Title: Scorched Earth.

Title: Scorched Earth.

A Grab Bag For A Very Lovely Anonymous Commissioner.

Pairing: Yandere!Warrior x Reader.

Word Count: 1.3k.

TW: Unhealthy Relationships, Mentions of War/Death, Unbalanced Power Dynamics, and Kidnapping.

You saw the torchlight hours before he reached your cottage.

Bright and brilliant, a red stain ebbing through the trees and bleeding into the dark sky. The forest was dense, the canopy stifling, yet somehow, the light he and his soldiers carried was awful enough to pierce through it all, to burn away every behind them and fill the open air with thick, choking smoke. You could’ve tried to flee, it wasn’t as if you couldn’t guess what was coming for you, but you didn’t keep a horse, and you knew better than to stave off the inevitable. He’d catch you, no matter how far you ran, no matter how many times you refused him. He’d promised as much, the first time he declared that you’d be his.

Rather than escape, you stayed where you were, perched on the rotting wooden steps leading up to your door and watching the oncoming flare. His scouts, dressed in black and prone to circling your meager home like vultures, reached you before he did, then sergeants, piling in by the dozen, well-armed and jeering and carrying his insignia with a sort of heady arrogance. Finally, he emerged from the growth, surrounded by his lieutenants and mounted on a sleek, grey steed larger than any you’d ever seen before. He was a far cry from how you’d seen him last – his bandages gone, his pitch-black hair grown down to his shoulders, the rags you’d been able to lend him traded out for shining armor clean enough to catch the torchlight and glow scarlet. A great-sword sat at his hip, two more curved blades crossed over his back, but you couldn’t seem to find much joy in his fortune. Not when you’d soon be counted among one of his many, many precious things.

As he dismounted, the movements practiced to the point of thoughtlessness, you rose to meet him, hyper-aware that this would likely be the last time you’d be able to stand on equal ground. “Wren.”

It wasn’t his name. You’d misheard him, the first time you asked; made what you could out of the slurred syllables he’d been able to spit out and never found the time to look back. Even when he started to recover, when he was able to hold onto consciousness for longer than a minute at a time and more than just your clumsy stitching held the jagged cut stretching from his shoulder to his hip shut, he always failed to correct you. His real name – Wyvern, given to him as an unknown orphan after he slayed his namesake and delivered its head to a king who’d let him massacre armies and rampage through the countryside as he pleased – was something you had to learn the day he left, the day he told you who he was and why you’d found him bleeding out in a stream all those months ago. He’d asked you to come with him, back to the castle, and through tears, you’d told him that you wouldn’t have helped him if you’d known you were saving the life of a murderer. He’d tried to kiss you, and you slapped him and told him to get out of your cottage.

It wasn’t his name, but he smiled like it was, taking a step toward you. His soldiers started to close in, but he held up a hand, keeping them at bay. “Beloved.” It was a familiar petname. It used to make you blush, stammer, want to make flower crowns and kick your feet and learn to play some ridiculous stringed instrument. Now, it just made your stomach turn, your vision dim at the edges with rage. “I’m sorry I took so long to return to you. I had to gather a few friends – thought you should meet the future guests of our wedding.”

There was cheer from his soldiers, a flash of a grin from Wren. You stiffened, squaring your shoulders, but he remained unaffected, his expression only softening as you forced yourself to respond. “I meant what I said. I could never love a man with blood on his hands.”

If he heard you over the milling of his soldiers, the crackling of his torches and the distant sounds of the forest’s nightlife, he clearly wasn’t listening. Rather he closed the remaining space between you and him and took you in his arms. Your feet were off the ground in a moment, your chest against his chest in another, being spun idly as he let out a throaty laugh. “God,” he sighed, when he finally came to a stop. The sharp corners of his plated armor dug into your skin at odd angles, and his hold on your waist was tight enough to bruise. You’d had to ask him to be gentle before, to mind his inhuman strength when he touched you, but it was a lesson he just couldn’t seem to take to heart. “I missed the sound of your voice. I’ll have to take you with me on my next campaign - I don’t know if I could stand to leave you at court for all that time.”

“Put me down,” you hissed, hitting his shoulders with as much force as you could manage. He abided you, but didn’t let go of you – just moving his hold from your hips to your hands, taking them in his own before you had time to pull away.

