#clone commando sev x reader

You release a happy hum as you scan the message that Sev just sent you. He’s off somewhere, probably disgusting, with the rest of his pod brothers. But he likes sending you updates on how he’s doing.

The image he sends you looks like a Geonosian nest, at least that’s what it used to be. You think. Scorch clearly has been having a ball with his grenades again.

Sev’s message is simple, “Scorch claims that blowing up a nest counts as 10 bugs. I think it should only count as one. He’s a cheater.”

A grin plays on your lips as you pop a piece of your cookie into your mouth and send back a message of your own, “You should let Scorch win from time to time, it’s good for his ego.”

“His ego is inflated enough. He doesn’t need my help with that.”

You laugh softly, and break off another piece of your cookie, “Humble is overrated, Sev.”

“Sure, sure. What’re you doing?”

“Meeting up with my friends. Eating cookies and drinking fancy caf.” You snap a picture of your half crumbled cookie and your almost empty caf, and send it to him, “They’re not very good.”

“Those are your favorite. You just miss me.”

“I do miss you. When do you think you’ll be home?”

“Not for a couple more weeks, cyar’ika. Sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, Sev. You don’t have to apologize.” You send the message, and then your fingers hesitate over the keyboard for a moment, “My friends keep trying to talk me out of dating you.” You finally admit.

“What are they saying about me?”

“They’re calling you a monster. They say there’s something wrong with you, like, mentally. And that they’re worried you’re going to hurt me.”

“I would sooner rip off my own arm.”

“I know that, Sev. I don’t believe them and I’m not listening to them. It’s just exhausting.”

He doesn’t respond for a moment, and then your comm rings as he calls you from whichever hellhole of a planet he happens to be on. You quickly pop your earbuds in, and answer the call.

“Cyar’ika,” Sev’s voice sounds rougher than usual, like he hasn’t slept in a couple of days. Or, well, like he’s not slept well, at least.

Still, his voice is like a balm to your aching heart, and you lean across the table, a lovesick smile drifting across your face, “Sev,”

“How long have your friends been bitching at you?”

Trust him to get right to the core of the situation, “Since the day we started dating.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“You have so much on your plate already, Sev. I can handle my friends. And family.”

“Oh, so your family hates me too, do they.”

“Ah, well. You’re a clone, so—”

“I didn’t know your parents were racist.”

You sigh tiredly, “Yeah. I went very low contact with them after high school, because they wouldn’t listen to reason. But my friends decided to go behind my back and reached out to them—” You trail off with another sigh, “It’s fine. I can handle it.”

“You need better friends, cyare.”

“Yeah, well. I’m not as close to them as I used to be either. Which they blame you for, by the way.”

Sev scoffs, “Do you need me to stay on the line while you talk to your friends?”

“You’re in the middle of a war zone, Sev.”

“Eh, this place is actually clear right now.”

“Sev.”

A quiet laugh falls from him and your eyes close at the sound. If you focus hard enough you can almost imagine that he’s sitting across from you, rather than on the other side of the galaxy.

“Love you, cyare. You know that?” There’s something tender in his voice, and it makes you wish he was here even more than you already do.

“I love you too, Sev. I miss you.”

“I know, cyar’ika. I’ll be back before you know it.” You hear Boss shout something towards Sev in the background, and then Sev sighs, “I have to go, cyare.”

“I guessed. I’m surprised Boss let you call me at all.”

“He’s not the boss of me.”

“Uh—”

“Hush.” Sev pauses, “You gonna be alright?”

“I’ll manage. I always do.” You sit up in your chair again, “Safe travels, Sev,”

“As safe as I can be, cyare. I’ll call you tonight.” He promises.

“Alright. Love you.”

“Love you more.”

And then the call disconnects, leaving you feeling empty and missing him even more than you were before the call. But, then, that’s how it always goes.

You tear you gaze away from your comm as the chair across from you is pulled away from the table, and you have a very hard time hiding the annoyance when your, so called, best friends sit across from you. Joined by your parents.

“Have you been waiting long?” One of them asks.

“You know, I didn’t actually think that you would bring them here.” You say bluntly, without looking at your parents.

“They’re worried about you.” Your other friend offers quietly, “We all are.”

“I really don’t care.” You counter, bored out of your mind, “Anymore than I cared the last time you told me this.”

“Listen, sweetie,” Your mother leans across the table, reaching for your hands, but you pull back and fold your hands on your lap, still not looking at her or your father, “A clone is just not the way to go—”

“I don’t take opinions from bigots. Because your opinions are trash.”

“Look,” This time your friend reaches across the table to try and touch you, and he fails. “We’re just...what do you even see in Sev? He’s violent, he’s dangerous, he painted his armor to look like it’s covered in blood—”

“He makes me laugh,” You interrupt, “He makes me happy. He makes me feel safe.” Your father says your name, but you ignore him. “All of which,” You continue, “None of you offer me.”

“So what?” Your father asks, his voice loud, “You’re choosing him over your own family.”

“Funny. See, I remember you telling me to get out and never come back when I was 17. So, as far as I’m concerned, I don’t have a family.” You pick up the pack of cookies you bought and you push your chair back to stand, “And, I’m a pretty genial person. I make friends really easy.”

“So, what are you saying?”

“I’m saying lose my number or I’m going to report all of you for harassment.” You start to walk away, but then pause, “I hope you all have the day you deserve.” And then you leave the cafe, your comm already in your hands so you can update Sev.

“I just had a friend break-up.”

Sev’s response is immediate, “Scorch’s boy toy works as a mechanic on the lower levels, he’s also a swoop bike racer. Scorch thinks the two of you will be good friends. Fixer’s girl is a tattoo artist who also lives and works on the lower levels.”

“Are you just trying to make sure that I’m friends with your brothers’ partners?”

Sev doesn’t reply for a moment, “...look, I’m planning on forever with you. That’ll be easier if you get along with my brothers’ forevers too.”

All of the weight from the conversation with your ex friends and your ex parents lifts from your chest as you read his comment, “Well, in that case, yes.”

“...what?”

“That was a proposal, wasn’t it? Yes.”

Sev doesn’t respond for long enough that you think another fight must have started, but just before you step into your apartment, your comm chimes, “In the bottom drawer of my bedside table.”

“Where you keep your kinky stuff?”

“Don’t be a brat.”

“Can’t help it.”

“Yeah, yeah. ANYWAY. There’s a present for you under the book.”

“Ooh?”

“Since we’re going to get married, you should probably wear it.”

“Sev! Did you get me a ring?!”

“Don’t be silly. With what money?”

“Boo.”

“I made you a ring.”

“Oh, that’s so much better! I’m never going to take it off. You’re mine now.”

“I’ve been yours, cyare. That ring just makes it legal. I gotta go kill some bugs. Stay safe.”

“As safe as I can.”

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Diving right into breathing exercise, you realize how discreet you should be, and not indicating to anyone who might be listening or passing by that a clone is inside your room, possibly without permit. You hastily step inside and lock the door shut. “How did you enter? It was locked, wasn't it?”

“Locked, alright,” his deep, scratchy voice rumbles. The commando shows a device you've never been graced a sight of before, dangling on his finger. “I stole Fixer's thingamajig. He's gonna tear an ear outta me, but…” Sev’s dark eyes, usually hardened with strictness and focus, noticeably softens as he takes in your presence. “...Worth it.”

Temple’s rules and supposed penalty of trespassing be damned, you rush into the open arms of your boyfriend. As soon as you make contact with his firm chest, the odd silkiness of his worn PT hoodie brushes against your cheek as Sev's large, strong arms press all around your body, encasing you within his safe embrace. You feel his warm breath on your hair, the one comfort that you could only need with his presence.

Your fingers trace his spine. “As much as I love to have you here… you shouldn't be here at all, Sev. You're trespassing.” Your tone drops in reminder, almost in disappointment for his inability to wait, his surprising lack of patience. “We have Primeday.”

Sev lets you go and sighs, making his way to your armchair by the hearth. “You can kick me out if this is like any other day, cyare.”

You follow him, concerned by his pessimistic tone. “What, what's going on?”

Sev slumps on your armchair, and instead plays with your lightsaber hilt that he conjures out of nowhere. He must've snagged it from where you usually keep it—you’ve told him multiple times to be careful. But then he seems to lose interest to ramble on, unlike a couple of minutes ago.

Exhaling, you try to get a read on him then—calling out a gentle tendril of your bright Force signature to his much dimmer one, caressing the outer layer that you decide not to peel yet. Something's causing a disturbance at his self, is your conclusion. You haven't got a deeper reading as the need to accompany him defeats the former, so you sit on the armrest and touch his jaw to bring his face toward you. Your beloved’s scars stare back at you, a remainder of every operation he and his squad had accomplished in the past. But you're never bothered with them, never once. Sev, with all he is, is perfect for you.

His skin is cool, and then warm, under your touch. Realization dawns within you. “Sev, you…” you take him in, “You're sick.”

Sev looks up to meet your observing gaze, leaning into your touch and finding your skin warm. He reminds you of a tooka. Perhaps it's the Force that still makes contact with his core. “I need ailment, cyare,” he mutters pleadingly, lightsaber hilt falling into his lap—your breath gets caught in your throat. “I feel like I'm dying.”

You carefully remove your lightsaber from the blatant risk of Sev’s eunuchhood and place it on the caf table, emitter facing away from you both. “Okay,” you sigh after you get that out of the way, shifting your focus and concerns back to Sev's illness. “Do you want me to lay my Jedi mojo on you or you wanna tell me?”

Sev scoffs despite his weakened state—you’ve only just noticed the way his skin under his collar prickles. “I'd tell you if I know,” he says, shivering visibly—the adrenaline earlier when reunited with you had kept the shivers at bay. “All I'm feeling is like being passed around by a hoard of Shyyyo birds and my bones crushed. If this is what karma feels like, I won't sin anymore, promise.”

You can't help but smile at his slight deliriousness. “You are very dramatic.” Sev presses his own hand on top of yours, craving for your warmth, from the Force. Internally, you ask for its help again, and the Force readies itself by your side. “Sev?”

His eyes are shut, apparently enjoying your warmth a little too much. His fingertips are growing colder. “Hm?”

“Now, breathe with me and be still. I'm about to find out what's bothering you.”

Sev obediently follows your breathing exercise. Once he calms down, and that you've found that he's probably near falling asleep, the Force reaches out to him again on your behest to peel the outermost layer of his defenses. All you can come up with is cold-tired-peaceful, which is enough for a preliminary reading of his state.

Your thumb brushes across his jaw. His eyes flutter open. “You're weakened quite badly. Your immune system dropped and…” Dizzy-cold-tired. “Something's wrong with your head, too.”

A series of his deep chuckles startles you. “Been told that a lot.”

“Hush,” you poke his cheek warningly. You haven't peeled another layer, afraid that if you go another round you'd accidentally touch the particular part of his core where he stores his fondest memories, the easiest to recall as he stores it in the front of his mind. You never want to breach his privacy—his memories are his own to relish. “Does it hurt? Your head?” you ask then.

He grunts, but lacks the scratchy quality, so it comes out like a whine. “Like Scorch threw a brick at me.”

“He… didn't really do that, did he?”

“I wouldn't mind. That usually leads to a nice spar.”

“Sev, please,” you sigh. The corner of his lips twitches. You poke his cheek again in warning, and go to gently prod around his core again with the help of the Force. It helps you listen to his respiratory systems, and it's telling you that it isn't good. “Something’s wrong with the way you breathe as well. Wait… Ah, your nose is clogged.”

Upon cue, Sev sniffs. “So what's the diagnosis, doc?”

You caress his cheek again, his hand on top of yours pressing further. “Just a little more. What's clear now is that your ailment isn't coming from your core. You're clean, Sev, and that brings me great relief.” A burst of energetic conclusions blasts into you, helping you connect the dots quicker and bringing his symptoms together. “Sev, are you—are you having a bloody flu?!”

Once again Sev's chuckles rumble from the depth of his chest, the sound emanates warmth and longing inside your chest. “Love it when you curse outta nowhere.”

You can't help but huff a chuckle—the Force seems to have entertained you enough on purpose by playing along, and so it recedes from Sev's core. The frustration in you disappeared the moment you heard your boyfriend's laughter. It's odd with all this mountainous amount of affection you have toward your beloved.

“Sev,” you start gently, chiding carefully since it's awfully stupid anyway for trespassing, all because of a flu. “Your usual cure-all shot would cure this immediately. Why risk trespassing and come to me?”

“‘Cause I wanna see you,” Sev turns his head to you, beholding you with sad, half-drooped eyes. “Last time we met felt like ages ago and right after that, me and the boys got catapulted around the galaxy here and there where they needed us.”

You feel the curve of your lips bloom. “I miss you too,” you say, as softly as you can deliver to convey your heart. You notice Sev trying to curl further into you, and you lean so he can support his head on your waist. “But I'd be much happier if you'd take your cure-all shot instead, and rest.”

He grumbles into your tunic, “But I wouldn't see you.”

