scary hunter that wasn’t afraid of anything. Except losing you.

Dean loved being touch by you, even more than him touching you. Both sexually and romantically, this big, strong, man was a softie at heart. He hunted the worst or the worst yet the only thing that could make him fall apart was you.

Sure, Dean faced many many losses, but none of that matter when it came to you, you showed him love and kindness that he’s never experienced before, in the beginning he felt as though he didn’t deserve it, he still sometimes feels like that.

You’re the one that brings him back down to earth, the only one that could make him forget all about the turmoil that just occurred hours ago. Dean definitely wasn’t one to share either, so when Sam had all your attention one night during some lore research, he walked around the bunker library huffing and puffing until you finally asked him what was wrong.

“You’re giving Sammy all your attention, while i’m over here alone, withering away to nothing.” You rolled your eyes and continued to flip through the book Dean had enough, he wanted to cuddle, he wanted kissed, he wanted you to rub his back in that special way that he likes, he couldn’t take it anymore.

He slammed the book shut and picked you up, throwing you over his shoulder. You let out a yelp and smacked his butt, you looked up at Sam throwing him an apologetic look, he understood Dean was relentless.

“Dean! We have work to do.” He didn’t care, he wanted you all to himself, the lore can wait.

“Sorry, sweetheart, but I’m in need of some cuddles and. kisses.” He continued up the stairs to your shared room.

There was nothing you could do but lay on his shoulder patiently waiting for him to put you down, there was no use fighting it or trying to negotiate a deal, he was dead set on cuddling.

When the two of you finally reached the room, he pulled the blanket back and laid you on the bed, you shot him a glare as he crawled in bed beside you. You admit, he was very persuasive when he really wanted something.

He nuzzled his way into your arms, causing a giggle to leave your lips. “You’re really needy today.” He nodded against your chest, pulling you closer to him.

You loved when Dean got like this, it showed you that he truly needed you, even when he was angry or just in an all around bad mood, you were always there for him. He left soft kisses along your jawline, as you ran your fingertips up and down his spine, he shivered at your touch but ultimately relaxed under it as well.

“Y’know, you are the best thing that has ever happened to me, sweetheart.” Hearing him say those words made your heart flutter, you knew he was telling the truth too.

Dean wasn’t one to talk about his feelings, not even with Sam, but when it came to you, the words came out like vomit, half the time he didn’t even know he was saying them until he looks at you and you're staring back at him, adoringly.

He felt safe with you, he knew you wouldn’t make fun of him for feeling the way that he did, maybe a little playful teasing when he was super mushy, but you loved him regardless and he knew that.

You started to rub his back in that special way that he liked and only you knew how to do. His breath got slower and light snores began to escape his lips, you smiled softly and allowed yourself to relax, falling asleep along with him.

Everything was perfect and you couldn’t be happier.

A/N: This came out of nowhere and was written in less than 20 minutes, I hope you guys like this if you want to be tagged in future fics comment here or send me a message. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated. 🥰

Main Masterlist - Dean Winchester Masterlist

Taglist: @iwudbutnah @littlesoulshine @miss-marmalade

[allthingsfangirl101]

Handy Ranch Man – Tyler Owens

Tyler Owens, the "professional" Tornado Wrangler, and I grew up together. We have been best friends since we were 5 years old. Our moms met at a grocery store and planned a playdate. We've been joined at the hip ever since. 

Until he decided to spend his life chasing tornadoes all around Oklahoma. 

He didn't talk to me about it before he started. I didn't know what he was doing until after he'd already posted three videos chasing different storms. While he was risking his life every day, I was training horses at my parents' farm.

I haven't talked to him since he came home after his first "storm-chasing season". He stopped by my parents' farm to talk about it, but I couldn't. I couldn't sit back and listen to his crazy close-to-death experiences. After hearing how their truck flipped, I snapped.

~ ~ ~

"Stop!" I yelled, cutting him off. 

"What?" He asked. My heart sank when I saw that he was genuinely confused. 

"I don't want to hear about this," I said. I stood up, grabbed his empty glass, and put it in the kitchen sink. I forced the butterflies to calm down as he followed me. He gently grabbed my elbow and turned me around.

"What are you talking about, Y/N?"

"You just told me at least 4 stories about how you 'escaped death', Ty. Your words. You expect me to be okay with that?"

Tyler's face dropped when I pulled my arm out of his hold. "I thought you'd at least be excited about it," he scoffed as I started to walk out of the kitchen. 

"Excited?" I challenged as I slowly turned back toward him. "What on earth would I be excited about, Tyler?! Excited for you to get hurt so bad, I lose you? Excited to watch a video where you get sucked up and thrown across the county by a damn twister? Excited for someone to tell me the news tha you were never coming home to me?!"

Silence fell between us as he realized the truth behind my questions. I watched, tears in my eyes, as he opened and closed his mouth.

"I'm not putting myself through that, Tyler," I whispered. "If you decide to go off and do this, you do it without my support. I'm sorry."

~ ~ ~

It's been two years since that fight. Two years of me trying and failing to ignore any videos the Tornado Wranglers posted on their channel. Two years of me tightening my hands into fists whenever someone mentioned Tyler and his group – which happened all the time. 

Eclipse and I trotted back to my family's ranch, heading toward the barn. I have been training Eclipse for several years now and he was finally ready for his and his owner's show next week. I jumped off of him and put him back in his stall. I hung up his saddle and started walking back to the house. I froze when I saw him waiting a few steps from the house.

"Hey, Trainer," he teased as I slowly walked toward him. "Been a long time."

"Taking time off from trying to get killed by a natural disaster?" I asked, not stopping by him. I didn't stop until my hand was on the doorknob and Tyler spoke up.

"I'm always safe, Y/N," he said. "For you."

"That's supposed to make me feel better?" I asked without turning toward him. I didn't move as I heard him walk up the porch and stop behind me. 

"I think about you every time we're about to chase a tornado, darling."

"Was that meant to make me feel flattered?" I scoffed, looking over my shoulder at him. His eyes made my resolve weaken. Just a little bit.

"No," he said, dropping his voice. "It was the start of an apology. Every time we were getting ready to chase a storm, your words two years ago popped into my head. And I had a moment of doubt, a moment of fear."

"But," I stuttered as I slowly turned around, "you're not afraid of anything."

"That's not true," he whispered, taking a step toward me. "I'm afraid of disappointing you. I'm afraid of causing you pain. I'm afraid of leaving you all alone, gorgeous." 

"And yet," I said, my voice breaking, "you run into the storm anyway."

* * * * *

After I left Tyler dumbfounded on the front porch, he eventually left. I didn't see or hear from him for several days. Until I was headed outside to await the arrival of a new horse, Archer. I was hired to break and train him. Apparently, he can be kind of violent.

When I walked outside, I was expecting to see a horse trailer. Not my ex-best friend fixing my dad's fence. I shook off the weird feeling I felt as I forced myself to forget about Tyler Owens and focus on my daily chores.

I was walking past Tyler with my arms full of feed when I heard him gasp in pain. I turned around and saw him with his foot lifted and a large piece of wood on the ground. I dropped the feed and jogged over to him.

"Are you okay?" I panicked, scanning him.

"Yeah," he laughed. "Guess I didn't drill that hole deep enough."

When he looked up at me, there was something different in his eyes. "Thanks for running to save me, darling."

"You didn't need. . . I wasn't trying. . ." I cleared my throat and looked away.

"You mind giving me a hand, gorgeous?" He asked.

I didn't say anything as I helped him. I couldn't help but look him over as he worked. I struggled to ignore how he looked in his tank top as he nailed the piece of wood into place.

Once he was done, I let go of the log and wiped my hands. "Thanks for the help, Trainer. You didn't get a sliver or anything in your perfect hands, did you, darling?" 

"I'm fine," I said, not looking at him. My heart jumped into my throat when he tore off his gloves and grabbed my hands. I watched him as he studied my hands closely. 

I sucked in a breath when Tyler looked up and smiled at me. "Still just as perfect," he teased. We stared at each other for too long, but I couldn't tear my eyes away from his. It took his eyes glancing down at my lips to make me finally pull my hands out of his. He started to object, but I ignored him.

"Listen, gorgeous. . ."

"Why do you do that?" I asked, cutting him off a little too harshly.

"Do what?" Tyler asked, his playful facade fading.

I finally turned back to him as I clarified, "Call me things like 'gorgeous' and 'darling'."

"You don't like my pet names for you?" He asked, trying to sound like it didn't bother him, but I could tell that it did. "I've always called you pet names like that."

"No," I elongated. "When we were little, you called me variations of my name. Never. . . Romantic pet names."

We both stared at each other when I said that. To be honest, I've spent too much time analyzing why he calls me those pet names. He started back in high school after he found out some cheerleaders were picking on me. Tyler didn't let it go too far. After he stood up to them for me, he changed. He walked me to class, picked me up after, stayed by me all through lunch, and started calling me cute pet names. 

"Do they bother you?" He finally asked, bringing me back to the present.

"No," I stuttered. "I just noticed that something. . . Changed." Just then, a horse trailer pulled in. "Perfect timing," I mumbled as I walked away. 

I glanced back over at Tyler as I waited for Archer's owner to lead him out of the trailer. He was still watching me as he slowly cleaned up his supplies. I wasn't sure what he did as I started trying to train Archer.

Archer has rejected three of the best trainers this side of the Rocky Mountains. He hasn't felt settled since they bought him. I didn't know much about where they got him. Rumor was they saved him from a stud farm that wasn't taking good care of him. 

I don't usually struggle taming horses - that's why so many people brought their horses to me. But Archer. . . He was different.

"Come on," I gasped, tightening my grip on his reins. I took a step back when he started to buck. "Calm down, Archer. Take it easy. I'm just. . ."

I gasped in pain when he backed up on his rear legs and kicked me in the shoulder with his front.

"Y/N!" I heard Tyler yell. I clenched my shoulder in pain and rolled so I was lying on my other side. I opened my eyes, just in time to watch Tyler jump over the fence and sprint toward me.

He knelt next to me and gently helped me sit up. "Are you alright?" He asked. "I saw him kick you. What do you need? I can get your dad. I can take you to the hospital. Just tell me what you need."

"It's not that bad," I cringed.

"Liar," Tyler chuckled. I held my shoulder as Tyler wrapped his arms around my waist and helped me stand up. With his arms still wrapped around me, he led me to his truck.

"Just take me inside," I objected. "My dad can. . ."

"I'm taking you to the hospital, Y/N," he cut me off. It was then that I saw how worried and freaked out he looked.

I don't think I've ever seen him look like this.

That's why I let him put me in his truck. We didn't talk as he drove. Every once in a while, he'd look over his shoulder at me.

"I'm fine," I whispered.

"It looks bad," he mumbled.

"I've been kicked by a horse before," I shrugged, instantly gasping in pain when I did. My gasp made Tyler's head snap toward me. 

"When?" He demanded.

"When I was little," I stuttered. "I broke my arm and collarbone."

"And you still train horses?!"

"You run into storms. . ." I said but didn't finish.

"Well," he scoffed, "I'd stop if. . ."

He didn't finish. He's never talked about stopping chasing twisters before.

"What?" I gently asked. "What would make you stop chasing?"

"If someone I loved got hurt." He said, slowly looking at me. My heart jumped into my throat when his eyes glanced down at my shoulder. We drove the rest of the way in silence. 

As soon as we walked into the hospital, nurses ran toward me and ushered me away from Tyler. I looked over my shoulder and saw him nervously run his fingers through his hair.

About an hour later, I was patched up and was able to go home. I walked into the waiting room to see Tyler sitting down, focused on his hands, which never seemed to stop moving. He looked up, instantly jumping when his eyes landed on me.

"Y/N," he gasped, running to me. He gently grabbed my arms, rubbing them as he scanned me. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm okay," I tried to reassure him. 

"What can I do?" He asked, his eyes soft.

"You can take me home," I said softly. 

"I can do that," he said, visibly relaxing. Tyler grabbed my uninjured arm, instantly intertwining our fingers.

Without another word, Tyler led us to his truck. As he drove me home, my adrenaline finally wore off and I ended up falling asleep. I woke up a few minutes later to Tyler gently tucking a piece of hair behind my ear.

"Hi," he whispered when my eyes fluttered open. "We're home."

He helped me out of the car but didn't stop there. He led me into my house and all the way up to my room. I smiled as he helped me into my bed and pulled the blanket up to my waist.

"Is there anything I can do for you?" He asked.

"I'm okay," I smiled. I laughed when he fixed the pillow behind me. 

"I can get you some pain medication. Or some food. Or another blanket," he listed off.

"I'm fine, Ty."

"Are you sure there's nothing I can do for you?" He asked, studying me as he gently sat on the edge of my bed.

"You could stop chasing those damn tornados," I mumbled. His eyes sank.

"Y/N. . ."

"You could stop risking the life of the man I. . ."

"The man you. . ." 

"My best friend," I corrected. "The life of my best friend."

I dropped my sentence when he scooted toward me.

"Just the life of your best friend?" He asked, his voice light as he started to lean in. 

"Who else. . ."

His face was inches from mine. "Could it be that you want me to stop risking the life of the man you love?" He asked, his breath hitting my face.

"I'm not. . ." I stuttered.

"It would be okay," he smiled, "because I'd hate to hurt the woman I love."

"The woman you love?" I repeated, my voice barely above a whisper.

"The woman I love," he nodded. I gasped when he delicately pressed his lips to mine. I wrapped my good arm around his neck, pulling him closer as I kissed him back. We both smiled into the kiss as he wrapped his arms around my waist.

I didn't think about the repercussions of making this jump with him. All I could think about was how right this felt. I let out a small moan as he slowly laid us down, him hovering over me. We broke the kiss, both of us breathing heavily.

"Tyler," I whispered, "I know you love chasing storms but. . . I can't lose the man I love."

"You won't," he said, getting serious. "I promise, Y/N. You will not lose me."

"Can't you just stay here and continue helping my dad on the farm?" I offered teasingly. 

"As much as I would love that," he chuckled as he gently got off me. He didn't continue until he pulled me into his arms and leaned us against my headboard. "I mean it, darling. I would love to stay here, work for your dad, and start a life with you. But. . ."

"But I can't ask you to walk away from your dream," I finished for him. "I understand, Ty."

"Thank you," he said, letting out a sigh of relief.

"That doesn't mean that I'm suddenly okay with you chasing storms and putting yourself in danger."

"I know," he chuckled. "I meant it earlier, baby. I am careful. My team and I are really good at what we do. We have all these emergency systems and back-up plans. We are as careful as we can possibly be."

I slowly sat up and looked at him. "You promise?" I asked, my voice soft. Tyler gently grabbed my chin and pressed his lips to mine. He broke the kiss with a smile instantly on his face.

"I promise, gorgeous," he whispered, still holding my face. "I will always come home to you."

Masterlist

[deadrobinthoughts]

†  all the flags : tim.

⋆˙⟡ “i'm not.. emotionally unavailable. i'm emotionally encrypted. you're just not running the right program.”

⋆˙⟡ request: kal, im gonna need to see the green red and beige flags for your v1 boy ↦ kalico note: ♡ being colorblind is perfectly fine.

↦ GREEN FLAGS. "Christ, I'm in love with a problem."

says "be careful" every time you walk out the door.

gifted you a flashdrive and a note saying "if anything happens to me" and it's just a bunch of surprisingly well written love letters.

your likes, dislikes, soft spots, fears, etc. are all just locked away in his brain.

remembers your first birthday: what you wore, what the weather was like, what music was playing - the moment he realized he fucked up and actually liked you.

has a bunch of playlists inspired by you but won't actively tell you.

asks things like "what's your favorite book?" or "dream vacation?" during patrols.

has your routine down better than you.

stays up all night researching things you've mentioned in passing.

doesn't say 'i love you' but makes it clear in a thousand quiet, understandable, obsessive ways.

knows your go-to orders everywhere.

has a backup plan for all of your backup plans.

he treats your secrets like ancient, sacred knowledge.

respects your boundaries like they're the law.

doesn't offer unsolicited advice, despite wanting to, and waits for you to ask ( aka, need him. )

he's never forgetting a single thing you've told him. even things you don't even remember.

fixes things without being asked.

protects you like his life depends on it.

let's you play with his hair.

holds your wrist when out in public.

won't let you walk near the outside of the sidewalk.

slides you a snack or cup of tea when he notices your upset.

he knows all of your allergies, disorders, health issues, etc. and knows how to handle it if something goes wrong.

he has 100% broken into a vending machine for you.

defends you over the smallest things when you aren't around to hear it.

keeps a photo of you with him at all times - no, you have never seen it.

will never ask you to change. ever. for any reason.

can and will show up at your house at 2am.

can and will break into said house to be there when you get home.

has a box of every single receipt, ticket, note, letter, etc. you've ever given him and/or he acquired while with you.

he keeps the first voicemail you ever said 'i love you' in on his phone, seven different drives, backed up in several places like it could save the world someday.

tugs you by your shirt and kisses the top of your head when you get upset over something he said that wasn't meant to upset you.

he's not great at it and it only works about 20% of the time, but he attempts to watch how he sees things.

does not let you pay for food.

leaves a shirt or hoodie behind for you to find later on.

routinely messages "good morning." every single day.

will not, at any point, let either of you sleep until a fight or argument is resolved. even if he won't admit he's wrong.

