#every time I write a reunion scene in one of my fics I listen to this exact song on a loop | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

brummiereader · 1 year ago

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Right, I have the song playing as I read 🥺...oh god, this song is hauntingly sad (I have goosebumps) . I'm so nervous to start reading now 😳.

Stop stop stop...can I just praise you for this incredible choice in song ❤️ I literally just read the first line and I instantly felt like I had been transported back to 1920's Birmingham getting off the train. I absolutely love that you have told us readers to listen to this on loop, it adds so much to the experience! There should be a mandatory song on loop for every fic I read now 😂. I'm sorry I'm afraid this may be a very long reblog 🤭.

The way you describe her stepping of the train in all her glory was honestly 👌! She is a lady from a whole different world, no wonder everyone turned to see who this mystical beauty was. And Kaiser following loyally behind was the perfect touch, this little duo are a force to be reckoned with. ( Fuck, this music is so good 😩)

Awww John was there waiting for her!! I love that ❤️. "Hell, he was so happy and terrified at the same time I thought that bastard was having an aneurysm" this made me giggle! I can just imagine Arthur in a frantic state at the thought of her coming as fear and excitement overwhelms him. And the idea of Arthur going around town warning everyone to not dare look at his wife is equally adorable and hilarious 😂.

SHARK! I am kicking my feet at their interactions, arghhh my heart can't take it ❤️! The way he twirled her around to look at her outfit made my heart spin, and with this beautiful piece of music playing in my ear it honestly had me a little teary. Somebody make this masterpiece series into a movie!! You have almost made me forget about the danger they are all in, that is a true credit to you impeccable writing. You set the scene so well I honestly lose my self in it each time.

Something's not right...the way she's drifting off focusing in on the small details of Johns face like shes trying to engrave It into her memory has me incredibly anxious. Omg...fuck this music will be the death of me as I continue to read this story. The way John rested his hand on her and she reciprocated that had my heart ready to explode. The way she finds comfort in him is the sweetest thing I have ever read, and like I have said before I really only see John as a sibling figure to her. Yeh he jokes and flirts and I think at the beginning he did have a little crush for her, but now I honestly don't think he wants her like that, he loves her the same way he loves Arthur ❤️.

The tall gangster had been so eager to rejoin his sweet angel after two awful weeks of loneliness that he had shoved Michael right into the nearest wall for the sole reason that he had been walking too slowly for Arthur’s tastes. 😂 Arthur, I honestly feel the same with people, especially in shops, I have zero patience with humans sometimes!

Kicking of the feet has started again ❤️! The way you described her seeing Arthur again after two weeks, shy like a young bride is exactly how I Imagined the reunion being. They are like two young teens in love, he makes her blush, she gives him goosebumps. It's that kind of electrifying love anyone would dream off, the kind of love where everytime you see them it feels like the first time again. I love these two so much, they feel like family to me.

“I’ve fookin’ missed ye.” He lamented, his crystal tears dying in your cleavage. Parting from you was the worst idea ever, he thought, and he didn’t want to experience it ever again" Oh god he's crying 😩. His love for her is the strongest I have ever read, he loves hard and fast. He truly has found his soulmate.

Holy crap, I want a kiss from Arthur 🥴. There was so much passion in their embrace, even my legs were going weak! Erhhh Esme 👋, you and John we're getting it on in the Shelby offices that one time for anyone to walk in and see and well, Tommy did 😂.

Oh shark, I do love when you add these little lines in "He slipped his hands into the pocket of his long black coat, coming to the conclusion that it was safer if they stayed there" it just adds so much to the scene, you describe Arthur's small gestures perfectly. Are you sure you don't have him tied up somewhere, studying him for this series ? 😂

I love how you described Esme's fear of Heaven. And you're right, she is the only one that truly respects Heavens powers. Which I think really adds a different aspect to their relationship.

Wow Shark, the way you described the forest of her hometown and it's silent lullaby was beautiful, it has left me in a dream like state, desperate to walk through her beautiful forest.

Oh my god Shark...i know what's going to happen 😢. With the song still on loop and I'm reading each passage as the canon dialogue plays out and Heaven unknowingly walks back to the house to the horror that's about to take place, my heart is literally thumping in my chest.

I'm in fucking tears. My heart is absolutely broken. I have never and I mean never read something so beautiful than what you have just wrote. It takes a lot for me to react as strongly as I just had. This whole passage will haunt me forever. Her desperation to try and save him was utterly heartbreaking to read and then the realisation that he was dead honestly was the last bit to have me a blubbering mess. Shark, this was incredible. Although it was the saddest chapter it is now my favourite chapter so far, And with the added song 👌. You are amazing hun, your story telling is out of this world. Absolutely beautiful, I'm speechless...

Heaven in Your Eyes || Arthur Shelby x Reader!OC

Summary: Disobeying Tommy's orders, you're back in Small Heath. Your rebellious attitude starts to really bother him but you don't care. All that matters is that you're reunited with Arthur and John, the two men of your lives. From then, nothing can go wrong. Nothing, right? -- Featuring John Shelby x Reader.

Words: 5.5k

TW: Extreme angst - read at your own risk, graphic depiction of violence, canonical violence, graphic depiction of murder, major character death, allusions to self-harm.

Notes:

✞ Theme song on repeat if you want to break your heart: HERE

✞ Quotes from the TV Shows are in bold and italics

✞ Heaven is OP's original character but written with the use of « you » (Moodboard here).

PREVIOUS || Masterlist || NEXT CHAPTER

The deafening howl of the train’s honk boomed in Small Heath’s station, quickly followed by a whistling sound. The steel giant had barely opened its heavy doors when the foul-smelling wind of the city rushed into the wagon and made you wrinkle your nose in disgust. It was not that you hated Small Heath strictly speaking, but the stark contrast between the industrial city and the green landscape of the forest in which you lived now was difficult to process. The sound of your stiletto soon clicked on the metallic steps as you got off the train, attracting people’s eyes to your tiny frame. Yet, you weren’t really sure if this sudden attention came from their sound, or rather the sight of your short black dress adorned with the most expensive white fur coat you had ever owned, and the gold choker necklace you wore, whose shape was one of a barbed wire wrapped around your neck. When your heels found the dirty concrete of the platform, a gargantuan hundred pounds Cane Corso with a spiked collar followed you closely, like a silent but off-putting bodyguard. He was your shadow, mimicking each of your movements and grazing your steps, except if told otherwise. Loyal guardian, Kaiser was even more protective since Arthur left. Without minding the fascinated or curious stares that were looking at you, you walked out of the station with the dog’s leash in one of your small hands and a cigarette in the other.

“Mrs. Shelby? Here is your bag.” A man told you, all the while putting the said luggage at your feet.

“Thanks, sir.” You replied with a brief polite smile, before stubbing your cigarette on the nearest wall and throwing it away. At first, you had been surprised by the care the staff provided you during the whole trip until you saw the glow of fear in their eyes as soon as they noticed your family name on the ticket. She’s Arthur Shelby’s wife, you better be ready to help her with her stuff if you don’t want her husband to knock at your door and break your skull. That was what the ticket inspector told one of his colleagues when he met him in another wagon a few minutes after this frightful discovery. Waiting in front of the train station with a slight feeling of uneasiness, you swept your surrounding with your celeste blue eyes, whose coldness equaled the freezing English wind. Looking around you in the hope of catching sight of a cab, your fingers absentmindedly brushed the almost imperceptible white burn scar on your wrist. The circle-shaped wound the cigarette had left on your skin had miraculously healed in a matter of days.

“Welcome home, little Angel.” A familiar voice echoed right behind you. You turned around in one swift movement, and your freezing gaze turned into a child-like expression: John’s smile welcomed you, its charms so blinding that it made you momentarily forget about the dreadful feeling you carried in your soul.

“John!” You exclaimed, unable to hold your joy any longer. Kaiser’s bark followed right after when he recognized who the man was. Without further ado, you rushed into him to pull him in a hug. Amused, John could not help but chuckle at such a vivid reaction before wrapping your body with his muscular arms and tightening his grip around you with the firm desire not to let you go, “What are you doing here?” You asked, looking at him. Your enlightened expression adorned your doll face and made your hypnotizing eyes shine with elation.

“That ain’t the right question, love. What are you doing here?” He teased you, raising one of his eyebrows, then stared right at your eyes. His tongue pushed the toothpick that was in his mouth from the right corner to the left before he went on, “When Arthur got your letter he told me about your arrival in Birmingham. Hell, he was so happy and terrified at the same time I thought that bastard was having an aneurysm. I’m the one who came at the train station ‘cause Arthur still has to make a few last-minute adjustments to welcome you here.” As he talked, the young Shelby brother had freed one of his hands from your delicate body to pat the big Cane Corso’s head. The latter closed his eyes, mouth wide open and tongue hanging in bliss.

“A few adjustments?” You frowned.

“Like, threatening all the men of Small Heath not to even look at you, and dealing with Tommy’s reaction. He’s fuckin’ mad at you, eh.”

Of course, he was — you could not expect less from Thomas Shelby. God, you barely arrived in town he already found a way to bother you, even if he was not here. At this stage, he had real talent. “You know what? Fuck Tommy. If he thought I’d be dumb enough to stay out of the plan while my husband and you risk your lives, well it’s his problem, not mine. And if Changretta’s men come to my door, I’ll put them in the dirt myself.” That being said, you waved off the topic, “But let’s not talk about Tommy, please” You concluded, then laid a soft kiss on his chin. As your juicy lips crashed against his skin, John half-closed his eyelids and let out a soft exhale from his nostrils.

“Yeah, I bet you will,” He stated, referring to you possibly burying Changretta’s henchmen six feet deep. John enjoyed the physical contact for a few extra seconds, then he gently parted from you and closed his fingers around your wrist in a soft grip. You raised your gaze to him, surprised.

“Wait a minute. I just wanna check something before you get in my car.” His smile vanished, handing over to a very serious expression that kind of unsettled you.

“What‘s the problem?” Your smile followed his somewhere else. You didn’t know where, but what was sure was that it had left your face.

Without the slightest warning, John raised your arm above your head and made you twirl one first time, “Would you look at you, little angel! What a stunning outfit!” He exclaimed, before spinning you again to admire your otherworldly beauty, “Oh my God, I’m in love. Last time we met you were barefoot in the grass like some kind of ethereal nymphet and here you come in the shape of a goddess, dressed like a queen?” You suddenly chuckled at his unexpected reaction.

“Hey fuck you! You’ve scared me!” You nudged him in the ribs with your free arm, but it only made him laugh louder.

“My little heart can’t resist that.” He winked at you, his grin stretching in an adorably annoying smile only he could do before making you twirl again. Sometimes, you wondered if Tommy and he were really brothers. He is so different from Arthur and John. You thought.

“John! Shut up, dumbass. Your little heart can’t resist girls in general — or more like your cock can’t resist girls.” You rolled your eyes, faking an annoyed pout which only resulted in John protectively wrapping your shoulders with one arm.

“That’s my mean angel! Fuck I’ve missed you and your quick wit so bad. C’mon!” He said, grabbing your bag with his free hand before you started walking away. Kaiser ran and hopped inside the car a few seconds before you did.

The whole trip went well, casual conversations and joking with John had managed to alleviate the anger in your heart, which was far too focused on the driver’s joyful voice and stunning eyes. He talked to you about the kids, about his new house, and about some childhood stories. Surprisingly enough, each of his sentences had snatched a smirk from you despite the anxious situation in which the Shelbys were embedded. Nevertheless, your mind drifted away at some point and you stopped listening to him though. Not that he bothered you, but it was rather due to the fact that you lost yourself in the contemplation of the smallest details of his face. The adorable freckles, his little round ears, his pinchable cheeks… Everything about John Shelby made you feel at home.

“Is that fine with you?” His voice suddenly popped your thoughts bubble.

“Hm?”

“I was saying that you’re going to live a few days at me house just the time for Arthur to secure Watery Lane properly. You’ll spend Christmas with me, Esme, and the kids.” He repeated, noticing he had been talking to himself for a little while.

“Ah,” You started, batting your Bambi lashes quickly to chase away your daydreams. That was all you could say, for you dive into your thoughts right again. A comforting silence fell between you. After a little while, John slightly bit the inner of his cheek and glanced at you. The truth was he had been hesitating on his next move for five solid minutes. No matter how goofy John Shelby could act, he was a sharp observant. Considering his ease at analyzing people, he naturally noticed the way your fingers nervously played with the fabric of your dress, indicating your inner turmoil. The young gangster slowly moved his hand towards you, still conflicted about what he was about to do — Was it appropriate? Were you going to slap him? He hoped not, for he didn’t want to crash the car on the side of the road and explain the reason behind the accident to Esme. But worst than facing his wife’s wrath was to offend you.

No, no he wouldn’t want you to hate him. Yet, John was not the kind of man to let the demons of his mind win. Acting first, and thinking after was a motto he often applied in real life. He briefly looked at you again, his sky-blue eyes meeting your aquamarine iris before they shifted their focus back on the road. The young Shelby brother finally gathered his courage and rested his warm and strong hand on your thighs.

“Hey. Are you okay? You didn’t tell me what you think about living at me house.”

“Oh yeah,” You slightly shook your head, “That’s fine with me John boy.” You finally said, punctuating your sentence by gently covering his hand with yours and, to his greatest surprise, your small and cold fingers clenched around him. The physical contact almost immediately sent a wave of comforting warmth into your soul. John’s lips stretched in a caring smile and he replied to your sweet gesture by turning his hand to intertwine your fingers together.

That was definitely fine with you, for you knew that as long as John was around, there was no place for the storm.

Only for the sun.

A sun as bright as his smile.

“Get the fuck off my way.” Arthur’s gruff voice thundered in the hallway, followed by a noisy thud and Michael’s flourishing insults.

“Piss off, Arthur!”

The tall gangster had been so eager to rejoin his sweet angel after two awful weeks of loneliness that he had shoved Michael right into the nearest wall for the sole reason that he had been walking too slowly for Arthur’s tastes. All the while walking through the corridor, he had thrown his beret out of frustration and had brought his hands in his hair to nervously slick them back. He busted into the living room and his shiny steel blue eyes, sparkling with a gleam of hope, searched for you.

“Hey, Arthur.” When your soft voice swirled in the room and reached his ear with the tone of a mesmeric siren’s chant, goosebumps of excitation appeared on Arthur’s skin. Moving your body with a wildcat’s grace from the sofa, you stood up and looked at your husband with an adorably shy smile, like a young bride seeing her groom for the very first time. All the confidence you’ve felt kinda disappeared now that you were standing in front of him — would he be happy to see you? Or did you deceive him by disobeying and coming back to town despite Changretta’s men lurking in the shadow? You hadn’t the time to think about the matter though for Arthur rushed to you without waiting any longer and, with an uncontrolled strength enhanced by the power of his overflowing emotions, hugged your little frame. The gangster then lifted you from the ground, causing a cry of surprise to break free from your plumped and glossy lips.

“Bloody Hell, angel! I’ve told ye to stay safe at home!”

He said, putting you back on the ground right before cupping your face with his large, warm, and calloused hands, before you could even react, “I’ve told ye it was too fookin’ dangerous here! What if Changretta and his men would have attacked you on the train eh?!” He exclaimed, a bit more aggressively than intended. At first, you opened your mouth to reply but no sound came out. The sight of his pained eyes and his worried expression suddenly made you feel a bit guilty: if there was one thing you hated it was being the cause of his worries. “Hmm?!” He insisted when faced with your silence. His piercing blue iris dived into yours, looking in their celestial frost for the answer your mouth could not produce.

“I— I don’t care. If you’re in trouble then I am too. If you fight, I fight. If you die, then I fucking die. We’re one, and I’m sick of acting like the good frail wife waiting for her husband to come back from the war,” You started, shaking yourself out of your silence; and the more you spoke, the more your confidence came back, backfiring, “I don’t care about the danger, Arthur.” A desperate smile stretched the corner of your lips, making your eyes squint a little bit. A smile both tainted with sadness and mad love, “The first time we met I’ve made the promise that you’ll never face Hell alone ever again and I don’t plan to back up now that we’re at its gates.”

“Yer fookin’ crazy, I swear you are.” He replied. His eyes shone with dawning tears as he observed your holy pulchritude, “Out of yer goddamn mind, Heaven Shelby… Fookin’ bonkers.” His face relaxed, anger swept away by the winter breeze that had rushed into the living room through the open window. Arthur finally let out a nervous yet endeared little chuckle and shook his head in disbelief, "You're so much trouble eh."

“I’ve learned from you.” You straight off replied, gently pressing your forehead against his in this intimate gesture that was so proper to him. Yet, he didn’t reply right away, still shaken by your fierceness — these last two weeks had almost made him forget how untamable you were. He wanted to scold you for behaving in such a reckless way — He really did. But the truth was big bad Arthur Shelby couldn’t resist you. And God knew how hard it was to function without your heavenly and reassuring presence. If he had to be honest, he would admit that he wasn’t sure he could do it without you anymore. He was consumed by his love for you, body and soul.

A little sigh escaped from his lips as his boiling worries slowly faded away, drowning himself in the little details of your face. With trembling fingers, Arthur grazed your snow-white hair. Fuck, he had missed you bad. Very bad. To the extent of drinking himself to sleep almost every night and lashing out at the boxing ring, mercilessly beating his opponents, for these were the only ways he had found not to slip into pure insanity.

“Angel —“ He started, wanting to say so many things at once, but words choked in his throat. Closing his mouth, Arthur swallowed and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he did. The joy of having you there was so intense that his mind could not find something relevant to say: he wanted to talk about Tommy, about the letter he had sent you, about the Changrettas but nothing mattered anymore. What did though was you and him. That was why he finally gave up everything to hug your frame again, his spine bent so that he could bury his face in your small breasts. “I promise I’ll protect ye with me whole life, Angel. No one’s gonna hurt ye. Not on me watch.” He finally mumbled, the sound of his words muffled against the soft pale skin your cleavage exposed, thus turning his plead into more of a symphony of low grunts than anything else.

“I’m here, darling.” You reassured him. Arthur squeezed your body a bit too painfully in reply, but you didn’t mind. The uncomfortable pressure of his brutal grip chased your worries away and made your whole soul flicker — It made you feel so tiny, so fragile, as no other men did before, and you genuinely liked it. So, he could break you in half with his hug if he wanted, you would be okay if it was the price to pay to keep feeling his possessive and aggressive love all around you.