Arguing with him, no matter how easy and gently, would always bring you around and around, and as you settle with the fact that there's no way out of this—and that Sev is already here anyway. Once he's headed one direction, it needs a little more challenge to shake him and turn him around. Yet you never tire, instead admire how steadfast and strong he is with his own goals.

“Okay, then.” You tenderly comb through his dark, close-cropped hair with your fingers. “If you want this, Sev; you'll go through the normal pace of healing process. The natural way. While your illness could be cured with your cure-all shots in a jiffy, this might take a couple of days at most for all your flu symptoms to disappear.”

Sev nods sleepily against you. “Yeah, one of those, please.”

You lean in, brushing your lips just above his eyebrow. Sev squeezes your hand tighter in longing. “Are you sure?”

“Wanna go slow this time,” he reiterates, pulling away from you to stand. He rolls his neck and groans as he does his shoulders, presumably having to be sore too. “S’been tiring to keep up at speed with things.”

You rise from the armchair to brew calming tea for both you and Sev before you start, and yet can't help the pity pooling thickly in your chest. “You haven't been resting well, have you?”

Sev takes a tad more time to answer, “No.”

“Well then, a good amount of rest would do you good.”

As soldiers with enhanced metabolism as they are, even clones have limits. They are only human after all. Any overworked living, breathing being experiences the fragility of being a mortal.

“Can I sleep here?”

As you have just placed two mugs on the counter, you turn to find Sev standing by your bed, already squishing another couple of pillows close to his chest and an extra blanket draped over his shoulders and wrapped around his body—taken from the spares you keep under your bed in a container bag. It's as if he is challenging you to say no, which he already knew you wouldn't have the heart to. Lacks the smile, understandably, as he's quite ill. The fever is beginning to bite into him.

“Tea first,” you list, turning off your boiling kettle before pouring hot water into the mugs. “And then your medicine, brush your teeth, then you can sleep.”

His eyes noticeably spark at your acceptance, despite him muttering deeply, “Fine by me.”

You bring the mugs over to your one and only bedside table and help Sev set his pillows. He's only sneaked in for a couple of times in the past, making this his third, yet you prep his side of the bed as if natural for you. Sev sits obediently by the edge, his sock-clad feet flat against the rug as he waits for you to grab your medicine case.

“You really do love your risks, don't you, my love,” you muse.

Sev releases a series of breathy chuckles, best as he can in his state without making his headache worse. “I’m a man of danger. Just living up to the title.”

Laughing, you take your seat by his side, the bed dipping further with both of your weights.

“So that you could be worthy?” Your eyes sparkle in amusement and love. “Sev, you already are.”

Meeting your genuine gaze, he licks his lips, his cheeks flushing in another way than feverish. You've rendered him quiet, but he doesn't say anything else. He misses you, and has no damn idea how to convey that without risking infection. It is just as you itch to kiss him, taste his lips, to tell him again you miss him just how much.

If only he's not ill. Perhaps Primeday it is, then.

Thanks for reading! Taglist is moved to event masterlist.

A/N: You can request for x reader in my askbox! If you're interested in my clone x reader oneshots you can sign up as well to be tagged of future works. (Link provided ⬆️)

—————————

Just like any other city-planet, meeting people on Coruscant usually meant dating apps. Swiping through faces in the middle of a war felt ridiculous, but hey, so did everything else these days. And thanks to a disturbing combination of high clone population density and terrible algorithm, at least 70% of your feed was clone troopers.

You didn’t mind, though. They were all gorgeous. Most of them were polite. Some were funny. A few of them were very hot. And then there was the commando. You had no idea what made them different until you saw his profile, a classic clone trooper thirst trap: top half in black undersuit, bottom half armoured. The man looked broader than the average Coruscant Guard trooper you passed on the upper levels, and somehow looked even meaner with the helmet off.

You matched on a Taungsday. Talked for a few hours. And by Benduday night, you were meeting in person.

He didn’t pick 79’s, thank fuck for that. It was always a bit too loud and too military for you. And, it was too likely for you to run into an ex-fuckbuddy who worked at the GAR who’d ruin the mood.

Instead, he said Qibbu’s Hut in the Entertainment District. The hotel slash bar was shadier, sure. But it was still cheap, had a good selection of drinks, and some decent private booths. You got it. Clone credits didn’t go far, and hookup dates weren’t supposed to scream luxury. So there you were with a classic Kali Cooler in hand, elbow glued on the sticky table surface, watching the man across from you size up a Twi’lek server like he might know her personally.

He introduced himself earlier, Sev. Short for “Seven,” which you guessed was some sort of callsign or designation. You didn’t ask. You weren’t here for backstories. You sipped your drink and propped your chin on your palm to force eye contact. “So?”

Looking back from the server, he raised his eyebrows, and matched your energy. “So…” he echoed.

It wasn’t awkward. Just… that particular flavour of low-stakes first date where both of you already knew how this was going to end. Not that you didn’t like each other. You just didn’t have time for pretending it was something it wasn’t. It was Coruscant, after all. You had your life, job, rent, the whole big city routine. He had war.

“Tell me about yourself,” you chewed on the blue flimsi straw. It was such a default question - a staple for a one-night stand or a long-term partner. Small talk to make the room feel a little less like a transaction.

In front of you, the crimson-white armoured trooper hummed. “I’m a sniper. In an elite unit called the Delta Squad. There’s four of us. I have three pod brothers.”

He stretched his long legs and let out what seemed like the most relaxed sigh in his day. “That’s like actual siblings, in… randomly-ejected-individual terms.”

“Randomly-ejected what?”

He tilted his head. “You know. People who weren’t decanted from the same genetic batch. Civilians.”

You laughed. “You mean people who were born?”

“Right,” he nodded. “Those.”

“So you’ve done this…”

“Often,” Sev said, finishing the last of his drink in one swallow. “Gah, please tell me you’re not one of those people who think all clones are virgins.”

You nearly choked on your straw. “Shu-shaaah, no.”

It was an actual belief, surprisingly common among people who’d never stepped foot in 79’s, never swiped through a dating app on Coruscant, never seen what clones looked like off-duty. Some thought of them as sterile, clinical government-issued products. Property of the Republic. Others exoticised the hell out of them, like they were some collectible fuck-doll line instead of actual men. You knew the type. The people that went to 79’s for their “flavour of the month.”

“I actually hooked up with a Corrie once,” you offered.

“Aha. So I’m a checklist.”

You rolled your eyes. “No. I’m not-”

“I’m joking,” he interjected, the faintest smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I don’t give a fuck.”

And fuck, there they were again - those dimples, catching you off guard. You could already picture them disappearing somewhere below your waistline and in between your —

Nope. Absolutely not. Not now, at least. Brain, shut up.

But it was too late. The image was there now, imprinted on the foreground of your mind. Sev on his knees, those calloused hands gripping your thighs, that mouth working you up like a man starved. And you bet he’d be quiet while doing it. Judging from how you were doing most of the talking here at Qibbu’s, it tracked. Or, or worse, maybe he wouldn’t be quiet. Maybe he’d talk you through it in that low and gravelly voice, “Still responsive. Still with me. Good.”

Fuck. That didn’t make it any better. You crossed your legs tighter. Maker, you hated that turned you on so much.

“Hey.” He snapped his fingers in front of your face.

Shit. You did not just zone out

“I asked,” he chuckled, “your place or my quarters? The boys are out tonight. Or… I know Qibbu’s owner. I can probably talk my way into one of the cheaper rooms. There’s one on the third floor with—“

“My apartment,” you said quickly. “Mhm. Definitely.”

“Copy that.”

There was a moment of quiet filled in the tight space between you. Around you, the noise of the bar kept going - glasses clinking, bartenders yelling orders, electronic music blaring, someone laughing too loud from the circular booth behind you - but for that little moment, it all felt far away. You’d both just stepped into a pocket of stillness in the middle of a planet that never shuts up.

From his half-lidded gaze, you could tell he’d internally confirmed it too - that this wasn’t going to be more than one night. But for you, that didn’t mean it was meaningless. You were two people with too much noise in your lives, craving a quiet you could touch. You weren’t deluding yourself into thinking it’d be more. You weren’t even trying to make it tender. You simply craved the way city nights carve into you with its brutally cold lights, warm skin, and a stranger in your bed.

You’d probably never see him again. Or maybe you would. It didn’t matter, especially in times like these - where every day ran on borrowed hours. The same could be said for that lovely Jedi with the dreadlocks and a golden facial tattoo you’d spent the night with many moons ago, or the Coruscant Guard officer, or really anyone who wasn’t completely buried in the war machine. People were just trying to survive, and hold on to something that made them feel like themselves for five fucking minutes.

“So,” Sev asked as you slid off your barstool to grab your jacket, “you live alone?”

“Hm?” you stalled, reaching back to the table to finish the last watery sip of your drink. “Yeah,” you said finally. “Me and a pet.”

He tilted his head. “Tooka?”

“Nah,” you smirked. “Just the dog in me.”

There was a second of silence before he dropped his gaze. Sev’s lips gave way to a ghost of a smile.

“Terrible,” he shook his head. “That was terrible.”

“You laughed,” you bit back.

“I coughed. Drink was spicy.” He actually laughed this time.

You looped your arm through his as you stepped out of the bar, letting the warm buzz of your drink mix with the city air. “You’re a tough crowd.”

Everything around you was lit in a thousand colours, Coruscant never slept after all. His face, scarred around his left cheek, was briefly washed in hot pink and cyan as a massive advertisement pulsed across the building across the street. It would take a while to get to your place. A hovertrain ride, twenty minutes, twelve stops. Then another ten-minute walk through the neighbourhood. And you were prepared to fill that time with trying your best to avoid war-related conversations - until his arm slung around your shoulders and dragged you closer.

Okay. Hot was a bit of an understatement.

You could feel the shape of him. His grip was tight, and controlled. An idea about being pinned immediately brewed in your head.

“How long will this train take?” his breath was hot in your ear.

“Uh—around twelve stops.”

“Damn.”

And then he crowded you. Body flush to yours, one hand braced against the window of the hovertrain. You had no time to gasp before he leaned in and kissed you.

The kiss, like all hook up kisses, was sudden and messy - with a little too much teeth.

But fuck, you loved it nonetheless.

The train rocked as it accelerated, city lights flashing past the windows like falling stars. His mouth was on yours, hungry in a way that showed he hadn’t done this in a while. You were vaguely aware that the car was empty, Benduday night, past 23:30, contra flow. Not many people left the entertainment district this late unless they were working, or hunting, or fucking. But would you care if there were people in the car? You probably wouldn’t.

You kissed him back, hungrier. His hand stayed where it was, caging you in. The other gripped your head to keep himself - or maybe both of you - grounded. The train screeched on a turn, and you used it as an excuse to lean into him harder.

“You’re a menace,” you whispered when you pulled back for air.

“You want me to stop?”

“Mmm no. But maybe to wait?”

He kissed you again anyway.

Next thing you knew, your back hit the bed, Sev’s weight settling over you - heavy, warm, and solid like his armour. His hands moved over your body as if your body was a battlefield and he’d been trained to navigate every inch of it blindfolded.

You expected silence. Maybe a growl. Definitely something primal. Because that’s what they were, right? That’s what you heard. One of your girlfriends once bragged about hooking up with a commando and wouldn’t shut up about how rough and broody he was. The way she described it over drinks felt like you were being forced to listen to live commentary on a fucknasty holofilm - like The Senate Aide, that raunchy underground hit about the Zeltron assistant who became her boss’ submissive. You were both impressed and kind of wanted her to shut the hell up. Listening to your friends’ sex life in surround sound was never as fun as how Sex and the Ecumenopolis portrayed it on screen.

So no, you didn’t expect him to murmur, “I read a manual for this.”

You had no idea what to say to that. “I—sorry, what?”

He was hovering over you, eyes trained on your mouth, waiting for it to do something again. “There was this weird intimacy training manual back on Kamino. I skimmed it. Some of it stuck.”

“You skimmed—”

“Most of it was terrible,” he added quickly. “Outdated. Weirdly mechanical. But the anatomical diagrams were... useful. I didn’t know why I said it. I’ve done this many times before. Just popped up in my head,”

His kiss swallowed the laugh that was about to come out of your mouth. Then, the sniper started slowly kissing his way down. Past your jaw. Your neck. You felt the slight scrape of stubble and let your head fall back into the pillow. “Adjusting course,” he murmured.

His hands ghosted along your sides, pausing at the hem of your shirt and glanced up as if he might ask permission again, but instead he knitted his brows and said, “You know,” he swallowed, tone turned deadly serious, “Scorch once hooked up with a Zeltron during a mission on Zeltros. Said she made him go for at least five rounds.”

“…Okay?”

“He wasn’t functional the next day. Total systems failure. Just laid in the nest like a broken droid. Good thing it was a surveillance op.”

You stared, on your way to yet another breathless laughter. “Is this foreplay?”

“No. This is a warning.”

He leaned down and kissed your sternum.

“If I fall apart tomorrow, it’s your fault.”

You bit your lip. “So I’m the Zeltron in this situation?”