↦ RED FLAGS. "God, if I say that's attractive, I probably need therapy."

he will absolutely repress his feelings into oblivion before asking for help.

he doesn't lie to you, per se, but he will omit like.. 87% of the truth.

would rather lose you than ever let you get hurt because of him.

every single person in his life is traumatized because that's simply who he lets in. ( it's red bc it's not always healthy. )

has days where he struggles with who he is outside of the mask.

he has no clue how to deal with unconditional love without dissecting it and giving you reasons to not love him.

believes in hope and redemption for everyone but himself.

he's got a file - mental, but it's still there - of everyone, including you.

copes with sarcasm and cruel comments.

deflects hurt by hurting others.

apologizing is barely something that crosses his mind and when it does, he's shit at doing it to your face.

he solves his problems by disappearing for a week.

texts after that week "what's up" like you weren't thinking he was dead 8 hours ago.

he's not going to tell you he's hurt until you find him stitching or bandaging or wrapping something.

he knows if you lie to him, and yes - he will be a hypocrite and call you out on it.

he has and will emotionally manipulate people for the greater good, even if it hurts the person.

he's not going to fight you if you want to walk away - he'll just nod, let you go, and deal with how he feels on his own.

however, sometimes, he makes it easy. silence, distance, emotional retreat.

if he feels like you're pulling away, he's going to do it first.

there is 100% a tracker on you that you have no idea about.

thinks protection involves keeping you in the dark.

his idea of opening up, early on, is brushing everything off and telling you he's fine and not to worry about it.

will ignore you if he's bothered by something. ( bothered, not mad. )

he's going to apologize more for stupid shit like burdening you or dragging you down before he apologizes for something he did wrong.

he has trained himself to not need comfort. ( he thinks it worked until you come along. )

he thinks he's expendable. which is why he can be reckless if it means protecting someone.

sleep is optional if he has work to do.

he will, at no point in his existence, admin he's jealous. but he will make someone else's life a living hell for it. behind your back.

if he sees you reciprocating anything like flirting, even leaning too close when you laugh, he's gonna up and vanish. for hours.

he does not want to be considered needy, jealous, etc. so, he just won't tell you how any of these things make him feel.

god help if you're in danger and one of the others gets to you first - he will be very quick to cut them off and take over.

self sabotage is burned into his soul.

does have deeply personal information on all of your friends, ex friends, ex lovers, etc.

↦ BEIGE FLAGS. "You're so fucking weird.."

will use outdated slang for shits and giggles - he's said "jazzed" so many times.

all of his electronics have names. yes, he expects you to use them.

you've caught him eating cereal, half asleep, with a fork.

can pick any lock, get through any firewall, dismantle any security system - but lord help if he needs to open a bag of chips or a can of biscuits.

will ghost you - then show up two days later with your favorite take out and a not-really-an-apology apology.

can skate like a pro but will trip over his own feet. ( please look into his early robin training days, it's hilarious. )

he has two forms of flirting:

blunt, straight to the point.

fighting over detective work until you're red in the face and want to strangle him.

buys you flowers often but does not give them to you, just leaves them on a counter or table.

told you he loved you on a mission once, then pretended it never happened.

corrects you, feels bad for the next week.

he has a color-coded sheet for your communication quirks.

will stare you. will blush when caught. will call you crazy if you mention it.

the type to correct things when watching a movie.

will let himself get torn to shreds if it means petting a street cat.

goes nonverbal for hours on end for absolutely no reason. just existing. nodding when needed.

disassociates on the balcony at 3am.

according to him, after being called cute, he's "statistically speaking, i'm not." aka, you're wrong but thanks.

genuinely knows this because of his time looking at data on facial symmetry, global average, basic attractive features, etc.

don't tell him you miss him because he'll never say it back, just glance to the side then be like "i'm right here."

he has mugs, silverware, specific shirts, and jackets that you are not allowed to touch. because they are his.

he will send you a total of 9 paragraphs in a text at one in the morning about something interesting he found.

like everyone else, he has favorite rooftops and spots in gotham; he will get offended if someone else is using it.

makes you watch documentaries with him.

he sent you a cute little thing for your anniversary once. it was labeled "sentiment.archive" - it was a very, very organized timeline of photos and memories.

↦ BONUS. reacting.

i love you. "okay. well.. uh, noted."

you're cute. "do you mean that in a romantic human way, or the manipulative way because you want something?"

i missed you. "i never turned the comms off?"

why do you love me? "because you looked at all the broken, beat down bullshit and still said 'that's mine.'"

your happiness is important to me. "let's settle on functional unless you plan to redefine happiness."

you're the best thing that's ever happened to me. "please aim higher."

i don't want to lose you. ( i'll be nice here- ) v1: "both of us already have. bits, pieces - parts of me. a long time ago." v2: "you're not losing me.. you won't. unless you decide it's time to go."

you cry in front of him. "hey, tell me what you need - little slower. i'm listening, i'm right here."

you reach for his hand. "hold on too tight and i might not let go."

i hate you, said during a fight. "…okay…. okay."

[sultanforareason]

odd stares

Suna Rintarou was the kind of guy who knew exactly what to say to get under your skin. He had that lazy confidence, that perfect balance of arrogance and charm that made him impossible to ignore. And yet, despite his nonchalant attitude, there was something in his eyes that made your heart race every time he looked at you. Something that made you want to get closer, to figure him out—no matter how impossible he made it.

He was always there, lurking on the edges of your conversations, leaning against the walls or standing too close with that smirk on his lips. And every time, you told yourself it was nothing. He was just messing with you, just being his usual teasing self. But the way his eyes followed you, the way his hand would accidentally brush yours, the heat that lingered in the air between you—it all told a different story.

You were tired of ignoring it, tired of pretending it didn’t affect you. Because the truth was, Suna Rintarou was starting to drive you insane. And for the first time, you didn’t care.

One night, as the team wrapped up practice, you stayed behind to help clean up. The gym was quiet, save for the sound of shuffling feet and the distant hum of the lights. You were trying to focus on organizing the equipment, but you could feel his presence behind you. Suna was standing by the door, watching you with that lazy, bored expression he always wore, but you could see the slight curve of a smile tugging at his lips.

“You know, you could always ask for help,” he said, his voice smooth, almost teasing.

You didn’t look at him, pretending to be too busy to care. “I’m good.”

He chuckled, the sound low and dangerous, like he knew exactly what you were doing. “Too good for help, huh?”

You met his gaze and for a moment, the world seemed to stop. His eyes were dark, intense, and there was a sharpness there that made your heart skip a beat. You swallowed hard, fighting the urge to step back.

But Suna didn’t give you the chance. He pushed off the wall and slowly, deliberately, walked over to you. “You know,” he murmured, standing so close that you could feel the warmth of his body, “it’s kind of cute how you try to act like this doesn’t bother you.”

His hand brushed against your arm, light but enough to send a shock through your system. You shivered, and he grinned, watching your every reaction. His fingers lingered there, tracing the outline of your wrist, and you hated how much you wanted him to do more.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady, but there was a hitch in it that gave you away.

“You’re lying,” he said, his voice low and amused. He took a step closer, his lips nearly brushing your ear. “I can tell.”

The air between you was thick now, charged with something unspoken, something you were both afraid to name. But Suna wasn’t going to let it stay unspoken. He moved his hand to your neck, his thumb running across your skin as he tilted your chin up, forcing you to look at him.

“What is it with you?” he asked, voice dropping to a near whisper. “Why do you keep looking at me like that?”

You opened your mouth to answer, but before you could, his lips crashed into yours. It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t slow. It was a claim, a demand, a kiss that knocked the breath out of you and made your mind go completely blank. His hands were everywhere—on your waist, in your hair, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you.

You kissed him back, unable to stop yourself, your body reacting to him in ways you didn’t know were possible. Every movement, every shift of his lips, sent a spark of fire through you. He was slow at first, but the way his hands moved, the way his breath hitched against your lips, told you he wasn’t planning on taking it easy for long.

When he finally pulled away, you were breathless, your chest heaving as you stared at him, trying to make sense of everything that had just happened. Suna’s grin was lazy, but there was something more dangerous in his eyes now, something hungry.

“that was cute.”

[ccwritesninja]

The Departure-Itachi

A/N: This is a longer chapter that I hope you guys enjoy. Thank you guys for all the sweet comments and questions!!! I love talking with you guys so don't be ever be shy if you want to talk about the fic!

CW: SMUT, Minors DNI 18+

Read on Ao3

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

You were shrugging on an extra sweater when a soft knock sounded at the door of your hospital room. A perpetual chill seemed to have settled in your body since waking up. A bizarre side effect of Itachi’s genjutsu, maybe?

“Come in.”

The door slid open, and Kakashi limped inside. “Yo.”

“Hey.”

“So you threw yourself in front of Itachi, huh?”

He studied you with admonishment in that dark grey eye. You crossed your arms over your chest. “Why are you looking at me like that? You did the same thing.”

“I have the sharingan.”

“Well, clearly it wasn’t much help.”

“He could have killed you, Y/n.”

“He could have killed us both.”

Kakashi slid his hands evenly into his pockets. “To be honest, I’m not sure why he didn’t.”

He leaned against the doorway, still eyeing you carefully. He was gauging your reaction, likely trying to figure out how mentally damaged you were from the encounter.

“I can’t imagine that was easy. Having to fight him.”

You tilted your head. “I’m sure it wasn’t easy for you either. You were our captain.”

“I wasn’t in love with him.”

A heavy weight had settled between your shoulders. Itachi wasn’t a monster. Despite the things he had done, he hadn’t wanted to harm you or Sasuke. He was simply playing the part, no matter how far he had to go with it.

You weren’t sure you could have done the same, made the choices he had, but you didn’t blame him for it. You couldn’t.

You didn’t want Kakashi to do that either.

“He didn’t want to hurt me.”

Kakashi blinked. One of his silver brows shot up, a betrayal of his typically well-hidden emotions. Of course he thought you were insane.

He shifted against the doorframe, likely trying to figure out a polite way to ask what the hell was wrong with you. “Naruto told me what happened. If it was anything like what he did to me…”

You closed your eyes, drawing in a deep breath in through your nose. 

“I have to tell you something.”

“You do?”

“This has to stay between us.”

The deep lines of a frown were visible under his mask. “Alright.”

You sat back on the edge of the stiff mattress and told Kakashi everything. He considered your words carefully, and you were grateful for it.

“How do you know Itachi was telling the truth?”

“Because the reason he gave Sasuke never made sense. And you know what Danzo is like.”

Kakashi did. The man had convinced him to spy on the Hokage as a teenager. He had attempted to pluck his sharingan straight from his head. He was a conniving, brutal soldier who desired to protect the village at any price, even at the cost of some of its own citizens.

He could see how gentle, quiet Itachi might have been swayed to give up his entire clan in exchange for the promise of peace. His sense of duty to the village was strong, and his desire to protect his little brother was even stronger. Danzo wasn’t above threatening a child, or even killing one.

Sasuke’s life could have very well been at risk. It likely still was, if Itachi had been telling the truth.

“This can’t leave this room,” you reminded Kakashi. “If Danzo found out-”

“It’s our heads on a platter.”

—

Despite the sense of constant unease that bit at your insides, things seemed to improve over the next couple of months. Sasuke wasn’t isolating himself as much. He seemed to actually enjoy the missions and outings he joined his teammates for. 

He even requested that you return to your weekly movie nights. The event had fallen to the wayside for the past year, but you were picking it back up again. Even Sakura and Naruto joined a few times, and they brought Kakashi along with them. The compound hadn’t seen so many visitors in years.

It felt nice to hear the house full of laughter and friendly voices.

“Is the popcorn ready yet?” Naruto called from the living room.

“Almost!”

“You’re so slow,” Sasuke complained.

You carried the wooden bowl in from the kitchen and swatted his hand away when he tried to reach for it. “And you’re so not getting any.”

You lifted the bowl over his head and handed it to Kakashi. Sasuke rolled his eyes and slumped back against the cushions next to Sakura. 

“Keep it away from his rude little hands.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Tch,” Sasuke muttered. “Traitor.”

“Y/n and I were teammates first,” Kakashi reminded him.

You took your seat next to him and grabbed the remote, hitting play. Jiraiya’s Tales of a Gutsy Ninja had been adapted into a movie the year prior, and you were curious to see if it was any good. The book hadn’t sold as well as his others, but the story was solid. You and Sasuke had rented it from the video store earlier that day, despite the deadly eye roll he had given you.

“Oh come on! You used to love that book!”

“I’m not a little kid anymore.”

“Well we’re not going with a scary movie. Kakashi doesn’t like them, and I don’t want to give Naruto nightmares.”

The kid was still terrified of ghosts, after all. Despite having the power of the nine-tailed fox inside him, he still acted like a regular twelve year old boy.

So Tales of a Gutsy Ninja it was.

You settled in beside Kakashi, wrapping a fuzzy blanket snugly around your body. Naruto leaned over Sasuke, snatching a handful of popcorn from the bowl. He half-crawled over his teammate in the process.

“Get off me, loser!”

“Sasuke, be nice to your teammate.”

“Kakashi-sensei, will you please pass the popcorn?”

“Sure thing, Sakura.”

The man held the bowl over Sasuke’s head, watching with a crinkly eyed smile as the boy glared at him.

“I’ll share some of mine with you, Sasuke,” she offered.

“Whatever.”

Still, he took the offered snack from her hands. You smiled to yourself. A dizzying wave of nostalgia washed over you. 

Movie night wasn’t just a tradition for you and Sasuke. It was something that began years ago, for you, Shisui, and Itachi. Sometimes Tenzo and Yugao joined too. You even managed to get Kakashi to show a few times, though those had been far and few between.

It was a pleasant feeling, sitting there with Sasuke and his team, but you couldn’t help but feel like someone was missing. It was silly thought, stupid even, to hope that he could be there beside you. Itachi was still a rogue nin. He hadn’t shown his face in months. 

You hadn’t even caught sight of a summons since the attack. He was clearly staying away. 

Was it fear of getting caught after his and Kisame’s attempt to take Naruto? Or was it guilt for what he had done to you and Sasuke?

You weren’t sure, but, despite everything, you ached to have him beside you, to snuggle against his side like you used to do. You always ended up falling asleep on him halfway through the movie. He never seemed to mind.

Kakashi suddenly shifted, accidentally brushing his hand against yours. He stammered out an apology, flushing up to the tips of his ears. He really was afraid of intimacy.

Sasuke shot him a dirty look. 

“It’s fine,” you assured Kakashi.

You shifted further against the arm of the couch, giving him a little bit more space. By the time the credits rolled around, you were out cold. You woke to the smack of a pillow hitting you in the face. 

“Sasuke,” Kakashi admonished.

“She always falls asleep!”

“You little…” You sat up, rubbing your eyes and glaring at Sasuke.

You formed a series of hand signs, and spit a torrent of water into his face. The satisfied smirk dropped from his lips. He was now sopping wet and shoving his damp bangs out of his eyes. Naruto and Sakura giggled. 

“Walk your friends out please.”

He grumbled something under his breath and followed them out the front door. 

Kakashi stretched, shoulders cracking, and rose from the couch. “I can help you clean up.”

You shook your head. “It’s alright, Kakashi. I’ve got it.”

“Are you sure?”

“They really didn’t make that much of a mess.”

You scooped up the stray pillow and the extra blankets you had pulled out. You began to fold one, and Kakashi stepped forward, grabbing the other end to help you.

“Thanks for inviting me tonight.”

“Of course. You’re team seven too.”

“Still, it was…nice.”

“It was.”

“If you ever want to…” He trailed off, seeing the sudden flash of panic in your eyes. “Never mind.”

You offered him a sad smile, pulling the folded blanket from his hands. “I’m sorry, Kakashi.”

“It’s alright. You’re still in love with him.”

You bit the inside of your cheek and nodded.

