#insurmountable differences and circumstances

[aceof-stars]

Why are my favorite ships always:

Different but in the way that they make perfect partners and achieve so much together. Believing in each other when it seems like no one else does. Different and despite that, they understand each other until they completely don't. Some kind of betrayal and at least one of them has abandonment issues. So much emotional constipation and painful pining. Childhood friends to [insert decades long mess here] to finally, finally lovers. "My heart has always been yours. Even when I hated you. Even when there was so much distance between us I thought we'd never pull through. There's no one else in this world for me. So, yes it's you, it's always been you".

And the only two that have qualified so far are Wrightworth (Phoenix + Miles from Ace Attorney) and Baavira (Baatar Jr + Kuvira from Legend of Korra). I love how Wrightworth's partnership led them to find the truth and redeem each other, while Baavira's led them to create a dictatorship and commit war crimes.

If you have any more examples of ships that fit, please let me know.

[dirtytransmasc]

I refuse to go into more detail, but, I will no longer hold my tongue. my biggest gripe with this fandom is the way a majority of it erases Lo'ak's actual trauma and struggles (with his identity, his father/family, his clan, etc), and essentially gives him Spider's traumas/struggles in some idealized form (whether for over the top and oversimplified "hurt/comfort" scenarios, or max woobification), while absolutely dragging and/or ignoring Spider's entire character and the realistic depictions of those traumas and what that does to a kid.

like I can't exactly put words to it or go into a deep analytical post, but I've been thinking about it, and some other stuff I've seen online have been making me think about it.

stop doing a disservice to both of my boys. they both have such interesting and complex stories and you're ruining it!!!

[weskie]

Earned (Albert Wesker x gn!Reader)

no warnings, wesker lives au, extremely loose followup to this, wesker receiving affection, i think he deserves it, if that's wrong i don't wanna be right | Fic Directory

Sometimes you can see through the cracks of his cold, unbothered demeanor.

There’s something… fragile under all of it.  Buried beneath decades of shielding himself from the worst this world had to offer, from dealings with the dregs of humanity and a life manufactured and directed without his knowledge.

You remember how volatile Wesker had been after discovering the truth from Spencer.  The cracks you peer through now had been wedged clear open back then.  Salt dumped into the not-so-metaphorical wound.  You found him in a fit of rage when he finally came home, destroying his entire office just to cope in the only way he could think of.  Splinters of debris gave way under your footsteps and he glared daggers at you, daring you to come closer, daring you to cross the fray into the eye of the storm.

His reluctance to let you touch him weaned with every passing second that you smoothed your thumbs over his cheeks.  It was startling to see his typically calm exterior eroded so completely. You’d never seen him so… shattered.  It wasn’t until later that you’d understand that the foundation of his entire life had been swept out from under his feet. But, even then, you had an inkling that something had truly shaken him to his core.

“Who am I?”  

You’ll never forget the flare of amber glowing brighter in his eyes as each word fell from his lips over and over, nor the bruising grip he had on your arms, until he hid his face in the crook of your neck– secretly so desperate to hide from the haunting revelations of his life.

And you don’t forget it now as you run your fingers through his hair, cradling his head on your lap while he rests.  His recovery had been long and arduous, and it had humbled him more than anything possibly could have.  His dependence upon you had been a nearly insurmountable sore spot, but you wager it taught him a truth so incredibly foreign to his perception of the world.

Vulnerability can be okay.

At least it can be with you.  You’re not out here to stab him in the back or raw deal him for a larger cut in some grand scheme.  You’re not a multi-billion dollar pharmaceutical company pulling his strings nor the corpse that once orchestrated the entire marionette show.

You’re someone who loves him– adores him. 

It’s taken him a very long time to truly believe that, much less accept it.  You will forever be his greatest weakness and strength, all rolled into one.  You are leverage for anyone who wants to truly hurt him, but you are also the ferocity with which he will unmake them for even considering it.  

Worse yet? 