With the desire to soothe his heated spirit and confusing thoughts that were bumping into each other in his confused head, you let your small fingers lose themselves in his messy hair. Your gesture brought immediate relief, whose warm sensation spread in his bones at the contact with your frozen skin. Arthur’s whole being gradually relaxed, and he could finally let out the pressure of these last two weeks. All of sudden, you felt salty and wet drops running down your chest, “I’ve fookin’ missed ye.” He lamented, his crystal tears dying in your cleavage. Parting from you was the worst idea ever, he thought, and he didn’t want to experience it ever again.

“I’ve missed you too.” You said in a whisper. Ceasing to caress his hair, you put your hand on the back of his head and pressed his face a bit more against your bosom, keeping him still until his grip finally loosen around you and his tears run dry. Now that the storm of emotions was slowly calming down, Arthur sniffed one last time and raised his head, his lips reaching for yours. The press of his kiss, eager and hungry, dissipated the last couple of clouds of his troubled mind the moment your flesh reunited. Weakened by his scorching passion, your legs shook at the sweet and liquored taste of whisky on your tongue, while his strong hands explored you just as if the tall gangster wanted to make sure you were really here. To make sure he was not dreaming. His hands grabbed you, rubbed the sides of your thighs, ran up the curves of your ass, and then clenched on your shoulder blades for a short while before going down again to seize your waist in a bruising movement. You squeezed your eyes tighter, shaken to the core by the way his fingers left streams of fire in their trail, melting the ice that had settled under your skin the night he had left the house without you. Arthur deepened the kiss, almost leaving you breathless.

After an undefinable while during which you both lost the notion of time, his tongue gave yours one last stroke before he finally broke the kiss and reopened his eyes. Yes… You were still there — to his greatest relief. You let out a faint feverish sigh, the sensation of his kiss still tingling on your swollen lips, then you tilted your head to the side. Betrothed by your adorable pout, Arthur’s smile widened until the crow feet at the corner of his eyes appears.

“Look at you. You’re fookin’ stunning, little one.” He laid his big hand on your cheek and you gently rubbed it against his palm in reply.

“What about you you tell me what you're up to instead of treating me like a little girl, Mr Shelby?” You teased, your reunion definitely erasing the worries out of your brain, even if the threat section D had sent you still lingered at the back of your mind.

“Listen,” He started, his thumb brushing your lips with utter desire but he tried not to get too distracted by them, “John should have already told ye but you’re going to stay here ‘til Christmas hm? The house isn’t safe yet and you’ll be safer with Esme and the kids. Also, John will stick around to protect you. Just until Christmas right?”

“What about you?” You retorted, furrowing your brows.

“As for me Tommy and I will figure out what to do. But don’t ye worry… " He brought his face closer, his mouth reaching your ear, "Each night I’ll be back in your arms and I’ll show ye how bad I’ve missed you.” He whispered, his low voice alike the growl of a starving wolf, “I'm a little afraid ye’ forgot what’s like to feel your husband, hmm.” A little amused snort came from your nostrils at the delightful perspectives. For sure, Arthur’s way to make up for the last two weeks of loneliness you’ve both been through was particularly exciting.

“You think so? Little evil me is not so sure if she prefers Kaiser’s presence next to her in bed rather than yours. ”

“We’ll see, love.” He was about to kiss you a second time to shut your bratty mouth when Esme appeared at the doorframe, arms crossed in her chest and one brow raised.

“There are kids there.” She reminded, her voice cold and slightly bothered. Of course, she wasn’t enchanted by your stay here, but it has been two years since you joined the Shelby family, which had given her all the time needed to tame her hostility toward you. Your relationship was still rocky, but at least she had stopped insulting you on every occasion.

“Oops, sorry Esme.” You replied with the biggest and most charming smile you could do before taking a step back from your husband to help him —and you— resist the temptation of giving in to your burning desires. Arthur could not help but chuckle at the comment. He slipped his hands into the pocket of his long black coat, coming to the conclusion that it was safer if they stayed there.

“Alright, no need to bark Esme.” He grunted, but the sincerity of his grumpiness was definitely undermined by the faint smirk etched on his lips.

“I’ve made tea.” Esme went on, her magnificent brown eyes going from Arthur to you several times. Their dark color struck you for one second for their hard beauty reminded you of autumn leaves spinning in the immensity of her iris. You did not hate her. You never did. As harsh as her behavior had been, you had come to understand that her reactions were dictated by fear rather than spite. As a very catholic person, Esme was more than terrified by evil spirits — and she ultimately thought you were one, not seeing the enamored twenty-five-year-old girl you were, but the evil witch you could be. You could not blame her though, for she wasn’t entirely wrong. Somehow, you were convinced that Esme was the only one of the family who truly understood your dormant dangerous nature. What she did not grasp though was the sincerity of your feelings, “Hurry up.” She said, turning around and returning to the kitchen.

“Come on,” You gently wrapped your arms around your husband, “Kaiser is waiting in the kitchen. He’s going to be so happy!”

“Ah right, let’s see the man who took me place in bed.”

Arthur had barely stepped into the room when you heard the dog’s frantic barks, soon followed by his muscular body running toward his master to greet him with great enthusiasm. The sight of Kaiser almost reaching Arthur’s height, with his two front paws on his shoulders, filled you with joy.

It was at this very moment that you were almost convinced that nothing could go wrong.

The calm of the forest was a type of peacefulness nothing else could outmatch. All that was lacking from this grandiose landscape was the mighty shadow of the old and wise mountains of Haute-Falaise, whose silent lullaby could only be heard by those who paid close attention to it. From where you came, Christmas was always synonymous with snow along with the cold sensation of frosty wind biting at your face. Each time you would come back home after a joyful moment of playing games outside with your little sister, the warmth of the hearth’s fire would welcome you. But this Christmas, like many others since you left France, there was no snow. No mountains. And no little sister anymore. You were alone in the forest, wandering among the dead trees and the howling breeze.

Katie had woken up with a light fever, and she had cried in her father’s arms for twenty strong minutes before he managed to hush down her sorrow. Following a quick discussion with John, you informed him that you knew a natural remedy against fever and then, you went in the forest to collect the few plants you needed to concoct a healing tea. Esme would have naturally disagreed with the idea if John had told her, which hadn’t been the case. Instead, you simply replied that you needed some fresh air when she asked you why you were venturing outside the house on Christmas morning.

Oh, fuck it's you. Got nothing better to do on Christmas morning? // Tommy wants everybody at Charlie's Yard now, come on.

You’ve been wandering for over one hour when you finally found all the plants you needed for Katie’s tea. Satisfied, you headed back home with a light heart, already thinking about the pleasant breakfast that was waiting for you. A small grin flattered your lips at the thought of the children tearing their gifts’ paper apart and screaming with awe at the discovery of their new toys.

What's gonna happen man, it's fucking Christmas.

Moreover, you could not wait for the adults to open their gifts too. Even if Ada told everyone to focus on the kids, you could not help but buy a little something for the house’s hosts: a beautiful silver necklace with a protective crystal pendant for Esme, and an expensive ring for John inside which was engraved the sentence “Le soleil brûle dans ton sourire” which meant "The sun burns in your smile".

John. John, come to the meeting. All right? Think about the kids. Come to the meeting and if you want to leave, then fine.

For sure you could not wait to see their surprised expression slowly shifting to joy the moment you would give them their gifts! A little smile flattered your lips at such adorable thought. In truth, you had stopped celebrating Christmas for so long that the perspective to do it today delighted you. It was going to be a wonderful, wonderful day.

Get in the fuckin' house!

The petrifying detonations of gunshots tore the forest’s silence apart, which caused a cloud of afraid birds to erupt from the trees’ thick foliage. One shot, the surprise made you wonder if you had really heard that or if it was just the traumatizing memories of men chasing you down in the forest that was playing with your mind. Two shots, you turned towards where the noise was coming from, realizing it was real. Three shots — they stirred a brutal pain in your chest. A pain so vivid your fingers loosened their grips on the plants, letting them go, and grabbed the place where your heart was. It was drumming so hard in your chest that you felt it was about to burst your ribcage open. Crushed by the unexplainable ache and a crawling feeling of anxiety, you leaned against a tree not to collapse on the muddy soil. Your throat felt tight, to the extent you could barely breathe anymore. With eyes wide open, you desperately tried to calm yourself and comprehend what was happening to you. And suddenly the macabre evidence of the whole situation hit you like a train — a suffocating panic seized you again as you realized that the gunshots were not coming from hunters in the forest but from John's house.

No.

Your body moved slowly from the tree, taking a few wobbly steps.

“No!” Your voice yelled but no one was there to hear your desperate cry except the pristine nature, which had sent the wind to howl in pain with you. A surge of adrenaline ran through your body and, as if you had received the fiercest whiplash ever, you started running to the house as fast as you could. You ran faster and faster, with the cold breeze biting your face and brambles clawing at your exposed skin as you rushed past thick bushes. That was all you could do anyway for every other function of your being had shut down to focus only on your restless race. You could not think straight anymore. You could not hear anything else than the brutal beating of your heart resonating in your skull. Gosh, you couldn't even see properly, your vision narrowed into a small point in the horizon that was John's house. So you just ran, you ran no matter the insufferable burn in your lungs and the soreness of your legs.

"Hey! Come back, little doe". You could almost hear them behind you. The cruel men who hunted little thirteen years old you in the dark woods of Haute-Falaise. "We’re not gonna hurt you! Fuck — where’s that little slut?!"

Moving away the last branches aside, you jumped above a thick root and broke the last meters that separated you from the house. That was when you heard it, the agonizing scream of Esme. Her voice, filled with pain and fear, almost pierced your eardrums like the wailing lament of a Banshee. You reached the front of the house and suddenly, your legs made an abrupt stop, refusing to move anymore. In front of your wide-opened eyes, from which tears were already leaking, laid the inanimate body of both Michael and John in a crimson puddle of their own blood.

"John! Oh my God, John! No!" Esme yelled, her face contorting with indescribable sorrow and insufferable ache. She was kneeling on the pavement and hugging the motionless frame of her husband, whose skin already faded two shades paler. The young Romani beauty shook him but John's eyes remained shut. At first, you wanted to scream along with her, giving in to panic, but no sound came from your mouth. Instead, you let your quivering body drop to its knees and immediately put the moist palms of your hands on your best friend's wounded chest — The numerous bullet holes had made flowers of blood blossom on the white fabric of his shirt.

You took a deep breath, threw your head back, and closed your eyes in a desperate attempt to channel all the magic that was running in your blood to save him. After all, you had witnessed your mother performing similar miracles in your childhood. All you needed to save him was a faint beating of his heart, even the weakest would do the trick. Thus, you focused on your task the best you could and drained yourself of most of your energy in the hope of seeing John reopening his magnificent blue eyes and offering you one of his beaming smiles. You were pretty sure that he would come back to life, just like the bird you had found in the garden two years ago. Yes, you were going to bring him back to life, and this awful nightmare would be over and you would all have a good fairy tale ending.

— But life wasn't like the tales you loved: his heart had stopped beating for too long for you to do anything. It had been only a matter of minutes but still, you came too late.

You came too late.

When you understood it, a river of tears streamed down your angelic face. One of your hands gently moved up to his throat, and you pressed two fingers on his carotid artery to check his pulse in a desperate and last attempt to feel something, but there was nothing. Only the dull silence of Death. You slowly backed off and looked at the surprisingly peaceful expression on his face, forever frozen by the Reaper's cold kiss.

John was gone.

And so was the sun.

✞ A little note now that you've finished this chapter: Heaven did not ignore poor Michael by the way. When walking past him she noticed that his wound was not as serious as John's, so she decided to check him after checking John.

✞ Any comment, review, reblog, or constructive criticism is welcome. Your reactions really motivate me and keep me alive, so please don't be shy. English is not my first language.

✞ gif by the amazing @fkmylif3

✞ Tag list: @adaydreamaway08 @theshelbyclan @jomarch-wannabe @esposadomd @zablife @woofgocows @anathemasworld @anastasia000 @kate654 @kxnnxy @babayaga67 @meowtastick @shelbyssins @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @bluevenus19 @raincoffeeandfandoms @kishie8 @zablife @brummiereader @alexandra-001 @dearshelby

#Please listen to the song when reading this chapter! It adds so much to the experience.#Heartbroken #Incredible descriptive story telling #Shark ❤️#Top tier story telling #Peaky blinders imagine #Arthur shelby x reader #Arthur shelby #Peaky blinders x reader #Arthur shelby x oc #peaky blinders #Heaven Shelby

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sergeant-spoons · 2 years ago

Text

Fool For Love

Pairing: George Luz x Female OC

Word count: 5144

Tone: Friends to lovers, pining, angst, late-night phone calls, risky decisions, is it too late?

Summary: She’s more than a little tired at work, but then he comes on the line, after all this time, and she can’t hang up. They get to talking about their days in the war and upcoming reunions, and as it becomes increasingly clear she is hiding from him (and everyone), he resolves to bring her back to them as best he knows how—with his unerring love.

Taglist: @tvserie-s-world @thoughpoppiesblow @victoryrollsandredlips @now-im-a-belieber @50svibes @mgdln97 @tina1938 @drinkwhiskeyandsmile @ask-you-what-sir @indecisiveimpatience @whovian45810 @brokennerdalert @holdingforgeneralhugs @onlyyouexisthere

I originally wrote this with Nixon but found it worked much better with George; I was also inspired to write more of George and Talbert’s friendship by the scene in “Points” where they play cards and George’s soothes Tab’s unease. This is also partially a fix-it fic, I must admit, because Talbert all but disappeared from Easy post-war. In this fic, he sticks around.

"Yes, that's exactly it."

George peered down the hall, spying the phone that was usually latched neatly over the kitchen counter now placed to Talbert's ear. His friend nodded slowly, listening to the speaker on the other end.

"Right, you're... busy."

A muffled something from the other end that might have been 'got to run' or 'give him my love', George couldn't quite tell. Tab swiveled, shuffling over the threshold into the hall. He peered one way, missing the eavesdropper, then spotted him down the other. Waving George over, he pressed the phone to his shoulder.

"Somebody from Easy's on the line. Come say 'hi'."

George grinned. It would be good to hear from one of the guys. The annual reunion was swiftly approaching, and the time of year had rolled about when he really missed the men and the camaraderie they had shared. Sloughing off his jacket, he draped it over the countertop stools as he came up to the phone. Tab held up a finger as he fronted an introduction.

"Yeah, hey, do you have another minute?" A beat, listening. "Great. I've got somebody here who wants to speak to you." A half-smile. "Yes, it's George. Uh-huh. Okay. Talk soon."

"Heya."

Silence for a beat and George had made up his mind to repeat the greeting when:

"Hey, George."

His heart leaped into his throat, and he smoothed his palm over the receiver, swallowing hard.

"Leah." He pinched his nose. "Uh, Corporal Hedgecomb."

"Hey. Hey, how are you?"

"Good." Better now that I'm hearing your voice again.

Had she always sounded this weary? For most of the war, yes, he remembered well, but he would have thought peacetime would restore her spirits and vigor. He missed the lightheartedness she'd born all throughout Toccoa and Aldbourne, despite Sobel, despite the war, despite the back-breaking sexism she had to carry on top of it all every damn day.

"Look, George, I'd love to chat, but I'm real busy-"

"Please don't go."

He could almost picture her pursing her lips, those sweet lips, the ones he should have kissed so long ago.

"Oh, alright."

She leaned away from the receiver and called to someone nearby, her voice distant as she pleaded with an apparent coworker to take up her station for another few minutes.

"I can stay a little longer."

"Good. Great." He searched for something to say that wouldn't scare her away. Realizing too late he hadn't returned the cordial question, he extended it now: "How're you, Corporal?"

"Busy," she said, and it seemed almost a joke but for the strain present in her voice when she answered. "It's not bad, though, work keeps me occupied."

He smiled fondly down at his shoes. "You haven't changed, then."

"What do you mean?"

"You said that a lot back in, uh, Mourmelon, and Hemmen."

"Did I? It seems like so long ago."

"But not long enough."

They both knew he meant the absence of war, not the distance its end put between them.

"Hear-hear. Oh, and George—you don't need to call me ‘Corporal’. We're not in the service anymore."

"Ah. Right."

A few seconds as George considered whether or not to just be out with it already or mention something less monumental. On one hand, he was running out of time, on the other, he could mess this all up with three little words and listen to the phone click off, his ardor dismissing him from her cares.

"It's been a while, hasn't it?" Leah asked, soothing the tension steadily rising like a high tide up to their chests and their hearts.

"It's good to hear your voice."

"Yeah, yours, too."

He glanced at a split envelope on the counter and gathered a question he hadn't realized was burning him up until that very instant.

"About the reunion...?"

"Yeah, yeah. I got your letter, and the one from Sink, with the fancy seal and the flag stamp and the big, official heading-"

"You're not coming."

A long, long pause, broken only by a sigh that barely bled through the wiring.

"Yeah."

"That's not really an answer, Leah."

"No, I'm not coming."

"Why not?"

"I- it just doesn't- it wouldn't work out."

George squared his jaw, scared she was implying what he feared she always might.

"I mean, business really kicks up around here this time of the year, and I don't know if they can spare me. Not that I'm vital to the department, or anything, but any personnel they can keep will help."

"Uh-huh."

At her slow sigh, he gathered she'd easily picked up on his skepticism.

"What's the real reason, Leah?"

She didn't answer for a good fifteen seconds. George attended his watch to distract himself from the weight of her silence.

"George, I'm sorry, but d'you really think any of the fellas wanna remember they served with a broad? No."

"What? That's bullshit! Why the hell would you think that?"

"Watch your mouth, buster, you're a bad influence."

"What?"

"If you go off like that, I'll do it, too, and I can't be swearing like a sailor anymore. I've gotta be all proper in the office."

"What about out of it?"

"Since when am I ever not at work, these days?" She scoffed wryly, drily. "Nevermind."

"Corporal Hedgecomb, I swear to God, if I have to send Bill Guarnere and Babe Heffron to kidnap you from whatever martyr's pit you've dug for yourself, I will."

She managed a chuckle, and he could tell it was more for his sake than her own. "Nah, no more foxholes for me. Or for you."

"Or Bill or Babe."

"Don't send them," she warned. "They've got families of their own, right? Kiddos to tend to and others on the way, not to mention their wives, the lovely ladies with enough smarts to handle the three brain cells those two split amongst themselves."

George snorted. "So, no envoys. Alright, I'll drive up there myself and take Perconte with me. God knows he could use the break. Can you believe he doesn't even get Christmas off?"