“I understand. Has he shown himself lately?”

You shook your head and sighed. “Not once. And I still…it’s silly, right?”

You prepared yourself for the judgmental glance, for the pragmatic speech, but none of that came. Instead, Kakashi simply shook his head and offered you a crinkly-eyed smile.

“No. Not silly. Matters of the heart never are.” He let his hand fall onto your head, ruffling your hair, like you were one of his genin. “Call me if you need anything.”

And then he was gone, slipping out the door after his students. Sasuke returned a few moments later. He helped you sweep up the stray popcorn and straighten up the sofa, and then slipped into his room after a quick goodnight.

When you finally slid beneath your own covers, sleep evaded you. You tossed and turned, trying to get comfortable. The bed suddenly felt too vast and too cold for you to be laying in it alone. You ached for Itachi’s warmth, for the peace that lying in his arms had always provided you.

It wasn’t fair that he couldn’t be here now, helping you raise Sasuke, joining you for his team’s events. It would be simple if you could just forget about him. If you could let him go and move on, and take Kakashi up on his offer. 

Unfortunately, it wasn’t that simple. There was nothing wrong with Kakashi, but your love for Itachi was seared into your heart. It would never leave you. No matter what happened, no matter how long he disappeared for, your heart would always belong to him.

—

In the weeks that followed, Sasuke’s good mood remained. He still had the attitude of course, but the crushing darkness he had been leaning into was nowhere to be found. Hope fluttered in your chest for the first time in months, and you allowed yourself to think that maybe the battle with Itachi wouldn’t have any long term effects on him.

Then the escort mission happened.

Naruto and Sakura returned from the Land of Tea with an unconscious Sasuke in their arms. Genma showed up on your doorstep and announced past the senbon between his lips that Sasuke had been injured, yet again.

Once you were sure he would be alright, you pulled Naruto and Sakura out into the hall to demand a detailed explanation of the mission. They told you that Sasuke had been defeated by another shinobi named Aoi, who taunted him about being a disappointment to the Uchiha clan. In the end, Naruto defeated him while Sasuke was unconscious.

When you tried to broach the subject with him in the hospital, he shut you down immediately. He refused to even speak about it, leaving you frustrated and nervous. The medics wanted to keep him in the hospital for observation to ensure that Aoi’s lightning chakra hadn’t inflicted too much damage. You offered to sleep there with Sasuke, but he insisted you didn’t. You made the trip to and from the compound several times a day to bring him food and check up on him.

It was during one of these visits that you recognized Kakashi wandering in your direction, a book leveled in front of his face. You called out to him.

“Oh, Y/n.” He lowered the copy of Icha Icha. “I was just about to stop in and see Sasuke.”

“Me too.”

A loud crash echoed through the air. You and Kakashi both tensed, looking around for the source of the noise. It appeared to be coming from the roof of the hospital. A cloud of flame suddenly erupted over the building.

 A fire-style jutsu? 

You and Kakashi launched yourself up the concrete. You raced up the side of the building, praying to every god there was that this didn’t have anything to do with Sasuke.

Angry, shouting voices began to echo down as you got closer. Your stomach twisted as you realized one of them was his.

You made it to the roof, landing just beside Kakashi. 

To your horror, Naruto and Sasuke were racing toward each other. Sasuke’s chidori glowed blue in his hand. Naruto had formed his rasengan. Sakura was running toward them, likely intending to intervene and stop them. 

You and Kakashi bolted toward the fight. Your fingers closed around Sasuke’s wrist. Kakashi grabbed Naruto. In moments, you were throwing them apart, tossing them to opposite sides of the roof. 

They slammed into a nearby pair of water tanks, crushing the metal and causing water to pour onto the roof.

“What do you two think you’re doing up here?” Kakashi asked, his visible eye narrowing. “That was a little intense for just a sparring match, wasn’t it? What’s wrong with you two?”

Sasuke glared and yanked his hand from the crumpled metal. Naruto brushed himself off, looking guilty.

“Sasuke,” you snapped. “What were you trying to do, kill him?”

His dark eyes narrowed as he stared up at you. He said nothing. His shoulders were still rigid with tension. His eyes flickered between you and Naruto, as if weighing the consequences of going after him again.

Guilt gnawed at your insides. Yes, Sasuke was stubborn, but you had never seen him act so recklessly. 

All the progress he made after Itachi’s attack had clearly been erased. His confidence was shaken once more. This had only solidified his need to become stronger, to have vengeance, and he was willing to hurt his teammate to achieve that.

“You need to watch this sense of superiority you have.” You felt anger building in your chest, but you couldn’t stop it. “That chidori wasn’t the size you’d aim at a comrade!”

He muttered out a soft sound of annoyance. Your temper flared. 

Didn’t he understand how serious this was? He could have hurt not only Naruto, but Sakura as she attempted to get between them. Not to mention the property damage they’d inflicted upon the hospital.

“When are you going to grow up, Sasuke?” 

He didn’t respond. Instead, he walked over to the edge of the roof and backflipped off of it. You fought the urge to roll your eyes as you glanced over at Kakashi. He looked pained.

“I’ll go after him,” you muttered.

You tailed Sasuke through the village, keeping a safe distance back so that he wouldn’t notice you. He paused on a tree branch to catch his breath, and when he did, you took advantage of the opportunity. You pulled some ninja wire from the pouch on your hip and bound him against the heavy trunk. 

Sasuke squirmed, struggling against the bindings in a panic, but you quickly hopped down in front of him.

When you landed, he shot you a murderous glare. “I didn’t think you’d sit still for a lecture.”

His dark brown eyes glinted with something feral. You sighed. 

“Let it go,” you said softly. “You have to forget about revenge.”

“What?” he snapped. “How can you say that after everything Itachi’s done to you?”

You closed your eyes in frustration. You didn’t blame him for asking it, but the question was a difficult one to answer. Itachi had destroyed their family. He had changed the course of Sasuke’s life, and yours, forever.

“Listen to me,” you begged. “You can hurt Itachi. You could kill him with your bare hands, and it will not make a bit of difference. You’ll tear yourself apart. At the end of the day, you’ll still feel empty.”

Sasuke stared up at you, dark eyes studying yours. “Are we still talking about me?”

Your breath caught in your throat. Sasuke was too perceptive for his own good.

“No. I’m telling you this because I’ve lived it. Don’t make the same mistake I did. You can’t fill that hole with more death and pain. It doesn’t work that way.”

He frowned, shifting his eyes away and studying the tree bark beneath him.

“It didn’t matter that I got revenge, because my entire life fell apart around me anyway. The only reason I’m here now is because someone else pulled me out of the dark.”

“Itachi?”

 “Yes.”

Sasuke scoffed. “And look where that got you.”

“It got me here, with you, and that’s something I wouldn’t trade for anything.”

“If you could change things-“ he began.

“I can’t, Sasuke. And neither can you. All you can do is move forward. Become stronger, not to defeat Itachi, but for yourself and the people you still have left.

You leaned forward, poking him sharply in the center of his chest. “You’re what matters, not Itachi.”

He glanced down at the bark. Shame swam in his eyes.

“Promise me,” you pleaded. “I’ll teach you anything. Any jutsu I know. I’ll train you harder and I won’t hold back. Just promise me you’ll let this go.”

He drew in a deep breath, closing his eyes for a brief moment. “Okay. I promise.”

Your shoulders slumped in relief. You released the wire, reeling it back in. “Alright. I have to head out for my mission soon, but I’ll see you when I get back, okay?”

He nodded, still resting back against the tree. You reached down, ruffling his dark hair. 

“I love you, Sasuke.”

You headed off toward the compound, knowing he wouldn’t say it back. You didn’t expect him to. Sasuke never returned the words. He showed it with his actions instead. Wordless glances, small gestures. That was how Sasuke told you that he cared, that he loved you as much as you loved him.

You knew he did, but you were never sure if that would be enough for him. Your love couldn’t bring his family back. It couldn’t erase the horror he had been through. 

You prayed it was just enough to give him a little bit of hope, to make him believe that peace could be found in the rubble. Ironically, the thought was something that Itachi had instilled in you, years ago. Maybe Sasuke would one day believe the same.

—

Your mission to the Land of the Sea went off without a hitch. It only took a few days to escort the merchant ship to its destination. You were joined by Raido and Anko, both capable shinobi who made excellent teammates. You even managed to return to the village an entire day ahead of schedule. 

The three of you finished the mission report in the Hokage Tower and arrived at Lady Tsunade’s office to drop it off. When she began to dismiss the team, she called out to you. “Y/n, will you stay behind for a moment?”

You nodded, exchanging a worried glance with Anko before she and Raido departed. The door fell shut behind them softly. You felt the tension in the air as soon as they left.

“Would you like to sit down?” Tsunade asked. The look on her face was grim. 

“No, that’s okay.”

Had you done something wrong?

She took a deep breath. “Sasuke Uchiha left the village the night you departed for your mission.”

You blinked, staring at the Hokage as if you weren’t sure exactly what she was saying. “Left?”

“He was seen departing with four ninja from the Hidden Sound.”

Panic flared in your chest. A sharp ringing failed your ears, as if a bomb had just gone off. It may as well have. 

“Orochimaru took him? We have to-“

Lady Tsunade held up a hand. The rest of the words died in your throat. Her honey brown eyes took on a hard edge that choked you into silence.

“Despite the fact that we believe he left willingly, a team was sent to retrieve him. But they failed in their mission. Sasuke almost killed Naruto in the process.”

“What?” The word left your throat as a strangled gasp.

The memory of Sasuke attacking Naruto on the hospital roof flashed in your mind. The anger and hatred burning in his gaze hadn’t been lost on you then, but had he really meant to kill him that day?

Maybe he had, and you were just too blind to see it. 

You couldn’t separate the current Sasuke from the sullen little boy that used to beg to cuddle after nightmares. The one that was still terrified of losing you. 

“We believe he’s seeking out Orochimaru in order to increase his own power.”

Your heart was slamming in your chest, heavy with the knowledge that Sasuke had turned his back on the village. That he had turned his back on you to join a monster like Orochimaru.

Your legs trembled. You resisted the urge to sink to your knees, instead choosing to grip the hard wood of Tsunade’s desk.

“I know this is unpleasant news. You have given up much for Sasuke.”

“No…” you whispered. “No, that’s not…I’ve never…”

She gazed at you with pity in her eyes. She pursed her lips, glancing toward the ANBU guards stationed at the entrance to her office.

“Is there someone we can call for you?”

“There’s no one.”

“I see.”

“What if I go after him myself? I can hunt him-”

Tsunade’s lips were pressed together in a grim line. “We can’t afford to send another jonin out of the village on an extended mission. There’s no guarantee you could find him quickly, and we’re still too vulnerable.”

You closed your eyes. 

“I’ll keep you stationary in case he returns.”

“There’s no need for-”

“Take a few weeks for yourself.”

The harsh edge to her voice told you that it was an order, not a suggestion. She likely didn’t trust your judgement in this state, and her assumption was fair. There was also no guarantee you wouldn’t go rogue from the mission and still attempt to search for Sasuke.

Still, you ached for an assignment. The thought of staying in that empty house without Sasuke, while Orochimaru could be doing anything to him, was already driving you mad. But Tsunade’s decision was final. You knew there was no room for argument.

“Thank you, my lady.” Your voice was nothing more than a hollow whisper.

“Genma can escort you home if you’d like.”

“There’s no need.”

You slipped out of her office, running completely on autopilot as you made your way through the village. The sun was too bright. It beat down on you as you drifted down the streets, paying no attention to anything in front of you. 

You must have bumped into several different people, but you barely noticed. All you could think about was Sasuke. His promise had seemed sincere the day you departed. You thought he would at least think about giving up on his quest for revenge, that he was truly considering your words. 

You had been naive.

The house was quiet and still when you entered. As you stepped inside, you realized there was a scroll sitting on the front table. You snatched it up and tore it open, knowing that it was from Sasuke. Tears filled your eyes as you scanned the page. You pressed your fingers over your mouth, suppressing the sob that threatened to erupt.

Nee-san, 

I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you from Itachi, and I’m sorry for breaking my promise and hurting you like this now. I will get stronger. I will be able to protect you one day. When I restore the Uchiha clan, there will always be a place in it for you.

Thank you for everything you’ve done for me.

Sasuke.

You sank to your knees in the doorway, unable to hold yourself up any longer. The peace you fought so hard for Sasuke to attain had slipped right through your fingers. No matter how hard you fought for it, for him, your worst fear came true. 

He was gone.

—

Itachi sat at his desk in the Akatsuki hideout, drumming his fingers on the dark wood and debating with the demons inside his head. He had promised himself that he wouldn’t return to you. He swore he would stay away, refusing to draw you any further into his web of misery.

He fully intended to keep that promise, but the latest report from his summons set him on edge.

When the bird arrived, there was an eerie silence in the home that lasted for days.

Sasuke was no longer coming to or from his training sessions. An extended mission, perhaps?

He hardly saw you either. You didn’t leave the house once, and all of the curtains were drawn. The bird could hear you occasionally moving through the halls, but it was none of your usual bustling around. It was like you were a ghost in your own home.

Had something happened to Sasuke? To you?

One morning, his summons watched as Kakashi ambled through the deserted compound. The man walked over to your front door and knocked.

He tried repeatedly for about ten minutes, softly calling out to you. The look on his face was grim, almost guilty as he shoved his hands into his pockets and walked back down the steps.

Itachi’s summons could sense your chakra in the house. He was confident Kakashi could do the same. You were ignoring him, but why?

As he passed the branch the crow was resting on, Kakashi glanced up. He met the crow’s beady eyes, almost staring through them, as if he was looking right at Itachi.

A sick feeling churned inside his stomach. Something terrible must have happened, for you to be isolating yourself inside the house and ignoring your former captain.

Kakashi held the crow’s gaze for a moment before glancing back toward the main house. Then, he turned and slipped out the front gate.

Itachi was going to have to break his promise.

—

The next two weeks passed in a blur. You slept for most of it, hidden away under the darkness of your covers. The sun rose and set outside your curtains, but you paid no attention to the time.

Sasuke’s bedroom door remained firmly shut. You couldn’t bear to look in and see his empty bed any time you walked past. It was still neatly made from before he departed the village.

The space he had left in the home haunted you like a ghost. There were no loose weapons to trip over, no TV blaring loudly to interrupt your meditation. No sharp-tongued retorts or badgering for new jutsu.

Just silence. Dust.

You heard knocking at the door a few times, but ignored it, pressing the pillow firmly over your face to drown out the noise. Kakashi kept showing up to check on you, but you couldn’t face him. If you opened the door, he would want to talk about Sasuke, and you couldn’t stomach the thought.

In the end, you couldn’t protect Sasuke from the Uchiha’s curse of hatred. 

Why did you assume you could?

“Y/n.”

You heard the low rumble of Kiyoshi’s voice before you saw her.

She padded over to the bed in the dim light. It was growing dark outside.

Her soft, wet nose bumped against your palm. You ignored the gentle touch, drawing your hand back and under the covers.

“I didn’t summon you.”

“Pakkun sent for me. Kakashi said you haven’t been answering the door.”

You closed your eyes, burrowing further into the blankets. Her hot breath huffed against your face as she came closer.

“He is worried.”

“I’m fine.” 

“You are clearly not fine. When was the last time you bathed?”

You ignored her, pulling the comforter back over your head.

Her teeth sank into your ankle, tugging you down the mattress until you landed onto the floor with a thump. You didn’t even protest. You stared up at her pitifully, still tangled in your sheets.

“You are a sorry excuse for a kunoichi,” she muttered. “If someone attacked right now, they would cut you down in seconds.”

“I don’t care.”

Her resounding snarl caused you to flinch. “Stupid girl! Get off the floor or I’m dragging you into the shower myself.”

You simply stared at her, misery plain on your face. “There’s no point, Kiyoshi.”

“So you’ll just let Orochimaru have him then?”

“He wanted to go,” you whispered. “He wants power and strength. I can’t give him that.”

“Pakkun said there is a three year timeline, that Orochimaru will only take Sasuke’s body after that time.”

“So?”

Kiyoshi bared her teeth once more. “So you have three years to convince him to come home!”

“Lady Tsunade forbade me from going after him.”

She snorted. “When has that ever stopped you? I seem to remember you defying the direct orders of your captains many times.”

“This is the Hokage,” you muttered. “I doubt she meant forever. Just until the village recovers. Then you will be free to search for him.”

Your hands curled into fists. If only it were that simple. Even if you found Sasuke, there was no guarantee that he would return to the village, even for you. What could you possibly say to convince him, if you hadn’t been able to before?