You are the only reason he’s glad to have not perished in that volcano.  Wesker remembers only flashes of his dreams while cocooned in Uroboros, but he knows, without a shadow of a doubt, that he dreamt of you.  That it was your voice that pulled him through, your presence that he reached out to in his near comatose state. It was you who he sought after waking, despite how his body screamed to cease his movements.

So maybe…

Maybe it isn’t so wrong to let those cracks open up when he’s with you.  Maybe you should see the parts of him locked away from the world.  You should know the little boy thrown into the best boarding schools money could buy, the one who wondered if he had parents like the others did, who sought academic excellence so that he’d have even a fraction of the love he’s seen bestowed upon others by right of birth to those who could love them– to the man he is now, stripped of his pride and still always left to wonder what his true name had been.

Long ago, he asked you a question under much different circumstances.  Have you earned me, he’d said.  As he peeks through his farce of sleeping to take in the sight of you looking at him with endless love, only one thought lingers in his mind.

You have.

[pinkanonwrites]

The Immensity of Vacancy

Energon Universe Jetfire/Human Reader, +1200 words

Just a little bittersweet something I wrote after the last issue of the Skybound comics came out. Jetfire my sweet, you did not deserve your fate.

ENERGON UNIVERSE COMIC SPOILERS AHEAD.

It was curious how even the most harrowing of circumstance could, with enough time and enough patience, shear down its jagged edges until it became something nearly palatable. 

Not comfortable. Primus, no, never comfortable. But palatable.

Stars no longer graced Jetfire’s curious optics, all light snuffed in favor of an inky nothingness soothed only by memory. There could be no ache of stasis lock when the freedom of movement had been ripped from his frame entirely, left to the whims of his fellow Cybertronians. The breems of silence would stretch into cycles, tuning his remaining audials ever finer upon the low thrum of Teletraan, the rattle-step of Autobots passing through corridors below. 

Perhaps that was why he could always hear you coming.

Your footsteps didn't boom or echo like those of Optimus Prime, never accompanied with the screech of tires like Arcee or Cliffjumper. Instead came the soft tink tink tink of tiny, booted feet against the resonant floor, the jangle of metallic jibbitz swinging from a clip on your belt. ‘Keys’ you had called them, though they were nothing like the data-keys or passcodes more familiar to him. ‘One for my car, one for my house, one for the back door at work.’ Primitive, but undeniably clever. 

You always paused in the doorway of the hangar when you approached, a brief instance of silence. Perhaps you were waiting for a transformation from him, a flourish of panels shifting and plates fluttering into place to reveal his root mode, his towering form compared to your own tiny one. You knew as well as he did that idea was an impossibility, but you paused nonetheless.

“Hey. Are you awake?”

Jetfire spent much time in recharge nowadays, the only respite from the insurmountable emptiness that surrounded him that remained in his control. It was another consistency from you, willing to let him rest for untold lengths of time, as if your own presence was not wildly preferred.

“Yes. For quite a while now.”

You let out a soft, sad sounding hum. “I’m sorry I couldn't get here earlier.”

“That's alright. I’m sure you have much of your own work to attend to.”

“Maybe, but it's not really anything exciting.” He could hear the shuffle and thunk of your backpack hitting the metal landing bay, the pull of the zipper. When you settled in your spot on the floor and leaned back against his landing gear, heat radiated through the space where your back pressed to his cool plating. “Work, mostly. Had a late shift last night, so I ran to the library this morning instead. The librarian actually recognized me.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“No, I just didn't expect it. I never went there until recently, anyway. Guess now that I’m going in a couple days a week I’m becoming a regular. Imagine that.”

Jetfire let out a soft hum. “We’ll never be wanting for reading material then.”

You seemed to hesitate for a moment as you removed something from your bag, the flutter of paper against your fingertips tickling his audials.

“I brought a new book. ‘The War Of The Worlds’. It’s an old sci-fi classic.” You softly fanned through the pages again. “It’s about, um… It’s about aliens. That come to take over Earth. It was probably a stupid choice, we can read something different if you want.”