"No!"

"I know, right? It's the post office, not the goddamn army-"

"No, no, it's not..." Leah audibly cleared her throat. "I meant about you, um..."

"Oh."

"What I mean to say is it's alright. I don't need the persuasion in person."

"Without it, you won't come to the reunion."

"With it, I'm more likely to stay put. So we're at an impasse."

"Alright, fine, but still, you never answered my question."

"Your question?"

"Why the heck-" He hoped she was smiling. "-would you think the men wouldn't want to remember you?"

"... If I was a man, it'd be different."

"Yeah, no shit, but I just don't get it, Leah. You were everybody's sister, cousin—heck, mother. Without you, Jackson wouldn't still have his face and Hoobler would be missing a whole lot more than a foot."

"But-"

"No. You really should come, doll, you haven't been to the last two."

"And nobody but Lip's seemed to care," she blurted in a voice small even for her five-foot-one frame. "Ignore that, please."

"No, I definitely will not." George glowered at the begonias in the calendar that hung opposite the kitchen counter. "Whoever told you I didn't care is a lying sonuva-"

"George."

It was by her tone that he abruptly understood: no one had imposed this opinion on her, she had conjured it for herself.

His cheeks flamed, akin to his heart. "Goddamnit, Leah, the only people I care as much about as you are Tab and Lip, and you know with them, it's not- it's not the same."

He knew he'd said too much when she didn't try a joke or a chuckle or even a dismissive cough. Instead, she remained silent. A muted voice, another woman's, asked her something and she replied she'd be there in a minute. Her voice returned to him as she brought it back to the receiver.

"I know you tried to find me, once."

George tried and failed to steady his breathing. He hoped Leah couldn't hear just how anxious he'd become.

"How'd you figure that out?"

"You sent Lipton to my door with the biggest bouquet in the state of New York. Now, I've never seen a man more committed to his wife than the good lieutenant, and he doesn't even live up here. What the hell could he be doing so far north other than carrying out some favor for somebody we both knew?"

"And you figured it was me?"

"I didn't have to think too hard on it once I saw the flowers."

"You remember them?"

"They were lilacs, George," she all but whispered. "You're the only one I ever told about those being my favorite."

George sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth, his shoulders stiffening as the breeze against the roof of his mouth went straight to his brain.

"Lip told me you'd just about vanished."

"I wasn't home that day."

A frown creased his brow. "But you saw the flowers."

"A neighbor did, out the window-"

"Don't lie to me, Leah." He set his jaw, trying to keep his voice from breaking. "You never were a good liar."

"Fine! I was there and I didn't open the door. Happy?"

"You hid from him."

The accusation caused her to deflate, signifying its truth. He could sense the change even from the receiving end, her face invisible to his eyes, miles and miles away.

"I thought it was for the best-"

Feeling unable to endure another voice crack from the cage of weary isolation Leah had forced herself into, George interrupted.

"The best? For who?"

"For you!"

"But not for you."

She choked on her words and coughed to regain them.

"I'm not some pretty little housewife, George!” she cried. “The war was the only time in my life I felt reasonably put together, and like I could do something. Even better, something worth doing. Really, I don't know what I expected, after it was all over. I can hardly keep myself afloat, nevertheless- no, shit, no, pretend you didn't hear that."

"So that's it." His finger, twirling the spiraling cord around each knuckle, stilled. "You won't come because you don't want their pity."

"Or yours," she reminded with a sternness he knew she rarely possessed. "I want them to remember me better."

"If they can't see you're still our beloved-" My beloved. "-Leah, with a chocolate bar always at hand for some poor homesick sap and the best hugs in the company, then they've all gone crazy and they don't deserve the honor of knowing you."

"The honor?" She scoffed. "Come on, George."

"I mean it. They'll be glad—no, overjoyed—to see you, and if they're not, then- then I'll-"

"What am I supposed to do, pretend everything's fine? While they're off getting married and having families and buying houses and securing steady, profitable occupations, I'm wasting away in the middle of fuck-all nowhere, so far up New York state, you'd be surprised it wasn't Canada, trying not to end up on the streets and so bitterly alone I've started writing poetry! I’m writing sonnets, George, sonnets!”

Leah laughed a sob. George was already reaching for his car keys.

"I'll be there tonight."

"What?"

"I will be there-"

"No. No, you won't."

"Yes, I will. I don't care if it's a five-and-a-half-hour drive. I don't care if you're scared. I don't care if I'm the last person you want to see."

Silence for long enough he guessed she might have hung up. He'd begun to fiddle with the left cuff of his button-down when Leah finally spoke.

"You know how long it would take you to get here."

"What kind of enamored moron would I be if I didn't?"

She laughed, and George wished he could believe it was the call signal that made her sound so hopeless.

"Only if you bring Tab along with you," she said, and he got the sense she was only playing along. "Roll down the windows, the fresh air'll do him good."

"It's December. He'd rather sit in a sauna for five hours."

"Remind me why he still hasn't moved out to California yet?"

"Me," George joked half honestly. "But hey, you're getting me sidetracked. So I'll bring Tab... anything else you want me to pick up on the road?"

"Um." A pause, amid which he could guess she tried to swallow but found her throat too dry. "No."

"If you say so." He checked his watch again, something of a nervous habit. "Y'know, I could probably make it in five hours. The traffic's bound to be lighter the later it gets."

"Uh-huh. You might have to wake me, depending on how late you get here."

"You won't wait up?"

"I work three shifts for two different jobs, George. Sleep is a blessing."

"Right." He swallowed. "Well, you can call in sick tomorrow. To both jobs. And maybe for all the days after that."

"No. No, I can't do that."

"You don't think I'll actually come."

"No, I don't, because I'm really not worth the trip."

Her words sounded like a hammer falling upon a bare anvil, the elements rebounding off of each other with a deafening, heartwrenching clang.

"Leah?"

"Yeah?"

"There's one thing I won't stand from you, and it's that kind of bullshit."

"Wha- what?"

"Don't ever talk like that about my future Mrs. Luz again."

She inhaled sharply into the phone. George squeezed his wrist and prayed that what he was about to do wasn't the most reckless undertaking of his life.

"I'll see you tonight. Probably with a ring. No, not probably. Definitely."

Leah squeaked.

"Damnit, I love you, and I'm not about to stand here while your neverending, wonderful, harmful selflessness keeps you away from the great thing we could be. And from your friends! And happiness! But mostly me. Because I'm selfish like that. But hey, if it means saving you-"

He squeezed his eyes shut, his heart pounding against his ribcage.

"-then I'll be the most selfish man in the world."

"George-"

"I love you. See you in five hours."

He shoved the phone so jaggedly into its cusp that he missed the latch entirely and the implement took a bungee jump toward the kitchen floor. Yelping a curse, he swung it back up and placed it where it belonged, stepping back from the counter with a long sigh. He glanced at the liquor cabinet above the sink in wistfulness but didn't bother to address it further. He'd drive better if he could see straight. Still, the thought of going to her like he'd wanted to all these months and the absurdity of what he was about to do combined were more than enough to make him dizzy. Tab might have to take over for the last of the journey—or, even better, the first, the middle, and the last.

Speaking of the devil's best friend, he'd vanished upstairs to the third-floor study. He never listened in when someone made phone calls like this, even if they were from his own line. Kind of funny, how George wouldn't think twice about eavesdropping whereas Tab went out of his way to avoid overhearing.

"Floyd! Floyd, get down here!"

Swift, steady footsteps, barely preceded by the scrambling scuffs of a chair being shoved backward.

"What is it?" queried his friend from the top of the stairs.

"No time to explain, just get down here!"

Tab proceeded to make his way speedily down, taking the steps two at a time. He followed George around the corner to the garage door, calling his name with another question mark to follow when he received no direct answer. George spun the car keys around so they pressed into his palm, feeling the metal indent his skin as he opened and pushed through the narrow aperture.

"I'm going to go bring my future home, and you're coming with me."

Tab's sigh was almost feigned as he reached back through the doorway to retrieve his coat as well as his friend's. "George, it's almost seven p.m. And I have work tomorrow, as do you."

"So? Love won't wait, my friend." He twirled the keys again and tossed them over the hood of the first of the three vehicles before them. "Besides, you get to drive."

Tab shook his head. "I get to?"

George flashed him a lopsided smile and slid into the passenger's seat. After a beat's more hesitation, his friend followed his prediction and joined him in the car. Tab turned the ignition and they each settled into their accommodations, preparing for the lengthy drive ahead. The garage door rumbled upward—only the most up-to-date technology for friends of the Nixons—and they pulled out into the fading light, the wet afternoon bleeding into a thankfully drier evening.

"How much did you have to drink before deciding on this mad chase?" Tab asked as he leaned over the backseat to watch where he was reversing.

"None."

"None?"

"None," George repeated, and whatever he'd mustered in his tone to guarantee the truth softened something in Tab's tired eyes. His friend sat up a little straighter, and the energy so often sapped from him by hours clerking behind a desk began to return in increments as they drove. At first, they spoke of the usual things; the clearing clouds, an unruly driver here and there, the meaning of life and what changes peace had brought to their world in the past three years.

"Three," George mused after a time, "isn't that a strange number to decide on a reunion? One, I understand for a high school, two for a college, but three doesn't fit anything. A birthday, maybe, but-"

"It's one for me," Tab reminded him with no shortage of gentle reprehension. "I skipped the last two."

"So did she. But she won't be skipping this time, and neither will you."

"... Yeah. About that—what's your plan, here?"

"With what?"

Tab glanced off the road for just an instant to shoot George that disbelieving eyebrow that had always been able to pry any damn thing out of him, all the way back to Toccoa.

"I know, I know, with Leah." George swallowed. "Leah Hedgecomb."

"Yeah, with Leah."

George waved his hand in front of his face as if reading aloud a banner. "Hopefully the future Mrs. Leah Lowry Hedgecomb Luz." He couldn't help a small smile. "Has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?" He snapped, remembering something vital to his mission. "Oh, shit, right, I've gotta get a- Why are you looking at me like that?"

Tab's spine had gone so taut, it almost seemed to be imitating the straightness of the lampposts they were driving beneath on this long, northbound route. The light from each lamp faded into and back out of the car within a half-second. Once the darkness of the night truly settled it, they would seem ever the brighter and the quicker, keeping the men awake and alert but allowing them no more than a passing glance at each other's expressions.

"Does she know that?"

"Know what?"

"That you're gunning for her to be your wife?"

"As of, uh-" George studied his wristwatch. "-an hour and ten minutes ago, yes."

"Jesus Christ."

His daredevil friend gave a low whistle. "Well, now I know this is a crazy plan. What else could make the pious Floyd Talbert take the savior's name in vain?"

"Oh, come on, Luz. Me? Pious?"

George snickered, and Tab sighed.

"Look, I'm sorry, but you gotta admit this is nuts! You're in love with a woman you haven't seen in a year—a woman who's been purposefully avoiding you, I might add."

"She loves me, too."

"What?"

"She told me back in Austria the day she left." George thumbed his belt loops anxiously. "She told me she loved me and I oughta come find her after the war if I felt the same."

"And you did, didn't you?"

"Yeah, but we never spoke of it again." George licked his lips, then confessed, "I have to believe she meant it. It's all I've got, Floyd."

"You need to stop for a minute and think this through."

"And you," his determined compatriot contested, "need to shut up and turn left."

"Why?" Tab asked, nonetheless rounding the requested corner.

"Because we need to make a detour to Cartier before they close at eight-thirty, and right now, it's eight-o'-one."

"Woah, woah, woah."

Tab pulled over to the side of the otherwise empty street. He shifted the car into park and turned as fully as he could in his seat toward George.

"Are you serious about this?"

"Floyd," George replied softly, almost timidly, "this is the first time I haven't second-guessed myself in three years. Yes, I'm serious."

His friend considered, glancing out the windshield onto the pavement and gravel of the road and its side.

"Besides, this is partially your fault."

"What?"

"You know I've loved her since Benning."

Tab's brow twitched. "Well, yes..."

"And you put me on the phone with her just like that, like you knew it was the best thing for us both."

"Um..."

"Come on, Floyd," George pleaded, flashing a smile, "help me out just this once-"

Tab visibly stifled a snort of laughter.

"-and you can be the best man—nay, the officiant—at our wedding."

"Sometimes, I think you've finally gone mad." Tab smiled as he shifted the car back into drive. "Alright. Let's go get the ring, and then the girl."

George let out a whoop, tossing his hands up and smacking them on the ceiling. He winced, shaking out his fingers, though his grin never faltered.

"By the way, I meant it, about the wedding."

"I'm not ordained."

"So? I don't particularly care what denomination ya are, so long as you can marry us."

"... I don't know if that's legal, Luz."

"What, freedom of religion?" His friend shot him a skeptical look. "So sayeth the Quaker's best friend."

"What- George, he's not-"

Tab huffed and went quiet, giving in (and up).

"I'll look it up and figure it out when we get back," he relented. "Dick probably knows something or somebody..."

George smirked, turning his face toward the window to hide the true warmth of his enthusiasm.

"Yeah. He prob'ly does."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Leah meant to stay up, to wait. She knew she'd feel like the worst idiot in the world should morning come and she was still sitting in her dark living room, alone; nevertheless, she allowed herself hope and trust for the first time in many years. She tried to keep her eyes open, but seeing the toll of midnight after a sixteen-hour shift proved a difficult task, and she drifted off in her old, raggedy armchair with a blanket over her legs and one shoe half-off her foot.

When the rapping on her door startled her awake, it was precisely 12:46 a.m. When she stepped up to the door, it was 12:50. When she gathered up enough courage to actually turn the knob and pull, it was 12:52.

"-so let's just go and come back in the morning, she's clearly not-"

The two men standing under her porch light, their heads and shoulders dusted with snow, froze and stared at her. Talbert's hand dropped from the back of his neck. George looked like he was trying to convince himself she was more than a memory.

"... home."

"George?"

He stumbled forward and she couldn't help but lurch into his embrace.

"What- what are you doing here?!" she gasped, wide awake now that he was really here with her, his arms sending shockwaves up and down her body. "George, you drove all this way?"

"I drove," Tab suggested sheepishly, raising his hand in a sheepish wave, and Leah forced herself to let go of George to hug him.

"I didn't believe- You actually- How? Why?"

"He loves you," Tab chuckled, nodding at George. "Thought that was pretty clear by now. You mind if I come in? I thought it couldn't get any colder than Rhode Island, but sheesh, New York's something else..."

Leah started nodding without really understanding what he'd asked, and he started humming “White Christmas” as he stepped past her and into the semi-heated house. Left alone on the porch, George and Leah stared at each other for a beat. Once they'd remembered the other was truly here, they all but leaped back into each other's arms. Leah's chest felt tight. She heaved each exhalation into his shoulder like it just might be her last. How long ago was it that such a fear could become their reality at the drop of a hairpin, or, in their case, the flick of a grenade pin? Too recent, too fresh.

"Hey, hey, catch your breath," George said, stepping back to cup her cheeks in his hands, scanning her face worriedly. "You cold? You want my scarf? My coat? My sweater? Hell, I'll give you my socks, if you want, though I don't think you do-"

"You came."

"Of course, I came," he cut himself off. "I brought Tab, just like I promised, and a ring to boot."

Leah flushed. "You didn't."

George dropped down on one knee.

"I did."

Leah squeaked. George beamed to hide the terrific pounding of his heart.

"Leah? Sweetheart?"

"Uh-huh?"

"Marry me."

She couldn't seem to speak, but she was nodding so fast George could only take it to mean yes. He put the ring on her finger, and she promptly flung herself into his arms and knocked them both off the porch into the nearest snowbank. George burst into such laughter that it woke the neighbors.

"Screw them," he muttered as the complaining started from an upstairs window. "I'm not afraid of nobody and nothing anymore."

"Oh, yeah?" Leah giggled, still half-certain she was dreaming, shivering a little. "When'd you get so brave?"

George smiled, drawing his thumb tenderly across her cheek to brush away a wispy curl.

"When I got you."

A beat.

"You will marry me, right?"

Leah turned and kissed his cheek, then his lips, and George felt like he could take on the world.

"I love you," she whispered, "and I've waited six years for you to ask me that question, so yes, George Luz, yes, I will marry you."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You drove how far to get to her?"

Leah and George shared an amused smile. No matter how many times they told this story, there was always someone who'd only heard snippets and couldn't quite believe it until they got the straight facts from the source itself. This time—most entertainingly—it was Speirs, their former captain. The humor of his confusion was only added to by Lipton, who was standing beside him with such an expression of This is the farthest thing from a surprise, Ronald that it made Leah stifle a laugh against her hand.

"As far as I had to," George answered Speirs, squeezing Leah's hip affectionately. "I'd have driven all the way to California if I had to. Up through Canada, down into Mexico, or all the way into South America—I'd go anywhere. I'd even sneak aboard a ship if she was somewhere overseas."

"So... how far?"

"Five hours," Leah chuckled. "Five hours and them some, 'cause he had to stop to get the ring."

"And I was the one behind the wheel," Tab reminded with a twinkle in his eye, and George lit up, delighted that he'd made it to the reunion after all.

"And you still get to officiate, Floyd!"

"Yeah, yeah. Just tell me when I'm needed, and I'll be there."

"Huh." Speirs paused to think, then took a sip from his whiskey glass. "I'll admit, I never pictured..." He waved at George and Leah, though not at all rudely. "This."

George's arm was slung around Leah's waist and her cardigan was tied just above his hips—the only thing more obviously signifying their relationship was the silver band gleaming on Leah's left hand. Leah pressed a kiss to George's cheek, and as Speirs shook his head, astonished, George let loose a delirious peal of laughter.

"Stop that," Leah giggled, ruffling his hair. "You sound like you're already drunk."

"Oh, honey, I am."

She quirked a brow. "Oh, yeah? Since when? You’ve only had one- oop!"

He'd dipped her toward the floor, his lips ghosting over hers, and when she realized she was not, in fact, falling, she smiled.

"Drunk off you, sweetheart," he whispered as their friends started to holler, noticing the couple's open display of affection.

"Then kiss me, Mr. Luz."

"Happily, Mrs. Luz."

"Wait-" She put her finger against his lips, teasing him. "I'm not the missus just yet."

He groaned. "Why must you remind me? Cruel woman..."

A slight shift in his stance let Leah know he was starting to strain himself by holding her there, so she grabbed him by the collar and pressed a searing kiss to his lips, bolstered by their friends' whistling and cheering.