“I couldn’t. I absolutely couldn’t. Most of the knights are absolute bastards, and you’re too sweet – they’d try to take you for themselves in a heartbeat. No, I can’t let you out of my sight for a moment, can I?” He paused, his face lighting up with apparent zeal. “You’ll adore the castle. I’ve already secured a cottage on the edge of the grounds, and you’ll have full reign of the gardens. We won’t have to—”

“Stop.” You attempted to wrench yourself out of his vice-grip, and when that failed, let out a ragged groan, tears already forming in the corners of your eyes. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“That’s not true.” His smile didn’t so much as waver. “You saved my life. You told me that you loved me, and I love you, too. How would either of us ever be happy if we were seperated?”

Something deep in your chest ached. It was impossible to look at him and not picture the countless mornings you’d woken up by his side, the countless days you’d passed teaching him how fish and tend to a garden, the countless nights you’d spent bundled beside a fire sharing stories with a man you thought you’d loved. It was impossible not to think about what he’d done and wish you’d driven that knife into his stomach yourself.

“I can’t love someone like you,” you said, finally, because you couldn’t bear to say anything else. “And I’m not leaving my home.”

At that, you could’ve sworn you saw something register in his dark eyes. He was quiet, his enthusiasm fading, and for a second, you thought he might’ve understood. For a second, you thought he might call away his soldiers, get back on his horse, and leave you to your quiet suffering.

Then, he leaned forward, his lips coming to rest against the top of your head. “Beloved,” his voice was low, stifled your skin. “You don’t have a home. Not without me.”

Abruptly, he pulled away from you, raising a hand and looking toward his soldiers. While you were left in the dark, they knew their signal, surging forward in a chaotic wave of yelling and footsteps. You pressed your form against Wren’s side, clenching your eyes shut and bracing yourself, but there was only a burst of heat, a sudden visible even through your eyelids. Another kiss, this one pressed into your cheek and chased with a soft chuckle.

When you could bring yourself to look, you found not a volley of arrows or a hundred swords all pointed at your neck, but your cottage engulfed in flame, shining golden in the oppressive night. Your shoulders fell, your mouth opening, but you failed to make a sound. Wren wasn’t as stunned, grinning as he pulled you close and pressed his lips into yours, the kiss delicate and tortuous all at once.

“Don’t worry,” he muttered as he pulled away, his tone so soft and so gentle, you could almost tell ignore the blood-soaked cruelty lingering just underneath it.

“The only home you need is with me.”

the trial of ahsoka tano, the true version

jail for ahsoka! jail for ahsoka for bringing her father and brother to a heart attack!

The safe house 🤍

Captain Wilco x reader

Pt. 1

⚠️: losing home and community, corrupt politics, odd reactions due to stressful upbringings, rotting things, giant spider talk, concussions, broken limbs, passing out, food insecurity, slow start

AN: aaaa! My first post in a while :D

No yandere content, but I really hope you like this series!

I just love him so much okay 😭

Lmk if there's anything you guys would like to see for this or anything else going forward, tysm! :)

---------------

You huffed, pushing aside the brush that blacked your path gently. It had been approximately two weeks since the empire had come knocking, uprooting if not destroying everything you had ever known and loved.

You had woken up in the middle of cannonfire, half of your house already caved in, and had to flee with whatever was closest. This, luckily, happened to be your only weapon; an ancient knife, a few days rations, and the knitted blanket you kept at the end of your bed.

It wasn't much, but it was better than nothing at all, which is what you had seen many of your people come away with. You had all seemed to flee in different directions in the chaos, scattering until you couldn't find even signs of another survivor along your way.

The goal was getting to your grandfather's safe house, one he had taken you to sparingly as a girl, but enough that you could piece together landmarks along the trail.

Well,

What was left of it.

You adjusted the blanket around your shoulders, only bringing a hand down to run along the rough metal of the old blade, which was fastened to your hip in a makeshift holster you had made out of scraps of leather you had picked out of the rubble and tied together.

Was your reaction to all of this lackluster? Probably, but after spending half your life being stepped on and sapped for resources by some rich guy who was supposed to advocate for you in the first place, this felt like almost a natural progression.