He could understand your hesitation. Though Jetfire had not spent long interacting with the local lifeforms of your planet, he’d heard more than enough from the other Autobots about the occurrences at the power plant; The terror, the violence. The story of a hostile occupation from beings infinitely more powerful and dangerous than the planet’s inhabitants could strike offensive if presented in the wrong way, to the wrong bot. And yet…

“I would like to hear it.”

He couldn’t help that part of himself that yearned to understand. To learn. How often would he get the chance to hear the perspective of another species, better yet from the species themselves? Considering his current state, likely never again.

“Are you sure? It doesn’t have to be this, I brought other books. To Kill A Mockingbird, Treasure Island, maybe some Shakespeare-?”

“No, I… I want to hear it. I’d like to understand.”

You hesitated further still, as if you were waiting for Jetfire to change his mind. Then you let out a small, huffy noise, like you were trying to clear your vents. Jetfire recognized the sound to be what you’d called a “sniffle”. Paper shuffled, you let out a low, steadying sigh, and began to read.

“No one would have believed in the last years of the nineteenth century that this world was being watched keenly and closely by intelligences greater than man’s and yet as mortal as his own…”

You were a delightful narrator, though you’d often brush off Jetfire’s compliments as to the former. ‘You should hear David Attenborough!’ you’d reply, though Jetfire had no idea who this apparent man was. Your cadence and accent would adjust slightly when switching characters, like you were putting on a play. The first descriptions of the alien conquerors were read with a faux suspense, as if you could scare the Cybertronian with narration alone. And yet, when you came upon the paragraph describing the first human deaths, there did your energy began to falter. You shifted against his landing gear, swallowing thickly as you described the heat ray that jumped from man to man, ‘...as if each man were suddenly and momentarily turned to fire.’ Your hesitance didn’t seem to stem from the words themselves, but the context in who you were reading them to. Did the recent Decepticon attack on the hospital strike as close to home mentally as it did physically?

You paused again at the end of the chapter. Usually here Jetfire would have rattled off the questions he’d saved while you were reading, foreign concepts and names of unknown locations and the intricacies of human interaction that he didn’t quite comprehend. But he found himself in silence here as well. Not stunned, not scared, merely… contemplative.

“Sorry. It’s not too late to read something else, you know. Treasure Island’s still on the docket.” You murmured, fingers tapping absentmindedly along the book’s spine. 

“There’s no need to apologize. Already it’s a fascinating tale.” He paused for a moment, mulling over his words. The question he was about to ask seemed painfully obvious. Yet, he couldn’t find it in himself to leave it unsaid. “Are all humans this afraid of… aliens?”

‘Will all humans be this afraid of us?’ He did not ask.

“I think…” You hummed, head thunking back against his landing gear plating. “I think that most humans are afraid of the unknown. The idea that there’s something out there we can’t understand. We don’t like being reminded that we aren’t actually in control. That at any point in time we could die.”

Jetfire thought back to Cybertron- the expeditions failed, the cities razed, the lives lost- and he understood the sentiment exactly. 

“Would it comfort you to know that the experience isn’t uniquely human?” 

You barked out a short laugh. “A little, actually.”

Jetfire had spent so much of his life in the cold. The cold of space. The cold of the ice. The cold of the silent, empty hangar. But here, in this moment, with your body pressed to his plating, your voice filling the blackness, he felt inexplicably warm. 

“I’d still like to hear more, if you would continue.”

Though Jetfire could not see your smile, it was more than enough to hear it in your voice.

“Sure thing, big guy.”

[darkstar225]

Sick Spider-Girl ft Wanda Maximoff and Natasha Romanoff

The Avengers Tower was bathed in a soft, dim light as the sun dipped below the New York skyline. In one of the rooms, Y/N Parker lay in bed, a silhouette against the pale glow. The room was quiet, except for the occasional muted sounds of the city below.