“You’re worse,” he muttered. “You flirted terribly and made me laugh.”

“Mm did I win something?” You teased, laughing. Which turned into a moan as his mouth moved lower, trailing down your stomach while his fingers hooked under the waistband of your trousers. He kissed just above your hip, breath warm against your skin, a set of brown eyes psychologically undressing you through those lashes.

“I have a week-old protein bar somewhere in my armour over there,” he jerked his thumb toward the pile of gear dumped near your bedroom door.

“…What?”

“I’d offer it as a prize. It’s chocolate flavoured.”

“Sev.”

“What?” Teeth grazing your hip. “You said you wanted something memorable.”

You threw your head back against the pillow and laughed. Truly, helplessly laughed until the sound melted into a gasp because he started peeling your trousers inch by inch, kissing every new patch of skin. And when he finally settled between your thighs, he looked up to you again and added, “Besides. I’d rather eat you.”

And just like that - goodbye, sanity.

You barely registered the sound of your trousers hitting the floor. Too focused on the warmth of his mouth around your core. He kissed the inside of your thigh, and mapped you with the same care he probably gave to his well-maintained Deecee. And the first deliberate stroke across your cunt had you arching up with a broken gasp.

“There it is,” he quietly murmured - more to himself than to you. “Responsive.”

Wrapping his hands under your thighs, Sev steadied your reactive body. With each pass of his tongue, you felt your grip on the moment slip further. He moved like he had no war to go back to. No brothers waiting. Just this bed. This night. You.

For a moment, you let yourself believe that maybe in a kinder galaxy, this wasn’t a one-night thing. Maybe in that parallel universe, he’d come home to you. But Coruscant did not leave room for fantasies. There were only flunking wartime economy, tired mornings, and lovers who didn’t text back. So, of course, you quickly sweeped the fantasy out of your headspace.

Down there, you could feel your fingers involuntarily tightened around a fistful of his overgrown curls as he sucked on your clit, and the moan that left your throat felt ripped from somewhere deeper than lust. A quieter, lonelier place.

“Good?” Sev took his time to ask.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “So fucking good.”

The clone commando nodded, dipping his head back down without another word. Leaving the room with nothing but the sweet sound of your moans and the distant buzz of the ecumenopolis outside the window. Oh, and the wet sound of his mouth, generously devoted to you.

As if it wasn’t good enough, his thick digits joined in. One. And then two. Careful, steady, slow. Slipping in deep and curling just right, just fucking right, and you weren’t prepared for how much it would undo you.

“Fuck,” you whimpered - not realising how wrecked you already sounded. “Sev—”

“Still good?” he asked again, you swore you could hear him grinning against your pussy.

“Don’t you dare stop.”

A smug little chuckle burst out of him before he returned to what he was doing. He continued working you up faster, gradually building the eventual explosion inside you. You could feel it coming in your belly, and then slowly rolled out in waves, swelling and sweet and all-consuming. Your back arched, your mouth opened - though no sound came out of it. Nothing but a silent gasp where your brain short-circuited under his touch.

And then, maker help you, you laughed and moaned at the same time. Not because it was funny. But because it felt that good. That someone had touched you like that, and it was him, of all people. A late night - almost drunken decision - you swiped just a few days ago. It must’ve been a while since you let yourself go like this.

The stress. The suffocating anxiety. The grind of surviving on a city-planet that never slept, in the middle of a galaxy-wide war that was slowly eating people alive - you hadn’t even realised how tightly you’d been holding on until he unraveled you.

Sev pulled back to look at you. His beautiful face, the one he shared with millions of other men but somehow still uniquely his - flushed and glistening with your cum, resting between your thighs. “You laughed,”

“That was. Fuck. That was not funny,” you breathed, trying to adjust your vision back into focus.

“You did laugh.”

“I didn’t know I could come that hard,” you flustered. “Shut up.”

He rested his chin on your thigh, expression unreadable except for the tiniest pull at the corner of his mouth. Those fucking dimples again.

“SITREP,” he said. “Subject responsive. Outcome: extremely effective. Reaction: uncontrolled laughter. Will continue for further analysis.”

You groaned and chucked a pillow at his face. Sev caught it one-handed, and threw it back behind him. Something clattered on the floor - probably one of those cheap plastic decor you’d impulsively bought just to feel something. You’d never even bothered to untag them.

Oh-Seven climbed back up and kissed you hard. As if he hadn’t just had his mouth on your cunt. As if the past ten minutes hadn’t ended with your orgasm hitting so hard you laughed.

You could feel how hard he was through his blacks, how tightly he held himself together, savouring the moment before he lost control.

“You still with me?” He rasped.

“Fuck yes.”

“Good. I need you to actually stay with me this time.”

And that was the moment everything changed. His earlier playfulness, that chaotic warmth, folded and replaced by a rough intensity. He stripped the rest of his blacks off, and stars, you barely had time to process before his cock sprang free, thick and flushed and fuck. Yeah. That tracked.

This man was solid muscle, scarred and freckled, in a way that was not delicate. Sev was designed to be a weapon for maximum damage. And right now, all that force was for you.

You reached for him, but he caught your wrist and pinned it above your head. “Let me,” he commanded.

Sev stretched you open in one slow thrust - deep enough to knock the air out of your lungs. You tried to hold yourself back, planted yourself in your bed, and he held you there to adjust, forehead pressed against yours. Not moving, not speaking, just feeling it with you.

“Shit. Sev!”

“I know,” he whispered.

Only after you nodded did he begin to move. He started slowly, taking his time to feel your warmth, before it gradually turned deeper and relentless. Every thrust of his hips dragged a moan from you. Every grind sent heat down your spine. He was watching you the whole time, not looking away for one bit.

You tried to close your eyes or even look away from his intense gaze, but he cupped your face.

“Eyes on me.”

You managed to refocus your sight.

“Good. Stay with me. I want to see you.”

And fuck, he did. Sev saw everything. From the way your body shuddered underneath him, the way your walls clenched around him with every deep, brutal thrust. The way your mouth parted before you begged - faster, harder, don’t stop. The way your sweet moans unraveled into messy whimpers and feral cries the deeper he fucked you.

Sev didn’t look away. Not once. Not even when your legs coiled around his waist and your nails marked a long line down his back.

He leaned down and devoured your mouth through it all - swallowing your cries, your shaky breath, your everything - like he needed it to stay sane.

Because he did. Because this was his, too.

He didn’t just want to make you come or make himself come. He wanted to fuck you so hard the shared loneliness between you didn’t stand a chance.

And gods, you could feel it in the way his thrusts started to falter into an uncontrollable rhythm. He was right at the edge, and so were you. You felt your entire body tightening, shaking, bracing for the fall. To unravel together.

You knew this would be the kind of orgasm you’d come back to later. Maybe in the shower. In the dark. Whenever the city got too loud or the silence got too suffocating. You were filing it away, storing the memory in that little corner in your mind where it could stay warm.

Sev buried his face in your neck and groaned your name repeatedly like a prayer. You wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders, holding him through it, legs trembling as his heartbeat pounded against yours - and you both came hard. A quiet, yet planet-shattering orgasm.

Before you knew it, Sev dropped his full weight on top of you as if you were the only safe place left in that wide galaxy. Neither of you said anything. You let the silence grow, filled only by the distant wail of a CSF siren a few blocks away. The loud tooka next door started meowing again. Somewhere down below, the 24/5 noodle bar buzzed with life - the sound of metal chairs scraping, speeder doors slamming, someone yelling over delivery mix-ups. The usual noise of Coruscant after midnight.

The city glowed outside your window, bathing your tangled naked bodies in the faintest cerulean light. Letting the moment suspend, you shut your eyes.

“You took it well,” Sev said eventually as he settled beside you. He reached over to brush back your sweaty hair and tucked it behind your ear. “You deserve that week-old chocolate protein bar.”

“Ew.” You giggled, still feeling the warm leak of him between your thighs. “We even forgot to use protection.”

“Shiiiiiit,” he burried his face into your hair for a second before kissing your forehead. “I got tested recently though. Clean. And I requested… you know. The GAR clearance.”

You raised an eyebrow. “The clearance?”

He nodded. “Yeah. No risk of anything… sticking.”

“I’ve got an implant too. Don’t worry.” You laughed.

“Hmm.” Sev hummed, hand gently tracing down your back like he was still trying to memorise the shape of you.

“I’ll get you water.”

————————

The last thing you remembered from that night was both of you eating cup noodles. You, only in your knickers, wrapped in a blanket. Him, still shirtless, stabbing through the seasoning packet and aggressively sprinkled the content into the cup.

He told you about that time he ran a mission on a ghost ship and almost died. Told you about Scorch, the clown of the squad. About Boss, their sergeant, apparently the one who cussed the most. And Fixer, the quiet one, the slicer, the nerd, the one who called Sev “unhinged” every five seconds.

Somewhere along the way, your vision went dark. You remembered mentally telling yourself that he’d be gone by morning. And it was fine. It was always supposed to be that way. That’s how this city worked. One night. One warmth. One lover gone before the sun.

But then you woke up to a death grip around your waist and a snore. Turning your body slowly, you squinted against the harsh Coruscant sunlight peeking through your blinds.

Sev was still there.

He was still wrapped around you. Barely moving. You thought about waking him. About doing the usual morning-after ritual - a kiss. A joke. A breakfast offer. A “call me later” even when you both knew it probably wouldn’t happen. A clean-up. A goodbye.

His eyes were bright and full of mischief, chin drenched in her pleasure as he licked his lips, gaze darting briefly up to his brother where he sat behind her, restraining her arms with one hand while the other teased her bare breasts. “Must be doing something wrong.”

Before Cin could answer, Scorch was back to work, diving between her thighs with devastating precision. Her entire body arched in Sev’s hold as his clever tongue wrapped around her clit once more, driving her closer and closer to bliss.

Behind her, Sev’s chest rumbled with low laughter, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. Leaning in close, he flicked his tongue against the sensitive flesh, smirking at the whine he got in response.

“Not my fault she loves having her tits played with,” the sniper growled, nipping at her ear when she let out a whimper, rolling her hips against his thick cock where it pressed into her back, desperate for pleasure. “Prettiest thing in the whole karking galaxy, aren’t you, ner kar’ta?”

Another pinch of her nipple between his bare thumb and forefinger, combined with Scorch’s tongue drawing unintelligible symbols across her sensitive bud brought her right to the edge, head thrown back on Sev’s shoulder as she screamed for them both, relishing in the pleasure they gave her.

“That’s my good girl,” Sev praised as her orgasm rolled through her body, arms and legs twitching, his hand tightening around her wrists, “give him everything you’ve got.”

Scorch continued to lick and suck her sensitive flesh as she thrashed above him, her thighs tightening around his head as the waves of euphoria faded to overstimulation, trying to communicate without words.

Sev could tell what she wanted, laughing his low, knowing rumble before pulling her away from Scorch’s mouth and lifting her up with terrifying ease. She couldn’t even question his actions before he sank her back down, his cock sliding easily inside her warm heat, her walls quivering around him.

“You like that, baby?” Sev growled as he rolled his hips, bottoming out inside her. She could only mewl in response, panting for breath, overwhelmed by the feeling of being so utterly filled. Managing a nod, Sev grinned as he bit her neck, sucking a deep purple mark into her skin. “You like me filling you up? Feeling my cock inside that perfect pussy?”

“S-Sev, f-fuck!” she gasped, eyes widening as Scorch crawled up between her legs, mouth moving towards her breasts.

“Gonna take such good care of you, cyar’ika,” he promised, even as she let out a wail of pleasure when Sev bucked, hitting a sensitive spot deep inside her body, “can’t wait to have my turn with you.”

“S-Scorch,” she whined, barely able to keep her eyes open as more and more pleasure sent the world into a haze, “I… I…”

“Shhh, mesh’la,” he chuckled, letting his tongue flick out to flick at one nipple while his hand fondled the other, “enjoy this. We’ll take care of you… We’ll always take care of you.”

“Ner cyare,” Sev murmured in agreement, voice strained as he fought his own release, “ner kat’ra. Ibac’ner.”

--**--

Sev woke with a start, gasping for breath as he shot up, sleep clinging to his senses.

“Cin?”

No answer.

He may have only been half awake, but he managed to rip the layers of material covering him away, confused to find himself in only his blacks as he stumbled towards what looked like a door.

Where was he?

Last he remembered, he’d found Cin, he’d… 

“Kriff,” he muttered, squeezing his eyes shut in pain as memories of pinning her to the ground and holding a knife above her flowed back to him. “Cin!”

There was an urgency in his voice now. Pushing through the pain, he groped blindly for the doorway, trying to make sense of everything around him.

The material under his palm felt like wood, natural and unfinished. It sloped gently inwards, running up high, above the ceiling from what he could tell.

“Cin!”

Pulling at the door, he found it unlocked, wincing as light spilled into the room from outside.

Looking around in confusion, he found the source to be multiple carved chandeliers made of polished wood and metal, the lights on them bright flames. In the centre of the room was a large table, set as if waiting for a large group to descend and eat. It was covered with various fruits and berries as well as slabs of cold meats. Some of the fare he recognised, though others seemed foreign, and for a moment, the urgency running through his veins lulled enough for him to acknowledge his hunger.