You looked around, senses still on high alert. You weren't too worried about running into imperial soldiers at this point, you had come across a patrol at one point, jumping near out of your skin, but they had only looked at you for a moment before moving on silently. You figured as long as you stayed away from whatever they were trying to get at in the palace, they wouldn't bother you anymore. No, what you feared was the fauna; your home planet was known for predators that could hide in plain sight.

Both in the wild and in politics, you supposed.

Shaking yourself from your thoughts, you turned at an old tree with three large claw marks in it, pushing away some foliage that shaded the clearing. You looked up in awe; it was beautiful, with dense trees creating a canopy that only let small rays of sunlight in.

Well, it would've been beautiful,

If it weren't for the giant Assassin-Spider web with what looked to be a body stuck to its strands to your immediate right.

You screamed, jumping away and nearly falling on your ass as you took in the sight; It was a clone trooper, like the ones in the patrols you has seen, except this one had the fancy grey crest thing attached to his armor, signifying what you guessed was a higher rank.

"Maker." You choked, having to suppress the bile that burned your throat at the sight.

You should hate them, hate the imperial soldiers for what they did to your home and your people, but you didn't, you couldn't. You had seen and heard how the clones had been treated throughout the war, you doubted they had a say in any of this.

So, it was hard not to be a little emotional as you approached his lifeless body once more, trying not to look at his face, which was luckily turned away from you. Reluctantly, you took out your blade, slowly and carefully cut the cords of the web; now intent on retrieving the blasters that were sliding out of his holsters.

It was skeezy, lowdown behavior; looting a body, but this was the only way you saw yourself getting a good weapon anytime soon. Plus, it was clear this web had been abandoned for some time now, judging by the overgrowth and uneaten prey that lay rotting beside the poor soldier, so you at least didn't have to worry about destroying an angry spider's home.

You found yourself glancing at him from time to time while you worked. It didn't even actually look like he had been killed by a bite or acid, more the blaster mark that blackened his chest plate.

Huh.

He fell to the ground with a thump, making you cringe.

In and out, you'd only need the blasters from him, then you could leave him to rest peacefully, as he deserved...

God this blew.

You kneeled next to his still form, reaching out for the gun, but then, something happened. So unexpected, it made you freeze completely.

He groaned.

It took you a moment of staring and holding perfectly still, honestly thinking you mightve just imagined it, but to your horror, he stirred again.

You looked down at him, mumbling simply as your head swam with panic, "You're not dead."

He groaned again, attempting to roll over, but you shot your hands out quickly to stop him, eying his limp arm.

"Hey, hey, hey, let's not- do that. You're going to be okay, just let me,"

You adjusted his head so it wasn't twisted awkwardly, as gingerly as you could in case of injury to his neck.

He squinted as his eyes adjusted to the light of the forest, dazedly staring up at the trees. Your brows knit anxiously and you waved a hand in front of his face, relief washing over you as he blinked.

He turned his head to look at you, mouth dropping open slightly. You brushed a hand over his hair, the poor guy really was dazed.

"Am I dead? Is this heaven?" He almost whimpered, eyes filling with panic as he tried to sit up.

You pushed him back down harder than you meant to, making him look at you again,

"No! No, you're on Serenno, and I promise you're not dead, I think your arm is- ehm- broken, though."

He didn't seem to like that answer much either.

"Serenno... thieves- the report- the general- that BASTARD-" He was the most awake you had seen him so far, though his eyes were still unfocused, speaking of a concussion at least.

He sat up with what seemed to be pure abdominal strength despite your attempts to keep him down, scaring you halfway to the grave when his eyes rolled back into his head from the effort and he flopped back down.

You yelped, cushioning his head's trajectory with your hand as best you could as he passed out once more.

It took you a minute of sitting and staring to adjust to your new situation; You had at least a few miles to go before you reached the safe house, limited rations, armed only with a rusty knife, and you now had a concussed imperial captain with a broken arm on your hands.

You glanced at him again. You supposed you could just leave him here. Someone would probably find him, and you didnt even know how to handle an injured person anyways-

No.

That just wasn't who you were. You couldn't just leave this poor man for whatever might come upon him next. He needed help and, while you didn't really know how, you would however much you could.

You nodded to yourself, standing and reholstering your knife. Yeah, you had an extra cot at the cabin, you were sure of it! You probably also had rations that your grandfather had stashed somewhere (knowing him), along with the old medical supplies and little creek nearby for water, you should be fine! You could really help this guy!