"I don't think I can wait much longer," George admitted as he brought his fiancée back up to stand. "Literally and figuratively. What with you in that dress, and everybody here—heck, why don't we do it tonight?"

"Do it? Get married, you mean?"

"Get married, run away, honeymoon, hook the moon and drag it down to earth," George hummed, swaying her to an imaginary tune. "You name it, I'll make it happen, sweetheart."

Leah looked at him, and her eyes, brimming with tears of gratitude, struck him with so much love he felt faint.

"So? Whaddaya say, my dearest Leah?"

"Yes. Tonight!"

"Huzzah!" George leaned over his shoulder. "Floyd! It would seem your services are needed much sooner than planned!"

Tab looked up from the buffet table, a slice of chocolate cake halfway to his mouth. George and Leah shared a look, then burst into teary laughter, holding on to each other with no intent to ever let go.

"I think they're really gonna do it."

"About time." Dick Winters sidled up to his friend, then nodded at the cake in his hand. "Is that any good?"

Still watching George and Leah, Tab wordlessly passed the cake to Dick, who, in turn, Dick handed it off to a salivating Frank Perconte.

"Dick," Tab queried, "do you know how to officiate an elopement?"

"Not officially-"

"Didn't think so."

"-but I know a guy."

"Of course, you do."

They eyed the happy couple, now dancing to the music Lipton had conjured from the radio, and shared a small smile despite themselves.

"Think you could get him here within the next half-hour?"

Dick checked his watch.

"Uh..."

"Correction: think you could call him up and have him teach me this whole honorary pastor business on the fly?"

Smiling, Dick started for the payphone on the other end of the bar.

"Now that, I can do."

#george luz #george luz x oc #george luz fanfiction #band of brothers #band of brothers fanfiction #band of brothers one shot #hbo war show #hbo war show one shot #hbo war show fanfiction #one shot #fanfiction

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sailxrmxrs · 2 years ago

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dipping my toes into genshin writing bc it's been a year and a half and somehow i haven't indulged my genshin thoughts yet. inspired by an idea from dear beloved lily aka my fellow kazuha brainrot enthusiast. also based on the recent archipelago event and kazuha lore regarding his clan's downfall but when he fled inazuma during the vision hunt decree, he left behind him a loved one who he believed he would never see again. which leads us to this little fic where that bittersweet reunion takes place. no major warnings but a tiny drop of hurt/comfort if you look really hard (let's be real it's mostly comfort and fluff bc angst hurt too bad hehe) hopefully more genshin writing to come soon if ideas follow!

Spring air filtered through the slight crack of the window, letting in the most luscious breeze to combat the rising warmth of the early afternoon sun. The scene that lay beyond your window was a true delight, cherry blossoms scattered atop the paths of Inazuma City as its inhabitants went about their days, only stopping to bask in the fragrant scent of the various food stalls decorating the streets for the festival. With the dissolution of the Sakoku Decree, visitors from all corners of Teyvat were beginning to arrive and take in the sights of the once sealed away nation. This time of year was always when Inazuma felt the most at peace, even in its worst moments of turmoil and tragedy as visions were stolen and families fractured. Now the flowers seemed to bloom a little brighter and the air flow a little clearer as if the land reflected the soothed souls across the nation. And yet you remained stuck inside through it all, condemned to lessons of formality and meetings with family business partners and merchants. It was all terribly boring and yet as heir to one of the prominent clans in Inazuma meant you couldn't shirk off your duties to bask in the outdoor festivities.

Your position was certainly not one you took lightly, nor did you hold much resentment for the responsibility that came with it but there was no denying that a substantial part of you ached for some semblance of adventure. You'd met plenty of merchants and visitors from nations far beyond the seas of Inazuma, and even more so in the months since the nation's borders opened again. Though with every ship that docked in the Ritou's ports, your mind was cast back to an old friend who had long since left Inazuma's shores. He was also a young heir to an old prestigious clan, though his own family had been facing hardships and a steady decline long before he'd been born and ultimately forced to leave Inazuma. Growing up the two of you had been practically joined at the hip, barely leaving the other's side unless one of your parents physically pried you away from each other. Kaedehara Kazuha had been his name, and just the mere thought of him brought a pang of pain to your chest. There was no way to know where he was or if he had even survived the treacherous boat journey away from Inazuma, let alone the dangers that a life of constant exploring brought.

Commotion and movement shattered your drifting thoughts of Kazuha, the meeting at hand coming to a close as the clan heirs and leaders drifted out of the room and bid their goodbyes. A sigh escaped your lips as you collected the sheets of parchment that piled before you—various reports of business and other equally dull topics that could never succeed in capturing your interest no matter how important they may be. In fact the more important they were, the more tiring they always were to read. Still, at least you had a few moment's reprieve from listening to someone drone on for an hour. Depositing the reports on the maple desk that sat in the corner of the room for later reading, the breeze danced through the room, carrying a few stray sheets along with it. The only reprieve to chasing after the loose sheets was that there was no one left in the room to bear witness to your chase. Once the papers settled and you managed to retrieve them, a torn scrap of parchment caught your eye. It had begun to brown with age, the edges worn and the crease of a fold forever etched into the slip. Confusion knitted your brows as you reached for the mystery paper, recognition soon washing over your features as you realised exactly what you held in your hands, immediately thrown back in time to the exact moment you received this very piece of parchment.

It was in the middle of summer, the sun beating down over the city. Hot air coated every inch of your skin, warm and enclosing even out in the open. It felt as though there was no escaping the sun's pressing rays. But as you had strolled the city streets, fan in hand, a familiar face appeared, wordless as he reached for your wrist and leading you out of the city's centre.

"Kazuha! Where are we even going?" You called, voice half laughter and half heavy breaths as he picked up the pace downhill. Heads turned as you both ran past, witnesses to the scene as they shook their heads, all knowing smiles to your youthful affectations.

Kazuha's laugh called back to you, the sound as airy and light as the clouds that littered the endless blue skies ahead. "I suppose you'll have to wait and see, won't you? Impatience is unbecoming, after all." He couldn't help the teasing jab, echoing words you'd heard from your parents and tutors more than a few times. In shared tutoring sessions or clan meeting Kazuha was always the picture perfect example of grace, acting the good influence so as to convince your parents to allow the both of you to continuing spending your free time together. He'd left such a good impression, in fact, there'd even been whispers of a possible betrothal between the both of you. While the idea of marriage and adult life felt so far off, it would be a lie to deny the thought of living it all with Kazuha made your heart skip a beat.

Your curiosity was soon satiated as Kazuha began to slow his steps, the two of you reaching a shaded glade, the perfect place to hide away from the sun while still enjoying the fresh air. Kazuha collapsed to the floor, a peaceful smile as he rested in the grass, a few stray blades tickling the light pink dusting of his cheeks. You took your own seat beneath a tree, legs splayed out ahead of you, the thin fabrics and silks of your clothes leaving your ankles and a portion of your legs exposed to the slightest of breezes that filtered down from the treetops. Resting your head back, eyes closed and thoughts as quiet as your surroundings, everything else seemed to fall away. All that existed in that moment was you and Kazuha, two beings so in tune with one another that conversation wasn't needed. You could merely exist in the other's presence and understand one another's feelings and emotions far more acutely than anyone else could even dream of. Your peace, however, was soon shattered by the sound of rustling clothes and footsteps.

"I swear if you're about to throw something at me I will chase you down and toss you into the ocean," you called out, listening for Kazuha's signature muffled laughter as he planned whatever playful attack on your calm state of being. But there was no laughter, nor false comment declaring his innocence. You opened your eyes, shifting to look about the clearing but faltered in your movements at the sight of Kazuha resting his head atop your lap. He'd closed his eyes, hands sitting on his stomach, but his smile was anything but innocent. Cheeks aflame, you frantically looked about for any onlookers to the closeness but the two of you were well and truly alone.

"Stop worrying and sit back again. How can I nap if you keep moving?" Kazuha teased, a hand reaching for yours, his thumb tracing gentle circles on the back of your hand. A flurry of words raced around your mind, though none seemed to make it past your lips. Though perhaps that was for the best. With your heart beating so fast there was no telling what inner thoughts might reveal themselves. Then, as you settled back against the tree, you felt a piece of parchment being pressed into your hand, Kazuha guiding your fist closed as he raised it to leave the softest of kisses. If your cheeks had been pink before, they were now a scorched shade of red that no amount of shade could hide. Opening your hand, you unfolded the paper Kazuha had offered you. As you read the words he'd written, Kazuha recited them from his resting place on your thighs. It was a short poem, only three lines scrawled in Kazuha's familiar handwriting, but the words were sugar sweet. Pure honey coating the softness that Kazuha echoed for you. A confession of affection and love that had your stomach performing somersaults. To think he'd share even a fraction of the feelings you held for him. It was almost too much.

"It's always been you," he whispered. "It always will be."

Memories of that perfectly idyllic day disappeared as quickly as they'd come on. And suddenly you were no longer sat beneath that tree with the one boy you'd ever loved by your side. Now you were alone in the empty meeting room with no idea whether Kazuha still lived or he had met an untimely end escaping the clutches of the Vision Hunt Decree and the almighty Archon who had ordered her reign and calamity on all those who opposed it. Of course, if Kazuha were ever to return life would be safe once again, but that was if he even wanted to come back. The day he'd witnessed one of his closest friends meeting their end at the hands of the Shogun and been driven out of his home nation could have left scars far deeper and far more sinister than the ones he'd received during training as a child. Would he even remember you and the times you shared together? There was always the possibility that returning to Inazuma would result in heart shattering tears as Kazuha disregarded you, unable to conjure any memories of your time spent together. No, such a thing could never come to pass could it? The panging heartache was not worth dwelling on. These were all hypotheticals, after all. It would do no good to hope that the wandering samurai who had faced the Raiden Shogun's musou no hitotachi was him. Whispers of rumours filtered the streets for weeks after, all kinds of claims that he had been the last remaining son of some old clan. It had taken all the power and self-restraint you could muster to not fall into despaired hope that Kazuha was alive and in Inazuma once more.

A messenger came knocking at the door to deliver news that you were now absolved of your duties for the afternoon, mentioning the approval from your parents to attend the festival under way. Once you had dismissed them, thanking them for the message, you looked back at the paper in your hands. The longing to explore the stalls had dissipated in favour of the bittersweet reminders of your past love. Living in the past did no one any good, yet it was all the more tempting to allow yourself to wallow in all those memories. No, this would not do. Tucking the slip of parchment into the folds of your garments, you made for the sliding door. The breeze wafted through your hair, bringing with it an array of scents both floral and foodlike. Just a few moments outside was enough to clear the pained past that had started to resurface in the pit of your stomach. Children ran by, laughter filling the streets and infecting all those who heard with unbridled joy. It truly was an atmosphere like no other. And as you strolled through the crowds, taking in all the sights and senses surrounding you, your mind felt clearer by the second.

The bustling of the city streets was a lot to find one's self in, and so you followed the trail you'd visited along with Kazuha. Though this time you were alone, with nothing but the memory of him holding onto you. It wasn't long before you reached that very glade he'd given you the confessional slip of paper. It looked exactly the same even now, practically untouched even in the calamitous events of recent years.

"I thought I might find you here," a voice spoke out, breaking the silence of your stance. Your eyes widened, wondering if your ears were playing a cruel trick on you. The voice had sounded so like his that it almost hurt. Yet you couldn't bring yourself to turn around and look, the thought that this was all a mean falsehood so ever present. But then a finger traced beneath your chin and you were following its pull to meet the eyes you had gazed upon countless times.

"Kazuha," you breathed, barely able to believe he was really standing before you. Tears collected in your eyes but Kazuha was already swiping them away before they could fall and stain your cheeks.

"I told you I'd come back for you, didn't I?" He asked, attempting to mask the wave of emotion that struck him at the sound of your voice. Words escaped you, none of them feeling right enough for the reunion that shattered your heart into pieces and stitched it right back together in an instant. "It always was you keeping me here, and it always will be you bringing me back."

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact fanfic #kazuha x reader #kazuha fanfic #kaedehara kazuha #genshin impact kazuha #first genshin fic awooo is this the start of a new mars tumblr era? perhaps #but also perhaps not bc i'm scared LMAO #anyway i'm retreating to my kazuha brainrot corner goodbye #anna writes

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quillquiver · 4 years ago

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On SPN, Burying Your Gays, and Being Heard

I am shaking, I feel sick, I feel like I’m insane. And did I run a little wild with the theories? You bet. But you know what didn’t help? The botched clusterfuck that was this entire goddamn finale debacle. How was I supposed to believe anything they said in panels when M&G dialogue would leak saying the exact opposite? How was I supposed to grieve and move on when there was nothing from the cast and crew? Nobody said anything! And any info leaked just destabilized what we already knew or directly contradicted what we’d been told. In light of that, how was I supposed to trust anything anyone said? One rogue translator reciprocated the love confession and I was practically sold, because there were so many questions surrounding the English text that this was something good, something that logically fit, and something I wanted to hold onto.

Because they hurt me. This is about so much more than one episode or a ship; for years queer fans have seen ourselves in these characters and been told that we were crazy. That we were reading too much into it. I’m not sure how people get upset and offended when a storyline that doesn’t exist... doesn’t exist! said Guy Bee (2013). And then, after all of that, they turned around and said magnanimously, you have your version, I have mine... and that’s okay. But it’s not okay. It’s not okay, because that doesn’t erase what came before - that doesn’t erase the baiting and the gaslighting, and that invalidates everything we felt in the time leading up to that episode. It gave them an open window for all the subtext that came after. It allowed them to brush us off.

And then we got Cas’s love confession. I watched that scene about 500 times. Added to the rest of the season - to the fandom avatar being presented as successful and intelligent, to arc being the death of the author - I felt seen. Really seen, by a show that made it its mission to erase me. I had been okay with Cas dying at first because I had been sure the romance arc would carry through. I had been convinced that after everything, there was no way they would give that to us and then take it away.

But they did, because this is Supernatural. To anyone saying this is not bury your gays, I implore you to read up on the Hays Code. This link is to an amazing queer history podcast and the episode that covers it. In short, the Hays Code was a legal document that came about in 20th Century Hollywood during the puritanical war on the American entertainment industry, and it stipulated what was not allowed on screen. Not all of it was queer - there’s a whole section about kissing - but what the Code is most remembered for is that queerness was not allowed on screen. But queer people are resilient, and so they started testing the waters... and it turned out that you could in fact code queerness into a narrative, as long as it was subtextual, or as long as the queer character died/was punished, or both. The point is that the character is not allowed to live their truth openly. They are buried, either in the ground or punished in the narrative. The former is normally what we refer to these days, because the latter just doesn’t really happen anymore.

Until Supernatural.

Castiel is immediately punished for speaking his truth - and please don’t tell me he leveraged that punishment and so he had agency. Literally the only thing that could make him happy was confessing his feelings, and so the Empty deal was directly related to this idea of queerness-as-punishment. That being said, Bobo wrote a beautiful scene. Cas’s confession was a love letter to queerness and coming out... but everything that came after buried him. Castiel may have ended the series alive but he was effectively written out of the last two episodes, and that means that he actually never really got to live his truth. He was silenced by the narrative - that is punishment.

Dean is a whole other can of worms. Does one rogue translator confirm canon bi!Dean? Or do we have to read our own version of the text? The fact that we even have to ask these questions firmly places us in the realm of queerbaiting. Were the writers trying to get bi!Dean approved but were unable to? I have no idea, but queerbaiting requires proof that the writers encouraged a reading they had no intent of following through on, and we certainly don’t lack in evidence of that. Not from this writers room, but from those of previous eras. Did these writers try? They might have, but the funny thing about queerbaiting discourse is that there has never been a show to bait this long, and I’m making the call that even if you tried at the end, you baited me with half the ship and all the years that came before.

Of course, the narrative leaves open the possibility of bi!Dean so if you do read the show that way, that means Dean also falls into the bury your gays category; if you read the show this way - which many of us do - the mere suggestion that Dean Winchester was bisexual was enough to punish him. And he was punished. We’ve all written extensively on this, but he was given a random death, on a case his father never finished. All that growth, all that time spent having him accept himself, love himself, that was all taken away. He died the way he always thought he would: as a tool, in service of his father, protecting his brother. He had always believed he’d been a body to throw on the sword and in the end that’s all he was. And when he gets to Heaven? He’s also silenced. He barely speaks in the episode except to monologue during his death, and that is 100% Sam-centric. He is scared.

It was horrific to watch. I sobbed so hard my roommate was seriously concerned.

I had been fully prepared for Supernatural to end disappointingly. I had figured everything would end with a huge heaven reunion because white, straight, cis-male S&F writers love the idea of death as a reward, but instead of being disappointed I felt like I had witnessed a slaughter. Every single one of the queer themes intrinsic to the show: found family, resilience, speaking your truth... were gone. And I know we’ve talked about this too, but it bears repeating, because in doing this, in writing the queerness out of its narrative, Supernatural effectively looked every one of us queer folx in the eye and said: you are not important. You don’t matter. All of that stuff that came before is all good and well, but what really matters at the end of all things is blood family. It’s two brothers in a car. Life sucks but at least we get to die and go to paradise - real paradise, that your angel buddy died for and then made for you and who we never hear from again.

I felt insane. I felt cheated. I felt humiliated. I felt devastated. I still feel all those things, but listen to me. You have been heard. Not by Misha Collins, who is a great guy, but doesn’t get it. Not by Jensen Ackles, who is a similarly great guy, but also just doesn’t understand. And not by anyone else who worked on this show.

You know who heard you? Me. The people who follow me. The people who follow you. We saw each other, and heard each other, and we gave each other a leg up. We made memes. We wrote fic. We drew fanart. We made gifs. All for ourselves and all for each other. We broke Tumblr multiple times. We donated over $60,000 USD to multiple different causes. We got multiple hashtags trending at multiple different points, and today kept it up because we demanded answers and then we got them. There were at least 5 articles written about the show today. We made that happen. We made people listen.

Supernatural didn’t deserve me, and it didn’t deserve you. It didn’t deserve Dean. It didn’t deserve Cas. It didn’t deserve Misha and Jensen. But this show ended with a bleak, awful message and we turned around and showed them that love is loud. So what about all of this is real?

We are.