How long had he been out for? It felt like he hadn’t eaten in days.

Almost on instinct, he staggered towards the table, collapsing onto one of the benches and reaching for a handful of seifruits, small bright purple berries he recognised from his training.

He knew he should be looking for Cin, that this could well be a trap, but Maker, he was so damn hungry.

His mind was still awash with confusion, every thought sluggish and half formed.

There had been a trandoshan, he remembered that much. Pausing mid-bite, he cursed himself, trying to tear his gaze away from the spread before him, panic making his breath catch.

What if they’d got her?

What if they were torturing her while he sat here, eating?

Nausea enveloped his senses, his stomach churning with worry. His body fought him hard, drawn to the feast. But he couldn’t… He needed to find Cin, he needed…

As the door behind him opened, he found himself reaching for his blaster on instinct, only to find the sidearm, much like his armour, missing.

If he hadn’t been so confused, he might have laughed at himself as a large wookie with dark brown and red fur stepped through the door, shooting him what seemed to be a smile of sorts; here he was, an elite commando, dressed only in his blacks, unarmed, stuffing his face with fruit instead of finding his comrade.

Kamino would have put him down for less.

Still chewing the mouthful of food he’d grabbed, he took a defensive stance, sizing up the wookie with narrowed eyes.

It would have to be a wookie, he complained to himself silently. Boss was the one who did languages. And without his helmet, he wouldn’t have a chance to translate.

“Where’s Cin?” he demanded, the wookie letting out a soft, laugh like sound. “Something funny, furball?”

The wookie simply rolled its eyes and turned back through the door it had come from, making an odd, low growl which seemed to be echoed by others beyond the threshold.

After a moment of hesitation, he began to follow, assessing the situation. If he was going to be attacked, he figured it would have happened by now. After all, he’d been unconscious here for… a while. Reaching up to scratch his face, he realised a thick fuzz had grown onto his chin, a testament to just how long he had been out of it.

It had been years since he’d had any kind of facial hair. Originally, the Kaminoans had outright banned it, claiming that it interfered with the seals on their buckets. Even though that had been laxed, Scorch and his dumb goatee were the closest any of them ever got.

Scorch… He wondered where his brothers were now, if they were okay, if they’d made it off world before… whatever had happened, happened. He was still trying to make sense of everything, his head spinning wildly.

Sev drew a sharp breath as he walked into yet another wooden room of the massive complex he was in, in silent awe of the sheer size.

Judging by what he knew about their location and the presence of so many wookies, most of them giving him odd looks as he passed silently past them, following the one who had come to find him, they were still on Kashykk, and likely inside one of their massive dwellings.

His guide let out a roar, catching his attention once more as he was guided to a doorway, his breath hitching once again as he spotted a familiar figure inside.

There, cross-legged and meditating, her lightsaber laid out in front of her as a warm fire radiated light across her features, was Cin.

She was dressed in a shirt and trousers far too big for her, her arms exposed and littered with cuts and bruises. Her auburn hair, once kept in long plaits that trailed down her back was all but gone now, barely reaching her ears and choppy, his heart lurching again as he remembered seeing the terrified look on her face as she lay beneath him.

Whether it was his guilt, fear or something else that drew her from her meditation, he wasn’t sure, but before he could move, her eyes fluttered open and sought him out, her expression softening into a gentle smile of recognition.

“Sev,” she breathed, tears beginning to well in her eyes. He was frozen to the spot as she clipped her lightsaber to her belt and stood, adjusting her ill fitting clothes before she moved to him, wrapping her arms around him in a tender embrace. “You’re awake.”

“Mesh’la,” he croaked, head dropping onto her shoulder.

Relief flooded through him, arms trembling as he wrapped them around her body, clutching her tight.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Every other word he could have offered in that moment felt utterly inadequate as he clutched at her, every emotion he’d held back for years mixing into a torrent that spilled down his cheeks and into her borrowed clothing.

Even as she shushed him and reassured a worried looking female wookie who approached, she supported him, guiding him back towards the room with the spread inside and settling him down on one of the benches.

With one hand still resting on his shoulder, keeping him grounded, Cin grabbed a plate and loaded it with a selection of meat, cheeses and fruits, placing it in front of him along with a pitcher of water.

“Eat, love,” she urged, fingers trailing patterns into his skin through the thin material of his blacks, “you’ve been out for two days.”

“Two days?” Sev choked, unable to even look at the food as she settled next to him, straddling the bench so she could face him. Nodding sagely, she drew in a steadying breath, her expression tight.

“After you passed out, Tarai and her search party found us. They’d been hearing the shots, and figured you for a Trandoshan. They bought us back here, and…”

She hesitated, biting her lip before her eyes flickered up to meet his, full of misery.

“Sev… you… you had a chip in your head,” she breathed, the words fluttering around the silence of the room. A cold shiver ran through his body as he stared at her, dumbfounded.

“What kind of chip?”

“A biological one, from what Rieikonno is saying,” she sighed, dropping her gaze to the bench she was sat on. “They… ran a scan on you, when you got here. We couldn’t wake you up, no matter what we tried, and… we thought… we were beginning to think, that…”

The pain in her words spurred him into action, his hands moving to hers, lacing their fingers together. Even without words, she smiled softly at the comfort he offered, taking another breath, readying herself to continue.

“They ran a scan, and at first, we thought it was a tumour. They took you down to the lab under the structures here, and they… they took it out. It took a long time, they said it was embedded almost like your brain had grown around it, but… they did, and then they brought you up here, and…”

Again, she faltered, tears dripping from her lashes onto their joined hands, her chest shuddering.

“Sev… the Jedi,” she began, voice trembling. “The clones, they… they…”

Another flash of pain ran through Sev’s head, memories flashing over and over like a spotlight across his vision.

“Kill the Jedi. Kill the Jedi. Traitors, all traitors!”

He didn’t know why he was speaking aloud. Maybe it was to confirm to himself what his thoughts were telling him. He’d heard the order over comms, loud and clear.

“Execute Order 66.”

Kill the Jedi. The Jedi had betrayed the republic. Somehow, he knew. He didn’t need to hear it. It was obvious, how they’d turned on those they were supposed to protect.

They all needed to die. Her included.

Cin. The name was poison now. The feelings he’d held close to his chest were gone, replaced by a seething hatred, one that only grew as he spotted what he was looking for; familiar footprints sunken into the softened ground beneath them.

She was running. Good. She should be running. He would hunt her down like the animal she was. Kill her. Bring her lightsaber back to the Capitol.

So why were his hands shaking? Why did the idea of watching the light leave her eyes fill him with such dread? Why did he care enough that he thought to make it quick and painless?

Gasping for breath, Sev’s eyes fluttered open once more, finding Cin looking at him with a mixture of horror and fear in her eyes.

A flash of movement caught him off guard, a light flashing off to his side. He reacted on instinct, hand snapping to grab at the intruding figure, resulting in a shocked roar echoing around the room.

“Easy, easy, Sev,” Cin urged, looking to the wookie whose arm he’d grabbed, shaking her head. “He’s not dangerous, he’s just disorientated.”

A low rumbling growl echoed from the door, Cin’s eyes narrowing into a frown as she turned to the source.

“He wasn’t himself,” she protested to the large wookie who now stepped through the door, a large metal belt with ammo bolts secured to it and a bowcaster at his side adding to the ferocity of his expression, “I told you. Ask Riek, he’ll tell you. It was the chip.”

Another set of low rumbles and whines, Sev’s grasp loosening on the other wookie.

“Well I trust him, and if you trust me, you’ll respect that.”

Cin’s tone was terse, gaze full of anger as she glared up at the wookie, their conversation continuing, though Sev couldn’t understand the other side.

“Then kick us both out. I’m not going to leave him.”

Another few roars and grumbles sounded, the elder who Cin had been arguing with rolling his eyes and crossing his arms over his chest, showing obvious displeasure.

A sharp bark came from him, followed by another long whining sound.

“Well I’m not Yoda.”

Whatever he’d said had obvious set her on edge, her eyes refocusing on Sev as she grabbed the plate of food and took his hand, urging him to stand.

“We need to get you resting up again, love,” she murmured, voice soft once again as it was directed at her. “Do you think you can follow me?”

“Anywhere,” he managed gruffly, drawing a weak smile to her face, “and always.”

Any retort she might usually have given was lost to the sound of movement, the wookie he’d previously grabbed looking over him with a mix of caution and concern.

“I’m… sorry,” Sev mumbled, flashing a look to the paler furred wookie, who smiled easily back at him before letting out a low rumbling purr, Cin nodding in response.

“She says it’s okay. She understands. This is Ollerra, she’s been overseeing a lot of your recovery.”

Sev winced as he stood up from the bench, supported on both sides, to make his way back to the room he’d woken in. His mind was still spinning, head throbbing and only getting more painful with every step he took, and Ollerra seemed to notice.

A soft sound left her, Cin’s head snapping to the commando.

“Are you in pain?”

The hesitation in his reply was all the confirmation she needed, a frustrated sigh leaving her lips.

“She’ll give you pain meds, okay? Once you’re settled in bed.”

The vulnerability settling over Sev’s body was uncomfortable, his limbs trembling.

“And you’ll stay?” he murmured, exhaustion beginning to creep into his every nerve now he knew Cin was safe and that they were secure. With the additional promise of a shot of pain meds, he was ready to sleep again, but only if he could keep her close.

“Of course, e’tad.”

Clouds of steam swirled around Sev as he stepped out of the shower. It felt nice to finally be clean after a long day caked in sweat and dirt.

He’d barely taken a step out of the ‘fresher when Scorch informed him, “You’re comm’s been blowing up while you were in there.”

“Kriff, really?” he asked as he crossed the room in two large strides. The only person who really commed him was you and his heart skipped a beat. Were you okay?

He grabbed his comm from it’s place face down on his cot and saw that he had four missed calls and two new voicemails - all from you. He quickly punched in your number and waited impatiently as it started to ring.

Luckily for him you picked up on the second ring. “Sev! Thank the Maker you picked up.”

“Are you alright?” he asked, millions of possible scenarios running through his head. Was there a burglar? Did you fall and you couldn’t get up?

“I’m alright, I just - eep!” There was a pause where he could only hear your breathing on the other end before you started speaking again. “Sorry, I thought I heard something.”

“What’s going on?” Sev growled. He didn’t mean for it to come out so gruffly but he was getting worried.

“Well I - promise not to laugh, okay?”

“I promise.”

“I watched a scary movie tonight and I’m totally freaked out. I keep hearing all these creepy noises and my eyes are playing tricks on me. My roommate went home for the weekend and I’m all alone, which is making it worse. I was, uh, hoping you could stay on the phone with me for a little bit.”

Sev felt his whole body relax as he released a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. He was already planning to rush down there, blaster drawn, to fight off a home invader or something equally awful. This was much easier to deal with.

“Is that all? I was expecting you to be in the middle of being murdered with all those missed calls,” he answered, the corner of his lips twisting into a wry half grin.

“Please don’t listen to your voicemails. I was totally panicking when I left them,” you said.

“Oh yeah?” Sev could barely suppress his chuckle at this point.

“Hey, I said no laughing!” you protested.

“I’m not laughing,” Sev replied, his smile getting bigger.

“I can totally hear the smile in your voice right now!”

“I never smile,” Sev deadpanned. “You’re imagining it. Just like you’re imagining whatever monster you think is in your house right now.” He heard Scorch snicker at his words and tossed a pillow at him.

“Ugh, I know it’s all in my head. But that doesn’t stop me from having a heart attack every time I hear a creak.”

Sev didn’t really know what advice to give you. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d truly been scared of something. Fear just wasn’t a luxury he could afford on the battlefield. But he still racked his brain for anything that might help.

“Tell me about your day then. That’ll help get your mind off it,” Sev offered after a minute of mulling it over.