Kiyoshi latched onto you again, causing you to yelp as she dragged you across the wooden floor.

“If you won’t pick yourself up,” she mumbled around your ankle. “I will do it for you.”

True to her word, she dragged you into the bathroom, despite your protest. Finally, you sat up, shoving her furry head away. 

You pushed yourself up from the tile and stepped into the shower. You tossed your clothes to the floor and allowed the steaming water to run over your back. Despair still sat heavy on your shoulders as you ran through all of your possible options. You had thought about this for weeks, over and over.

If you tried to take Sasuke back by force, Orochimaru would tear you limb from limb. If you tried to convince him to return, Sasuke would likely refuse, at least until he achieved the power he so desperately ached for.

At that point, would he still work with Orochimaru? Would he be strong enough to protect himself?

“Wash your hair too!” Kiyoshi called. “It’s greasy!”

You sighed, but did as she said.

When you stepped out of the shower, towel wrapped tightly around your body, she trotted over with your toothbrush.

“You have it in your mouth!” 

“Not the brushing part,” she grunted through her clenched teeth.

Exasperated, you yanked it from her jaws. You stood in front of the mirror as you squeezed out toothpaste, staring at your haggard appearance. 

You looked utterly exhausted, and you felt it too. Despite all your time hiding away in bed, you were barely sleeping. Even when you managed to fall into a restless doze, you were plagued with nightmares.

You saw Orochimaru torturing Sasuke behind your eyelids. You often woke with the sound of his screams echoing in your ears.

Kiyoshi urged you to eat something, and you placated her by slurping half a thermos of soup. Finally, she let you be, with the promise that she would return in a few days.

Once she disappeared into a puff of smoke, you settled back into bed. You fell into a fitful sleep once more, sinking back into the nightmares.

—

You woke several hours later to the sound of distant shuffling. For a moment, you were sure you were still dreaming. No one else had been inside the house for weeks. Sasuke wasn’t there. He wasn’t coming back.

You allowed your eyes to fall shut once more, ready to sink back into the haze of exhaustion.

That was when the noise came again. This time, you were sure it was real. Soft footsteps, and the unmistakable sound of the fridge opening and closing. Condiment bottles and glass jars rattling slightly against the plastic.

You shot up. Only one person would be fumbling around in the fridge late at night.

Your bedroom door was thrown open as you stumbled out of your room and headed toward the kitchen. He was standing there, a dark-headed figure, illuminated just barely in the glow of the fridge bulb as he crouched in front of it.

“Sasuke!”

Itachi straightened, turning at the sound of your voice. He hovered there, guilt clouding his expression as he met your gaze.

You deflated like a balloon. Disappointment, heavy and bitter, settled inside your stomach. You wanted to slump against the wall and sink down to the floor.

Sasuke hadn’t come home.

“Y/n.”

When Itachi spoke your name, it was barely more than a whisper. Confusion washed over you.

“What are you doing?”

He let out a shaky exhale. “I know my presence isn’t welcome-“

“No. I mean…what are you doing in the fridge?”

“Oh.” He gestured to the brown paper bag on the counter. “These were just sitting on the porch.”

You blinked. He was putting away the groceries Kakashi had left?

You stood there, dumbfounded at the sight of him doing something so casual and domestic. The last time you had seen Itachi, he had broken your wrist in one fluid motion. Now he was carefully placing yogurt and tomatoes onto the shelves of your fridge.

He let the door fall shut with a soft click. When he turned back to you, he didn’t step forward. He leaned back against the counter, resting his hands on the granite.

“Something has happened.”

It was a statement, not a question. He must have been watching, but you hadn’t caught sight of any summons. Not that you had been leaving the house much.

“Sasuke.” Your voice cracked. “He left the village.”

Itachi blinked. “He left? Where did he go?”

“Orochimaru.” The name dripped with venom as it left your lips.

“He went to him willingly?”

You didn’t answer. You were too stricken to speak, to even offer him a nod of affirmation. Instead, you dropped to your knees. They hit the wooden floor as you buried your face in your hands and began to cry.

Itachi was at your side in an instant. Distance be damned.

You glanced up when you heard him approach, tears still dripping from your eyes. He reached out, intending to wipe them away. You flinched back as he reached forward. 

He froze, letting his hand hover in the air for a moment. Guilt washed over him. Did you think he was going to hurt you? Or maybe it was simply your body’s reaction after what he had done to you.

Itachi moved forward, slowly. When his thumb gently swept the tears from your cheeks, he realized it was the latter. The soft sigh that left your lips confirmed that you weren’t afraid of him.

“I am sorry,” he murmured. “For everything.”

A choked sob left your throat. “I failed him.”

“No,” Itachi breathed, reaching for you. “No, that’s not true.”

He tugged you closer, and you didn’t stop him. You let yourself be pulled flush against his warm chest, let him hold you as you sobbed.

“He’ll kill him, Itachi.”

He shook his head, running a hand softly over your hair. “It will take more than Orochimaru to kill Sasuke.”

“He’s twelve, Itachi. He’s a child.”

“We were children too,” he whispered.

Your watery eyes met his. For a moment, they were glazed over with distant memories. You were suddenly a little girl again, back on a muddy, rainy battlefield. Small, frightened, and far too young to have blood dripping from the end of your blade.

“I didn’t want that for him.”

Itachi closed his eyes. “Neither did I.”

“Maybe I should have told him,” you said softly. “Maybe it would have changed things.”

Itachi shook his head. “It would only have endangered him. Danzo is still-”

“I’ll kill Danzo myself.” Your voice trembled with sudden anger.

After all, he was the reason for all of this. He was the one who had issued the ultimatum to Itachi in the first place.

Surprise flashed across Itachi’s face. You knew what it meant to kill a high-ranking official like Danzo.“You would become a traitor to the village?”

“There’s nothing here for me without Sasuke.”

Itachi frowned. “What happens if he returns?”

“What happens if Orochimaru kills him?” you shot back bitterly.

“It will not happen. I’ve always known Sasuke would surpass me one day. He will not allow himself to become a vessel.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do. I know because he’s my brother, and he’s yours as well. His will is strong because that’s how you raised him. It will not be broken.”

You shook your head. “I have to get him back. I don’t care what it takes.”

Itachi’s arms tightened around you. “Then you will.”

You looked up at him, meeting his firm gaze. Itachi had always believed wholeheartedly in your abilities and the strength of your heart. It was the reason he had fallen in love with you, the reason he trusted you to raise Sasuke. If anyone could bring his little brother back into the light, it would be you.

Your lips suddenly slammed against his, needy and breathless. The sensation was dizzying. It caught him off guard for a moment.

But soon, his fingers came up to brush against the small of your back, urging you closer on instinct. Your thighs settled over his hips, creating a delicious friction that set his skin ablaze. You reached up, tugging at the dark, silken strands of his hair.

The two of you parted for air, and Itachi brushed his lips against the edge of your jaw before pulling back. Your face was still wet with tears.

“We shouldn’t,” he murmured. “You’re upse-“

You cut him off with another passionate kiss. Itachi let out a strangled gasp as your teeth grazed his bottom lip. Every coherent thought suddenly flew from his mind.

He was suddenly standing, his hands resting under your thighs as he scooped you up and wrapped them around his waist. He groped along the hallway, stumbling a bit as he attempted to move without breaking the kiss. 

His heel bumped against your bedroom door, pushing it open as he carried you into your room.

The heat of his body pressed you down into the soft mattress. You felt the weight of his hips against yours as he slid his tongue into your mouth. He was already hard.

Your body bucked in response. One his hands slid under your shirt, tracing the smooth skin of your hip before traveling further up.

A soft gasp escaped your mouth as Itachi’s fingers grazed your nipple. He swallowed each new moan with another kiss, savoring the way you squirmed beneath him at the simple touch.

He began to make his way down your jawline, peppering kisses into the hollow of your throat. He slid the shirt from your body, intending to dive right back in. That was when he noticed something.

“Is this one of my old training shirts?

You flushed. “It’s comfy…”

He laughed softly at your bashfulness. “Wear it as much as you wish.”

His lips found their way back to your neck, continuing their downward path. 

Your body lifted from the mattress as he sucked at the sensitive skin of your breasts, eagerly leaning into the sensation. His fingers slipped under your sleep shorts, sliding beneath the fabric of your panties.

They delved into your slick folds, and his thumb began to toy with your clit.

“Itachi,” you gasped, fingers tugging at his hair.

He groaned as you tugged, and pulled his hand away. You let out a small whine, upset at the loss of contact. He huffed out a laugh against your lips and began to pull your pants and panties down.

“You truly missed me that much?”

You nodded, brushing your lips against his. “It’s been so long.”

“Since me? Or since you’ve…”

“Both. Not since our last time.”

Itachi blinked, hovering over you for a moment in shock. “There’s been no one else?”

“No,” you admitted. “But it’s okay if you-“

He shook his head. “No. No, there’s been no one but you. I just…I would have thought…”

“Every time I got close enough to someone, it felt wrong.”

Itachi leaned down, capturing your lips once more.

“Then we’ll make up for lost time.”

He kissed his way down your body, stopping to nip and suck at the inside of your thighs. He reached up as you began to squirm, pinning your hips back down against the mattress.

“Itachi,” you breathed. “Stop teasing.”

He hummed noncommittally against the supple skin, before he decided to stop torturing you.

The moan you let out when he began to lick and suck at your clit was far more satisfying than your squirming.

He slid two thick fingers into your soaked core, and you whimpered at the stretch. It had been so long. Too long.

You rocked your hips against his hand, bucking against his mouth, and he cooed in appreciation. “You need me this much, my sweet girl?”

The only response you gave him was a frantic nod.

You cried out as he lapped at your clit, relishing the feeling of his fingers curling inside you. He continued his punishing rhythm, reaching up to palm your breasts. He tugged at your nipples, causing you to let out another whine.

A sweet warmth began to pool in your stomach as he coaxed you toward your first orgasm. Itachi took his time with you, refusing to rush as he stroked your fluttering walls and dragged his tongue along your slit. He wanted to savor your sweet taste.

He tugged moan after moan from you until you were white-knuckling the sheets and grasping at the silky strands of his hair. 

Everything else was fading away, disappearing into the ether until the only things that existed were you and Itachi.

You were grasping at him, frantically attempting to ground yourself to something solid as your thighs trembled and rocked around his head. 

One of Itachi’s hands came up to thread through yours, pressing it down into the mattress and pinning it there. His fingers squeezed your own, steady and insistent, urging you to let go for him.

And you did.

When your orgasm finally ripped through you, you came with a shudder, crying out his name.

Your one-handed grip on his hair tightened, tugging him down. Itachi didn’t stop. He continued to work you past your orgasm, tongue still buried in your folds. It wasn’t until you were shoving weakly at his head and attempting to squirm away that he pulled back. 

Soft kisses were pressed against your sticky thighs, before Itachi made his way up to your mouth. The taste of yourself on his tongue was intoxicating. You would never get enough of the way Itachi worshipped your body. He chased your pleasure doggedly, harder and faster than he had ever chased his own.

“Itachi,” you breathed.

“Yes, my love?” he murmured against your lips. 

“I need you inside me.”

He was more than willing to oblige you. The rough pads of his fingers brushed against your knees, spreading you open once more. He reached down, grasping the base of his cock. Pre-cum oozed from the head, smearing across your folds as he slicked himself up with your wetness. 

His lips slotted over yours. His tongue slid back into your mouth as he began to ease inside you. Itachi moved cautiously, keenly aware that it had been years since he last stretched you open. Despite the dizzying need to slam inside you and take what he had been craving, he held back. 

Itachi was patient. Gentle. So gentle that, soon, you were wiggling your hips and begging for more. And who was he to deny you?

He began to thrust into you, gripping your hips so tightly that you knew there would be bruises there later from the pads of his fingers. The intense darkness of his eyes had given way to the glowing crimson of the sharingan. The tomoe began to spin in lazy circles, and you knew he was memorizing this moment for later. 

All of it would be captured in painstaking detail. The blissful flush of your cheeks, your soft whimpers, the feel of your walls clenching so beautifully around his cock. Itachi would picture it all  as he stroked himself in the shower, wishing he could be back between your legs.

Your ankles locked around his back, urging him closer as your walls fluttered around him. He grabbed one of your legs, hitching it even further up on his hip. A guttural moan flew from his lips. Judging by the way your eyes rolled back into your head, the new angle was hitting the perfect spot for you too.

Itachi listened to you whimper and keen beneath him. He shuddered as your nails began to scrape down the soft skin of his back, leaving bright red marks in their wake. He wanted you to scratch him up, to brand him as yours.

His thrusts soon grew quicker, shallower. He breathed your name, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he came. The warmth of his seed spilled inside you, pulling a soft moan from your lips. The bliss of being this close to him set your body ablaze.

Itachi leaned up, pressing a passionate kiss to your lips. “I’ve missed you so much.”

You nodded, brushing your lips against his. “Me too.”

“Not just this,” he murmured. “Everything about you. All of it.”

“I know, Itachi. You don’t have to explain.”

“Can I hold you?”

“You don’t have to ask.”

He pulled out of you and came to rest on the sheets beside you. You shivered at the loss of heat, but he was quickly pulling you against him, his chest at your back. Itachi brushed his fingers against your mussed hair as he curled around you. 

He could feel the rapid rise and fall of your chest under his arm. You were both still breathless. His lips pressed soft kisses to your face, brushing against your jaw, your cheek, your forehead.

You laughed softly as he pulled the sheets over your body. As the sound left your lips, you realized that this was the first time you’d felt anything but misery in weeks.

Itachi closed his eyes as he nestled closer to you, breathing in the scent of you.

A soft gurgling noise caused him to open his eyes. 

“Have you been eating?” he murmured into your hair.

“A little.”

A displeased hum left his throat. “We’ll have to do something about that.”

“Not now,” you muttered, reaching up to brush your fingers over the hand resting on your bare stomach. “Just lay with me.”

Itachi wanted to argue, but he could already feel the soft lull of sleep calling to him. You were so warm in his arms, so content. He hadn’t laid like this with you in years. It was better than anything he ever could have dreamed up, better than any illusion his sharingan could craft.

He sighed against your neck, pressing one last soft kiss to the skin before he drifted off.

—

He woke later in the night, with a familiar, unpleasant ache in his chest. Moonlight peeked through the crack in your curtains as Itachi untangled his arms from your body. He bemoaned the loss of your warmth immediately, but it couldn’t be helped.

He slipped into your bathroom and shut the door softly behind him, just in time to erupt into a coughing fit. He spit blood into a wad of toilet paper and paused, listening for any indication that the noise had woken you. You didn’t stir. 

He flushed the evidence and rinsed any remaining blood from his mouth. You already had enough on your mind with Sasuke, and he didn’t want you worrying over him.

Soon he was sliding back underneath the covers, smiling to himself as you curled back into him. Your cheek came to rest on his muscular chest as you snuggled against his body. You sleepily mumbled his name.

“I’m here,” he whispered, stroking his fingers over your hair. “I’m here.”

[lilu787788]

Ever since I watched Shadow and Bone, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. The narrative was telling me one thing, but what I was actually seeing - the choices the characters made, the consequences of their actions lacked logic. I had hoped that Season 2 would correct this, but instead, it only deepened the problem. It took me a while to realize that Alina’s and Aleksander’s actions fit perfectly into ludonarrative dissonance. The story insists that Alina is the hero, the one destined to bring balance, while Aleksander is framed as the villain, the force that must be stopped. But when I step back and actually analyze their decisions, the truth is far more complicated than the show allows. Alina’s journey is presented as noble and necessary. She struggles, she learns, and ultimately, she destroys the Fold, a moment meant to symbolize her triumph over darkness. But the world doesn’t work in such simple terms. The Fold, though dangerous, was also a shield, an unintentional barrier that kept Ravka’s enemies at bay. Removing it did not bring peace; it removed a layer of protection for the very people Aleksander had fought for. The consequences of her choice are massive, but the story never truly forces her to reckon with them. As for Aleksander the narrative insists that he is the villain, that his power is something to be feared, that he must be stopped. But everything he does has a purpose. He does not destroy for the sake of destruction. He is not a tyrant seeking power for power’s sake. He has spent centuries ensuring the survival of a people who, without him, would be hunted, persecuted, and erased. At its core, his fight is against the extermination of Grisha. He does not act out of blind ambition, but out of a clear and painful understanding of what happens when Grisha are left vulnerable. He builds, he leads, he prepares for a future that others refuse to see. This is where the dissonance becomes impossible to ignore. The story portrays Aleksander’s strength as dangerous, while Alina’s is righteous, even though she wields the exact same kind of power. His methods are condemned, while hers are forgiven, even when her choices lead to instability. The story insists on reducing Aleksander to a villain, but when I look at him, I see a man carrying the weight of centuries, a man who has loved and lost, a man who understands that survival is not guaranteed butit has to be fought for. Alina does what she believes is right, and her heart is in the right place. But the story refuses to acknowledge that Aleksander, too, acts out of necessity, out of love for his people, out of a relentless drive to build a future where Grisha are no longer at the mercy of kings and armies. What frustrates me is how the story insists on simplifying something that is not simple. It tells me that Alina is light and Aleksander is darkness, when in reality, they are both so much more. They are two people carrying impossible burdens, two people who could have stood together but were torn apart by forces greater than themselves. And that is the real tragedy—not that Aleksander needed to be stopped, but that no one truly listened to him.