#alex talks #spngate #archived #this was very therapeutic #and i honestly don't know if i will ever be able to love something like this again #because i have been burned oh man #but this fandom is amazing #and i am proud to be a part of it #and i am not going anywhere #journaling #15x18 #15x19 #15x20 #castiel #dean winchester #destiel

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starilicious · 3 years ago

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der lagi lekin (hunter x force-user!gn! reader + ep. 8 fix-it)

》 summary: tbb episode 8 fix-it featuring a force-user reader who used to be a jedi. reader is a part of tbb and in a relationship with hunter, but the squad–nor hunter–knows that reader is a force-user. (disclaimer: all of this was written before episode 9 was released! see a/n for an explanation ^_^) (another disclaimer: if you want just the hunter x reader comfort, please let me know and i'll finish it up and post it!)

》 word count: ~8k (yeah, it's a lot LOL)

click here to read on AO3

》 warnings: in-universe swearing, mental breakdown, some slight sensory overloads, pretty mild panic attack, light canon-typical violence, angst + some comfort, survivor's guilt from surviving order 66, no use of y/n, slightly plot heavy because i got way too carried away in writing (whoops?) [if i should add more warnings, please let me know!]

》 spoilers: major ones for tbb episode 8 "reunion"

》 a/n: okay look, i gotta confess: this wasn’t supposed to be an episode 8 fix-it. really. i’m actually glad cad bane won because we get to see that the clones don’t always win every fight... i think it makes for a better and more complex story. anyway, i started out writing just reader and hunter comfort after episode 8 ended. but i’m weak for omega because she reminds me so much of my younger siblings and i ended up writing a wholeass fix-it to save her (even tho cad bane is a downright badass). i kind of liked what i did with building up the plot so much that i might continue this story of force-user!reader with tbb. but that’s a tangent we can deal with later. if you would like a part two with the hunter x reader comfort this was originally intended to be, let me know!

as i said in the summary, i wrote all of this before episode 9 came out–just be aware of that. because it’s so long, it took me a while to edit, which is why i’m posting after ep. 9 was released. but without further ado, i hope you like it! <33

》 misc. notes:

• title of the fic is from the hindi song "der lagi lekin" from the film zindagi na milegi dobara. i linked the song in blue and linked the english translations in green in case you're curious! it's not necessary to listen or understand the song, but i thought it went well with the fic :)

“Everybody get down!” Wrecker yells. You and the squad immediately do as he instructs, diving towards the ground and covering your head. Stars, I hope this works.

The charges the six of you placed around the gigantic cone that surrounds the core cylinder explodes in a deafening blast. You curl into the tightest ball you can manage, breathing so hard that the HUD inside your helmet temporarily fogs up. Metal shards of the explosion rain down on you hard.

For a moment, it seems like nothing happened. But then you hear the telltale, ear-grinding creak of the durasteel and the squad is roughly catapulted forward from the force of the cone beginning to fall down.

You struggle to stand up as you lurch this way and that, trying to regain your balance and stabilize as Tech calls out, “Hold on!”

You quickly glance at the rest of the Bad Batch, trying to see if any of them were hurt. Other than the absolutely terrified look on Omega’s face, all is well considering the circumstances. The metal groans and begins its descent, taking your feeling of being grounded with it. The weightlessness is uncomfortably familiar to say the least, but you ignore it as the six of you scramble to hold on to the side of the cone. You certainly did your fair share of acrobatics back in the war, but feeling it hum around you...it’s too much. It’s too much. You elect to push it back into the depths of your brain. But it doesn’t leave.

It never really does.

Omega’s anxious whimpers come in faintly through your thick helmet and you whip around, frantically trying to find where she is. But before you can find her, the cone lands vertically on its head and the force is so violent that your stable hold on the durasteel is broken. Panicked, you quickly fire a grappling hook towards the ledge where you were previously hanging on. The hook catches and you stop abruptly, the jerky movement almost wrenching your arm out of its socket.

You look down to see Omega falling from someone’s grip and into Hunter’s arms. You can barely tell where anyone is thanks to the lack of light and the incessant motion.

The cone begins to topple onto its side and suddenly, your wire snaps from the tension. You let out a scream of surprise as you plummet downwards, wind rushing past your helmet. ForceIdon’twanttodieohmyMakerohno–

But you never hit the ground, instead being flung sideways as the cone tears into two. On trained instinct, you tuck yourself into a ball to try and roll in order to break your fall instead of using it. That time is long gone.

You land with a sickening thud and hiss in pain as your back hits the metal hard. You hear something crack, but whether it is your armor or something internal, you have absolutely no idea, and don’t have time to check before you black out.

✧✦✧

You jolt awake, a sound making its way into your consciousness. Finally, the damn place stopped moving. You take a few minutes to try and relieve the painful pressure in your chest, reaching up to rip your helmet off because you can’t breathe, you can’t breathe.

You tilt your head back as you struggle to take in air and let the adrenaline subside. You hear voices in the distance and you strain your ears to pick up on the sound as you quickly check yourself over. As far as you can tell, nothing major is broken, and at this point, that is all that matters. Though, your head is pounding, and for more reasons than one

“–nter.. port side... what… status?”

You can’t tell who is speaking, the message too far away for you to hear. But the bits and pieces are enough for you to know that it’s someone from the Bad Batch and that you weren’t unconscious for long. You stand up and dust yourself off before slowly walking to where you believe the origin of the sound is.

“–engine… got company.” A blaster sound and then an explosion rings through the quiet.

Your eyes widen and you quickly pick up the pace, getting your blaster ready as you pick your way through the sharp metal that is jutting out from the ground.

You click on your wrist comm. “Echo, you there?” A faint crackle before his voice comes through, but the signal is scratchy. You frown in frustration.

“–are you? Hunter is... port side,” Echo says and you smack your commlink to try and get the electronics to work, but it’s no use. The device is broken, most likely from the fall, you deduce.

“Meet… Marauder.”

You don’t bother to answer, knowing Echo would probably not even be able to hear what you had to say anyway. Without a signal booster or repeater, there’s no way you can get your transmission across the channel frequency.

It takes a few minutes, but you eventually find the night sky of Bracca blinking down at you at the end of the ripped off cone. You run out to find that you’re in the middle of where the cone broke in half. Okay, new plan. I need to find Hunter. Hunter will know what to do.

You scan your surroundings. The HUD isn’t picking up on any lifeforms near you, and you realize with sinking dread that you have no more options. Whichever piece you climbed through to get to your squadmates, it would take too long for you to search for them since you don’t know their coordinates and your comm isn’t working. Frankly, the Empire–Crosshair–would find you first. You have to use it.

You have to use the Force.

A wave of nausea overcomes you at the mere thought of it and you sway. In an attempt to ground yourself, you tear off your helmet to breathe some fresh air and end up keeling over as the bile rises in your throat. Nothing comes out. You can’t tell if that’s a positive or not.

You could have saved them. Someone. Anyone.

It itches at you in the back of your head, wishing to be let out of its cage. But you can’t. You can’t do it. What’s the use anyway? All you would be doing is saving yourself. The choice of surviving it all has haunted you ever since. Your head pounds in agony.

You saw it happen. You could have helped them. And you ran like a coward. Only ever concerned about yourself.

You inhale sharply as the scene flashes before your eyes, clones shooting at you and the other Jedi. The blaster fire. The confusion. The screams.

How pathetic.

The last statement, an echo of Crosshair’s words, bounces around in your brain. You clutch your head as you let out a heartbroken sob, knee deep in the dirt and metal and grief. Tears create clean tracks down your face as you finally break down, the flood of emotions bursting the dam open. At this point, you don’t know if the emotions are yours or the ones you previously felt through the Force, all of them swirling and blending into one. The bottled up anguish merged together when you attempted to cut yourself off from the Force after the clones–your friends–attacked.

The pain of their death is perhaps the worst of all. Horror courses through you as you finally process your friends and mentors dying around the galaxy, their deaths, their distress, their fear reverberating heavily throughout the Force. Each one cripples you further as you once again struggle to breathe.

It feels like light years pass when you finally calm down to a practically numb state of being. The scenes stop replaying behind your closed eyelids and the echoing shrieks die down to a faint, hollow whisper. You’re suddenly exhausted, limbs heavy and energy sapped. It was almost relieving to finally let the Force once again flow through your body, your nerves lightly tingling with potential despite how tired you feel. You collapse onto the ground and try to recenter yourself.

But despite finally acknowledging the loss, it doesn’t feel right. You didn’t get to say goodbye. You hadn’t been able to even think about them, much less honor them, too focused on going on the run to concentrate on anything beyond the next day’s survival. Even once you joined the Bad Batch, you were paranoid about their chips, about your friends turning on you at any moment. You were always extremely reluctant to engage in the Force, even at the worst of times.

With a start, you realize that you don’t need to worry about your squadmates. Their inhibitor chips are now gone. You… you are safe.

You let out a shocked laugh as it sinks in. A glimmer of hope, of peace. I’m safe.

You sit up then, criss-crossing your legs as you survey the broken landscape of Bracca. Despite the planet being a graveyard, you feel lucidly alive. Perhaps something died in you, that wretched day. But something else, slowly but surely, began growing in its place. It’s meek, but it’s there.

You let out a breath and close your eyes, reaching for the Force like it’s an old friend. It accepts your invitation with hesitation, joining hands with you as if you did not try beating it to death for days on end. You sink into the gentle lapping waves of the Force, extending into it and widening your scope.

There’s something that lurks beneath the surface, in the deep. Dark and sinister and so utterly painful. It calls to you, quiet and low. Enticing. Tempting. And something in you knows that it’s the reason for your previous life’s demise.

But you can feel Hunter’s–and Omega’s, you realize–presence near you in the Force. Even with your relatively damaged connection to the Force after Order 66, the Bad Batch’s Force auras were something you could always hone in on. You let yourself direct your focus to the duo, letting their emotions be your beacon to the acceptance of the Light side of the Force.

In a split second, you decide to not dive deeper into the Force. This isn’t the place nor the time to discover what is prowling in the endless yawning of the Force, to discover why everything happened. So you direct your concentration to the beings on the planet, feeling and breathing your way through the Life Force.

You freeze. There’s something here. No… someone. Your eyebrows furrow as you divert your attention away from your friends and other organisms to the peculiar source. Something about this person strikes you as familiar.

Your eyes snap open and you gasp. I’m not alone. A Force-sensitive. Someone survived. Giddy beyond belief, you snatch up your helmet and begin trekking your way across the wreckage in the opposite direction of Hunter and Omega before pausing. Whoever this person is doesn’t know about your presence on the planet.

And despite the fear you felt emanating off of them in the Force, you somehow knew they were safe, at least for now. And they would remain so if you have anything to say about it. Maker forbid anything that jeopardizes this person’s fragile safety. After all, you know best what it’s like to constantly flee scene after scene.

Staying away is the best thing to do. I’ll come back for you, whoever you are.

You double back and make quick work of getting across the debris as you focus your concentration on Hunter’s and Omega’s Force signatures. As you get closer to the port side, you hear Omega’s high voice. Through your HUD, you can see her small form. You grin. She disappears then, and on closer inspection, you figure she jumped through some broken cargo doors.

The entrance she and Hunter took is too high for you to jump up to, even with the aid of the Force. Combined with your wariness of probe droids, you decide to take a different route from the right side, climbing up the broken ship. The slick oil mixed with the water still present on the metal makes for a difficult trek, and you slip more times than you would like to admit.

Hunter’s gruff voice floats up towards you and you scramble the last few meters to the edge of a hole in the ceiling before pausing. The Force is itching at the back of your head. Something’s wrong.

You peek over the edge of the giant slab of durasteel that created the hole to see bodies in white armor littered everywhere–clones, you realize. Your heart pangs in sadness at the sight.

Slightly to your right, a blue figure and a techno-service droid stand in front of a ship and a frightened Omega stands behind a defensive Hunter. Your mouth drops open. Kriff.

Cad Bane.

A memory from near the beginning of the war hits you in full force. You and Anakin had taken some time on Coruscant to catch up with each other after you passed your trials and were promoted to Jedi Knight. He told you about a mission where he had to stop a bounty hunter who successfully stole a Jedi holocron. You remember how surprised you were when you heard the bitter disgust in Anakin’s voice. The ruthlessly cunning bounty hunter not only threatened to kill Ahsoka, but he murdered Master Ropal.

Judging by the looks of it, Hunter doesn’t know who he is. If the Anakin Skywalker had a difficult time with Cad Bane, there is no way in sithhell Hunter can take him on, even with his enhanced senses. Frankly, you seriously doubt you can either, especially with how rusty your Force skills are now. And that means this isn’t going to end well.

You watch carefully as you tune into the conversation.

“Ain’t you smart?” Bane smirks. “The kid’s got it all figured it out.”

“You’re in trouble now!” the droid exclaims, pointing at Hunter and Omega. You grit your teeth in annoyance.

“Who hired you?” Hunter asks. Stalling. Not a bad move, Hunter.

“Son,” Bane sighs, already done with the brief conversation. “That’s confidential information. Now hand her over.”

Omega stays behind Hunter, taking a knee as Hunter walks forward protectively. You bristle. How am I supposed to help from up here?

“She’s not going anywhere.”

Your eyes drift over the scene in a panic and you take in the fallen clones again. An idea pops into your head. It is desperate, but at this point, you don’t have much of a choice.

Bane mimics Hunter’s movement, walking forward and putting a hand near his belt. The tension is as thick as duracrete.

“That’s unfortunate… for you.”

You grab the long barrel piece from your belt, fitting it over your blaster hurriedly as the showdown begins. Out of the corner of your eye, you see them staring each other down and you can’t help but roll your eyes. Men.

During the war, Crosshair helped you re-engineer your weapon so you could put together various pieces in the field to make a blaster gun that loosely resembled his own sniper. Seeing the clones reminded you of him. A wave of sadness washes over you, but you shake your head. Now is not the time.

You screw on the telescopic sight and set up your makeshift sniper. You peer through the viewfinder and find Bane’s chest. Your finger tenses over the trigger.

You let yourself sink deep into the Force, let it guide your actions. Inhale. Exhale. I can do this. As you relax, the mellow warmth you missed so dearly washes over you, gently eroding the torment in your mind and heart, guiding your focus to the here and now. Trust in the Force.

Wait.

Now.

You fire two bolts straight into your target the same exact moment Bane and Hunter shoot each other. Hunter’s shot hits the droid, breaking off its leg. Bane’s shot hits directly in Hunter’s chest, as yours did Bane. Both men immediately fall backwards and slam into the ground.

“My booster!” Oh. So not a leg. Got it.

“Hunter!”

Kriff kriff kriff. You jump down nimbly from your hiding spot in the ceiling and immediately sprint towards the duo. Is he dead? You would unapologetically release sithhell on Bane if he killed the man you love.

Omega panics as she tries to wake Hunter up, continuously calling his name before taking a glimpse of her surroundings. Before you can react, she grabs her bow and pulls it taut, aiming at you. She looks petrified.

“Whoa! Omega, it’s me!” you exclaim, holding your hands up in surrender. She takes a moment to actually look at you before sagging in relief. Suddenly, the droid comes speeding out of nowhere and Omega shoots, the energy bolt whizzing past your waist and straight into the droid before it can attack you from behind.

The shot rings true and the grumpy robot falls. You turn around to grab at its exposed parts under its head and yank them out to make sure it can’t power on again.

“Thanks, Omega. I owe you one,” you say and Omega gives you a proud smile.

You place a comforting hand on her shoulder before kneeling down to shake Hunter awake, but it doesn’t work. You take a moment to analyse Hunter’s Life Force. It’s a bit dimmer, but it’s constant, meaning he’s out cold and doesn’t have the life draining out of him. You let out a sigh of relief. He’s alive. You glance back to see Bane still not moving. Good.

“What’re we gonna do?” Omega whispers as you both peer down at Hunter. His armor is smoking from Bane’s blaster shot and you exhale through your teeth, trying to come up with a plan. You slip off a glove to check Hunter’s pulse–it’s strong. You don’t want to leave Omega alone, even if Bane is unconscious, but you aren’t sure you have a choice.

“Well we can’t carry him to safety, neither of us are strong enough for that,” you think aloud, gears churning in your head. You would have to wait for help, even if you were sitting ducks.

Briefly, you entertain the thought of taking Bane’s ship. The only problem is you don’t know what trackers or other gadgets are in there–it’s too costly of a risk and a price you weren’t willing to pay. You sigh, resigned.

“Omega, you try to comm the others and see if you can wake Hunter up. I’m going to go inside this guy’s ship and see if I can find something that can help us. We have to get out of here before the bounty hunter wakes up,” you instruct and Omega nods, youthful determination flooding back into her eyes.

You leave her to it, walking cautiously towards Bane’s ship. You look down at him. His armor is smoking in two places from the shots you fired. Based on what you see, he’s still unconscious, and his Life Force reflects the same conclusion. How long that would remain, you don’t know. Which means you need to work fast.

You board the ship while you remove the sniper attachments from your blaster and clip them back onto your belt. You keep your guard up as you look around. No droids. Guess that techno-service droid is his one and only.

In an effort to slowly re-familiarize yourself with the Force, you send out a quick pulse through it to see if there are any lifeforms aboard the ship, relaxing when you find none. You rummage through all the cabinets that you discover, looking high and low as you try to locate something of use. The secret compartment in the cockpit proves to be the fruitful reward to your search. With a wave of your hand, you unlock it with ease. Bingo.

Credits. Bags of them. And they’re unmarked creds, which make your score even better. Hopefully, it would be enough to pay off your debt to Cid and give the Havoc Marauder some much-needed upgrades.

Usually, you would feel bad about stealing from someone, but considering this was a bounty hunter – Cad Bane, no less – you figure you can risk treading the grey area of your moral code.

You grab as many bags as you’re able, stuffing them inside your backpack and clipping the rest onto your belt. At this moment, you’re incredibly grateful to Tech and Echo for designing a sturdy utility belt that fits you well. The standard ones were for clones and you definitely were not a clone.

You exit the cockpit and head to the second level of the ship to see if there’s anything else you can find. A stack of crates sits in the corner across from what you assume to be a prison. You scrunch your nose in disgust as you open one to find medical supplies. Bacta patches and gel, vitapaste, rations, water, gloves, sanitary napkins–it was all there. Delighted, you close the crate and click the repulsor to make it levitate. Oh how you love technology.

You turn around and walk back up the stairs to leave the ship. You freeze at the exit ramp. You have got to be karking kidding me.

“Sorry lil’ lady.”

Cad Bane stuns Omega in front of your eyes before rounding on you and immediately fires. In a desperate attempt to save yourself, you throw your hands up and the honeyed power of the Force rushes through every fibre of your being. The blaster bolts slow down to a snail-like crawl and your eyes widen. How did I…?