As you filled him in with the details of your day, another idea crossed his mind. A brilliant one if he did say so himself. He held the phone between his ear and shoulder as he quickly threw on a pair of pants and a shirt. Scorch wiggled his eyebrows at him once he realized he was planning on going out. Sev responded by flipping off his annoying younger brother before slipping on some shoes and rushing out the door.

~~~

You’d been talking with Sev for almost fifteen minutes when the doorbell rang. The sound surprised you so much that you jumped a good two inches off the ground, your comm slipping out of your hand and clattering to the ground.

“Kriff,” you gasped, clutching at your chest. Once you recovered enough you grabbed your comm and put it back up to your ear.

“You good?” Sev asked.

“Yeah, sorry. The doorbell rang and scared the shit outta me.”

“You gonna go answer it? Could be important.”

“Uhhh… what if it’s a murderer or evil ghost something?” you squeaked, your overactive imagination already getting the better of you.

“It’s not a murderer I promise. Go answer it, I’ll stay on the line with you.” Sev encouraged.

You knew he was right. Plus It could be the little old lady who lived down the hall. She’d forgotten her key so many times that she’d ended up giving you a spare for whenever she locked herself out. You didn’t want her to be stuck outside all night just because you were being a scaredy cat. Just to be safe though, you made a quick detour to your kitchen and grabbed a knife from the counter.

“Okay, I’m going. But if I get killed I swear I’ll come back and haunt you forever,” you told Sev, who’s only response was a quiet laugh.

You tiptoed over to your door, cursing the fact you didn’t have a peephole to look through. At least you had a chain to keep the door from opening completely, and you made sure it was securely in place before you took a deep breath, gripped the knife a little harder, and opened the door.

“Sev?!” you exclaimed as soon as you saw who was waiting on the other side.

“Surprise,” he said, still holding the comm up to his ear, making you hear double.

You ended the call and hurried to fully unlock the door, ushering him inside once you did. You started to throw your arms around him when you remembered you were still holding a knife.

“A knife?” he questioned when he caught sight of it.

“In case there was a murderer,” you explained sheepishly. It had seemed like such a good idea at the time, but now you felt a little foolish.

“Well, you’re not gonna do a lot of damage with a kitchen knife. Especially if you’re holding it like that.” Before you could react, he plucked the knife out of your hand and started spinning it around with deft fingers. “One of these days I’ll teach you how to properly use a knife, if you want.”

“Sure! Not tonight though, I’m a little too jumpy.”

“No kidding. I think you have every light on in the whole apartment,” he said, his eyes scanning around as he stepped into your little living room.

The whole time you’d been on the phone with him, you’d been posted up in the middle of the living room, all the lights on and the holoprojector streaming some funny cartoon you used to watch growing up. Because no self respecting killer, ghost, or monster could hurt you if the vibes were off, right?

You didn’t tell Sev any of this though, your pride already taking enough hits this night. Though, knowing how observant he was, you would bet he’d already pieced most of it together already.

Thankfully, he didn’t comment on it, instead striding over to your kitchen to replace the knife. Once he returned to you, he put his hands on his hips and said, “Okay, what can I do to help you relax?”

“Um, could you go around and make sure nothing is hiding anywhere? I wasn’t brave enough to check on my own.”

You expected him to make some wise comment, but instead he simply nodded and said, “Sure. Though you have to come with me so you can see for yourself there’s nothing.”

It was a fair deal, so for the next twenty minutes you trailed close behind Sev as he indulged you, checking every possible place your paranoid brain could imagine a monster could be hiding, leaving no proverbial rock unturned. He looked behind your shower curtain, opened the weird little door in the hallway that housed the apartment’s circuit breaker, rummaged around in your closet to make sure nothing was behind your clothes, and even got on all fours to check under your bed. As you went from room to room, he made sure to turn off all the lights. You were scared the first time he did it but now that he was here you were starting to settle, the adrenaline draining out of your body and exhaustion rushing to replace it.

Once you were one hundred percent certain there was nothing in your apartment, he led you back to your bedroom. You yawned as he helped you into one of the big t-shirts you slept in, pulling it over your head before planting a soft kiss on your hairline.

“Sleepy?” he asked as you wrapped your arms around his waist and leaned into his chest.

“Uh-huh,” you mumbled, your eyes already drooping.

He walked you backwards until the back of your knees hit the bed and you slid underneath the covers. He kicked off his boots and unholstered the blaster on his belt, placing it on the nightstand before joining you under the blankets. You rolled over so that you could face him and wiggled a hand free from under the blanket to cup his cheek, your thumb stroking a small scar underneath his eye. One of his arms snaked around your waist and pulled you closer against him.

“I’m gonna turn the light off now, okay?” he warned you.

You nodded and buried your face against his chest, your fingers gripping his shirt in anticipation. You heard the light click off and he slung his other arm over you, his hand dipping below the hem of your shirt and trailing up your back.

After a few calming breaths, you cracked your eyes open and found that it wasn’t so bad, the lights from the city keeping it from being totally pitch black.

“Thanks for coming, Sev. And for checking everything. You’re the best boyfriend in the galaxy,” you whispered to him.

“Of course,” he replied. “Though you have to promise me something. No more scary movies while you’re home alone.”

“Only if you promise to watch them with me so I can hide from the scary parts.”

Sev chuckled, a deep sound that you could feel from your spot against his chest. “Deal.”

“There!” You take a step back from your work table to admire the bottle of blood red ink that you've been laboring over for hours now, “One bottle of magic imbued ink, ready to be used for rune crafting.”

Technically, and traditionally, the ink should be in black or blue. But you've never been a traditional witch, so why would you start now? Plus, the red is so bright and pretty, so how could anyone claim that you were being a bad witch?

“Okay!” You say to the empty room, setting both of your hands on your hips, “I think I’ve done all I can. Now all I need is a volunteer!”

The ink is done, your workshop is clean, and the ritual area has been touched up. And, more importantly, you put an ad in the local paper to try and garner the attention of a potential volunteer.

You just have to wait.

You’re sure you won’t be waiting long. After all, why wouldn’t someone want to be a magic test subject? It’s the best thing ever!

A week later, you’re started to feel a little discouraged. Not only have no volunteers showed up for your totally awesome magic experiments, but also members of the local church have been coming around to try and convert you away from your demon worshiping.

You’re willing to admit, to yourself, that perhaps an ad in the local paper wasn’t the best idea. But, to be fair, the local clergy never cared about the magic thing before.

A sudden knock on the door pulls you from your gloom. Logically, you know it’s probably one of the local ladies here to try and save your soul. But maybe, just maybe, it’s someone here to answer your ad.

So you bounce over to the door and swing it open, “Welcome to the Emporium!” You chirp as soon as the door opens, and before you get a good look at who’s on the other side.

Luckily, it’s not a local lady.

It’s a man. Tall, broad, and heavily scarred. And wearing clone armor.

You tilt your head to the side, “...Can I help you?” Surely the locals didn’t recruit soldiers to run you out of town? With pitchforks and fire and all of the drama involved—

He quirks a single brow, and then lifts a printout of your ad, “You’re looking for volunteers?”

Now, you’ve never been the type of lady who can be wooed by something as simple as a voice. But his voice is deep and gravely in a way that sends goosebumps up your spine, and you fall in love with his voice then and there.

But, you’re a professional. Or, well, you like to pretend to be a professional. So you shove aside your distraction with his voice, and favor him with a beaming grin, “I am! Are you interested?”

He glances at the ad, “It says that you’re looking into protection runes? That’ll be useful, if it works.”

“It will! Because I’m amazing.”

The corner of his lips curl up in a small smirk, “Well, you’re not lacking for confidence, that’s for sure.”

Your grin widens, and you move to the side, “Won’t you come inside?”

He enters your home with no hesitation. But then, if you were as big and solid looking as he is, you probably wouldn’t hesitate before entering places either. You give him directions to your sitting room as you shut and lock the door behind him, before you trail after him.

Honestly, you can’t take your eyes off him.

You’ve never been a small woman. You’ve always been on the bigger side due to genetic factors and the fact that you really don’t like exercise. But, as you step around him and motion that he can sit anywhere he wants, and ask if he’d like some tea or caf for the conversation, you feel tiny while standing next to him.

It’s a nice feeling.

He settles on your couch, “You don’t have to go out of your way for me.”

“It’s no trouble at all, Mister...um…”

“Sev. And there’s no need to call me Mister, just Sev is fine.”

“Sev, then. It’s very nice to meet you.” You vanish into your kitchen and then return with two mugs of caf, “I brewed this before you got here, I just haven’t had the chance to make a mug yet. I hope you like it!”

“Thanks,” He says as he takes a sip while you settle on your armchair, curling your legs under yourself and then you set your mug on a coaster. “I have some questions about this volunteer opportunity.” Sev finally says as he sets his mug to the side.

“I would be more surprised if you didn’t.” You agree, “Ask away.”

“How is this going to work?”

“Basically, I’m going to paint runes on your body with a special ink, and then I’m going to imbue them with magic so the runes take hold. If it works perfectly, then you’ll have a kind of magical protection.”

“And what does that mean?”

“Mm. It’s kind of hard to explain.” You tap your lower lips for a moment, “Basically, the protection runes are meant to shield you from any magical harm to your body, but they also add protection against things like mind manipulation and the like. It’ll also make you more resistant to being moved by the Force.”

“Are Magic and the Force the same thing?”

“Sort of? According to what I’ve read it’s the same power just in different forms.”

Sev nods slowly, “So this ritual, is it going to leave me harmed in some way?”

“No. Absolutely not. You’ll be able to leave under your own power, I swear it.” You pause, “Um, I am going to have to see a lot of you, though. I’ll be painting your arms, chest, abdomen, and down your legs.”

Both of his brows raise, and you feel your face heat.

“I have a towel that you can use for modesty and I swear I’m not asking to be a pervert! I didn’t put it in the ad because I knew weirdos would come to get painted…”

“It’s alright, you don’t have to explain yourself.”

“I do, though. You’re the one who volunteered so you deserve to know exactly what’s going to happen.” You counter, “And if, at any point in time, you want to stop. Then we stop. No questions asked and no judgments given.”

Sev watches you through dark eyes for a moment, and then he smirks, “Alright. How long will this take?”

“Um. A couple of hours. I have to make sure the runes are perfect. But, you’ll be comfortable. But you won’t be able to eat or move much once I begin—”

“That’s fine, I’m used to having to be still for long periods of time.”

“...it feels rude to say good, but I’m actually really glad.” You smile at him warmly, “If you want to follow me, we can get started?”

“Lead the way.”

You lead Sev through your home, until you reach the ritual chamber. The room is several degrees warmer than the rest of the house, to make it comfortable for the people getting runes painted on them. “If you would, Sev,” You start as you head over to your workbench, “There’s a fresher through that door. If you could shower and wash using the shampoo and body wash that is in there? There’s also a basket for you to put your clothes in, and a towel for you.”

You notice Sev glance at the door, and then he nods at you, “Alright. Anything else I need to know?”

“Mm...I don’t think so.” You smile at him kindly, “We’ll begin as soon as you’re ready.”

Sev has to admit, if only to himself, that the little witch is adorable.

There was a moment, when he came out of the fresher with only a towel around his waist, where he thought she was going to faint from how flustered she got at seeing him.

He watched her pull herself together as she guided him on where, and how, to lay on the cushioned ground.

He also has to admit that he appreciates how respectful of him she is. She needed his towel adjusted so she could work, but she asked him if it was alright to adjust the towel before touching it. And before she started painting, she made sure to ask before touching him.

She’s been largely silent since she started working, though. Her gaze intense as she carefully paints each symbol on his body.

Sev had expected the paint to be cold, and had been trying to prepare himself for it, but it was warm. Between that and the color, he almost feels like he’s being painted with blood.

He probably shouldn’t find that as hot as he does.

He, very carefully, doesn’t think about that too much. After all, she’s kneeling between his thighs as she paints the symbols on his legs, and he doesn’t actually want to fluster her anymore than he already has.

“Okay,” Her voice is soft, “And...done.” He watches her pull away from his lower legs, her gaze flickering from one shin to the other. Making sure everything looks perfect.

A pretty smile lifts her lips, and she smoothly gets to her feet to set the, nearly empty, jar of ink back on the worktable. And then she’s kneeling next to his head, her gaze concerned, “How are you feeling, Sev? Do you need anything?”

“I’m fine. This is pretty comfortable, actually.”

“Ha, I’m glad. I’ve been worried about that this whole time.”

She really has no business being so adorable. “So,” Sev says, “What’s next?”

“Next, I imbue the runes with power.” She sits back on her heels, “So for this part, you’ll probably feel a pinch after all of the runes are activated. When I activate the magic, the runes are going to sink into your body and become a part of you. It’ll feel like a shot.”

“Not a tattoo?”

“If I were leaving the ink on the surface of your skin,” she brushes soft fingers against his forearm, next to one of the runes, “It would feel like a massive tattoo. But because I’m trying to bind the spell to you, it’ll feel more like a vaccine.”