Y/N, known as Spider-Girl, was usually full of energy and vitality. However, tonight was different. The fever that had gripped her was relentless, leaving her feeling weak and achy. She curled under the blankets, shivering despite the warmth in the room. Her thoughts were foggy, and every move she made seemed to take a monumental effort.

Down the hall, in the living room, the air was thick with tension. Wanda Maximoff and Natasha Romanoff, two powerful and formidable women, were locked in a silent battle of wills. It was a fight that neither seemed willing to concede, even for the sake of the person lying sick in the other room.

Y/N had sensed the tension earlier, and it hurt more than any fever. The strained glances, the clipped words, it was all too familiar. The three of them were a makeshift family, brought together by circumstance and choice. Y/N, Wanda, and Natasha had shared laughter, tears, and battles, but tonight, the air was heavy with unspoken words.

In the quiet of her room, Y/N tossed and turned. She wasn't just sick physically, the emotional toll was equally overwhelming. She wished she could intervene, and smooth things over between Wanda and Natasha, but her body refused to cooperate.

The distant murmur of their voices reached her ears, the rise and fall of argument that she couldn't quite make out. Y/N groaned, a pitiful sound muffled by the pillow. She wanted them to stop, to come in and check on her, but pride held her back.

As the verbal skirmish escalated in the living room, Y/N's stubbornness kicked in. She couldn't stand being a burden, especially in their current state of discord. Ignoring the protesting ache in her body, she swung her legs over the edge of the bed.

The floor felt unsteady beneath her feet as she stood. The younger girl clutched the edge of the dresser, trying to steady herself. Her vision blurred, and she wobbled, but she pressed on. She couldn't let them see her weakness, not now.

The argument in the living room had reached a crescendo when Y/N, determined but frail, stumbled out of her room. She moved silently down the corridor, hoping they wouldn't notice her. Yet, every step felt like an eternity, and the distance between her and the living room seemed insurmountable.

Just as Y/N reached the threshold of the living room, the door swung open, revealing the formidable figures of Wanda and Natasha. Their eyes widened in surprise as they took in Y/N's pale, feverish form.

Natasha - Y/N!  What are you doing out of bed?

Natasha's voice was a mix of concern and irritation.

Y/N - I'm fine. Just needed some air.

Y/N replied, her voice shaky but defiant. 

Wanda's eyes, however, were sharp. She stepped forward, reaching out to steady Y/N, but the teenage girl brushed her off. 

Y/N - I can take care of myself.

The tension in the room thickened. Y/N's stubbornness clashed with Wanda and Natasha's concern. The air crackled with unresolved emotions. Unbeknownst to all, the atmosphere held a combustible mixture that would soon explode.

Ignoring their worried glances, Y/N shuffled toward the living room door. The distant sound of the city seemed to call her. She needed space, a moment away from the suffocating presence of the people she cared about most.

As Y/N stepped into the living room, a sudden wave of dizziness swept over her. The world tilted, and for a moment, she felt weightless. Panic set in, but before she could react, everything went dark.

In the living room, Wanda and Natasha froze. The silence after Y/N's thud on the floor was deafening. Fear gripped them as they rushed to her side. Wanda's hands glowed with scarlet energy, ready to assess the situation.

Natasha - Y/N! 

Natasha's voice trembled as she tried to wake the fallen hero. Wanda's magic gently probed for signs of life.

A groan escaped Y/N's lips as consciousness flickered back. Wanda and Natasha sighed in relief, their earlier conflict momentarily forgotten. Y/N's eyes fluttered open, confusion and vulnerability shining in them.

Y/N - What happened? 

She mumbled, disoriented.

Wanda - You fainted. 

Wanda answered, her voice a mix of worry and relief.

Natasha brushed a strand of hair from Y/N's forehead. 

Natasha - You scared us, honey.

A sheepish smile played on Y/N's lips. 

Y/N - Guess I'm not as invincible as I thought.