Never mind how you argue with yourself. Time to get out of here!

You tiptoe around each bolt, the effort of keeping them in stasis becoming more difficult with each passing moment. You grit your teeth as your arms shake, but you keep going until you are finally off the ramp. You lower your arms and the energy hits the inside of the ship, spazzing out the blinking controls inside.

Bane turns to you in surprise, astonished at how you’re suddenly in front of him. You don’t give him the luxury of processing the event and immediately punch him in the face with as much strength as you can muster. Bane pitches backwards and collapses onto the ground, just as he did the first time. You grab your stun blaster and shoot him as extra assurance. You really did not want this to repeat again. Hopefully he never wakes up with a memory of what I just did...

“Now stay down,” you mutter to a knocked out Bane, cradling your now injured hand. You have no idea how Wrecker ever does this because wow your hand is killing you.

You have to say, you’re pretty proud of yourself for being able to render him unconscious not once, but two times. You wish you could tell Anakin–the thought saddens you. He’s probably dead too.

With that vividly cheery thought, you stagger back from the ramp in exhaustion, weary from the sudden surge of the Force still ebbing and coursing through your body.

None of the Bad Batch knew you used to be a Jedi–not even Hunter. It was something only a few of your closest Jedi friends and the Jedi Council knew about.

But after what happened today, with Rex helping your squadmates get their inhibitor chips out, with you finally letting the Force in… maybe it is time to tell them. The secrecy wouldn’t be needed anymore now that you were sure you were safe around your friends. But clearly, the universe wanted to throw a nasty vibroblade in your plans by knocking Hunter and Omega unconscious and having the best kriffing bounty hunter in the galaxy be hot on your heels.

You take a few seconds to get your breath back and regain your mental energy. You aren’t out of the woods yet. You run inside Bane’s ship to grab the crate of medical supplies before sprinting back out towards Hunter and Omega.

You lean down and pat Omega’s cheek gently, trying to wake her up, but she’s out cold. Why is everyone around me unconscious? Frankly, you’re equally amused and terrified by the situation laid out in front of you.

You sigh, looking around to see if you can find some cover. There’s a giant sheet of durasteel to your left, big enough to act as a barrier in case trouble comes knocking. You bend down and pick Omega up before placing her down cautiously, leaning her small body against the metal. You repeat the action with the crate you found.

The third time proves to be much more difficult. Hunter certainly isn’t as muscular as Wrecker, but he sure as sithhell isn’t as light as Omega. You tap your foot nervously, trying to figure out a way for you to lift him. Yes, you could use the Force, but you don’t want to alert the other Force-sensitive on the planet. If they knew about your existence, it could put them in danger, and that was the last thing you wanted.

Giving up, you place your hands underneath Hunter’s armpits and effectively drag him all the way over, propping him up as you did Omega. You cringe at the sound of his armor grating the floor. There are sure to be dirty scuff marks on it now. Sorry Hunter.

Just as you’re about to sit down next to him, heaving deep breaths from the exertion, you pause. A warning is practically blaring in the Force and you tense, urgently trying to figure out the cause.

“Not again,” you mumble under your breath. You can’t handle any more action today. With Hunter and Omega both down, and your extreme fatigue from engaging in the Force, you don’t know how much of a fight you can put up. Not to mention you never trained as a soldier. There was a reason why you left the military planning strategies to the Bad Batch.

You hold your blaster close to your chest as you scan the environment. Bane is immobile and so is the dismantled techno-service droid. So what’s wrong?

Ten nerve-wracking seconds pass before you get your answer. Clone voices waft up to your hiding spot and you bite your cheek in frustration as your head continues to pound. Your headache still hasn’t stopped.

There is no way you can fight them all off, especially if Crosshair is with them. They are too far away for you to get a read on how many there are, and frankly, you’re much too scared to even peek around the durasteel to count.

One of Tech’s previous statements floats through your mind. About three attack shuttles worth.

You can feel your heart thumping wildly in your chest, blood rushing through your ears as anxiety ties your stomach into knots. I can’t do this, I can’t do this, Ican’tdothis.

You take deep breaths, doing your best to clear your mind and focus. You had to do this. There is no other option other than surrendering or dying. No, damnit, you would go down fighting until the Life Force left you.

You peer just past the edge of the metal to see at least twenty clones heading your way. Certainly not ideal, but you bide your time. If you started shooting now, you couldn’t use the element of surprise to your advantage and they would easily overwhelm you. But once they’re close enough, you hope you can at least take a couple out before having to resort to using the Force. It isn’t ideal, but it’s all you have.

Honestly, you don’t know if you could get out of this one alive, much less protect Hunter and Omega too. Maker help me.

It throws you off when they finally come into sight–you see how plain the clones’ armor looked without paint. You never really noticed it before since you were always running for your life in those circumstances. But now that you think about it, you are so used to seeing bright blue or green or yellow that the alabaster white just seems so… odd.

“Looks like a big fight happened here.”

“Yeah, tell me about it. All these men are dead.”

Now.

You whip your body around the metal and immediately begin shooting as fast as you can pull the trigger, trying to make every shot count. The troopers hesitate for just a moment, most likely due to their surprise of you being there. But that second is all you need.

You take out the three men closest to you before jumping back behind the metal as their barrage of fire rains down on you. You do your best to shoot back and manage to take out one more clone, but they’re beginning to gain too much ground too fast. I can do this. I have to do this.

As far as you can tell, Crosshair isn’t with the clones attacking you, but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t set up shop somewhere nearby, waiting to shoot you.

You shudder. It’s a chilling thought.

You grab one of your last detonators from your belt and hurl it as far as you can. The rapid beeping rises quickly in pitch before the charge explodes. Anguished cries reverberate throughout the area, and you briefly feel sorry for having to take such drastic measures as you feel their Force signatures dim swiftly. But you don’t have a choice.

Peeking around the corner, you count around eight to ten clones down. Not bad considering the circumstances.

You continue shooting as much as you can but now the troopers are much too close for comfort and you’re feeling overwhelmed. The durasteel you are using for cover isn’t meant to take this kind of damage, and the integrity of your shield is quickly waning as told by the constant creaks and groans. You don’t know what to do. Will we make it?

In your haste of shooting first and panicking later, you don’t notice Hunter groaning, finally waking up. And before you have time to even glance at him, the familiar hum of the Havoc Marauder and its lights shine down on you. Your sag in relief. Looks like Omega was able to comm them after all. Never before have you been so glad to see the beat-up hunk of junk. (You would never say that to Tech though–the Marauder is his baby, his pride and joy.)

Echo, Wrecker, and Tech all race off the ship, guns ablazing. Wrecker and Tech stand guard, serving as cover fire while Echo bends down to help you out.

“Hunter, wake up!” Echo hisses and smacks his helmet lightly. Hunter mumbles in pain as he starts to move, trying to look around as his HUD boots back up. Seriously? Now you wake up? you think sarcastically. But you’re much more relieved at the fact that he has actually woken up.

“What happened? Where’s Omega?” Wrecker bellows, worried.

“She’s right here, I’ve got her!” you shout back at the same time Echo says, “He was shot in the chest plate.”

You pocket your blaster and gather the young girl in your arms with every last bit of strength you have left. You aren’t strong enough to hold her in one arm and shoot with the other. That is much more up Wrecker’s alley.

“We have to get him on board!” Tech exclaims as he helps Echo support Hunter. You pick Omega up in both arms and bolt for the ship as fast as you can while yelling at Tech to grab the crate of supplies.

“Incoming!” Wrecker calls out as a fresh wave of troopers advance towards the six of you. You grunt as you deposit Omega in a chair near the controls before pulling out your blaster and helping Wrecker shoot down the men racing towards you.

“Got him. Tech, fly us out of here!” Echo commands while Wrecker makes a gesture for them to get on the ship faster. Hunter stumbles as he does his best to upright himself.

“Go go go!” Wrecker exclaims. Tech shoves the crate next to Omega’s seat and makes a beeline for the cockpit as you continue shooting, moving to the side to make space for Echo and Hunter to come on board. Wrecker quickly climbs in right after them and the ramp closes shut.

Tech immediately pilots the Havoc Marauder up and away from the scene. You vaguely hear the sound of blaster fire hitting the bottom of the ship while you drop your blaster on the ground and wrench Hunter’s helmet off in a panic. You take his face in your hands as you scan him quickly, trying to figure out if he’s hurt or not.

Hunter bats your hands away. “He... he took Omega,” he says and you shake your head. Wrecker pipes up from behind you to respond.

“Who? Crosshair?”

“The bounty hunter,” Hunter mutters as he rubs a hand over his face. Before Wrecker can answer again, you step in.

“No, he didn’t. I took him down. And no, he’s not dead,” you tack on quickly when you see Echo open his mouth. Echo shakes his head fondly and you just grin at him.

“She’s right here,” Echo says instead, pointing to Omega’s sleeping figure. Hunter turns in surprise to see that his brother is indeed telling the truth.

“How...?” Hunter’s voice trails off. Echo and Wrecker look at you expectantly, and Hunter follows suit. You sigh and take off your helmet, setting it down on the ledge next to the controls. You don’t look at them.

“It’s a long story.”

You don’t have a chance to elaborate any further because Tech walks in, interrupting the conversation.

“I’ve made the jump to hyperspace. There was a cruiser in the atmosphere, but I was able to quietly go past them by disguising our ship as a bounty hunter’s. They didn’t interfere. I put in the coordinates for Ord Mantell. I estimate our time of arrival to be five hours and thirty two minutes,” Tech reports and Hunter nods while you voice your thanks.

“Looks like we got time!” Wrecker says cheerily, pulling out an extra chair. Tech looks to you in confusion.

“Did I miss something significant?” Tech asks, concerned about the information he did not receive as he adjusts his goggles. You shake your head but now, all eyes are back on you.

“She was just about to tell us how she saved Omega,” Hunter supplies helpfully and Tech nods in understanding. He grabs a chair as well and sits down, interested in hearing what you have to say.

You look around the room, realizing you can’t get out of it. You are exhausted and just want to sleep but based on the looks you are getting from the boys, there is no way you can leave without giving a sufficient answer.

You sit down on a chair in between Omega and Echo and begin explaining.

“When the cone fell, it separated. I got knocked out when I hit the ground, but I don’t think I broke anything,” you quickly reassure as Tech grabs a datapad to scan your vitals.

“After I came to, I tried comming Echo, but my commlink was broken – I could only hear bits and pieces of what he said. There were some voices near me so I just followed them and–” you pause, not sure if you should tell them what happened. What you experienced, what you found out. “–I saw Hunter and Omega. The ledge I found was way too high for me to jump to, so I climbed up the side of the wreckage to see them and the bounty hunter facing off,” you say, choosing to leave the detail out. It was too personal. You still needed time.

All of them are listening intently, hanging on to every word you’re saying. Hunter’s gaze on you is heavy and loaded with questions. Tech is still tapping away on the datapad, but you know you have his full attention. Multitasking may not be possible for regular humans, but it definitely was for Tech.

“When I saw the bounty hunter, I knew Hunter wasn’t going to win,” you mumble sheepishly, rubbing the back of your neck. Hunter winces at your statement and you rush to explain why.

“Hunter, you have to trust that I genuinely don’t doubt your abilities. You are much more of a soldier than I will ever be. But this bounty hunter is one of the best, if not the best in the entire galaxy. He’s gone against the Jedi, and won. Based on what Anakin told me at the beginning of the war, Cad Bane is ruthless. He tortured Master Ropal and killed him. Believe it or not, I think he tried to abduct Chancellor Palpatine. Even Anakin had a difficult time fighting him.”

A tense quiet settles over you all as you mentally revisit your conversation with Anakin, and later with Ahsoka. She told you how it was one of the first times she was genuinely afraid that she was going to die, or at least get hurt very severely.

Echo’s rough voice shakes you out of your reverie. “How do–did you know General Skywalker?” he asks, clearly confused at how you referred to him on a first-name basis. You mentally facepalm yourself. How did I forget he served as part of the 501st? You feel incredibly stupid.

You could make up a lie, of course, but it wouldn’t be worth it. Hunter’s enhanced senses and Tech’s vitals scan could probably pick up on your biological signs, not to mention you would feel terribly guilty about not being honest. I promised myself I would tell them…

You blow out a nervous breath, deciding to at least give them something. They deserved that much.

“I’m–well, I was a Jedi,” you admit, staring down at your feet. You can’t bring yourself to look at them, feeling almost… ashamed.

The boys are shocked into silence and you cringe. There was probably a much better way for you to say that, but now it was out there. Yet the pressure that had been weighing down on you since you let the Force back in didn’t lessen.

“What?” Wrecker questions, thrown completely for a loop. “You’re a Jedi?”

Before you can answer, Tech pipes up. “When I reviewed your medical data, there was no note about an elevated midi-chlorian count or any sort of connection to the Force. Additionally, there is no documentation of you serving as a General or a Commander during the war in the Republic military records. How were you a Jedi? And why aren’t you one now? You used past tense in your sentence,” Tech adjusts his goggles as he attempts to register this new information that conflicted with his previous knowledge.

You sigh, drumming your fingers on your thigh. “I left the Jedi Order before the war ended. I promise I’ll explain everything in detail later, but for now, you have to understand that I’m just a Force-user. I trained as a Jedi, but I’m not a Jedi, not anymore,” you clarify, lifting your head up to make eye contact with each of them.

“Aw man, that’s so cool. You have to show us your cool mind tricks sometime!” Wrecker smiles and you agree to his request. It warms your heart to see him so excited.

“It makes sense. You must have seen the regs turn on the Jedi but didn’t know why. When you started traveling with us, you didn’t know if we would turn on you too, even though we’re not regs,” Hunter realizes, and you nod in affirmation. You’re secretly relieved by the fact that he doesn’t seem angry, just… just thoughtful.

“And then when I saw what happened to Crosshair, I knew I couldn’t risk ever telling any of you. But when Rex told us about the chips…” you trail off.

Echo picks up your sentence quickly. “You figured out you would be safe with us if we got our chips removed. No wonder you were so insistent on following what Rex said.”

You smile at the last part, a bit embarrassed. He wasn’t wrong. You were probably even more insistent than Rex was on telling them to get their inhibitor chips out. Better to be safe than sorry you told them. Though at the time, you hadn’t even thought about how removing their chips would impact you and your abilities. You were too focused on keeping the Force out of your body to entertain that thought.

Wrecker suddenly gets up and gathers you in a bone-crushing hug. “Well you don’t have to worry now! We got those stupid chips out of our heads, which means I promise we won’t kill you!” he says cheerfully and you can’t help but laugh as you hug him back, the knot in your chest beginning to unravel. You could always count on Wrecker’s wonderfully big heart to raise your spirits.

“You’re right, big guy. It’s honestly a relief. One less thing I have to worry about.”

Wrecker lets go of you and you pick up where you left off. “As I was saying, Cad Bane isn’t a bounty hunter we can take lightly. Crosshair helped me re-engineer my blaster to turn it into a pseudo sniper with attachable parts during the war. Because I was so high up, I could get a clear shot of Bane. From that vantage point, I shot him at the same time Hunter and Bane shot each other.”

Echo’s mouth drops open. “Damn.”

“What I didn’t expect was for Hunter to be rendered completely unconscious. So I told Omega to try to comm you guys while I went on Bane’s ship to see if I could find anything. And I did.” You pull off your backpack and dump out the contents. Bags of credits come tumbling out. You unhook the few bags on your belt and toss them into the pile.

“Bane had a secret compartment with a lot of credits. So I took them and that crate I yelled at Tech to get,” you explain as you reach into the bag to show off the Imperial credits.

Tech’s eyes widen as he lifts up a bag to inspect it. “I will have to calculate how much you took and mark it in the inventory, but based on my initial deduction, this may be enough for us to upgrade the Marauder and provide sustenance for at least a few months.”

“Nice one!” Wrecker compliments and you grin in response. “What’s in the crate?” he asks, walking over to lift up the top.

“Medical supplies. We barely had any left so I figured I might as well take that too,” you shrug as Hunter gets up to join Wrecker to peer at the contents.

“What happened after that? You said you told Omega to comm the others, which means she was awake. Did she get hurt while I was out? Is that why you look so exhausted?” Hunter inquires, astute as ever.

You bite your lower lip. “When I was getting off his ship with the goods, he had woken up again. Before I could do anything, he stunned Omega and then immediately shot at me,” you pause, wondering if you should elaborate on how you got out of the situation. You decide to come clean on this part.

“I… I don’t know how, but I was able to stop the blaster bolts and keep them – and Bane – in stasis with the Force. The problem was that it took a lot out of me. After not really using the Force for so long, my energy reserves were pretty much gone,” you sigh, absentmindedly rubbing your arms. Your muscles are still sore from the event.

“After that, I punched him and knocked him out again. I dragged you and Omega away from the ship so that I could protect you, and I ended up using that giant piece of durasteel as cover to fight off those clones. Then you guys came and rescued us and that’s that,” you finish, suddenly fatigued from the conversation. You slump back into your chair, perfect posture be damned.

“Wow,” is all Echo says, surprised by your strength. It took some serious stamina to be able to withstand so much for so long. Echo remembered seeing Commander Tano and General Skywalker be exhausted after some especially intense missions where they constantly had to use the Force.

“Yeah,” you mutter, massaging your dominant hand. It is still throbbing from the mean hook you threw at Bane. You don’t have any regrets. You glance at Omega’s sleeping figure and soften. The things I would do for this girl.

“Looks like I taught you well!” Wrecker laughs and you smile. When you first met the Bad Batch, Wrecker took it upon himself to teach you basic self-defense and how to overtake an opponent intelligently. Even though you already learned how to fight as part of your Jedi and military training, you couldn’t say no to him when he looked so excited. But it paid off because he’s right. Wrecker did teach you well.

“You did. You basically saved my ass out there with your amazing teaching skills,” you chuckle, glancing down at your hand. You think you’ll probably have to cover it in bacta gel to speed up the healing process before having yet another realization. (You seem to be having a lot of those today.)

I can just Force-heal. Before, you couldn’t Force-heal because it would look suspicious if something healed too fast. But now that they know, you don’t have to solely depend on medical supplies anymore.

Tech, as always, is right on cue. “Is your hand alright? For you to render Bane unconscious must have been no easy feat. Not to mention that according to the medscan I just took, you have a mild concussion, most likely due to your fall. I can run a medical diagnostic test to start and then run more specific tests to combat your pain...” Tech mutters the last part to himself, brain running light years faster than his mouth as his fingers fly over the datapad.