“Good to know.”

“Do you need a moment to get ready?”

“You worry too much, witchy.”

She pouts at him, “I just want to make sure you’re comfortable.”

“I’m fine, maybe a little hungry.”

“Well, when we’re finished, I’ll buy you dinner. How’s that?”

“Deal.”

She smiles at him, and then stands, “Alright, Sev. You might want to close your eyes, this will get bright.”

Sev immediately follows her instructions and, for a moment, nothing happens. And then there’s a weird sensation, like static all over his body. He can feel the runes activating on his body, the symbols getting warmer than they already are, but there’s no pain. Not even when the last rune activates.

The the sensation changes, and the static feeling changes into soothing water. There’s a pinch, barely painful enough for him to notice, as the runes sink into his body.

Then the pain starts.

It blooms in his head, near his right temple, and Sev can’t help the grunt or the way his body twitches. And her voice, soft and gentle, “Wait...what is…” She trails off, and then the magic around him changes, “Sev, can you hear me?”

“Yes.” He hisses out.

“Okay, I’m glad.” She does sound genuinely relieved that he can respond, “Sev, listen. This next bit is going to hurt. I’m sorry. I’ll try to shield you as much as I can.”

“What—”

“I know you’re confused, and probably scared.” Her voice is like a wind through leaves, and Sev feels himself relaxing, “But I need you to trust me. I swear to you, I will explain everything. Can you do that for me?”

“Yeah,” Anything more than a single syllable word is becoming beyond him, but he can feel her, the pretty witch, right there beside him.

“Thank you,” The feeling of her washes over him, “Just rest now, Sev. I will protect you.” Her presence turns into a cooling sensation, and Sev surrenders himself to the feeling, sinking into blissful, pain free, darkness.

When Sev opens his eyes again, he’s laying on a bed. Night has fallen outside the window, and he slowly sits up. He expects pain, or stiffness. But, as he moves, he actually feels pretty solid.

“You’re awake,” His gaze snaps to the door, and she’s there. Her hand pressed over her heart as relief crosses her face, “I couldn’t wake you, I was worried.”

She moves into the room, and Sev can’t help but notice the dark circles under her eyes, or the bacta soaked bandages wrapped around both of her arms. “What happened?” To her, specifically, but also in general.

She looks pained for a moment, but she folds her hands in front of her and then bows deeply at the waist, “I’m sorry. I had no idea that there was something like that inside you. If I had, I would have gone about the protective spell in a different way.”

“...I’m going to need some clarification.”

Her hands, which had been anxiously twisting some of the loose bandages around her hands, still. She lifts her gaze to meet his, “There was something inside your head, something dark. When I activated the protection runes, the dark thing woke up and attacked you.”

“That’s what caused the pain.”

“Yes. If I hadn’t been there, if I hadn’t been paying so much attention, it would have killed you.” She sinks into a chair near the bed he’s using, “I am sorry, Sev. I should have done a magical examination of you before we began. This is on me.”

“You saved my life, why are you apologizing for it?”

“Because you never should have been in the position to begin with.”

“You didn’t know there was something inside me that would attack me. It’s not your fault.”

She huffs, “Let me feel guilty in peace, you jerk.”

“No. What happened to your arms?”

She pauses and looks down at her bandaged arms, “Oh. That. When I realized that the dark thing was trying to kill you I...fought it. I don’t recommend it. Caster versus Counter-caster mental battles are mindbogglingly dangerous. I’m lucky that I’m young and healthy or else I would have died.”

“Sorry, the thing in my head was a spell?”

“Um...sort of?” She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a small vial, “After the battle, it kind of...fell out of your head. It looks like a computer chip of some kind, though it seems to be a mix of magic and technology that I’ve never seen before.”

Sev takes the vial and lifts it too look at it properly, “How’d it get in my head?”

“Um...well…” She trails off.

“You have a theory?”

“I do. I think it was implanted when you were a kid...or maybe even younger.”

Sev is quiet for a moment, but the chill that washes over him has nothing to do with the cool bedroom, “So, you think my pod-brothers have these too.”

“I can’t answer that without examining them.”

“If they do, can you remove them.”

She’s quiet for a moment, but then she nods slowly. “I’ll have to change things, I can’t do for them what I did for you. I got lucky today, I might not be so lucky next time. But, that said, I can.”

Sev falls back on his pillow, and presses his hand over his face, “I’ll comm them and tell them to come here.”

“Right, yes.” She hesitates, “Sev, there’s more.”

“More? What more?”

“To save you, I had to, um, alter the ritual. Without your consent.” She won’t meet his gaze, “I, kind of, had to bind you to me.”

“...meaning?”

“You do have all of the benefits of the protective runes, but you also have the protection of being my familiar.”

“...the fuck does that mean?”

“Well, there are lots of benefits to having a familiar, but I don’t think there’s ever been a human familiar before, so I’m not really sure…” She trails off, “I am so, very, sorry. I’m going to reach out to some of the more experienced witches I know and I’ll see if they have any advice for us…”

Sev sighs heavily and presses the palms of his hands against his eyes, “You owe me dinner.” And, now that he’s more awake, he can’t shake the feeling that he needs her closer than she is.

“Yes, I know. But it’s midnight and nothing’s open, so how about I feed you three times tomorrow, uh, today.”

“That’s fine. But you’re feeding my brothers too.”

“I can do that.” She stands, “So, um, I’ll let you get some rest…”

Sev twitches slightly, and he swiftly grabs her upper arm, “Where are you going?”

“My room? You’re probably tired…”

“If you leave, I think I’m going to lose my damned mind. We can share.”

She blinks at him, “You want to share a bed? With me?”

“Yes.”

“I...but…” She trails off, and she sighs, “That would be the familiar bond, Sev.”

“I really don’t care what it is. I just, I need you to stay here. Where I can see you.” His gaze flickers to her bandaged arms, “Especially since you’re hurt.”

She sighs again, and then she smiles, “Alright. Scoot over and let me under the blanket.”

Sev rolls his eyes and effortlessly tugs her onto the bed, so her back is pressed against the wall and he’s closest to the door, “It’s safer this way.”

“No ones going to break into my house, Sev—”

“Let me do this, there’s a little voice in my head screaming that if you sleep closest to the door you’re going to die. So suck it up.”

“Oh boy, I need to send that message sooner rather than later.”

“Later. It’s time for bed. You need your sleep too.”

She looks like she’s going to argue for a moment, though she only manages to get half a sentence out before she falls asleep mid-word.

Sev huffs out a silent laugh, she really is adorable.

As he shifts in bed so he’s able to curl himself protectively around her, he can’t help but think several things. One, that she smells like the rain, a really nice scent to fall asleep to. Two, he’ll murder anyone who so much as looks at her wrong. Three, he hopes that the other witches can help him get this shit under control. And four, if she has to turn his brothers into familiars to save them, he’ll probably combust from jealousy.

And, right before he falls asleep, his nose pressed into her hair, he can’t help but think that forever like this wouldn’t be so bad.

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Not willing to stand around and disrupt people's pace working their way through crimes, you shuffle your feet towards an empty couch near the door and sit down, the leaves of some real and typical strangely well-cared office plant brushing against your arm. You sigh deeply, planning. Maybe not going home yet. Some burritos to reward yourself after going through a hassle of a criminal investigation that you certainly didn't do, but always finding yourself in it.

“Hey.” The detective walks toward you in long strides, your backpack in one hand and your phone still inside the evidence zip bag. “Here's your stuff, all cleared. If you could sign this one first, here…”

You nod sort of exhaustedly, going through the supposedly last errand quickly and not really bothering to read the last half of the clearance document. He presents you the bag, unzipped, the content free for you to take.

“Thank you,” he says, slipping the clipboard underneath his arm and fishing a business card out of his pocket. With a tight smile, perhaps out of sympathy, he offers it to you. “If something else turns up, or if you need any help at all, you can call me. Okay?”

Det. William Jarrick

Oh, that's indeed his name after all. You take a few seconds to absorb the police logo, your city and state, and his official phone number. He's new, you heard, taking over the case—the previous one apparently is in jail for DUI.

“Understood,” you say, carefully pocketing the card. Jarrick opens the door for you, and you don't look back to the office. “See ya, Detective.”

He waves you goodbye. “Don’t get yourself into trouble again, kiddo.”

With a deep breath, you happily march out of the police station, willing to put it all behind you. There's nothing more stressful than a busy police station, even though you did absolutely nothing wrong. It's the walls, painted muted dark blue, and just… crowded spaces and coffee machine underneath a low lighting of the cabinet and paperwork scattered all over those desks.

The day is particularly chilly today. It's fall. Northern hemisphere autumn is never boring, you always like the cool air and warm color palette slapped across any surface either man-made or natural—trees, shop decorations, unraked leaves, shawls and jackets, thematic discount labels, video thumbnails.

“How's the new guy?”

If you hadn't known Sev and his tendency to quite literally pop up next to you with his oh-so-intimidating phone-scammer deep voice for the last six months, you'd jump and shriek at his sudden presence.

“He's okay,” you sigh, lowering your voice under your breath and digging for your handsfree in your bag. “Less annoying, more understanding. He's younger. Younger than the old frog who can't tell the difference between talking in a closed space and standing by a running jet engine.”

He snorts. “Where'd he go?”

You stick the device in your ear, running on a pretense that you're on a call whereas you're actually talking to a ghost that no one else can see but you.

“Jail, can you believe it? DUI.” You stretch your arms with a weary yawn before walking off the threshold and the entire vicinity, your pack now secured behind you on your back. “Wait, you've got DUI in your homeworld, right?”

He shrugs. “DUI, public indecency, vandalism, auto theft. You name it, Buggy.”

Buggy. Only Sev calls you that because you refused to tell you his name during your first run-ins with each other. You were too busy screaming and muttering incoherent prayers to the top manager of your belief system, or whatever gods above.

Sev follows you along the pavement, sparse of people, his translucent bluish white form floating above the ground, although he’s practically marching. There isn't any hesitation in his steps as he bears a soldier's stance. Intimidating. How could he not, with all that bulky armor set on him? He dwarfs you easily, and he finds it hilarious that he knows you're feeling kind of safe that he's unable to tackle you. Not that he'd want to. Not without reason, anyway.

“So where are we headed?” he asks from behind you.

“Stress-eating,” you say, laughing awkwardly to yourself. To calm your post-police interview jitters, more like. “I was in that stuffy room for like, two hours.”

“One and a half,” Sev corrects.

“Right.”

“You ain't scared that they'd find you suspicious ‘cause you're walking instead of taking a cab like what you told the new case detective?”

“So you were listening all along,” you muse, ducking into your usual small dine-in burrito place. You exclaim your usuals to the cashier and slide into one of the shabby booths. “To answer your question, it's not their business.”

“Could be,” Sev says, his ghostly (heh) form already slipping into the seat opposite you. His pack is already disengaged. “If there's another murder.”

“You wouldn't.”

“What?”

“Doing another murder.”

“Don't know what you're talking about.”

“Sev,” you groan, “I don't want you to—” you cut yourself off, remembering you're practically in public space. You sigh. “Don't slot anyone again.”

Sev smirks behind his helmet. It's a vocabulary he taught you. “They're bullying the kriff out of you.”

“Ever, Sev.”

“Can’t stand aside and let you be trampled like that. Like you're a useless piece of shit. You're bright. And you're still a person, Buggy.”

“You’re putting dead bodies in my name and making me the prime suspect every time!” you whisper-shout.

“Person of interest,” he corrects you.

You slowly close your eyes.

Sev looks at you. His sniper rifle is leaning casually against the back of his seat. “Can't do much while being a ghost of a soldier with unfinished business, doncha think?”

Before you can retort, your order is slid to the table in front of you, all warm and spicy and invoking the monsters in the depths of your belly. Spicy chicken burrito, ranch and extra pico de gallo, crisps, and cookies ‘n cream milkshake.

“Rough day?” the server, Caleb, asks you.

You blink. “Huh?”

He taps his ear, referring to your handsfree and how you've been talking excessively. “Another murder that frames you or is that your Slovakian ex girlfriend?”

You let out a dry laugh, your fingers toying with the still-warm crisps. “I don't have a Slovakian ex girlfriend.”

“Boyfriend?”

You kick at his feet. Lucky bastard swerves away cackling. “Shut up, Caleb!”

“Yeah yeah anyway,” he chuckles, his gaze clearly holding some genuine sympathy at you, “Hope you get through it and catch the guy. Mustn't be easy for you.”

“Heard that before,” you mutter, glancing down at your lap before smiling at him anyway. “Thanks, Caleb.”

Caleb offers you a smile and a shoulder pat before sauntering someplace else.

Sev scoffs at your meal as you start to dig in. “Scorch would huff that down.”

You slurp on your shake. “Y'all can handle spice?”

“Loved it, even,” he says fondly, which is a strange sight to you still even though you've known each other for roughly six months. “He handled it better than I do.”

It's sensible to talk about people in past tense when you don't know if they're still alive or not. For Sev, he's lost them anyway. He died. In his past life, in some place called Kashyyyk.

Or in another universe or something, because there were no known previous civilizations on Earth rocking the apparatus that he carries with him.

And he just happened to… land into your life as a ghost tied to you. Wherever you go, he follows. It had been hard to live with that, especially when you couldn't handle his dark gloomy jokes some time in the beginning of your acquaintanceship. Friendship. It's easier now. You're considering him a friend. You're stuck with each other, after all.

“Do you think you really have unfinished business?” you suddenly ask.