[iscdisc]

The Karai / Miwa character concept in tmnt is interesting- but I wish it was done well often or more (mainly in 2012)

The main character of Karai is to be known as shredder’s daughter, teen or adult, a fierce ninja warrior. It gives a branch of possibilities for how shredder’s like familial in relationships, is the shredder the type to use her as a weapon to fight off the turtles? Or does he actually care about her, but he doesn’t want to get too close to her. Because, if something happened to her, he would blame it on himself for it. or it would just make him blame on the turtles more, or more specifically hamato yoshi.

For the miwa hamato twist- it’s kinda a bit cliche? Like- oooo shredder’s daughter is actually yoshi’s kid, his main enemy all long! I mean yeah you don’t see that often- I think- but meh tbh? I mean it can be interesting, but idk how to explain a lot abt it more except the karai part.

Okay- No hate but, 2012 karai to me is just- there? Of course she’s a good character by herself and stuff- but story? It’s kinda lacking a bit- like- it’s not empty, but barely. But Of course that’s just me and how I think!

Karai as a character is cool- so I hope if future iterations use her, they take inspiration from 2003 or rise!, I like the gram gram karai LOL 💀

I 100% agree that the twist was super cliche and could be seen coming a mile away- LMAO

You're completely right about this being such an obvious opportunity to explore Shredder as a Father / parent and how that either does or doesn't influence certain aspects of Karai as a character ! I think honestly the most interesting take on this is the '03 version, considering what Shredder turned out to be in this version, you know? 👀✨

And I have to agree- I think you're right about Karai just existing for the lot part in 2012. This is why I say 2012 Karai deserved a lot better. In my opinion, I don't think that there wasn't a story going for her, but I think the show constantly took away focus from it,, So she really did end up being just there or being used as a replacement antagonistic plot device when Shredder wasn't available (Or other main villains-). This felt the most apparent in Seasons 3-4 to me personally. But I do think a story was there for her-

Being caught up in not only a sibling rivalry between her Father and her Uncle but a generational feud, being manipulated into almost assassinating her biological Father and by extension her younger brothers who she didn't even know she had, the fact that she was being encouraged to assassinate anyone as a 16 year old girl in general (And the long-lasting trauma that would be inflicted upon her if she had found out about the truth after she had assassinated them or just her Father-), being continuously hurt over and over again after finding out the truth via forced mutation AND forced mind control by her Uncle- Karai having to muster up the mental and emotional courage that it takes to unlearn a bunch of horrible shit that she were honestly trained to believe for 16 consecutive years of her life practically by herself, and even then having the people that she wants to prove herself to the most still not fully trusting her / fully accepting her as one of them (Their sister-).

All of these things are so captivating to me and had so much potential to give her a more thought out narrative within the series- But no. These writers don't care about Karai at all. If you're not the Turtles (Mainly Leo) or April, then "too bad". It makes me so pressed, I swear. 🙃 Lmao

I think the best way they could have developed Karai's relationship with her Brothers and vice versa is if they were able to find her during the Season 2 finale and take her with them to the O'Neil's Farmhouse (Also like a context for Splinter got to go with them as well, maybe even Irma with my interpretation of her character outside of canon too !). Having all of those months to really be around Karai and honestly be the reason why she started to regain her humanity would've been fantastic to see. I also think it would have been helpful if Leo was still in his coma (As messed up as it is to say- Lmao), since it would allow the other Brothers (Raph / Donnie / and Mikey-) to actually form a relationship with her without Leo kind of shoehorning his way in every time- 💀

I'm also super biased when it comes to Raph in this scenario, because I really feel like him and Karai share a lot of similarities as people and it would have been great if those two in particular were super close (in my opinion)- In pretty much every AU that I have, those two are either be super close off rip, or they have the most formative sibling relationship Arc (Like my Adventure Time + 2012 crossover AU for example-) ! I know I'm probably biased, but it's something I really really wanted to see and I'm really upset that it didn't happen, so I'm making it happen fanonly- 😤✨

I don't know if you guys have heard the song "Yucky Blucky Fruitcake" by Doechii but that song is literally 2012 Karai and Raph to me. The second half of that song?? I swear, I tear up thinking about it,, I want to make art or an animation for it so bad,, Showcasing how even though they didn't grow up together, they still feel like kindred spirits, you know? 😭

[aspentreewrites]

and when all the flowers are rotten and all the cannons shot

Chapter 6

Pairings: Codywan

Tags/Warnings: (spoilers for this chapter!!) slow burn, pining, injuries and angst, force bond shenanigans, tending to wounds, AO3 rating is E for future chapters

Description:

The truth of the matter burrows deep into Cody’s skin, settling into the home it’s long-since made for itself there, nestled tightly amongst the other secrets he harbours that are too shameful to ever speak aloud.

He digs his fingers into his temples, breathing in heavy lungfuls of the steam-drenched air as if it might reverse the realisation that now weighs upon his heart like lead.

This is no longer just some passing infatuation.

He’s in love with Obi-Wan Kenobi.

(or: an account of the relationship between one Marshal Commander and his General from in the midst of a war.)

Link to read on AO3 here!

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A/N: If you saw me misfire and post this draft 30 minutes ago no you didn't lmao. Sorry for the delay in posting this one - I got married last week!!!!??!! It still feels surreal lol. Thank you for bearing with me :) I hope you're all doing very well. Your comments have all been so kind, I'm always so very happy to read them.<3

Thanks as always to @whenyourfavouritedies for beta'ing this chapter!!!

Wordcount: 10.2k

Prev chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

✷✷✷✷✷

It first finds Cody in the early hours of the morning, just as he’s donning his armour in preparation for the final briefing before they touch down on Mekrun. It’s been a little over two weeks since his last deployment, and truth be told, he’s itching to get back into the fight.

He’s in a meditative state in his quarters as he slips on his bracers, his mind preoccupied with thoughts of the mission ahead. He’s looking forward to being on the ground again, blaster in hand - it’s been a while since he and his General have been able to work together like that on the battlefield.

There’s nothing like that exhilaration, the feeling of being so entwined with another person that you may as well be one singular weapon, the movements of your bodies like a dance - always in sync, always in tandem.

It’s while Cody’s mulling over that thought, an absent smile tugging at his lips, when… something happens.

A small crack; a splintering at the back of his consciousness.

The pressure is small, gentle; breaking through to him like a baby bird hatching cautiously from an egg. Cody freezes, his body tensing at the foreign sensation.

It’s subtle - incredibly subtle. To any normal person’s mind, it might be something altogether ignorable. 

Cody, trained from birth to zero in on any potential danger and neutralise it, is far from a ‘normal person’.

The Commander gets the instinctive, incredibly disorienting sense that he’s not quite alone.

His head whips around to face the door, desperately trying to figure out if an intruder has slipped into his room. Could that be the source…?

All the while, that sensation in his mind continues scratching, tapping, fracturing.

It’s not that it gets stronger as the seconds pass, but it feels like it’s settling - burrowing deeper. Cody doesn’t know how, exactly, he’s able to identify what it’s doing, it just feels… strangely intuitive.

His mind races, trying to pin down the threat. 

Something is here. Something that shouldn’t be.

Cautiously, with a shaky intake of breath, he begins to probe at it - as much as one can probe at something that exists entirely within the brain, anyway - trying to get a sense of what this tiny, budding thing wants with him. His back finds the wall as his eyes continue to dart around, doing his best to keep himself steady. 

Why does it feel warm?

Not uncomfortable warm, like the trickle of blood down the side of the temple after a hit to the head, or like being choked by fire in the middle of the battlefield. No, it feels more like… basking in an expected beam of sunlight after a storm, feeling those first rays kiss your skin.

It’s almost as if it’s alive, Cody thinks faintly, partially hoping that this is all just some dream, the result of a fever he didn’t know he had. 

After the minute or two of analysis prove unfruitful, he pulls away from inspecting the sensation. The feeling of it at the back of his mind quickly returns to a light background hum at the corner of his consciousness, nearly unremarkable in how unobtrusive it is. Cody curses under his breath.

All he knows: this is far from normal.

He stays against the wall, unmoving and heart pounding, for what feels like an eternity before he pulls himself together enough to pull on his helmet.

He prods at it once more as he uncertainly ventures out into the hallway, each step weighing on him heavily. This… thing, certainly doesn’t feel hostile, but…

It might not want to hurt him, but it’s definitely, undoubtedly a concern.

Whatever it is might well pass, but Cody decides that he has enough time before his meeting with Obi-Wan this morning to make a quick drop in to see Helix anyway. If this is the result of some sickness, it would be better to deal with it now than in the middle of a firefight, if possible.

Helix is one of the best medics in the GAR - perhaps the best, by Cody’s estimate - and as such, he is exceedingly well versed in the art of giving bad news. There’s a particularly sympathetic type of expression that he makes that any seasoned member of the 212th could identify from a mile off - calm, neutral, expertly schooled to never look overly worried or condescending. The type of look that tells you that something’s probably wrong, but that it’s going to be dealt with as efficiently as possible.

… Which is why it’s of particular concern to Cody that right now, after he’s just patiently sat through a million scans, the man is making a face.

“What?” Cody asks stiffly, swinging his legs over the side of the medbay bed. Helix doesn’t immediately respond, instead continuing to gaze down at his datapad. His frown, unnervingly, deepens.

The nervous anticipation builds further in Cody with each second that ticks by in silence. The agony of it is almost comparable to a kick in the ribs from a varactyl - and Force knows he’s been on the wrong end of Boga enough times to know intimately what that feels like.

Helix lets out a grumble under his breath, and Cody swiftly revises his thoughts. No, actually: this experience is assuredly worse. 

He knows he should wait until the medic has had time to look over the results properly, but he’s getting more and more restless by the moment. Cody can’t help but press again, beginning to get a little desperate for a response - any would do, at this point, even just a word or two. 

“Is it the–” Cody hesitates briefly, unsure if he wants to give voice to this particular worry. “--Whatever that thing was that you found the other day? The… blip?”

Cody fidgets uneasily for a few more moments before Helix finally glances his way with a shake of his head. The Commander isn’t sure whether he should feel relieved or even more anxious at the blankness that’s overtaken the stoic medic’s features. 

His nervous system decides for him, settling on a strange, gut twisting tension. “No,” he replies. “The anomaly we found on the scan the other day seems to be… unrelated.” 

Right. That should be reassuring, Cody thinks. Somehow, it isn’t.

Putting his datapad down on his desk, Helix crosses the room in measured steps. He stops just short of Cody, placing a firm hand on his shoulder, and then his facade falls. He… suddenly looks terribly concerned. Oh, Gods. Cody meets his gaze with what he’s sure is an equal amount of panic. 

“Commander,” he begins, taking a moment to gather together his words.

Cody decides that he must be dying. There’s no other explanation for this, surely.

Ah, well, he thinks, dazed, as he waits for Helix to continue. Twelve years old. I’ve had a better run than most. 

Still, Cody considers upon reflection, he’s always been of the opinion that he would die with a blaster in hand. The idea of some parasite in his brain taking him down is almost insulting.

Helix shifts, clearly uncomfortable with the verdict he’s going to have to dish out. “You might be in charge of the battalion, sir, but that doesn’t mean you’re invincible.” His voice is firm, bordering on reproachful, and Cody braces himself for impact. “Not from physical wounds, or…” he presses his lips into a thin line, “emotional ones.”

What?

“We’ve been built to be more mentally resistant than the average civilian, but post traumatic stress disorder can still–”

Cody chokes.

“I– Helix, that’s– it’s really not the problem,” he interrupts in a frantic stammer, wanting to be anywhere in the galaxy but here, having this conversation. Yes, he has the nightmares, they all do, but that has absolutely nothing to do with the situation at hand.

It becomes swiftly, humiliatingly clear that Helix isn’t convinced by his weak protest. 

“I’m just saying, the scans all turned up clean,” he responds sympathetically - and now there’s that face that he’s so damned good at. The medic’s calm demeanour is usually a reassurance to Cody, but in this moment it’s quickly becoming an irritant. He’s highly aware that he’s not going to be believed no matter what he follows up with. 

Cody frowns, craning his neck to try and get a look at the words written on the medic’s datapad over on his desk. “I’m not going insane,” he insists.

“I never said those words exactly,” Helix responds carefully, drawing the Commander’s attention back to him by moving to block his view. “But… a ‘cracking sensation’ in your mind..” he repeats with a raised brow, and Cody winces. It does sound bad out loud, admittedly. 

Helix sighs, folding his arms over his chest. “I think you’re incredibly stressed, Commander,” he continues, “and that’s nothing to be ashamed of. Anyone would be, with the responsibility you carry. But it means you need to go on medical leave, soon. After today’s mission.”

Absolutely not. Cody levels him with a scowl. It’s petulant of him, perhaps, but he knows he’s not going crazy - this is real. It probably won’t be fixed by resting this off. “We both know that’s not going to happen,” he returns.

Helix sets his jaw, holding his gaze in challenge. After a few tense seconds, he relents with a sigh, stepping aside and gesturing resignedly to the door. Cody feels his body relax, just a little, now that he’s allowed to leave. He hates feeling cornered, being spoken to like a child - though quietly, he’s grateful that the medic has enough gall to do it. It’s saved him before.

“I expected as much,” Helix mutters, moving back to his desk and fixing the Commander with a warning glare. “No, I can’t order it unless I have outright evidence that stress is absolutely the cause, but I’m sure the General will agree with my assessment when I send the report over - which, make no mistake, I will be doing first thing when we return this evening.”

Cody, unfortunately, has no doubt about that.

He slinks out of the medbay with his tail between his legs, mulling over Helix’s words of concern as he makes his way through the winding hallways of the ship towards the meeting room. Perhaps if he gets in before Obi-Wan, he can make them both some breakfast. 

A result of stress… Cody’s expression darkens. Helix is incredible at what he does, but he’s categorically wrong in this case. He’s not losing his mind, he’s sure of it. 

(It occurs to Cody, briefly, that most people who lose sanity believe themselves to be fully of sound mind throughout the process, but he quashes the treacherous thought as quickly as it rears its head. That might be true for other people, but not for him.)

And then there’s the secondary concern - that whatever it is, it’s apparently completely separate from the blip that had been detected on the scan a few weeks ago. So there are two undetected unidentifiable things running amok in his brain right this second. Lovely.

Perhaps, he thinks, he can get a second opinion from the Jedi. Surely Obi-Wan can… scan him, or something, using the Force - then he can figure out what the real cause is, and fix that from there. If it is a living thing like he’d guessed, then it should be easily detectable, right?

That’s a good idea, Cody affirms to himself. Obi-Wan is already inside, I can speak to him about this after we’ve gone over the initial plans. Cody pauses just outside the door to the meeting room, his hand hovering over the controls as he blinks rapidly. 

He just thought that with a remarkable amount of confidence. It’s very early in the morning and the door is closed, why wouldn’t Cody be the first one in?

And yet, somehow, he’s certain. Obi-Wan is inside the room with two cups of caf, waiting for him to arrive. One of the cups, his mind tells him calmly, has sweetener in it.

That fact strikes Cody as odd.

Unusual, he protests internally, not entirely sure why this, specifically, is the sticking point for him amidst this rather unorthodox situation. Why sweetener?

Because, his mind supplies easily, we ran out of sugar reserves this morning.

Cody decides faintly that the possibility he’s lost his mind has just increased tenfold.

He shakes his head, trying to shake the strange thoughts that have been placed there by who-knows-what - there is still a meeting to be had, strange feeling or no. Cody presses his hand to the door controls with a confidence he doesn’t quite feel, and the door swooshes open smoothly ahead of him. 

Inside, Obi-Wan stands, his brow furrowed as he looks over the rudimentary battle plans they’d prepared last night. He looks like he hasn’t slept all that much, which is a strangely comforting piece of normality within this very disorienting morning.  