Hopeful now, you pushed him into a sitting position, grabbing a hold on the back of his armor and pulling.

It was only after you had finally gotten him a few inches when your new reality set in;

An unconscious, highly trained soldier made for war and in armor was going to be heavy.

Dank ferrik.

Brief Guide for Star Wars Writers

DC-15A Rifle:

Used for formal events and ceremonies, and as a sniper rifle in the field.

DC-15A Carbine:

A short rifle used in most combat situations during the early days of the Clone Wars.

DC-15S Rifle Carbine:

A stretched out version of the '15A Carbine, easier to hold and to aim. Patented in the middle of the clone wars and afterwards saw widespread distribution throughout the GAR.

DC-17 Hand Blaster:

Small pistols, typically dual-wielded, but some clones (like Commander Gree) carried only one. Versatile and lighter and better suited to small spaces than the DC-15 series weaponry, at the cost of a shorter range of fire.

Z-6 Rotary Cannon:

A Big Fucking Gun (TM), heavy and unwieldy, especially unsuited for close range. Best for large scale battles in wide open areas, such as Umbara before the jungle. Used by clone heavy gunners like Hevy and Hardcase (pictured above). Does not have a stun setting like the DC series weapons do.

TW: self-deprecating??, harrassment, stalker, yandere struggles, (I think that’s it?)

I can’t imagine the hell that it would be of having a yandere that is 100x out of your league. Like just imagine being a normal ass joe, nothing going on in life, no big group of friends, no exciting qualities, nothing to offer ANYONE. And here comes this god like figure- waltzing or barging into your shameful life and going “I am entranced by you, so deeply and utterly enraptured that you haunt every aspect of my existence. I have killed and maimed for you… allowing me to be yours is the only thing I wish for. The only thing I desire. Please, please just allow me to bask in your presence for the rest of my life..”

I’m getting mad just thinking about it, like how would someone even respond to that!? They let themselves into your shitty apartment (with a spare key they finessed from your landlord) they have the GALL to sit on your bed after being caught shamelessly snuggling under the covers, all model like?? Telling them that you’ll call the cops so that they leave but knowing in your heart that the police would arrest YOU before they accuse someone as godly as THEM! of course this doesn’t faze them. Though the sadness on their face is evident. Somehow you get them to leave and think that will be it for forever…

Until now you can see them clearly, everywhere you go. If you go to a coffee shop they’ll arrive 2 minutes after you and just sit across from you as long as your there. Your best bet is ignoring them because if you tell a worker of this person “harassing” you then you’ll just get a “really bitch??” Look and told to not disturb THEM! They even walk right next to you on the sidewalk, other people simply stopping to stare at their beauty and aura while you just grit your teeth and try to walk faster. Some brave ones stop them to ask for their number or if their single, only for them to wrap an arm around your own and tell them that their dating you. They are OBVIOUSLY with YOU. So why the FUCK is this trash asking dumb questions?? It gives you second hand embarrassment and your self esteem goes in the shitter when others just give that disbelief look and reluctantly leave it at that. If you try and buy anything they will just whip out their black card and pay for it instead nor matter your protests. If you say something like “hey don’t spend money! I can buy my own things!” They look you straight in the face with zero hesitation and just go “I know you can, but I want to spend money on you. All my money is YOURS. You are still using YOUR money.” Bro at this point I’ll make them take me to the Gucci store or sum.

Someone that is the EPITOME of peak human desire. An irresistible face and body, black cards in their pockets, mansions, sports cars, high paying job and famous people for “friends”. They are what hustle culture people DREAM to be, so why would they be interested in you? Why do they act like you’re the one doing THEM a favor by just existing? Why do they look at you so lovingly when masses stare at them with the same look? Why get so jealous and overprotective when you show basic human decency to others? As if you were some Hot shot movie star!

And the worst part is, when they do creepy gross stalker shit it doesn’t even seem like they are the one being weird. If you bother entertaining them at a cafe and leave for the bathroom, you’ll most likely come back to them with your used spoon in they mouth.

———————————————————

Btw no one is how I portray reader in this lil scenario. EVERYONE is exceptional and wonderful and beautiful In their own way! Just cuz u can’t see doesn’t mean others don’t either. This was more of something I wrote when I was going through it.