You debate it for a moment before nodding. “That would be great, Tech–thanks. But right now, I’m exhausted, so I’m going to go and crash in my bunk. Wake me up if I need to punch someone again,” you joke before shuffling away from your squadmates. You ruffle Omega’s hair affectionately as you pass by her and pick up your blaster from the ground before climbing down the ladder. You don’t notice Hunter’s troubled gaze or how his Force signature sours a bit as you leave.

You quickly clean up and throw on some bacta patches on a few nasty bruises. You sit down on your bed and pull the privacy curtain before deciding to open up your secret compartment next to your mattress. You stare down at the objects, the only things you have left as a reminder of the past. You reach down for one of them, about to touch it when you stop.

You shake your head and shut the drawer. Deciding to finally, finally hit the hay, you’re out like a light as soon as your head hits the pillow. Dealing with the Force and healing yourself could be done later. Not even your constant pain and crippling worry about your family friends could keep you up any longer.

please consider reblogging! it really helps me and is super encouraging ^_^

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pheonixfire4015 · 4 years ago

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Elliot and Oliva- Something I felt I just needed to say....

No one may see or read this but I thought I would write it for myself, to get it out of my head, and in case someone out there is like me and reading this makes them feel less alone in their struggle. Over the years I watched SVU and related to it deeply due to the trauma I had experienced in life. After Chris left the show and I saw continuous trauma being done to Liv I just couldn’t continue watching. When I saw that Chris was returning, I came back. There was one scene that was really triggering for me- it was difficult. In order to explain why it was I need to give some background.

When I was young, I was placed into a foster home. Due to the trauma from my upbringing, I had never had an emotional connection to my own parents. When I moved into the first foster home it was like a dream come true. I never imagined I would ever be lucky enough to get a second chance at being a part of a family. Every night I thanked God, because I knew how many kids are in foster care. They offered to adopt me and I so desperately wanted to be a part of them. I opened my heart up to the mom in a way I had never opened up to anyone before. So that mom bond I never had with by biological mom I developed with the foster mom. However, they didn’t realize that when a child has trauma there is a lot of things you have to work through. Sadly, the system does not prepare family’s enough for what it will be like. With most foster care kids you may run into kids with severe issues… some struggle to connect to others, some lash out in severe anger or bad behaviors, struggle developmentally, etc. The only issue I had was I was developmentally behind, I didn’t know how to communicate, and I had a lot of memories and experiences I had to work through. I was like an 80 year old in a kids body. I was a good kid. I didn’t have any friends and never once got into trouble. For years I got to experience family meals, movie nights, having someone tuck me in at night with hugs and kisses, I had someone to talk to, I was safe, I would be held and loved, they wanted to adopt me- I was worth fighting for, ect. I began counseling. I worked hard because I wanted to show the family I would and could get better, that I would be healed. It was hard as hell but I did it. However, as time went on I noticed that the mom was pulling away and lashing out at me. As a kid I didn’t understand it at the time. So I tried harder. But no matter how hard I tried she just kept pulling away. She explained to the counselor that all I came with was too much and listening to past trauma made her feel helpless as she couldn’t fix that. She explained her kids were jealous and that her husband no longer wanted me there- as I was taking time away from him and their biological kids. Eventually they decided they didn’t want me apart of their family and no longer wanted me to live with them. I was then placed into a new family, a family I didn’t want to go to.

I cannot express in words how deeply that experience affected me- how badly it messed with my head. Going into adulthood I was so willfully unprepared for life. I was lost and alone. In my upbringing there was physical and sexual abuse, I was surrounded by substance abuse, and my mom left when I was 11. I can honestly say that the harm and pain caused by that foster family choosing to leave far outweighed the pain my own parents caused me. I wanted to die. To finally feel like you belong, to be loved, and held, and safe and then have it pulled away. Its like dangling a carrot in front of a starving animal. The hole and void it left has never left me. It hurt so bad I felt I was physically dying. I am 38 now and I have gone through a lot of counseling. I have a different perspective now but to this day the hole, the wound they left remains. Due to health issues I don’t have kids and am not married. As protection for the most part I stick to myself. There are still triggers- places, smells, and sounds that bring things up so I do my best. I still live in the same town and have run into her in stores. It was like mourning the death of someone who is still alive. They went back to their normal lives leaving me with less than I had, and taking with them the part of my heart I gave them. It’s something I have learned I will have to live with for the rest of my life. And I will forever have to live with all the implications of what it means to have a family decide they now longer want you.

When Elliot was written off the show, seeing Liv go through that experience was so triggering for me. It was TV but real, so deeply real for me. I just couldn’t do it, I couldn’t watch anymore. There was a scene in the reunion with Fin and Elliot. Fin states, “It took Liv a minute but she eventually moved on.” People have no concept when you’re dealing with major trauma in your background and you let someone in and trust them, losing the one stolid support is earth shattering. Liv had never known family until Elliot came into her life. So, the minute Fin said that line I said out loud, “Bullshit, she moved on.” I paused the episode and went for a walk. The pain of Elliot leaving left a void in her she had just learned to live with. That didn’t mean that every day she didn’t hope he would choose to come back, that she didn’t ache for closure. When Liv said “Elliot, you were the most, single most important person in my life and you just disappeared.” I felt it all the way to my bones, I got it with every fiber of my being. Every day I hoped they would come back, realize they made a mistake, that they loved me, that I was worth fighting. Every day I hoped the mom would wake up and realize the mistake she made and reach out. Even to this day its there, so you just learn to cope with those feelings, always there under the surface. I dream about them, think about them, etc. It will never leave me.

Watching a fictional character get the chance to do and say what she needed for closure- knowing I probably never would, was hard. I understand this is a show and they have to keep viewers watching every week but I just hope they do this right. As they have no idea the people watching who have actually endured these traumas in real life. I long to see Oliva get the chance at some peace in her life, to experience family. I wrote a fic recently “Peace in the midst of the storm” because I just needed to write the full conversation I hope or wish Elliot and Olivia would have. I hope Elliot and Olivia end up together, I really do. I’d love to see both of them go into counseling, and finally work through shit instead of continuing to bury it as it festers. I’d love the end scene of SVU to be Liv sit in the backyard of her own small home with Elliot next to her, watching her son play. There’s enough evil and trauma and pain enough in this world. I just hope Dick Wolf does having Chris back justice! This show has been important for a lot of people who have endured hell in their lifetimes, but weirdly its healing to see some good coming to those who have struggled- namely Olivia- even if she isn’t real. If you are watching SVU and you are in the same boat as me. I pray all the blessings and peace for the remainder of your days! Heres to hoping we get a beautiful SVU and E/O outcome :). Thanks for hearing me out.

#svu #elliot stabler #elliot and olivia #olivia benson #bensler #dick wolf #nbc #mariska hargitay #chris meloni #triggering

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alliterative-albatross · 4 years ago

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So, I sent you (@disgruntledspacedad) a pretty long ask a while ago (back when you had anon on) and I'm decently sure Tumblr ate it (or maybe you ignored it, in which case, feel free to ignore this one as well). But then I saw one of those "writers appreciate feedback no matter how long" posts, so I'm back here. Here is my mediocre attempt to rewrite my original review of your work. Bear in mind that English is not my first language, so if at any point my phrasing sounds weird to you, you know why. Mandatory disclaimer/apology: this might get a little too long 😅

RULES OF ENGAGEMENT

I remember being SO mad at myself for not finding this sooner. I binge read it one afternoon with no thoughts for any real life responsibilities I might have had (and no regrets). Javiears is one hell of an unconventional relationship in the beginning, and I really love what you did with them. The whole premise of your story is quite refreshing, and you somehow manage to convey the trust and mutual respect there two feel for one another without explicitly showing us the beginning of their "entanglement".

Also, fuck you for what you did to poor Emilio, that man was a saint and he deserved better! I honestly can't believe that I got so attached to a character that appeared so little in the story, but it happened, and his death kind of broke my heart.

But the Javiears reunion + mild confession was lovely, and felt completely deserved. And of course the sex scene. I won't lie, I expected a bit better from Javi there, but I did like how utterly /human/ it was. Capturing that humanity, the imperfections in each character is something you're really good at (more on that later).

AFTERSHOCKS

Ah, my emotionally constipated babies who really need to work out their communication issues. I do love them, though. And this short series did a really good job of delving a bit deeper into Ears's and Javi's psyche. Kudos to you for dealing with the medical "aftershocks" of living through an explosion AND using that experience to move your emotional plot forward. These two need to grow a lot before they can get to a stable point in their relationship, and you really manage to convey their insecurity and fear of commitment/intimacy while making it clear that they're in it for the long run and that theirs is a relationship that WILL work out so help them God.

IF I FALL

Ouch. Punch me in the gut while you're at it, why don't you?

But seriously, "If I Fall" is SO FUCKING GOOD. Don't get me wrong, it's angstier than an image of Jesus on the cross (don't judge me, it's Holy Week and I just got home from accompanying my grandma to church), but it somehow works beautifully. You, my dear, play heartstrings like they're a fucking guitar and I AM HERE FOR IT.

You're doing an amazing job at making me feel everything these characters are feeling, which is both awful (bc pain) and impressive.

Also, if anything happens to Ana I will cry, because she is adorable and wonderful and has suffered way too much already and really deserves a break and some cookies.

Also also, if anything happens to Ears I will cry, because she is badass and wonderful and has suffered way too much already and really deserves a break and some cookies.

Also also also, if anything happens to Javi I will cry, because he is loving and wonderful and has suffered way too much already and really deserves a break and some cookies.

Basically, I am really invested in the well-being of these characters and can't wait until they're happy and safe again (please tell me they will be, my heart can't handle much more pain).

A quick note on the angst complaints: yes, this story is way angstier than most other fics out there and it can be a bit too much at times, especially considering how many chapters of pain it's been. BUT it's obvious that "If I Fall" NEEDS this amount of angst to get where it's going, to send the message it wants to and to properly develop its characters. The pain is as important to this story as flour is to bread. You may not like eating flour on its own (I don't think anyone does), but you love bread (because bread is amazing) and you must recognize that bread NEEDS flour to work. It wouldn't be bread otherwise. And eating the flour as part of the bread even makes you like the flour because the bread is just DELICIOUS.

I fully understand and sympathize with the people who have elected to table "If I Fall" until it's completed so they can binge read it knowing there's a happy ending in sight, but in case you're feeling a bit self conscious about all the angst, please know that your story is beautiful not in spite of the pain, but rather /because of it/.

PS: No, I'm not high/drunk, I just really like bread

AUTHOR'S NOTES

Silly thing to comment on, I know, but I do feel like it's important that you know how useful your ANs have been. There are many details in the story that I simply wouldn't fully get without reading your comments at the end of each chapter, and I appreciate your writing a hell of a lot more knowing how deeply you understand and care for each one of your characters. Plus, it is obvious how much work you've put into researching a country and a time period that are (from what I gather) unfamiliar to you, and I really do believe you've done an amazing job of it.

JAVIER PEÑA

My boy. I love your characterization of this complicated character, and I have eagerly read each and every one of your headcanons about him. I can't really say if your version is fully faithful to the source material because it's been a while since I saw Narcos, but your Javi most definitely reads like a real person. He's fairly consistent as a character, and I feel like everything he does is perfectly natural for him to do as a character. He makes for an unconventional yet deeply interesting romantic lead, and so far I have thoroughly enjoyed all his POV chapters/scenes.

OCs

I know you've gotten some flack for making her into an OC halfway into the story, and while I get why the sudden change may have felt like a disappointment for some, I don't share that sentiment. I firmly believe that this fandom is unfairly harsh towards Original Characters and their creators, and I don't really understand why. Listen, I love Reader fics, and consume many Reader fics. I have read dozens, maybe even hundreds, and I can safely say that I've only ever "inserted" myself in approximately 10% of those stories. Reader characters are not as blank as their writers may want them to be. They can't be. They're characters, and character have personalities and moral values and senses of humor and a bunch of other things. Reader characters may not have a backstory or a physical description attached (and even that's not guaranteed), but they're still characters.

And on a more personal note, pretending they're actual blank slates is naive at best and insensitive at worst. Reader characters are American coded 99% of the time, and white coded 95% of the time. Not every readers is white nor American, even if that's the predominant demographic on Tumblr. When I read a JavixReader fic about a woman who speaks exactly zero Spanish, I know she's not me. The story may be beautifully written and have an amazing plot and character development, but the Reader *isn't me*. There is absolutely nothing wrong with that, and some of my favorite xReader stories feature a "reader" who couldn't be more different from me, but it's something that enemies of OC fics should take into account. Particularly if they are white and/or American. But I digress.

HANNAH AARONS

Your character is amazing. She's strong, smart, confident, independent and an all-around badass. She gets kidnapped while pregnant and still focuses on problem solving and survival. But she's also overly guarded and mistrustful, and really needs to work on her communication skills. There are times when I absolutely love her and even admire her, and other times when I want to whack her with a slipper. She's no Mary Sue, but remains interesting and likeable throughout the story. She feels wholly human and real, and that's no easy task. I like her, I am invested in her, and I can't wait to see what's next for her. She's a compelling and three dimensional protagonist in a complex story who never fails to draw me in. I love her. She's your baby, and you should be proud of her.

Also, quick question about personality types: I know you've typed Javi as ESFP and Ears as ENTP (100% agree on both, btw), but have you given any thought to their enneagram types? I personally have always seen Ears as being somewhere on the thinking triad, maybe a 7 or even a 6w7, but I'm not too sure about Javi. 9w8 maybe? He could also be a 6w5 🤔

PARTING THOUGHTS

Basically, I love your story, your characters and your writing in general. You are a fantastic storyteller and wordsmith. You get into the heads of incredibly different characters personality-wise (Ears, Javi, Berna...) and manage to capture all of their complexities and quirks every single time. And it doesn't feel like it's something innate for you either. To me, it seems that you have put a lot of work and effort into understanding each and every one of your characters, who they are, why they do what they do and what they want. And let me tell you, all that effort has been more than worth it. "Better Love" is a fanfic, but it wouldn't be out of place in a regular bookstore, if I'm honest. I don't know what you do for a living or if you've ever considered writing professionally, but you clearly have the skills and the drive to create some masterpieces.

You are amazing and your writing is a gift. Thank you for sharing it with us, and have a nice day! ~ 🍪

My friend, I apologize for hoarding your first ask. I’ve been sitting on it because I’m not gonna lie, I enjoy going back and rereading it. It gave me a lot of comfort when I was in a pretty dark place, both personally and in regards to my writing, and I was reluctant to send it out into the the abyss of Tumblr where I might never see it again.

That’s not fair, though. You put just as much effort into sending me that review as I put into my writing, and I apologize for never responding to you.

Okay, anyway, so twice now, you’ve made me cry. In a good way, I promise!

I absolutely love your bread/flour metaphor. It made perfect sense. I want the emotional release of Javi and Hannah’s reunion to be earned, and in order to do that, the angst has to come first (there are also a few plot “ingredients” that have yet to make their appearances). Thank you very much for understanding that, and for voicing it so eloquently.

I appreciate your comments on my research and characterization. You’re correct that I’ve put a lot of time and effort into crafting a universe. In a lot of ways, I’m doing my best to stay true to the source material (regarding culture and timelines in particular), and in others, I’m branching into my own territory.

On that note, I’ve never once regretted fully embracing Hannah Aarons’ identity as an OC. She’s stayed consistent in my mind from the beginning, and it was a relief to finally share my vision of her with the audience. And for the record, I totally agree with you regarding “reader” characters. Every reader insert echoes the perspective of their author, no matter how vague the physical description. I can only imagine how grating that must be from the perspective of a non-white, non-american reader. Thank you so much for sharing your insight! I will certainly keep it in mind the next time I write a “reader insert” fic.

Okay, enneagrams! I am much less familiar with enneagram than I am MBTI, but I agree 110% that Javi is a 9 with a strong 8 wing. I waffled back and forth on Ears a little, but eventually landed on 8w7 for her. It came down to the eight’s deepest fear, which is being controlled. That’s Ears all over, and the fact that she and Javi share that eight willfulness means that they might butt heads a little, which also seems very appropriate for them. Big thanks to @remusstark for her insight into the eight frame of mind - our conversations helped solidify my decision on this. :)

Anyway, I’m just rambling now. The big take-away point that I want you to get is that I am so, so grateful to you, both for your insightful feedback and your dedication in making sure that I actually saw it. You are an absolute gem and a deep thinker, Cookie-Anon, and if you ever feel like sliding into my DM’s, I’d welcome the opportunity to get to know you better.

Mad love and soft hugs,

~ Jay

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fangirlandiknowit101 · 3 years ago

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30 BTS writer asks: 1, 12 + 18? ❤️🌻

Almost forgot to add - thanks for asking<33333

1. What was the first fandom and/or pairing that you wrote fic for?

Unsurprisingly, it was for Naruto and Sasuke/Naruto. You can still read it in all its glory, even on ao3 lmao. Might be hard to believe but that fic (Unsuspicious title, don't ask why it's called that I have no explanations) is really the absolute first thing I wrote that counts as a fanfic. I didn't write about other people's fictional characters before that. I didn't really write much outside of school at all, not sure how I lived my life tbh...

12. Is there a trope you haven’t written yet but really want to?

I answered earlier that I want to write a horse rider au at some point, but what I'd also like is to write a real enemies to lovers fic. Like, actual enemies. But it might be too angsty, so who knows if I'll ever make it lol.

18. What is a line/scene you’re really proud of? Give us the DVD commentary for that scene.

Aah you guys really want that commentary don't you... maybe one day I'll release a version of tswm with director's commentary for the whole thing hahahahaha (jk I'd never have time to do that)

But alright, I'm gonna take the opportunity to comment on another scene in tswm that I definitely this deserves it, it's the reunion scene between Naruto and Sasuke in chapter 49! I hesitated to pick this one bc it's so long and emotional, and also I don't want to add any accidental spoilers... but oh well. Here we go!

[My comments will be in bold text, this starts almost at the beginning of the chapter, right when Sasuke meets Naruto in Kaguya's place.]

He reached out with a hand, the bright light reflecting in the half-moon in his palm. It glowed, and just like that, his hand wrapped around another’s.

Naruto.

He sucked in a breath, lungs desperate for air. Naruto stood before him, chest heaving, hand clutching Sasuke’s so hard he feared it might break.