Cody’s eyes fall to the two mugs of caf that sit on the surface in front of him. A packet of opened sweetener sits on the counter nearby, fetched unhappily from the far back of one of the supply cupboards.

Ah.

For the first time in his military career, Cody doesn’t feel particularly smug about the fact that he was right about an impossible hunch.

Obi-Wan glances up from his work with a tired smile, oblivious to the war being waged in his Commander’s head. “Good morning, my friend. Shall we get started?”

Cody just about manages to nod and smile weakly in return. Later, he resolves. He can tell him about what’s going on in his head later. 

For now, there’s a battle to plan.

_____________________________

As it turns out, ‘later’ may mean not today at all.

There have been far too many updates from the ground to consider, far too many new plans to be made for Cody to rationalise being able to bring up anything new and potentially worrying to Obi-Wan. The promise of ‘later’ quickly becomes ‘when we’re safely back on the Venator and have probably had some sleep’. 

It also doesn’t hurt that Cody has spent most of the meeting fretting about Obi-Wan’s reaction and inevitable overblown concern, and as such is incredibly willing to put off the conversation for as long as possible.

It probably should feel more urgent, given the nature of it, but he decides that it can at least wait a few hours. They have lives to save on the ground, after all.

The Negotiator hangs stoically above the planet of Mekrun as they deliver the briefing to their men. It’ll be a hot landing - right in the centre of one of the biggest zones of the firefight - and the promise of action still sends a thrill through Cody, despite the worry this morning. 

He was literally created and raised for this, and in these moments, Cody finds that he doesn’t care as much as he probably should. Something in his blood that flourishes under fire, he supposes, and he knows that most of the Vode share that same spark, the love of the adrenaline, right or wrong.

“We will be splitting into two teams,” Cody announces, looking out across the sea of 212th gold gathered before the two of them. There are a few shinies present, not quite having earned their paint stripes yet - a shipment from Kamino that arrived barely a week prior. Today will be an exciting start for them, he hopes - and it shouldn’t be too dangerous of an assignment, to boot. 

Cody looks forward to seeing how they decorate themselves after today. Pride stirs in his chest as he sees the eagerness in their eyes, the evident excitement at becoming officially part of such a renowned battalion. He hopes to get to know them all properly tonight, safely returned and in good health.

Stepping forwards, he gestures to the hologram that’s rotating above the centre console in the room. It’s currently displaying a layout of the battlefield below, the layout of the local geography, and most importantly, the system’s Communications tower - the protection of which is the reason for their presence here today. 

“Alpha team will accompany the General into the comms tower on the north side, in the hopes of intercepting and disabling the bombs being planted there. We’re not expecting many of the Separatists to be present, but the ones that will be are priority for takedown.”

He zooms out a little on the holomap.

“The rest of us will make up Bravo team, coming in to hit the droids on their flank here,” he says, pointing to the southern fields a few kilometres away from the tower. “With any luck, we can repel the ground forces before they’ll have a chance to call in too many reinforcements.”

“There’s already a squadron down there made up of the local guard,” Obi-Wan adds calmly, stroking a thoughtful hand over his beard. “Cody’s team will join them in their base, creating a distraction so that my team can - hopefully - slip in and out of the comms tower without drawing too much notice. This infrastructure is vital to both the civilians and Republic operations of this sector, so we must ensure it isn’t destroyed outright.”

He glances at Cody, giving a subtle nod for him to continue.

“The distraction will be conducted in a way to draw the enemy down to us in the southern quadrant,” the Commander explains, taking over smoothly. Delivering a strategy briefing clearly and efficiently is almost like an art in Cody’s mind, and he would like to think that he and Obi-Wan are exceedingly well practiced at it. “It’s the safest place to engage, away from both the tower and the living space of the engineers that work there. Once we see that they’re turning their attention to us, I will rendezvous with Alpha team and we’ll regroup from there.”

Adrenaline creeps through Cody’s veins, anticipation of the fight to come building within him. He powers down the holomap, his eyes drifting over his men one by one, seeing the same emotion stirring within each of them as they stand, that spark in their eyes unmissable. 

“To recap, then,” he says evenly, folding his hands behind his back. “Alpha team, with Obi-Wan: stealthing into the tower, disarming the bombs, getting any civvies to safety. Bravo team, with me: get in fast, cause enough mayhem to draw as many troops as possible south. I’ll split to rendezvous with Alpha once my team is sufficiently set up, and we’ll progress with any impromptu plans then. Any questions?”

It takes less than 5 minutes for all queries to be sufficiently answered, and a further 10 for the 212th to be gathered at the dropships. 

Exactly 20 minutes later, they’re planetside.

The familiar smell of smoke and burnt circuits fills the air as Cody disembarks from the ship, plasma flying through the air in all directions and a cacophony of violence filling his ears.

The excitement in his veins is, he imagines, as potent as any hit of spice.

Maybe Helix was right in that there’s something wrong with him, but being on enough battlefields throughout his life has Cody's mind strangely tangling up the feeling with the thought of ‘belonging’. 

Perhaps it's a natural reaction. He's a clone; he has nowhere, he owns nothing - nothing but the fire and ash of war, the rifle placed in his hand, the brothers who he fights alongside.

… And the Jedi he was sworn to protect. 

As the last of Bravo team exit the ship behind him, Cody makes sure to distance himself from that particular train of thought before it can do any damage. Now is not the time for such distractions.

“With me!” he calls, signalling for his men to follow as he makes a rush for the cover of a fallen tree.

Swiftly, Cody assesses the battlefield ahead from his current vantage point. The local guard here have put up a formidable defence considering their numbers, but this level of warfare is not something they’d been trained for. Now’s the time to free them of that burden. 

The communications tower looms in the distance a few klicks northwest of their location. It stands a little ways up a cliff, overlooking a ravine below - all points for potential reinforcements to be stationed, if Obi-Wan’s team is particularly unlucky. 

Cody knows he’ll need to bring out all of the stops to divert the clankers’ attention exclusively to the fight down here, but he’s got enough tricks up his sleeve that he’s not particularly worried. They have around seven minutes before Alpha team will be sneaking their way into the tower - that’s five more than Cody needs. 

He allows himself a small smirk behind his helmet. Showtime.

Cockiness is not a trait of Cody’s that he likes having - it irritates him when he sees it excessively in his peers, and he is more than aware that giving himself over to it is a surefire way to get himself killed - but sometimes he can’t help himself. He’s damned good at what he does, and he knows it. On a mission like this, he can indulge himself a little.

With a practiced hand, he carefully removes an EMP from the pouch at his hip. He rolls it in his palm as he watches a large group of clankers in the field ahead marching towards the dugout base their allies are camped in. They’re likely preparing an ambush. Cody’s eyes narrow. 

Not on his watch. 

“Droid poppers at the ready, men,” he instructs quietly. “We rush the platoon on my signal.”

Behind him, he hears the squad prepare themselves, a series of quiet rustles as they draw out their grenades in unison.

“Hold…”

It’s as if Mekrun itself is holding its breath along with them - the moment of calm before the storm hits.

Cody lets out a slow breath to keep his movements steady, tilting his arm back as the droids gather together, ever closer… his eyes track the droids, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

“Now!” he barks.

A volley of EMPs launch overhead, scattering amongst the feet of the enemy. The droids don’t even get the chance to panic before the poppers all go off in unison, pulses of electromagnetic energy causing the entire group to collapse in on themselves in a shower of sparks.

Cody launches out of cover alongside his men, picking off the clankers before they have time to reactivate.

“Keep moving! We don’t stop until the bastards are sending everything they’ve got to us!” he yells. “Get to the dugout, go!”

The battle, once they successfully gun their way down to the hastily made guard station, proves to be one of attrition.

Over the next hour, Bravo team make their stand, slowly but surely cutting down the waves of droids sent to their location.

It’s an odd thing to be relieved about facing down a group of destroyers, but when the droidekas come, Cody knows without question that they’ve drawn the worst of the horde away from the tower. 

It quickly becomes a pattern - Cody leads a small group above ground, drawing the encroaching clankers nearer to the dugout. Once they’re close enough, the rest of the squad dash above ground to surround them and take advantage of their surprise. 

It’s not the most elegant of battle plans, admittedly, but it works damned well. It seems the Seps here weren’t expecting any form of meaningful, planned resistance, and they’re paying the price for that now.

By the time Cody feels satisfied that the rest of his men can take care of themselves, they’ve started carving a tally to track their kill counts on an old wooden pallet inside the base. Cody is content enough with being in second - he’d be far out in first place if not for the combination of a conveniently clustered group of B1s and a particularly well aimed grenade by Wooley.

One of the shinies, a fairly diminutive sniper named Blackbird, is in dead last and not particularly pleased about it. They’ve been repeatedly warned of the consequences - the tragic fate of being the one to cover the first round back at 79’s when they make it home. As Cody prepares to head off to the rendezvous point, he hears another officer trying to bolster their spirits by promising that most of the boys will probably only order something cheap. It doesn’t seem to cheer them up much.

The Commander can’t quite stifle his chuckle, patting the kid on the shoulder as he passes.

“Rite of passage, rookie. You’ll manage. Just make sure you don’t fall in the field to get out of the punishment, yeah? Eyes sharp and watch your flank.”

The young clone nods, sitting a little straighter after the acknowledgement from Cody. “Y-yes sir.” they reply, offering a sharp salute. They haven’t yet managed to speak to him without stuttering, at least a little. 

Over the years, Cody has become more than aware that he’s inspired a certain… mythos from the Vode back on Kamino. More often than not, any newly assigned troops have stars shining in their eyes during their first few weeks of deployment whenever they speak to him. Apparently Rex and a few of the 501st ARCs have had the same issue. 

It’s flattering really, just… misplaced. He might be a decorated name, but off-duty they’re all equal. The last thing Cody wants is to make his brothers intimidated by him. It’s an uncomfortable notion.

Still, he offers a smile, giving Blackbird a short nod before he begins to jog away. 

Once safely clear of the danger of the open field, Cody activates the comms at his wrist. “Alpha team, I’m heading for the rendezvous at the scheduled time. I believe our distraction has been successful, but the fight is ongoing. What’s your status?”

Only static and silence greets him in response. Cody frowns. He gives it a minute before he tries again.

“Alpha team, status report.”

Nothing.

Great.

It would be incredibly nice, Cody reflects as he picks up the pace with a groan, for things in the field to go as planned just once.  

_____________________________

The rendezvous point isn’t far, thankfully, and a majority of Alpha team – currently headed by Waxer – are already there and waiting by the time Cody arrives.

They offer salutes as he approaches. Obi-Wan, for whatever reason, doesn’t seem to be with them.

“At ease,” Cody nods, a question in his gaze as he gestures for Waxer to go ahead. 

“Commander,” the Lieutenant begins, clearing his throat before giving his report. “We disarmed the bombs successfully, but the Seps did a number to the tower during the fight. It’s fixable, but comms are gonna be out in the system until the engineers can get back to work.”

Cody had suspected as much, but it’s a relief to hear the tower hadn’t been damaged beyond repair. It’ll certainly make the imminent cleanup efforts much simpler. 

“The General and a few others split off to sweep for more survivors,” Waxer continues, “but he shouldn’t be long. There were only a few members of the maintenance team missing by our count, and he said he sensed they were nearby.”

Cody relaxes a little at the news. It looks like they arrived quickly enough to prevent too many civilian casualties - an unfortunately rare circumstance as of late, so it’s not something he’ll take for granted. It’s looking so far like this will be an easy win for the Republic. 

“Understood,” he replies. “Good work. Bravo team are holding strong at the southern quadrant. The distraction there has been successful, and with your team going to support them, we should be able to take out the remaining stragglers easily enough. The Seps are turning their attentions to–”

Cody freezes unexpectedly, his blood turning to ice. Nausea settles over him as his mind prickles with an altogether horrifying sense of knowing.

Obi-Wan is hurt.

Waxer blinks over at his suddenly-motionless Commander. “Uh…” He waits for a few moments in bewilderment, glancing back to the rest of his men before he clears his throat quietly. “... You were saying, sir?”

Obi-Wan is hurt. There’s not much time. 

The strange sensation that Cody had tucked away at the back of his mind this morning rings out with alarm. It doesn’t feel like speculation, or a voice speaking from anxiety and fear - it feels like concrete, unmistakable fact. 

Not much time? Cody thinks desperately in return, trying his best to communicate with the feeling. It doesn’t respond.

Oh, Stars, no.

For a long few seconds, all he can do is just stare at Waxer, dazed and disoriented as he tries to find his voice again.

“The–” his throat sticks. He tries again. “The General is– injured.” Cody stammers, his voice coming out weak. 

His stomach churns with a sense of dread that won’t subside, and he momentarily forgets how to breathe. He catches himself reaching for his comm-link instinctively, before he remembers that there is absolutely no way he can get a message to his General right now, or in the immediate future, not with the tower damaged. Damn it all. “Where did he and his squad go when they split?”

Waxer shifts in surprise. “What? None of us can reach him sir, how did you–?”

Finally, Cody’s training kicks in and he manages to wrangle some sense of control from the haze. Some strange divine force is connecting him to his Jedi, and if it’s telling him the truth, then it might be enough to save Obi-Wan’s life. His prime directive above all else is to keep his Jedi safe, and he will move the stars themselves to do so if he has to. The feeling is disorienting and his fear is mounting, but he can cope with that. He has to act.

His gaze snaps back to Waxer, grasping his brother’s shoulder firmly. “Tell me where he went, Lieutenant,” he commands, hearing his words coming out much stronger than before, to his relief. “That’s an order.”

Waxer straightens up. “The north ridge, Commander, right by the chasm. But I don’t know if he took the road up to the cliff, or–”

No. He took the path to the ravine. He’s still there.

Cody’s mind is suddenly, sickeningly overtaken by images of his General laying face down in a stream, his blood seeping out into the water around him. Was it the presence in his head showing him that, or was it just the result of his own terror? Gods help him, he can’t tell.

“Understood,” Cody says, beginning to stride away.

He feels his stomach twist - he’s actually believing everything this damn voice is telling him. If it turns out that some parasite or Separatist chip has infected him, he might be walking right into a trap… but Cody knows that he can’t afford to take that risk. Not when so much might be at stake.

He begins to run, barking orders over his shoulder. “I have flares. Prepare a med-evac to sweep over the ravine if I don’t signal in the next thirty minutes. Until then, the team at the south field needs backup - I’m counting on you, Lieutenant!” 

The run turns into a sprint, spurred on by the alarm bells inside him screaming at him to move, move, move.

“Sir–!” Waxer calls after him. “The weather– there might be a flood incoming, are you sure you want to–?”

The Commander pays the warning no mind. A sudden flood in the ravine might well be both possible and deadly, but as long as there’s a chance that Obi-Wan’s down there, his job is to drag him out before then. He can’t afford to waste a second.

If you’re lying, I’ll make you regret it, he thinks pointedly to the voice in his head, on the off chance that this is some malicious, external force peering into his mind. Once again, Cody’s attempts at communication go unacknowledged. He’s strangely glad of it - at this point, he’s fairly sure that having it respond would make him feel worse. The threat serves to make him feel marginally better, at least.

As the path down to the ravine comes into view, Cody feels his chest tighten, sending a silent prayer out to any god that will listen that he makes it on time.

Just hang on. I’m coming.

_____________________________

The ground beneath Cody’s feet changes from mud, to pebbles, to the splash of shallow water as he makes it to the base of the chasm.

Please be nearby, Cody thinks desperately as he searches, the strange sensation in his head giving way to an intuition about the directions he needs to take. He doesn’t like the feeling of trusting it blindly, but he doesn’t have much choice. Please be alive.

Further in, it whispers to him, faster.

Cody doesn’t think he’s ever run so fast in his life, but he spurs himself on even so.

The water is fast-flowing but still mercifully shallow, though Cody doesn’t want to imagine just how quickly that could change with the threatening rainclouds that have started to gather overhead. Waxer might have been right in his warning, but it’s far too late for worrying about that now.

He skids down a small slope, taking himself ever lower into the winding chasm. His heart pounds wildly against his ribs as he spots a body near the bend ahead, a flash of gold and white armour, unmoving. The sound of blaster fire has been steadily getting closer with each footstep.

Fuck.

Sprinting around the curve in the rock, Cody’s worst fear is confirmed.

Ahead of him, the ravine widens, the cliffs on either side rising imposingly, impassive observers to the carnage happening within. 

The group of his brothers that had splintered from Alpha team are dead. Their bodies are scattered, cast aside as they wait for the rain to wash their corpses into the lake downstream.