Sev blinks hard underneath his helmet to digest your question and, ah, it's poking his private compartment again. Why he's here, how he came here—does it matter? He's stuck as a ghost without so much as a memory about the manuals if they even gave him one somewhere in the limbo.

You continue studying him, placing down your ronto roll ripoff and absentmindedly poking at your crisps. “Like a mission? To complete?”

“Does it matter?” It's not usual for him to defy a question from someone other than a clone.

“It might,” you shrug, mid-chew. Sev is used to it. “We should… find out why you're sent here, right?”

“I lived in a different galaxy than yours, Buggy. Why I'm here is up to whoever's in charge of both yours and mine.”

You scrutinize him. Like, actually putting him under an interrogative pressure. You seem not to care about other people in the tiny diner looking. “You don't wanna find out why? Ever?”

There's something else he hides. Something about ‘unfinished business’? It does feel like that. He's a soldier. A hunter. An accomplisher. Those traits drive him to his goals with utter ambition and, sometimes, sadistic hunger. Hunger to get the job done. Hunger to anticipate what comes next after that job is done. He chases after these things. It satisfies him—the success, the crudeness, the raw elements he gets himself high on.

Then he died and he met you. Poor, unsuspecting and unlikely scrawny kid who's doing whatever they can to sustain their ranks in school. Apparently being too ambitious achieving a goal is a crime because it invites envy and jealousy of others. Now that, he can't comprehend. You're only doing your job, you want the best for yourself.

But your classmates attack you. Calling you names, banging at the locker next to yours just to startle the shit out of you, the cold shoulders, the belittling stares. Your teachers don't feel like intervening. You're used to it, but you're tired. Your utter surrender attracted him somehow, that when you actually really attempted to test how good your belt is using the railings on the second floor of your mother's house, the downstairs phone rang.

It was the news of the sudden death of a student in your school. Bertrand Wilson. He was the one who banged the locker every damn day. “We thought you should know,” your principal had said, before ending the line.

Three days later, Jackie Lombardini. She called you names. Next week; Kellan Peterson. He pushed you into a lake once. That Friday, Melinda Brewster—dunked your head in the toilet. The same day, Lucas Martinez—emptying your locker and setting the contents on fire in the dumpster. The next day; Naomi and Hans Grant, twins. They literally continuously threatened to kill you just because you caught them in the act in the lab after hours.

Everything was a mystery. No one knows what hit them. Cameras never caught the perp; no vehicles, no mysterious figure walking by. No blood. Just bodies dropping to the ground with a scorching hole in the middle of their forehead, smoke rising above it. Everything connects to one thing; you. Motive? Vengeance.

But that's the problem. The police can't place you in any of the crime scenes. It's a variety of places you'd never have the intention to go to—bars, shabby diners, rooftops, dingy hotel rooms, biker lot, or hell, their own house. Your alibis checked out—always. It's fortunate that the local police are immune to local media pressure—they stay on the lane. You're always cleared. You always walk away fine, undamaged, and perhaps, albeit a little guiltily…

Satisfied.

They deserve it.

Sev literally grinned down at you—behind his bucket, of course—when he first manifested in front of you. After every phone call, because the killings are always consistent. After hours. Evening. PM. You stopped testing the belt. You chilled out in your room and you were screaming to death while Sev came forward for the first time and asked you things.

“How do you do?”

“Did you like it?”

“What do you think?”

“I wish I could give them the old shank in the kidney like I did to those ugly lizards, but my Deece is all I've got. And I'm an excellent shot.”

“Taken care of.”

“Don’t have to worry about them anymore, Buggy.”

“I've got you, don't worry. I've got ‘em, too. Went out with a pew.”

It takes some time for you to adjust. Sometimes you're wondering if you still have the right to be called ‘victim’. They bullied you, after all. They bullied you first. They started it.

They deserve it. Sev finishes them. Lessons exhibited to everyone in your school. The aftermath? No friends at all, having absolutely nobody to talk to, and a new sick urban legend circulating around mentioning your name seeking refuge to the devil. What bullshit. Except if they want to call a living dead bloodthirsty psycho sniper from another galaxy the devil. Picking victims and taking them out in your name. It's fitting and eerily beautiful at the same time. At least that's what Sev thinks about.

Sev sighs. “Don't need to find out why,” he says gruffly.

You stare at him. “Um… why?”

He tilts his helmet back at you. “I know why I'm here.”

It's to hunt them down. Those who hurt you. He can feel it in his incorporeal body. Every time he lays on his belly on the next building over with a nice vantage point, every time pulls that trigger, every time he watches the body drop. He's never hesitant with his shots, he's always confident. All that, put into a shaker and poured into a fine, cold cocktail glass for him to enjoy.

You play with your straw as you lower your voice, “It's to kill them, isn't it?”

“I got off on it,” Sev admits shamelessly—but not, at all, in a sexual sense. “And it feels like the right thing to do.”

The corner of your lips twitch. Maybe you're just as sick as him, handling that much pressure and suddenly that pressure is ripped away from you without resolve nor closure. “So,” you muse, “Acting as my guardian angel who brutally kills people?”

“Don't see me doing anything else, do you?”

You look down somewhat guiltily. “I never saw you.”

Sev tears his focus away from you and stares into the plain fucking wall. He won't let himself be seen as soft, at least not now, although it's too late. Something is provoking the guess what I actually fucking care bone inside him. You're being vulnerable, so he can't be, too. At least one of you has to look alive.

“It’s for the best,” he says eventually, “You wouldn't like it—”

“Well, look who it is! My sweet darling baby!”

You’ve never turned around so fast. After one and a half hour being interviewed by a detective who's genuinely trying to help your tired hardass, that voice turns this day boring to plain shitty—a familiar assface with a Canadian accent bursting through the door with his sickening grin and, can you fucking believe it, blond pompadour hair.

“Who the kriff is this?” Sev asks aloud, his hand steadying on his rifle.

“Raph?” you gape, ignoring him, “The hell you doing here?”

Sev watches this Raph dude interrupting his intense conversation and sauntering toward your table with a happy skip in his step with a smile that even Scorch would've slapped away. “Flew over for you.”

You shake your head and let out a dry laugh. “Don’t be an asshole, Raphael. Seriously, what are you doing here?”

Raph looks at you offended. “Me? The asshole?” he snorts. He makes a shoo gesture at you and forcefully wedges himself into the booth before smiling his smackable smile again at you. Sev actually considers to punch him across the face—doesn’t matter if his fist and knuckle blade goes through. “Don't be silly, baby darling. You broke us up first.”

You stare at him, scooting to the other side until your back meets the wall. “Because reasons.”

“Aw, you couldn't handle me,” he teases.

“Understatement,” you mutter under your breath, throwing a glance at Sev with a sigh. “Raph, we already broke up. There's absolutely no reason for you to fly over and— and babying me!”

“Right, right, but I can look after you while still being friends, can't I?”

“I don't have friends,” you state firmly. Sev gives you a thumbs-up. You bite your lip to stifle a smile.

“Well, but I want to.” This chakaar actually… seems genuine. Sev relaxes. A bit. The boy sighs in resignation seeing your unconvinced expression. “Okay, you want honesty? I'm in town ‘cause my dad's having a board meeting with your city council. Told him I'm gonna drive around town and, well.” He gestures to you with a flashy smile. “See how you're holding up.”

Sev watches your expression carefully with his arms crossing his chest. It's been a hard month with all the murders around you, and he's not feeling sorry for even one. They deserve it. He can't explain it in words, but his intuition has helped him survive many times by identifying two-faced sha’buire before.

“Yeah, I don't know,” you shrug mindlessly, “This mysterious sniper guy is gonna get the second wave of FBI hounding on my back and that'll be bad for me.”

Raph seems taken aback. “Whoa. Second wave?”

“Yeah. They sent profilers, but they found nothing on the crime scenes—all six of them. Pulled out and been working on it remotely ever since so far. Or at least that's what I hear from the detectives.”

“Right, right,” Raph nods thoughtfully, seemingly taking it all in seriousness. “Want me to hire PI for you?”

You scoff. “Raph. The victim's parents literally unionized to hire a band of private investigators to look into me.”

“Are you serious? You don't seem scared.”

“I've got nothing to hide.”

Sev catches one look too long in the far corner of the diner. He perks up, and that slight gesture from him renders your attention at Raph crumbling for a moment. “One in that corner,” he informs you. Your head swivels following his direction.

“What?” Raph asks.

You roll your eyes. “Speak of the devil. One that's hoping I'm gonna buy that… I don't know, librarian persona.”

“Oh yeah,” Raph muses, nodding as if awed he's got to see a real PI for once. “Doesn't that bother you? I can make a call to ask one of my dad's counselor team—”

“Raph, stop,” you shake your head, “I appreciate it, but I don't need your help.”

“Time to go, Buggy.” Sev stands up. Awkward situation that normally could escalate into a varping shootout like this is something he always runs away from first thing, even in the Before where Fixer usually shouted after him, and he intends to drill this when to walk away lesson into you. He grabs his rifle readily, appearing as the cold and deadly sniper he is as if ready to put a nonchalant bolt through Raph's head right there and then. “I'm saving your shebs from this dumbass.”

You release a loud sigh as you begin to wrap the burrito with its own tin foil and shove the last of your crisps into your mouth quite unceremoniously that makes Raph blink in absolutely not amusement. Maybe disgust. Good. You've got enough eyes on you, you certainly don't need your ex boyfriend to poke around, too.

“Want me to drive you?” Raph tries again.

You stall by slurping your milkshake clean, noisily. “I got it, Raph.” You plot your escape, rather quickly, to the front door where Sev is already waiting for you, rifle raised as if Raph could see him then the kid should be scared.

“Targeting me?!” you raise your voice. “I've been bullied for most of high school for having top marks, Raph! If they were targeting me, why would they kill people around me who've been causing me pain and made me nearly hang myself in my own house?!”

Raph follows you outside, his steps are more hasty rather than concerned. You groan your frustrations, turning to give him a piece of your mind until he cuts you off, “Hey, hey. Please. I really am concerned. What if they’ve been targeting you?”

“Maybe jealousy?” Of course he doesn't care about the suicide part. “They're trying to intimidate you by killing people around you.”

You watch in silence as Sev comes up next to Raph, out on the sidewalk and under the autumn late afternoon sun. The commando you've known as a friend seizes your ex—panting and practically begging you to understand and to be on his page—up close and personal with a predator's prowess. His grip on his rifle may seem relaxed, but you know the finger on the trigger guard is itchy to press.

Sev looks at you. “Want me to shut his hole?”

“No!”

Raph looks at you in disbelief, unaware of your slip-up. “Are you serious?”

“Yes I'm serious!” You gain your focus back but already forget what he brought up. Sev nods grimly and steps back.

“Copy that.”

“Look, I care about you, okay?” Raph says, “Watching the news and your name popped up on screen, it's only just last week that it's now up by seven victims. Seven. I was always wondering if you're okay ‘cause these are people you know, people you went to class with, but what if they get to you finally—”

“Raph.” You pinch the bridge of your nose, and then level your gaze with him, giving in with what you hope is genuine plea. “I don't need your help.”

You turn around again, but Raph grabs your arm. “I get that,” he says, sighing. “Let me drive you home? Then I won't bother you again.”

“Promise?”

“You won't see my face again and you won't even know I'm leaving town.”

And that's how you find yourself in the passenger seat of Raph's car.

It smells rental and you try to focus on it instead of your ex’s presence just a mere feet away. Raph wasn't good to you—his dad being a member of Canadian parliament, all he cares about is himself. You were just an object of his love bombing for five months and you're still trying to pretend to ignore that at least a quarter of your belongings were his gifts to you.

So. Him being concerned about his ex partner who becomes a person of interest in their bullies’ strange murders? Even stranger.

Raph insists on a scenic route. Says he hadn't been here long before moving back to Canada—all those five months here were spent wooing you and bombing the lovesick person out of you, both with love and his pompous bullshit.

And now you’re letting him initiate conversations with you again. You let him steer the topic, because you're too tired to think of one, much less speaking about one to your ex. Sev is watching you and the interaction from the backseat, his quiet isn't unusual.

He can sense something's wrong. He’s certain you’ve noticed too, but what could you do in a moving vehicle, if not launching yourself out the door out of paranoia without injuring yourself? Call it his intuition. Out of his brothers, his intuition never went wrong. It’s his patience and attentiveness when he locks in. 

So when the chakaar pulls up in the seediest corner of a gas station after fueling up, all this poorly executed bullshit ends now.

The temperature surrounding his incorporeal body freefalls. Always, every time, when his trigger discipline can no longer be contained. It makes his head feel hot and crowded with utter focus, his attention fully locking into his new goal—his target.

The search for vantage point? He lets his body do it. Methodical, careful, as if someone ran the program inside his head to do just so, because he's used to moving so discreetly without risking being seen. Even a ghost now—he can't erase that away. He can't be careless, still. It's who he is. Remove that, and he'll be just a shell of RC-1207 who loses his kick.

He's found a tree, but he doesn't climb, so he covers himself behind the gigantic trunk. He wants to see the bolt penetration. He wants to watch his target's head loll sideways as it claims their life that's been spent on stooping so low belittling other human beings. He wants the thrill. He wants to smell burnt tibanna. He wants to smell the death.