Their shared beat rang loud in his ears, eyes wide as they drank each other in. The darkness had given way to white, fuzzy light, their bodies floating, suspended in air.

“Sasuke,” Naruto whispered, as if afraid to drown out the sound of their connection.

Honestly, I tried my best to make it as painful as possible. That's all I wanted lol. At first I had no idea how to write this scene, but then I just got a feeling and tried to write it in words.

There was no hiding in this place. It was similar to that strange place that seemed to exist between them when they fought, blows connecting, hearts open. Between one breath and the next, it would be gone, their shared hearts lingering long after.

Nothing more poetic than that special place Kishimoto created for them when they exchange blows... extremely gay.

Here, there was only the two of them, the heat of their bodies as Naruto reached for his face.

“Am I dreaming?” Naruto wondered, fingers stroking along Sasuke’s cheekbone. “You look so real…”

They sank down, slowly, until their feet touched solid white. He shivered, the tips of Naruto’s fingers touching his chin, his mouth.

“It could be a dream,” Sasuke said quietly, exhaling as Naruto came closer.

“I can feel your heart,” Naruto murmured, his forehead coming to rest against Sasuke’s temple. “I missed you so much.”

Images flashed before Sasuke’s eyes, impressions of the world from Naruto’s perspective. Menma as the kyuubi. Kakashi, entering through a window. Iruka, hand gentle as he reached over the table.

Sakura, pain drawing her face tight. A mountain of paperwork. Snippets of conversation. The overwhelming pain of loneliness, like walls closing in on him.

He puzzled together enough pieces to make sense of the days since they separated.

Must be convenient to just read each other's minds... I should stop making fun of my own writing. But anyway, I felt very clever when I realized I could skip explanations between them and just let them see each other's memories of the past few days. I think it fits that they could see it through the other person's eyes, all the emotions too. Especially how painful it was for Naruto and how much he was trying to keep it together in front of his friends, and still failing. It gives Sasuke a better understanding of what would have happened if he'd decided to leave after one year passed (and I'm still bitter at Kishimoto for doing that in canon.)

“Naruto,” he sighed, lifting a hand to sift through soft strands of hair, closing his eyes as Naruto pressed into him.

Hearts bared, he felt Naruto’s desperate longing as his own. It mirrored his own pain, the aching emptiness filling his chest. Little by little, the cold was pushed away by warmth, Naruto’s mouth touching his cheek, his jaw, his throat. It burned against his skin, each point of contact erupting into tendrils of heat that seeped into his body.

“I didn’t know what to do,” Naruto confessed, lips shaping the words onto Sasuke’s throat. “I couldn’t go back to you, I-“

Sasuke turned his head, capturing his mouth. The words were lost between their lips, swallowed by the sudden surge of need. Naruto’s arm wrapped around his neck, keeping him in place. A fever caught him, leaving him dizzy and faint. He felt emotions between them like a physical caress, like they swirled in and out of their bodies, like a strong wind playing with fallen leaves.

Pain. Longing. Fear.

Happiness. Comfort. Love.

Naruto kissed him like he’d die if they stopped. He might, for all Sasuke knew.

Don't mind me, I was just crying buckets as I wrote this.

Their hands were still clasped tight, their palms pressed together, keeping their marks in contact. Teeth dug into his lower lip, but he could barely feel the pain over the onslaught of emotion. It was overwhelming, to share Naruto’s heart so fully. Was this how Naruto had felt, when Sasuke had touched him by accident? When Sasuke had shared too much of himself, and Naruto had been unable to give him the same in return.

I think it actually wasn't as overwhelming for Naruto when Sasuke accidentally touched him. This place that Kaguya controls just amplifies things a lot.

No such restraints now.

Their souls were on fire, like chakra flames billowing around their bodies. It was too much to make sense of, and yet it felt as if they’d always been this close, always been one and the same. Naruto fit inside him like a key, like Sasuke was now unlocked, his body no longer keeping him prisoner.

“Naruto,” he breathed out, over and over again, every nerve ending alight as they held each other.

I was listening to this song called Heat Up by Giant Rooks as I wrote this (that's where the chapter title comes from and honestly the lyrics are just *chef's kiss*) and I really tried to use as much metaphor as I could, idk if that makes it sound boring haha but for once I was definitely thinking very hard about every single sentence. And I tried to make it as "alive" as I could, so you'd feel it rather than have it described to you.

An eternity later they calmed down, mouths sliding lazily over each other, heartbeats finally finding their shared rhythm. Their foreheads pressed together, Sasuke’s eyes fluttering open to meet deep blue, their usual strength faded into self-doubt.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, running his fingers through Naruto’s hair, thumb tracing the shell of his ear. “Don’t hide from me, not here.”

Aww look at Sasuke, so in tune with his emotions. He really is an all or nothing kind of guy. If they already share everything in this place, there's no point in having secrets. Besides, his worst fear is Naruto losing confidence because of something he said or did.

Naruto let out a sharp breath, lifting their clasped hands between their chests.

“I missed you,” he said again, eyes closing in pain. “I’m so happy you’ve been okay.”

So much pain. Sasuke struggled to make sense of it, so much of it reflected inwards, towards Naruto himself. He could understand the longing, the absence of him like a gaping hole. It mirrored his own pain, pain he’d locked inside his heart within a steel cage. It flowed freely now, wrapping around Naruto’s in recognition.

But the rest… Naruto let out a sob, and yet he was smiling. Sasuke pressed another kiss to his lips, unsure of what to say.

I know Naruto did that whole waterfall thing where he embraced his evil side and totally let go of all his negative energy... But you can't tell me he's 100% okay and only happy and never feels pain. When will Konoha start offering therapy... Jokes aside, at this moment in time Naruto is so conflicted. The whole time he's been worried about Sasuke leaving him, and telling himself that Sasuke would be happier in the other dimension, and that logically he should let Sasuke stay, but he absolutely doesn't want Sasuke to leave him. It's the most selfish thing he's ever felt, I think, this need to have Sasuke by his side. And he's got so much on his shoulders, just piling up, everyone relying on him to somehow magically fix the world. And he's afraid of failing, of acknowledging to himself that there are parts of him that aren't ready to shoulder this burden, that he's still hurting, that there's still a part of him that could have become like Menma. He's supposed to be completely selfless but he isn't, and he thinks of that as a character flaw, a personal failure. And that's kind of where his resolution to not become hokage comes from. Because he doesn't think he can remove this selfish parts of him, and so maybe he should embrace them instead.

“Sasuke, it’s so strange…” Naruto started, his words slow, carefully chosen. “You understand Charasuke so well, but Menma… I can’t accept him. And now I realize, he shows the ugliest parts of me. The parts that I’m afraid of.”

They both leaned back a little, to see each other’s faces. Light played over Naruto’s features, blurring him at the edges. Sasuke cupped his cheek, tilting his chin up so that their eyes met. Now that he knew what to look for, he could feel Naruto’s fear.

“It’s always there,” Naruto confessed, raw honesty in his voice. “The fear of losing you. The fear of not being strong enough. The fear of becoming hokage, and failing.”

Sasuke opened his mouth to say something, to reassure him, but Naruto shook his head quickly.

Sasuke, on the other hand, he never held himself up to be a good person. He's well aware that he has weaknesses, that he's putting up walls so he won't have to deal with emotions and stuff. But he does believe (a bit blindly) in Naruto, I think. Even though he thinks Naruto won't succeed, it's not because of anything that Naruto does or fails to do. He thinks it's because the world won't follow him, that Konoha isn't capable of change. But he never thought that Naruto would actually give up or have these kinds of doubts.

“Let me say this. I didn’t understand it at first. Menma always rubbed me the wrong way. I know you don’t like him either, but for me… It’s like looking at myself and knowing I gave up.”

He drew in a deep breath, his fingers trembling around Sasuke’s.

“And now, here, I can’t avoid that fear. Because all of it… all of it is for you, Sasuke.” He swallowed, and through the fear, Sasuke saw his determination. “You asked me, if there’s any room in my head for anyone but you. And there isn’t.”

Naruto's brain is 99% Sasuke and 1% ramen, that's just fact. That aside, this might be one of my favorite quotes in the fic.

Frowning, Sasuke bit the inside of his cheek to stay silent. Naruto was working up to something, he could tell, and part of him couldn’t help but think it would end the two of them.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Naruto said, drawing the pad of his thumb over Sasuke’s eyebrow, the touch equal parts reassuring and painful. “I can hear your thoughts, you know. Do you really believe that I would choose anything else over you?”

A lie caught on Sasuke’s tongue. He didn’t want to believe it, but what place did he have by Naruto’s side? How could he be all that Naruto wanted him, needed him, to be? How could he be someone that others would accept walking by his side?

Oh, Sasuke. Always so ready for Naruto to cast him aside. He doesn't want to stand in the way of Naruto's dreams *wipes tear*

“I don’t believe that you would want to,” he replied, eventually. “But maybe you should.”

They stood for a long time, looking at each other. Sasuke felt torn in two directions. He wanted to tell Naruto to never leave him. He wanted to say that he’d accept anything. That he’d remove himself from Naruto’s presence to make the choice for him. That he couldn’t, wouldn’t, stand between Naruto and his dreams.

That he’d known, all along, that the other dimension was only a dream. An impossibility. That he accepted this, and wouldn’t resent Naruto for choosing the village over him.

I think the difference between Naruto and Sasuke here, is that even though they both think the other should maybe leave them for better things, Naruto is much less ready to actually give Sasuke up. Sasuke is more of the martyr type lol.

“You deserve me,” Naruto said, voice dark with conviction. “Don’t you dare think otherwise. Don’t you understand? If you saw what I’ve been doing the past days…”

Naruto lifted their joined hands higher, shifted his grip until he held Sasuke’s palm open in front of himself.

“I thought only of you. I cared only about you. What good is the village to me, if you’re not there?”

His heart felt too heavy in his chest. Naruto’s words rang through his ears, the implication behind them ensnaring his heart until Naruto held it in his hand, too.

“I don’t want any of it, if you’re not with me.”

Sasuke lowered his eyes. He couldn’t allow himself to give in. He’d already given so much, and although he knew that Naruto would have this, too, it was too much in this moment.

“Sasuke… When are you going to recognize that you’re a good person? That even if our relationship hadn’t changed like this, I’d still need you beside me?”

I wanted to write this part so badly... To make Naruto tell Sasuke that he's a good person. That Naruto thinks so, at least. It's one of the first things I thought of for this scene. Not that Sasuke agrees haha.

“Me, a good person?” Sasuke raised his eyebrows, meeting Naruto’s gaze again. He recognized the stubborn glint in Naruto’s eyes, and sighed. “Even if that was true, you’re smart enough to know it’s not enough.”

Slowly, Naruto pulled his hand closer, his grip turning gentle. Sasuke caught himself holding his breath, as Naruto’s lips connected with the mark on his palm.

“You still don’t understand,” Naruto murmured, the movement of his lips tickling Sasuke’s skin. “The past few days, what have you been doing? Caring for the children, when I wasn’t there to do it. Putting Charasuke before yourself, comforting him in the ways he needed you to. Holding yourself together. Trusting me to come back.”

This is where we acknowledge exactly how much Sasuke has changed. Naruto spent the days apart thinking only of Sasuke, even to the point where he was neglecting his friends and duties. Sasuke, on the other hand, stepped up to fill the role he thought Naruto left behind, hiding his pain behind helping others. Ultimately trusting Naruto to hold his promise to come back. Also, I just want them to be soft with each other T_T

Staring at him, Sasuke’s breath caught in his chest at the swell of pride Naruto felt for him. Was it true, that he had changed so much? In Naruto’s eyes, he had. It was startling, to realize how Naruto thought of him. But Naruto had changed too, he thought. They had grown closer, in a way he didn’t think they could have in their own Konoha.

“I think Charasuke is a bit like you,” Sasuke said, lips twitching upwards at Naruto’s affronted look. “He needs physical comfort. I don’t mind giving it to you, and I guess I don’t mind giving it to him either. You both tend to do whatever you feel like, anyway.”

“You used to mind.” Naruto looked serious, reaching out to touch Sasuke’s mouth as if to prove his point. “Suddenly, you didn’t.”

The smile slipped from Sasuke’s lips. Naruto was right. A few weeks ago, he did push Charasuke out of the window. To be fair, Charasuke hadn’t liked him much back then, either, and the circumstances had been very different. He did understand him better now. If Menma represented Naruto’s fears, Charasuke represented everything Sasuke wanted in life. But Charasuke didn’t have Naruto, didn’t have Menma with him either, and maybe that was why Sasuke wanted to be there for him. His connection with Naruto was precious to him, had kept him going, had kept him questioning himself even in his worst moments of darkness. Had given him a reason not to give up on a life that wasn’t filled with pain and hatred.

Naruto made it worth it to change. Was he hoping to help Charasuke change, too?

Spoiler alert... yes you were, Sas.

Perhaps Kaguya had something to do with it, but maybe, even without her influence, he would have reached this point anyway if given enough time. Time they didn’t have back home. It surprised him to realize that Naruto had thought of this already. That he felt selfish for wanting Sasuke to go back with him, when he knew it would be painful.

“You minded when I touched you, too,” Naruto added, as a reminder that they were talking about the two of them.

“I didn’t.” It was easy to confess. “I couldn’t allow myself to accept it, but I never minded. And now…”

Even if Naruto could read most of his thoughts in this space, it was difficult to say the words.

“I was afraid to have more of you. I still am. Because I know they’ll never accept it.”

Sasuke vs homophobia :( Can't really kill that with a sword. Sasuke was definitely in love with him before they went to the RTN dimension, he'd just buried it so deep that he had no idea it was there or what it was. If you separate love from attraction it's not really gay, is it? (It is)

Naruto kissed him again, desperately. There were so many thoughts swirling between them, a mess of images and emotions overshadowed by the overwhelming fear of losing each other.

Naruto’s guilt, for not being able to reach Menma like Sasuke reached Charasuke. Their worry for each other. The frustration of being forced to wait. Sasuke’s slow realization of how much Naruto meant to him. How much his family meant to him, even a different version of them.

“I can’t be without you again,” Naruto said, swallowing thickly. “There’s so much I want to say and I don’t know how.”

“I’m here,” Sasuke promised. “Any way you want me to be.”

Even though it hurt, knowing the struggle that lay ahead of them, how Naruto had struggled only the past few days.

He wasn’t sure when he’d closed his eyes, but Naruto’s hands holding his face between them made him open them again. His expression was serious, almost solemn.

“I think you’d be happier if you stayed there,” Naruto whispered, searching his eyes. “You can’t deny it. I know they’d take care of you, and I can tell that your bond with your family is important to you. In a different way than ours, but still. I’d forgive you, if you chose them.”

Stop sacrificing yourself, Naruto. I don't like it.

“How could you say that?” Sasuke grabbed Naruto’s wrists, glaring at him. “Even after everything you said about how you can’t be without me, how you’d never choose anything over me, and you still think I would leave you? Even when you can feel my heart, you think I won’t choose you no matter what?”

Sasuke calling him out, as he should.

He knocked their foreheads together, tightening his grip.

“You think I’d choose happiness over you?”

How could he be happy, if Naruto wasn’t there with him? It wasn’t even an option. He cared about Charasuke, that was true. And the other version of Itachi, of Shisui, his family… Even the Sakura of that world. But how could they compare? Losing Charasuke would hurt, but it wouldn’t rip his soul apart. Staying with them would be a life, but it wouldn’t be living. How could Naruto think of himself as selfish, and still be so incredibly selfless when it came to Sasuke? What was he supposed to do, to make Naruto trust him once and for all?

“If I deserve you, why wouldn’t you deserve me in turn?”

Naruto didn’t have an answer to that. Sasuke hadn’t expected him to, and he felt him struggle with the concept. Naruto’s hero complex wasn’t doing either of them any good.

Like, I personally don't like the concept of anyone deserving love or not deserving it. Love is something you give, freely, regardless of how society values the other person. The love you give isn't less worth depending on the person receiving it. But I think the both of them are so traumatized that they need to make peace with this concept. They kind of need to be told - yes, you do deserve love, and I will give it to you. Naruto's hero complex is like... we don't have time to unpack all of that.

“You want to do this the hard way?” Sasuke continued, tone sharp. “I’ll do it with you. I don’t think you’ll succeed but I’ll do it.”

He gathered up all his resolve, all his conviction, pushed aside his own reservations.

“Saying you’ll forgive me… that’s a lie. You wouldn’t. You never would. And I wouldn’t want you to, anyway. If you wanted me by your side and I couldn’t do it, you’d be right to hate me.”

“I could never hate you.”

“Then I’d hate myself.”

Bearing each other's burdens and all that...

Naruto made a face, as if to disagree, but Sasuke felt him smile despite the topic of their conversation.

“What kind of role reversal is this,” he muttered, pressing his thumbs into Sasuke’s cheeks childishly. “I don’t even know why I’m arguing about it.”

“Because you love me.”

They stared at each other. Naruto’s eyes widened in shock, but Sasuke held his ground. What was the point in pretending anything else? It all made sense like this, and perhaps deep down Sasuke had always suspected it, even before he returned to Konoha.

“Y-you can’t just say it out loud!” Naruto spluttered, slapping his hands onto his own face instead, hiding behind them with a groan. “Stop being so smug about it!”

Me, while I wrote this: Yeah, you can't just say that out loud! The pain of being perceived. I am suffering with Naruto.

“I won the argument, didn’t I?”

“Ugh, shut up!”

Feeling lighter, Sasuke wrapped his arms around Naruto, leaning his cheek against the top of his head, Naruto burying his nose in his neck. He’d deny it when they were back in reality, but he could feel that Naruto wanted the body contact, and he was unable to resist it. It didn’t take long for Naruto to calm down, releasing a huff into Sasuke’s neck.

“Maybe we can just stay in this place forever,” he said, sneaking his arms around Sasuke’s back.

“You’d miss ramen too much.”

If an emotional scene doesn't end with a joke, what are you even doing with your life. But writing them hug was like, releasing so many endorphins. I'm weak to it.

It was strange, to talk and immediately feel every thought behind the words, every emotion on full display. Naruto’s amusement radiated off him, and it was his turn to feel a little smug as he concentrated on everything that Sasuke felt for him.

When Naruto started imagining long days spent in bed, Sasuke rolled his eyes and decided they’d been emotional enough for the time being.

Sasuke like, I can accept the lovey-dovey stuff, but I draw a thick line in front of the bedroom door. He's got some work left to do lol.

Idk if any of this made any sense but... there you have it!

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