A collection of droids and a group of people - mercenaries? - clad in dark gear are engaged in a shootout with one another within the canyon. This would ordinarily be enough to stop Cody in his tracks - they hadn’t been informed of another faction’s presence here, and he doesn’t know where their allegiances lie - but right now, he doesn’t have the time to try and work out what’s happening or why. 

Instead, his gaze is glued to the body being dragged further through the chasm by the hands of one of the mercenaries - the body clad in a thick brown cloak that’s enveloping lighter, fawn coloured robes; the body that’s currently slowly bleeding out from a gash in its side; the body of the man he loves.  

Cody doesn’t stop to observe further.

He’s - recklessly, certainly, but he can’t just sit and just wait - storming out into the open in seconds, beelining straight for the man pulling Obi-Wan along behind him like some prized prey from a hunt. 

His blaster is raised, and they’re not expecting him - one clean shot to the back of the head is all it takes. 

A snarl rips itself from Cody’s throat as the mercenary tumbles forwards to the ground, dropping Obi-Wan’s body unceremoniously into the shallow stream - by some mercy landing on his back, and not face down into the water. 

The attention of the surrounding hostiles are all now very decidedly on Cody as he continues to sprint ahead.

It’s an open space with no cover, and Obi-Wan’s body is in the centre of it all. He can’t exactly fight back with his blaster, so he does the only thing he can reasonably think of to do in the time allotted to him. 

Reaching his Jedi’s side, he swiftly reaches down to unclip the lightsaber that - miraculously - had remained at his belt throughout whatever fight he’d faced earlier. 

Cody presses his thumb firmly into the activator as he plants his feet over the body of his fallen General, sparing only a quick glance downwards to the pallid face of the Jedi beneath him. He doesn’t have the time to check his pulse or breathing now, not while they’re surrounded by enemies. Please, please be alive. 

The hum of the saber and the gentle vibration that buzzes through the hilt is a steadying force as blaster bolts continue to fly around him in all directions. He’d love to have the luxury of stopping to ask questions, but it doesn’t seem as if he’s going to get the chance before he or everyone else here lies dead.

One afternoon, long ago, Obi-Wan had shown him the basics of Soresu - Cody hopes that he remembers enough to make it through this.

His addition to the fray certainly seems to have confused both factions. The droids enter into a panic, shooting at anything that moves, including their own numbers. Most of the mercenaries stand their ground, though a handful decide that it would be in their better interest to abandon their quarry (and presumably, their paycheck) and retreat further into the ravine. 

They wanted to take Obi-Wan’s body. Why?

Cody stays above the Jedi, pivoting on the spot to parry incoming bolts back to their senders. Without the use of the Force to aid him in intuiting where the shots are coming from, he can only try his best amidst the chaos. Every shower of sparks or yelp of pain from a returned bolt that connects is a victory, buying himself a few more precious seconds before the next projectile comes his way.

Cody can barely find the ability to think, let alone to form a cohesive plan. All of his thoughts are concentrated on surviving second to second until he can safely reach the flare gun at his hip.

He brings down the lightsaber in an arc to slice through the shoulder of a mercenary that had unwisely decided to chance running his way, before twisting around his body to block an incoming bolt from the right. His joints aren’t loose enough for this type of thing, he thinks with a grimace. It suddenly makes sense to him why Obi-Wan insists on warming up each day with dancer-like stretches and movements before he trains - all of these acrobatics are hell on the hips.

Keeping the saber in front of him swinging rapidly, Cody does his best to estimate a count of the enemies that remain. The two groups around him are carving through one another at such a rate that hopefully this won’t last too much longer. 

A splash of water drips from the visor of his helmet, followed by another, then another. If Cody’s body could tense further, it would.

The drizzle of rain would be welcomingly cooling if it weren’t for the threat the worsening weather represents. He’s all too aware that all of his efforts would be for nothing if they both drown down here.

Centering himself as best as he can, Cody remains steadfast. Fighting so desperately as the heavens open above him - a part of him is reminded of Kamino, of his training. The headspace is a welcome one to slip into, and he allows himself to draw focus from it. This is no different to then, he tells himself. I survived every day back then, I’ll survive now.

A volley of shots come his way, and he spins the lightsaber around himself in an approximation of a move he’s seen from Obi-Wan in the past to deflect them. It proves mostly effective, but one bolt nearly finds its mark, tearing a scorch mark through his right pauldron. 

The shootout intensifies for a few unsettling seconds, and then, to Cody’s unease, all falls unnaturally still. 

He doesn��t waste the opportunity, surging forwards in a hope to cut down the last of the droids, but before he can reach it, it crumples in on itself, crushed by… nothing. Before Cody has time to react, the last two mercenaries fall to their knees, their faces turned to the cliffs above, one uttering a hoarse cry of the word “Master!” 

There’s a chuckle from somewhere high above him, and Cody tears his eyes from the men, risking the glance upwards. 

Something is very, very wrong.

A cloaked figure stands on an outcropping, watching him as a wild predator watches its prey. 

Cody grits his teeth, raising the lightsaber a little higher.

“So, Kenobi has found himself a little pet, has he?” the figure calls down to him, sounding sickeningly amused. Their head turns toward the mercenaries. “You… have failed me. Run, and be grateful for your lives.”

His voice, gravelly and low, echoes through the ravine, and Cody becomes incredibly aware as the mercenaries scramble to escape that it is now only him, the Jedi on the ground, and this stranger. Alone for miles in any direction.

The figure - a man, by the sounds of his voice - leaps down into the ravine proper. It’s a drop that would kill anyone else, or at the very least break some bones - this person, however, lands with a feline-like grace. 

He must be a Force user then, Cody concludes, his eyes never leaving the threat and his feet remaining rooted to the ground over the Jedi. 

It is, unquestionably, his duty to keep his General safe. If Obi-Wan lives, then Cody will drag him out of here or die trying, but if – the thought almost causes his heart to rip apart here and now - if Obi-Wan is dead, then he will protect his body to the last. No one else will touch him, not while Cody still draws breath.

“Come now, clone,” the stranger rasps. He sounds winded - potentially injured from an earlier fight, Cody notes. He’ll take any advantage he can get, right now. The man lifts his hood to reveal himself as a Zabrak, distinctive red and black markings carving up the sections of his face into sharp, jagged portions. A striking visage - Cody’s never seen anything like it. “Surely you don’t wish to throw away your life to protect a dead man’s honour. Hand him over.”

Cody focuses on the weight of the saber’s hilt in his hand, taking a deep breath and easing his white-knuckle grip as much as he can. Obi-Wan had told him once that you need to treat a lightsaber like a dancing partner, not like a tool. 

Work with it, and trust that it will work with you, he hears his words echo in his mind. It shouldn’t be swung like you would a simple club, or an axe.

He is tense, alert, but in this moment, he is not scared. He is Commander Cody of the 212th Battalion. He has never faltered in the face of death, and he faces it down with the same steadiness now, dogged and unflinching. If this man truly is a Force user - a Sith - then let the stories of this final stand be sung by his brothers into eternity.

Cody holds the Zabrak’s unblinking gaze. “If you want him,” he says, trying to channel that effortlessly calm, firm tone that his Jedi flaunts in the worst of situations, “then I’m afraid you’ll have to go through me.”

The Sith’s lip curls up in a cruel sneer, all pretense of composure discarded in an instant. “Your blind loyalty to the one who holds your leash is touching,” he spits, venomously. “But in the end, it won’t save either of you.” 

He reaches into his cloak, drawing his own lightsaber and activating it, crimson red and double-bladed.

Cody’s eyes widen in horror and recognition, a cold shiver creeping up his spine. That blade… he knows exactly who this is.

With the knowledge of his name comes the knowledge that his chances of seeing tomorrow are slim, but Cody feels his resolve only grow in the face of it. Knowing that this is the bastard who has made it his mission to hound and torture Obi-Wan over the course of his life, he’s even more determined to keep him away from his Jedi at all costs.

“Maul,” Cody states, his voice low. The Sith begins to stalk around Cody in a slow circle, a viper waiting to strike. Cody leans a little further back on his left foot as he turns in place to meet him, the lesson on Soresu lingering at the back of his mind.

Maul smiles at Cody’s recognition. “It’s so nice to hear that he still talks of me, even after all this time.”

All hell breaks loose.

Cody narrowly avoids being struck as Maul launches forwards with an unnatural speed. He brings up Obi-Wan’s lightsaber to block at the last second, the force of the clash reverberating through his arm, up into his shoulder with a stinging pain.

Relax the muscles, he remembers Obi-Wan telling him as he corrected his form, fighting while tense will only harm you.

As the Zabrak darts over to the other side of him, Cody acts, striking him with the back of the lightsaber hilt. He leaps backwards in a desperate attempt to gain a few seconds of freedom, using them to pull out the flare gun and fire into the air. 

Maul snarls, pressing the attack once more. Cody throws the gun to the side, redoubling his efforts on blocking and redirecting hits. If Waxer saw the flare go up - and Force, he hopes he did - all he needs to do is survive for a few more minutes.

… A few more minutes against the man that killed Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn in less than five when fighting one on one. A bead of sweat trickles down Cody’s temple.

Easy.

He grunts as Maul lands a kick to his abdomen, stumbling back a few steps but being sure to maintain his grip on the lightsaber. Being disarmed here would be a remarkably quick way to die. 

They trade blows back and forth, Cody focusing on the defensive, Maul pushing in every chance he gets. It’s an exhausting effort, and he’s sure his panting is audible through his helmet, but he’s still on his feet, scrapping for every inch he can take.

Commander Cody, as he has done in so many battles before today, holds the line.

Each second he stalls is another second won of analysis; learning how Maul moves, the speed at which he’s about to rush in and attack, the patterns he’s about to swing his saber in - and then Cody sees it.

His left side. 

He’s favouring his left side.

Each of his attacks are weighted, so his right arm must be damaged. If Cody can exploit that–

He grunts as he wards off a particularly strong slash to his side.

– then he might stand a chance of survival.

Cody draws back, loath to move too far from Obi-Wan’s unconscious form, but knowing that he has to risk it in order to press this advantage. Shielding, he reminds himself. He has to shield, or else Maul will be able to anticipate what he’s about to do.

The Sith smirks, his expression near manic in his relentless pursuit. “Scared, little clone?” he taunts, watching in clear sadistic amusement as Cody retreats a few more steps. 

Cody subtly adjusts his stance, as if he’s going to continue to block. He raises his chin in defiance, his eyes narrowing. It’s what Maul will expect to see.

“No.”

Maul smiles. “The tremor in your voice betrays you.”

Time seems to slow as the Zabrak charges, his blade raised overhead to strike.

Cody plants his feet, feigning a block before darting to the right at the very last second and bringing Obi-Wan’s blade down to catch the top of his shoulder.

It doesn’t go deep, but the damage is done. Maul hisses in pain, backing up rapidly as his right arm hangs limply by his side. Cody doesn’t dare let his guard down yet, repositioning himself in front of Obi-Wan.

Maul snarls, his eyes flashing with anger. “You dare–”

Just as he begins to speak, thunder rolls in the distance. The threat of a sudden flood looms heavily over the both of them on this impromptu battlefield, and Cody lets out a shuddering breath. It’s bad news, but all the same, it might be the best news possible for him.

He sees the moment the truth dawns on the Sith - by staying here, they’re both risking certain death by drowning - a ravine this narrow and deep would fill with water in seconds. Even if Maul wasted time killing Cody here - and he could, even when injured, no doubt - he couldn’t drag away Obi-Wan’s body as he had his lackeys trying to do earlier, not with his injured arm.

For whatever reason, his motive was to take the Jedi’s body along with him, and now there’s not enough time. 

Either all three of them die here and now, or Maul gets the chance to escape before their med-evac arrives.

Cody keeps the saber raised, even as the Sith takes another step back, evidently considering his options. His expression turns unnervingly blank as his eyes alight on Cody once more. There’s something more in his gaze now, something that wasn’t there before - recognition? Respect? 

“Clever boy,” he murmurs, dipping his head. He deactivates his lightsaber, holstering it at his side and clutching at his injured arm with a grimace. “You’ve forced my hand. Very well.”

Cody watches as Maul begins his retreat further into the canyon, the hand gripping Obi-Wan’s lightsaber beginning to tremble with the receding adrenaline. 

“The next time we meet, you will not have the privilege of hiding behind your owner’s weapon,” Maul snarls, his voice echoing through the canyon with that one last lingering threat before he disappears from view entirely. It’s true, Cody knows. He has a target on his back now, the size of a planet - and he’s sure it will be collected on.

For one long, long moment, the Commander simply stands, panting for breath, not quite sure if this is all a stress induced hallucination, or whether he actually survived the encounter. 

The rain, though still light, has been getting progressively worse. It collects at the base of his visor, creating small waterfalls that dance in the periphery of his vision. Briefly, Cody allows himself to close his eyes.

He’s pulled out of his dizzying sense of disbelief by the sound of a soft groan below him.

Alive. 

Cody’s eyes snap open.

A strangled gasp escapes him as he falls to his knees, pulling off his helmet and letting it clatter to the rocks below, scratches be damned, as he sees the Jedi’s breath stutter - not a sign he’s doing well, of course, but there is breath to be had.  

The sheer relief at seeing Obi-Wan alive, the lingering adrenaline from the duel and the sheer shock that his own heart’s still beating all combine to make a dizzying amalgam of uninhibited recklessness. 

He cradles Obi-Wan’s face in his hands, lowering his forehead to press to the other man’s. One of his hands slips to curl at the nape of his neck, and his heart pounds as Obi-Wan weakly reaches up to do the same.

If any of their men could see them now, sharing a keldabe kiss in the middle of the battlefield, they’d never hear the end of it. Cody is very aware that he should be reprimanding himself for this lapse in judgement, should be pulling away to a respectful distance, but he doesn’t. He can’t.

He’s still breathing heavily, and he’s fairly sure that holding Obi-Wan this close means they’re both bleeding onto one another. He doesn’t quite have it in him to care.

“I’ve got you, General,” he manages to choke out, his fingers curling tighter in the Jedi’s hair, afraid that he’ll disappear if he lets go for even a second.

Obi-Wan smiles - Stars, he’s so glad to see that smile - “Quite… the display there, Commander,” he rasps, his tongue darting out to wet his cracked and bloodied lips. Cody swallows. How long had the other man been out here before he arrived, fighting for his life? His free hand slips down to apply some pressure to the wound at his side, trying his best to stem the bleeding. 

Cody feels nauseous with the weight of his worry, and he knows Obi-Wan will be able to sense it. Still, he can’t quite bring himself to give voice to it, instead trying to smile. To his credit, he manages, even if it’s considerably watery. “Ah, I was… trying to impress you. Angling for a promotion, you know.” 

He draws back to raise his head as he hears the distinctive whirr of a LAAT/i approaching, and feels some of the tension drain from him. Not long now. He carefully shifts Obi-Wan, pulling him away from the stream and into his lap, hoping to alleviate some of the discomfort the other man is so clearly in. Obi-Wan lets out a breath that sounds more like a wheeze than anything else.

“I believe… the only position you could be promoted to would be mine, Cody,” he comments. He sounds incredibly weary, and his eyes fall shut with the effort of his words.

“Never let it be said that my ambition is held back by common sense,” Cody jokes softly. He gently brushes a few strands of hair away from his Jedi’s face, his gloved fingers lingering at his temple. Obi-Wan’s brows are pinched together, clearly in terrible pain. Cody can almost see the way he’s slipping, losing his grip on his consciousness. 

“Hey. Stay with me,” he implores, his chest tight.

It’ll only be a minute or so at most before the medical evac will arrive, but Cody is incredibly aware that he can’t let the Jedi fall asleep before then. He racks his brain frantically for anything he can say to hold Obi-Wan’s attention, to give him any reason to keep talking.

“Shit,” Cody mutters under his breath, “Obi-Wan, you–”

“I’m trying,” the Jedi mumbles softly, and Cody’s plea dies on his lips. 

Instead, he just clings to him a little tighter. “... I know.”

For a moment there is silence, pierced only by the rushing of the stream beneath them and the uneven, laboured breaths of Obi-Wan. The Commander watches him, swallowing thickly before he speaks. Hopefully this will be enough.

“My name… it’s not actually Cody,” he says. 

Obi-Wan’s eyes flicker open at that, hazy and bewildered, and Cody can’t stop a fondness from entering his expression, despite his concern. A temporary victory. Now to keep it going. “Thought that’d get your attention.”

“It’s not…?” 

Cody shrugs, keeping his eyes fixed firmly on his General. The fingers at his temple have long since shifted to tenderly stroking through the wet strands of his hair.