Sev raises his rifle and aims. It's already dark outside, and he's surprised why you didn't choose to go on a screaming match with your ex already to demand to be taken home. Raph drives around, errands here and errands there, even taking his time on grocery shopping and delivering packages. He's already been waiting for the cover of darkness so he could lock the doors and turn off the lights in his car…

And pounce on you.

Once the moving shadows inside the car begin to show signs of resistance and oppression, he wastes no time.

He pulls the trigger.

The boom resonating out of his sniper attachment is followed by the sound of glass breaking. The bolt went through the car's rear window, the seat, and…

The head loll. And not a second later, the entire body, dead, flopping heavily onto you. Dead.

You scream.

You've obviously thought of being present in a crime scene. But you’ve never found yourself in it since it's probably for the best and yet; here you are.

It's just like what they say and what they show to you in pictures. No blood. Scorched bullet hole. Smell of foreign gas flooding your nostrils. Dead body. It's also what they don't show you that's overwhelming your senses. You think dead bodies are cold, but you have no idea they'd still be warm. Or maybe, deep down you knew but it's all happening so fast. Freshly dead bodies are still so warm that it makes you want to believe Raph is possibly still alive.

You push his body away from you. Raph’s dead weight slams against his side of the door with a loud thunk.

“Buggy! Hey!”

Sev is on the other side of your window, wishing on everything he could've done including rapping his knuckle plate against the window and hauling you out of there as fast as he could to get you to safety.

“Let's go. We should go.”

And then the fog clears. It's like you're waking up from a nightmare.

“Sev,” you breathe, finding consolation in the presence of his illuminating bluish white form before unlocking the door manually with shaky fingers. Sev arms go through your body in an attempt to catch you as you stumble out. You hit the asphalt and grass followed by Sev's frustrated grunt.

“Buggy,” he calls you, even crouching to meet your level. “Get up. You okay?”

Your sight blurs—it’s your tears pooling in your eyes, and you don't even realize you've been crying. Sev’s translucent rifle, the one he just shot Raph with, lays on the ground next to him. You're expecting to be eye to eye with Sev’s gruesomely painted helmet but the face behind it greets you instead, and it does seem like your questions about the color of his eyes and what kind of scars marring his face would remain unanswered. The frown between his eyebrows and concern reflecting in his gaze bring you into a shared space of vulnerability.

Your breath hitches.

“Sev…”

“You’re alright,” he soothes you, voice softer than you've ever heard of him. Sev raises his hand to your head to push some of your hair away but pauses midair, again forgetting his current state. Glancing away in embarrassment, he turns back to you with sudden encouragement. “Come on. We gotta get moving.”

“My bag,” you manage to say, your voice barely a whisper as you try your best to get up even on your jelly-like limbs.

Sev nudges his head. “Go. We'll get out of here.”

You get on your feet with hardship and turn, and you're looking at the nightmare again.

Raph had suddenly become violent when you rejected his advances and landed a solid smack to your cheek. Not three seconds later, he flopped dead against you by Sev’s protective headshot.

“He—” you swallow thickly, “He tried to rape me—”

“What matters now is that you're safe, ad'ika,” Sev affirms behind you, his voice filtering through his helmet again. “He won't bother you anymore, that's what I know.”

It burns. The pain in your cheek has numbed but it still burns. You touch the reddened spot with the tip of your fingers and immediately cringe away—it’ll always be a reminder of a tragedy.

And your mistake.

You're here when he's murdered. You're present at the crime scene, your DNA is all over the place. Within a second, you feel like the best you could do right now is crying again and screaming as loud as you can.

“Buggy,” Sev urges you again.

“I'll never be safe, will I?” Your voice strains as you turn around, your tears hot in your eyes. “As long as this town hates me, I'll never be safe, and you'll never stop.”

“If that's what it takes.”

You know you're supposed to be taken aback by his words—Sev’s sole intention and belief that he should protect you, a vulnerable soul, at all costs. His calling, he called it. But you're not. Your shock has escaped you and you are so used to letting yourself be ushered under Sev’s protective wings that you no longer question his merciless actions. It scares you, your sanity—it scares the little sympathy that's just magically… still there.

After all seven, eight murders.

Have you always been this heartless? Ever since they turn to be so condescending and kick you into the ground that you've had a fair share of the vile earth yourself, and make you swallow what they've spat on?

Maybe they deserve this, after all.

You sniffle, harshly wiping the tears off your sad fucking face. Grabbing your bag to find your phone, there's only one fight left for you.

“Raph’s dad’s lawyers are going to kill me,” you mumble as you tap the three numbers for emergency services. “They're gonna make sure I'll be behind bars for this one. They're powerful people.”

Sev huffs almost boredly. “Then good thing there's a security camera right across from where you are.”

It's a good position, and it's on. It surely caught what had transpired beyond the windshield of the rental car, and all the windows aren't tinted.

“They won't touch you.” Sev raises his rifle again. “I’ll make sure of that.”

You release a breath of laughter—either for him always having your back or the fucking coping mechanism, you're letting the universe do whatever it wants with you, as long as they decree Sev to always protect you against the most vile evil that the world throws at you, at least.

Taglist: @yoursrosie @hellfiresky @filamentlights @heidnspeak @lucyysthings @emmaw18 @leiopython-rat

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“You’ve been quiet,” You feel Sev approach before you hear or see him. The familiar bond is alive and well, after all. And it thrums with silent power every time he approaches.

You’re glad for it. There’s enough power in the bond to keep you standing, at least.

“Just tired, Sev.”

He scowls, and a tiny smile lifts your lips. No doubt he’s already considering all of the ways he can help you be less tired. Sev takes his duty as your familiar very seriously, for all that you’re trying to get it undone.

“Do you want me to make you caf?”

“No, thank you.” You stand slowly, an ache shooting down your spine as you move, though your smile doesn’t waver. He doesn’t need to know that you’re struggling, after all.

However, Sev sees more than you’d like, and his scowl deepens. “It’s not a problem.”

A tiny laugh leaves you as you walk over to him and reach up to press your hand against his cheek. You feel him sigh and he turns his head slightly to press his lips against the palm of your hand.

He’s sweet. In the last six weeks you’ve come to adore him.

But you can’t keep him. He has his duty to the Republic, after all.

Mother Above, though. You wish you could.

“Matron Lily is coming over later today,” You say gently, “She’s going to take a look at the familiar bond.”

Sev’s scowl deepens even more, “She doesn’t have to.”

“...you know she does, Sev. You have a duty to the Republic, and I won’t stand in your way.”

He bristles slightly, “I have a duty to you.”

“One you neither asked for, or agreed to. I will not keep you bound here with magic, Sev.”

“I don’t mind.”

“I do.”

He sighs softly, “I want to stay with you.”

“My door will always be open to you, and your brothers, Sev. Adjusting the bond won’t change that.” There’s something soft in the way he’s looking at you, and you can’t help but lean in to hug him. You really do adore him more than words can explain.

He’s warm as he wraps himself around you, his arms tight around your waist. You lay your head against his shoulder and close your eyes, allowing his strength to support you, just for a moment, and then you pull away.

“When Matron Lily gets here,” You start as you look up at him with a fond smile, “Will you show her to the sitting room?”

“Can’t I just tell her to leave?”

“Sev.”

“Yes, fine. I can do that.”

“Thank you.” You tilt your head back to press a feather light kiss against his jaw, and he almost melts against you at the sensation. “She should be here shortly.”

And, almost as if you had the ability to see the future, the front bell rings. Grudgingly, Sev releases you and turns to head to the front door, and you’re glad for it as a wave a weakness washes over you and you nearly collapse.

You swallow bile as biting pain washes over you. You feel cold, as though you’ve run out into the snow without any protective gear. So long as Sev and his brothers never find out, it’ll be fine.

Everything will be fine.

It has to be.

Sev isn’t sure that he likes Matron Lily. Though, if he’s being completely honest, he doesn’t like most people who aren’t his pod brothers or his witch. But the Matron takes one look at him, and a weird smile crosses her face.

“Goodness,” She peers even harder at him, “That’s quite a powerful familiar bond you have there.”

Sev scowls at her. “It’s fine.”

“Ah, and that would be why my darling apprentice asked me to take a look.” The Matron beams, “It’s fine, it’s what I’m here for.” She pauses and looks around, “Where is my little sugarplum anyway?”

“I’m here, Matron.” Some of the tension leaves Sev’s body as his witch steps into the room. She still looks so exhausted, and her hands are trembling slightly. “It’s so nice to see you.”

The Matron is silent, and Sev glances at her. Then his stomach sinks.

The Matron looks horrified. Her eyes are wide, and her hand is pressed over her mouth. “Oh, my darling,” She reaches out to his witch, “What happened? No, that’s not important. Lay down, darling. Quickly now, I need to see how extensive the injury is.”

“Injury?” Sev asks, his gaze immediately snapping to his cyare and looking over her for any injury. Sure, she had been hurt after freeing him, and his brothers, from the dark magic in their brains, but a quick bacta treatment patched her up.

Didn’t it?

“Oh yes.” The Matron hurries over to his cyare as soon as she lays down, “It’s a magic wound, if you could see the world the way I do, it would be obvious.” She pauses, “She’s, essentially, leaking magic. You poor thing, you must feel awful.”

“I’ll be alright, you don’t have to fret…”

“Nonsense,” The Matron presses a lightly glowing hand to his cyare’s forehead, “Rest now, child. I’ll handle the rest.”

Sev watches as her eyes flutter shut, and he sighs as she drifts to sleep. He wants, nothing more, than to carry her to her bed, and tuck her in. But he has a feeling that it won’t help.

“Was she injured recently?” The Matron asks.

“She said that she had to have a mental battle with someone,” Sev explains, he walks across the room and picks up the small vials that hold his, and his brothers, chips, “These were in our heads, she said it was dark magic.”

The Matron frowns as she looks at the vials, “She’s not wrong.” And then she clicks her tongue, “Silly girl, she’s not nearly experienced enough for this.”

“It was an accident, the first time. She didn’t know about the chip when she started the ritual.” Sev counters, defensively.

“I’m not judging her, silly boy. Every young witch gets in over her head every now and then.” The Matron brings her glowing hand to hover over his cyare’s chest and magic flares to life around the both of them. “However, she shouldn’t have removed the magic from your brothers without contacting the Coven. We would have helped.”

Sev stares at the twisting purple and blue light around his cyare, and he exhales slowly. It looks like the galaxy. “Is that her magic?”

“It is indeed,” The Matron’s voice is soft, “She has a beautiful soul..and...Ah! There’s the bond with you.”

There’s a flash of vibrant red, and then the red expands and stretches until it’s threaded throughout all of her magic.

The Matron laughs softly, “If I were to look at your soul, I bet it would be nearly identical to hers. At this point, the both of you are far too intertwined for me to be comfortable adjusting the bond.” She hums thoughtfully, “But that’s not what I’m looking for…” She trails off, “Ah. There it is.”

Sev watches as the Matron moves her hands a little lower, and the beautiful purple and blue colors start fading into black, though there’s a very thin line of vibrant red standing between the black and the rest of the colors. “What’s that?”

“The black is the magical injury she suffered while helping you and your brothers.” The Matron explains absently. A new color is introduced to the magic array, a bright yellow, that quickly isolates the black, “It seems like you’ve been protecting her from the worst of the side-effects.”

“Of course. I’ll protect her from anything.”

The Matron smiles slightly, “Good.” She’s quiet for a moment, and then pulls her hands away, the bright light fading away until it’s little more than a memory, “There. The dark magic has been isolated. It’ll take time to heal, but she will heal.”

Sev hurries to his cyare’s side and crouches next to her head, some of the stress that she hadn’t been able to hide from him has faded, and Sev heaves a sigh of relief.

“Don’t allow her to use any magic.” The Matron says as she picks up her shawl and drapes it over her shoulders, “I have to call Coven meeting, she’ll be expected to join. Watch for my letter.”

“I’ll let her know.”

“Good.” She pauses, “It was good to meet you, Sev. I’ll see myself out. Keep her comfortable.”

And then she’s gone as quickly as she arrived.

Though, when Sev glances at the chrono, he realizes that it’s been several hours since she arrived. He sighs and rubs his hand over his head, “You’re such a trouble maker, cyare.”

That said, he carefully gathers her into his arms and carries her into her bedroom, gently settling her on her side of the bed. He smoothly changes her out of her day clothes and into her more comfortable pajamas, and tucks the comforter around her.

Then he leans in and presses a feather-light kiss against her forehead.

She groans, and slowly her eyes flutter open, “Sev?”

“Yeah, it’s me.”

“Matron Lily…?”

“She’s left after she patched you up.” Sev lightly trails his finger down her cheek, “She said she’s calling a meeting for the Coven and to watch for her letter. She also said no magic until you’re completely healed.”

“...Yeah, that’s fair.” She murmurs.

“Why didn’t you say you were hurt?”

“Didn’t want you to worry, mostly.” She murmurs, “Sorry.”

“Silly. I’m always going to worry.” Sev replies, before he leans in and presses another kiss to her forehead, “I’m afraid you’re stuck with me for now.”

She sighs, and shifts so she’s closer to him, “That’s alright. I didn’t want you to leave anyway.”

It might be too early for him to tell her that he loves her. But Sev knows, already, that if anyone tries to take her from him, he’ll kill them. “Get some sleep, cyare.” He says, “I have the watch.”

All will be well. Because he’ll kill anyone who makes it any different.

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