“Well, it is now, I suppose. But it wasn’t initially.” 

Obi-Wan looks like he doesn’t have the strength to keep speaking, but there’s curiosity in his gaze. Cody blinks away the sudden stinging of tears that have gathered at the corners of his eyes. 

Just stay with me for a few more moments, please. You’re nearly there.

“Kamino,” he forces himself to say, even as the words come out hoarse. “During training. My brothers had decided to name me, after I....” 

Cody trails off, deciding that now is not the time to detail the abuses he had (quite stupidly) decided to take the brunt of to take some heat away from the rest of the Vode. Obi-Wan doesn’t need distressing further, today.

“... Well. Kote,” he continues. “They named me Kote. Except, over the years, most people misheard it, and… well, Cody was the one that stuck.” 

Obi-Wan blinks slowly, clearly at war with himself to keep himself conscious. Cody is unsure that the other man has even heard him, let alone taken in his words, but after a long pause, the Jedi gathers himself to speak again.

“‘Glory’,” he murmurs, barely above a whisper. “Isn’t it?”

A tear escapes down Cody’s cheek as the evac ship finally comes into view above them, lowering into the chasm. Half dead and the man is focusing his energy on accurately translating a fairly archaic word in Mando’a. That’s his Obi-Wan.

“Yes,” he affirms, his tone hushed. “That’s right.”

The Jedi smiles, finally losing his internal battle as his eyelids flutter closed once more. “You wear it well.”

Sudden shouts erupt from behind them as the LAAT/i lands and the medics start to rush their way over to them.

Cody sucks in a shuddering breath. Obi-Wan will make it. He will.

He reaches for his discarded helmet, slipping it back onto his head. With a grunt of effort, Cody lifts the Jedi up into his arms, turning towards the ship. 

“I’ve got him,” he insists to the already-fussing medic as they approach. They reach out to try and take Obi-Wan from him, but Cody adjusts to hold the Jedi tighter, slipping past them.

“I’ve got him,” Cody repeats, his tone probably harsher than it needs to be. He’ll apologise for it later, but for the moment he’s just relieved that they back off.

No one else tries to bother him as he takes a seat on the gunship, holding Obi-Wan securely across his lap. Bacta first, then rest, he thinks wearily.

Somehow, though, he doubts he’ll get much rest in the near future. The weight of the other man in his lap is a reminder of everything he has to lose, and Cody knows himself well enough to be sure that he won’t be doing much more than pacing until his General is conscious and back with him. 

A matter of hours, if he’s lucky. Days, if he’s not.

A deep sigh escapes him as the ship takes off and someone comes over with a scanner to check their vitals.

At least he’s alive. At least they’re both alive, somehow. Cody’s still not entirely sure how he managed it, but he’s incredibly grateful.

He thinks of the squad that will be still on the ground, fighting to take out the last of the Separatist forces. He has confidence enough in Waxer to know that they’ll be doing fine on their own, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel uneasy at being pulled out of the fight like this. 

Outside, the rain worsens, battering against the side of the ship as it continues to ascend. Cody glances down, taking in the states of the ravine he was fighting for his life in mere moments before. The water is filling up in there rapidly, the speed of it already something terrifying to behold.

Cody really, really hopes that Maul didn’t make it.

He knows that he probably did.

_____________________________

Back on the Venator, Cody stands in only his underclothes, a handful of bacta patches plastered over his arms and his back as he stares absently at the bacta tank in front of him. His Jedi floats inside, having been immersed practically upon arrival, his eyes closed and his expression oddly peaceful, given the circumstances.

The lance in his side will likely be a permanent one, but better a scar than a cause of death. 

Helix had left the two of them alone ten minutes ago, charging Cody with calling him if Obi-Wan’s condition suddenly changes, though Cody suspects that the request was only made to keep him inside the medbay and not disappearing off to his room to treat his pain alone, as he has in the past. Even knowing that, it’s working. 

Cody doesn’t want to leave Obi-Wan’s side, not yet.

He begins to pace slowly, his exhausted mind overflowing with everything he needs to tell the Jedi of when he wakes. The mission status, Maul, and… 

Cody pauses in his steps briefly, pinching his brow. And whatever is going on inside his head.  

Whatever the meaning of the feeling, Cody has at least worked out one thing: it seems to be wholly and inextricably tied to Obi-Wan. It lies dormant now, having retreated into the back of his mind at the same time that the Jedi had lost consciousness, but it’s unmistakably still present. Steady, warm - not unlike Obi-Wan himself, he supposes.

It was telling him the truth. That’s the main thing he can’t quite wrap his head around, and in the past hour or so, he’s done nothing but try.

“What’s happening to me?” he whispers aloud to no one in particular. He’s not generally one for angst, nor for lamenting over situations in which he has no control. Something about all of this, though - it feels significant, important for him to understand, though he doesn’t know why.

He doesn’t know a lot of things today, it seems.

Cody takes a seat on the edge of one of the medbay beds with a soft sigh, running a hand through his hair. 

He’ll wait here, he decides, until duty calls him away, or until Obi-Wan wakes up - whichever comes first. The quiet yet incessant beeping of various medical equipment isn’t exactly conducive to his ideal working environments, but he’s completed paperwork in worse places.  

He types out a quick message on his datapad, a request for a mug of caf to be brought to him, along with a blanket. Cody hesitates, glancing over to where Obi-Wan is still healing, then adds an amendment. A double shot, he thinks, would be more sufficient.

Despite his exhaustion, it’s still only the early afternoon.

The Commander sighs again, opening up a few tabs worth of backlogged reports to start reading through.

It’s going to be a very long day.

✷✷✷✷✷

Taglist (let me know if you'd like to be added!): @mitth-eli-vanto

[silvrash-797]

Thanks for the tag Mina and Emmie! I literally wrote this in my notes app because it was getting so long

1. How many works on Ao3? 24 (I finally have two pages LOL)

2. Total ao3 word count? 79,693 😳 Almoat 80k in the 19 months it's been since I published my first fic!

3. Top five fics by kudos?

The truth comes to light A pov rewrite of Lofty's secrets of the shadows. Its my only non-LU work, I'm not surprised it's this high (literally twice as high as the others on this list)

Glassbound based on hyah-lian's febuwhump art last year. Hyrule gets captured, Four finds him, and they both suffer. Featuring Fairy Hyrule & Minish Four

In the dark of the night My first febuwhump work, where I took requests from friends on tumblr and combined various prompts to complete their requests

Please be careful with the merchandise My first fic! Pov swap for Peggy's whumptober 2021 fic Auction

Wild child Tiny little crack fic from this year's febuwhump collection. Hit all the right beats with people, apparently!

4. What fandoms do you write for? Zelda, 100%

5. Do you respond to comments? I am very, very far behind, but I try to respons to each one!

6. Fic with the angstiest ending: Like Mina, I don't like to write negative endings. I do have Wings of time, winds of chance, though, which I left open/ambiguous

7. Fic with the happiest ending: I feel like I have a lot of intense hurt balanced by intense relief at the end, idk which one to choose? Probably Countdown, as the only one I've made myself cry writing

8. Do you get hate? Nope! I did have one bot comment wanting me to work for them, but that's the only negativity I've seen

9. Do you write smut? No, and I don't plan to either

10. Do you write crossovers? Not really. I wrote Malon Heals a broken soul, a pov swap for one of Peggy's IAU fics, but that's it.

11. Ever had a fic stolen? No, thank goodness. I have tried to keep them locked behind registered users, only opening them up when I'm actively working on the fic/series.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? I dont think I'm a big enough name for that to happen 😅

13. Have you ever co-written a fic? No, but I have taken several idea requests and written based on those

14. All-time favorite ship? Myself and @guildknight-03 😆 But in fandom, I don't really think in terms of ships? I don't mind reading them, but they're not the focus for me. Zelink and Malink can't go wrong, though

15. Wips you want to finish but doubt you ever will? The original story I started writing in middle school, and have daydreams about still. But I don't know where my original pages for it are, or if I typed them up, I don't remember where 🥲

16. Writing strengths? Wrangling the words to portray the emotions the characters are feeling. The most-frequently used word in comments in my fics recently is "visceral," so...

17. Writing weaknesses? Word volume and consistency in general. I have a specific window of "I should be sleeping" that I write best in haha

18. Thoughts on mixed-language dialogue? I adore it! I love languages in general, and it gives me the chance to practice/learn more words. Some of my favorite books have Italian phrases sprinkled throughout

19. First Fandom you wrote for? I literally started writing fanfic a year and a half ago, and it's only been Zelda since then

20. Favorite fic you've ever written? Do I have to choose? I write what I like to read. I'm partial to my pov swap fics (merchandise, Soul and truth linked above, as well as Save me from this darkness), and I'm particularly happy with my art/writing prompt fics (glassbound above and gloomstruck), but of my original works, I like the Earth temple, remastered. It had my first real fight scene, and it went better than I thought it would!

Tagging: @alicewritingstories @aeghina @smilesrobotlover @lizzable and @tashacee

I have been tagged by @batrogers!!

1. How many works on AO3? 241

2. Total AO3 word count? 1.25mil. Almost to my 3rd AO3 anniversary :D (that's around 1,170 words every day for three years, not counting nonpublished words! Proud of that rate, even if it's slowing.)

3. Top 5 fics by kudos:

Status? about Four. I think this one hits the sweet spot for a lot of people: not too long, a bit angsty, but sweet.

so i admit that the mud didn't do much for me, about Hyrule. Actually the first fic I ever posted on this account, it's silly and I'm surprised to see it so high

incandescently happy, a post-LU happy ending. Posted little chapters every day for like a month which kept it in people's feeds so I think that's why it's so high

what is a stump supposed to do, a random Hyrule & Four one, honestly baffled why it's up here

Rise and Shine and Fall, my successful (by that I mean actually wrote and posted every day on schedule) Whumptober 2022 extravaganza compilation. I posted it all in one work, so it's higher than most other whump fics of mine, but there's a lot in it!

4. What fandoms do you write for? Zelda. In the past I wrote a tiny bit of Danny Phantom and a fair amount of FE3H!

5. Do you respond to comments? Always!! I admit to being SO VERY BEHIND right now, a couple months' worth. I'm trying to keep up on new ones, but I've had some beautiful wonderful readers going through my catalog and I can't always keep up!! XD

6. Fic with the angstiest ending: I don't write a lot of negative endings, so I think this badge goes to Counterbalance, my LU Darks AU. I'm actually fully in love with this fic, it's probably the best mix of silly and angsty I've ever written. It's full of what are essentially OCs but they're all my babies and I love them.

7. Fic with the happiest ending: incandescently happy, post-LU. The whole fic is essentially a fix-it ending, though LU doesn't have an ending yet. XD

8. Do you get hate? A couple silly comments trying to tell me I'm doing things wrong, but not really no! Oh, also can't forget the ask I got that was "Remember that Jesus is your first reader." I think that was meant to be passive aggressive but there's a chance it was meant like, genuinely? Not sure.

9. Do you write smut? Nah. And I don't plan to. Not my thing! Closest I get are vampire bites XD

10. Do you write crossovers? I swear I've done more but the only ones on my AO3 are a Vidow fic done in an original world (Nothing New Under the Sun (crystals, dumplings, jewelry)), and Blood-Sucker's Guide to High School, a Vidow retelling of a very fun vampire novel.

11. Ever had a fic stolen? Nope, but I did have one of my Vidow fake fic book covers stolen for someone's fake fiverr listing. Got it taken down with a DMCA but I was like, why

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? Not to my knowledge.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic? Oh plenty. @enrolio and I spent most of 2020-21 lockdowns and beyond cowriting, mostly original stories (1.7mil) but a lot of fic, too (nothing published, but almost 400k worth.) We're currently in the process of working on a big epic original fantasy series, though that's a long-term project. @batrogers and I have done a few alt-POV-type projects too, which have been super duper fun!! Hope to do more.

In that vein too, I feel like the Bad End Links kind of qualify here—so much of the characters and their stories were brainstormed collaboratively and so many friends have contributed details and fics and art, it feels like a fun group project! I've really enjoyed working on it. :D (the encouragement and hype for it also helps a lot!! I'm really hoping to finish this big project out!)

14. All-time favorite ship? Ahhhh a harder question than you'd think, tbh, even if you're limiting it to fic. I've written the most for Vidow, and they're definitely up there (same with Fourdow though I've done less with them.) I do have to admit that Linhardt/Byleth might take the cake, though. They were the first ship I was ever actually obsessed with, and the first romantic pairing I wrote in fic.

I just really adore Linny in general, and I love how the pairing continues and closes off some of the themes in the Crimson Flower route of FE3H. That's the only route where Byleth doesn't become archbishop-slash-dictator, and I think choosing to live life in a small cottage, not particularly contributing too much to the government, builds nicely upon the themes of becoming human and choosing your own destiny, themes that are really missing from the other routes.

15. WIPs you want to finish but doubt you ever will? My old AO3 account (a couple FE3H fics and not much else) has a series where I wrote the beginning of a fic and then had several different endings planned, each a different ship with Linhardt, but I only ever wrote one. I'd love to read the rest but I have too many other fics calling my name!

16. Writing strengths? Um... Volume and speed? Also AUs. I think I can call myself good at fitting characters into new settings. Also fight scenes are fun and I think I do them well.

17. Writing weaknesses? I feel somewhat weak in the plotting and style realms.

18. Thoughts on mixed language dialogue? You can't count on a reader to know not-tagged languages, so that has to be accounted for in the text.

19. First fandom you wrote for? Danny Phantom, in high school or maybe just after. That's late for a lot of fic writers but... there are reasons for that, and a different discussion!!

20. Favorite fic you've ever written? This is an extremely rude question, because I love so many for different reasons. I write things I want to read!! Counterbalance (for the tone) and Blood-Sucker's Guide (for the finished novel plot) are up there but I linked them above, so I'll take the chance to call out a different few—Marvelous Misadventures is way up there, a Wind-focused modern with magic AU. I promise I'm still working on that last chapter (and the epilogue), I just gotta throw everything else aside one month and buckle down. Maybe June, I don't have any fic events planned and 06/23 was the last update. I think some earlier chapters need a refresh as well, once I have the ending written.

I'll also toss White Walls (medwhump, "non consensual body modification: the fic") into this category for how long it is and how proud I am to have finished even a collection this long, and a long walk, a Linked Nexus fic where I did so much math and had so much fun with it. :D

Tagging: @silvrash-797 @toyouhellohowareyou @nopenototdaysatan @skyward-floored :)

[justapayneaway]

.

[bottombaron]

Yeah Nadja showing she cares for Guillermo and yeah Guillermo saying he loves Nandor out loud, I feel you I feel you bUT

Can we talk abt how much Guillermo Actually. Truly. Deeply. Cares for these group of misfit assholes??

He even lists Colin Robinson (as he should!) but Benji couldn't even be bothered to remember his name

And like, that's important!! Because Colin is one of them! He's a part of them. They are all a part of each other. To not love one of them is to not love them.

Guillermo is different. He does love them. He loves all of them. He loves all their silly bitchy faults. He loves things about them that have nothing to do with being 'a cool vampire' or what they can do for him. His genuine, inescapable love is what makes him different. Nadja, Laszlo, Colin, and Nandor can't not be affected by that, even though they try so hard to be.

I can't get over that this episode gave such a clear beautiful reason why these selfish, petty, dismissive, eternal beings would risk their lives to fight a whole clinic of their kind or keep a dangerous secret and try to help or hell, pretend that they don't care about that very big juicy secret just so Guillermo doesn't have to stress abt another person knowing (Colin definitely cares and probably already knows. Could he feed on Guillermo's anxiety and antics of keeping it from Nandor? ofc. But he doesn't and even lets Guillermo off the hook by indicating he both doesn't need to tell him or be bothered to try to hide it from him)

It's because of Guillermo's persistent love for them that they find the ability to love him back. It comes back to him. The love he gives to them, they give it back to him.

Look at what happened without even being a vampire: he became one of them.

[uchiha-gaeshi]

I would never wish growing up in a hyper religious African house on my worst enemy. The cognitive dissonance is insane especially if you grow up in the West yet your family (and other African families around you) insist on clinging on to asinine “traditions” that are really just covers for abuse.

[fellhellion]

90s run PAD has this rlly annoying trend where he very often write a female character being in love w miguel and suddenly her entire character shrinks down to the scope of what drama this provokes and it's near continually in service to the narratives of men (Gabriel and Miguel interpersonal drama for example). even when there are actually interesting things to be mined from this angle like w lyla its like. this is a pattern w you dude.