Wanda and Natasha shared a glance, the unspoken tension still lingering. But at that moment, the priority was clear: taking care of Y/N. Wanda conjured a damp cloth, gently placing it on Y/N's forehead.

Natasha - You need to rest. 

Natasha said, her sternness softened by concern.

Y/N nodded with a rare vulnerability in her eyes. 

Y/N - Yeah, I guess I do.

As Wanda and Natasha helped Y/N back to bed, a silent understanding passed between them. The fight, the unspoken words, it could wait. Right now, they had a sick family member to take care of, and that took priority over everything else.

In the quiet of the room, as Y/N drifted into a restless sleep, the weight of their makeshift family hung in the air. There would be time for conversations and resolutions, but for now, they would stand together, united by the unbreakable bond forged through battles, laughter, and, most importantly, shared concern for one another.

[tavtime]

There is something skittering around in my brain tonight about the way that BG3 intends the audience to view mind flayers as individuals vs as a species, and the way that plays out in the player's relationships with Omeluum and the Emperor.

I mean, one of the primary gears upon which the story turns is that when a person becomes illithid, the soul they previously had is destroyed (but not their memories of the person they were). This is presented as an insurmountable wrong - literally socially aberrant - and it certainly is so from both the point of view of the gods concerned with mortal souls, and illithids' mortal prey concerned with keeping their brains in their heads.

The Emperor's storyline takes this to the conclusion that the condition of being soulless is, in and of itself, a complete destruction of the individual; that whatever it was before, the illithid will be invariably manipulative, inherently untrustworthy, and unable to reconcile its needs and desires into peaceful coexistence with non-illithids. It's certainly the conclusion you're intended to draw from Duke Stelmane's story, as well as numerous supporting texts, most notably from the creche.

But then... Omeluum offers the refutation to that. Here he is, leading a peaceful life because he just... wants to. Absent a soul or comprehensible mortal desires to operate as a moral compass, Omeluum still chooses to contribute to the Society of Brilliance. He voluntarily and at personal cost researches alternative food for himself so that he doesn't need to feed on sentient beings. He helps the player character multiple times, despite the fact that doing so carries variable risk with little promise of reward.

So clearly, being illithid in and of itself is not what makes someone manipulative or untrustworthy: it's not a baked-in species trait. The Emporer isn't Like That solely because he's a mind flayer; he's like that because... he's like that. That's who he is as a person. That's what he has become, in his current incarnation, and yes, some of it is certainly due to his transformation (having your soul shredded and your will broken would screw most people up pretty badly, I imagine), but not all of it! If something about his circumstances had been different, maybe he could've been different as well. Maybe his moral compass would have pointed in a similar direction as Omeluum's.

[dragonrider9905]

Infectious Love

Summery: After a failed, almost confession of love, you and Hunter's relationship is skating on thin ice...that is, until someone falls through (or gets stabbed in the gut), so to speak.

Warnings: Angst, lots of it, but comfort too. Lots of emotions. Mentions of blood and sickness.

Hellooooooooo @imaginesfordifferentfandoms tis I, your Secret Santa in the @cloneficgiftexchange!!!!! I really, really, hope you like it. I worked really hard on it ;D So I hope it turned out the way I imagined it in my head ;D Enjoy this kinda longish drabble XD Hehehehe now you understand all the questions I asked. I hope you don't mind I went with Hunter. You seemed to not mind any of them; he's my favorite so I know I can get carried away :D and I wanted to make sure the story was nice! Also, I gave Hunter's scarf a destiny. A fate. A sense of purpose. We now know what happened to it. I have spoken.

Furthermore, I'd like to throw a huge shout out to some people who deserve it. Firstly, @ghostofskywalker. Thank you so much for organizing this event and all the other ones like it. They are always so much fun and I enjoy them immensely. It is safe to say the others who join feel the same way. Thank you for all the hard work you put into it all! Also, thank you to @photogirl894 for being an awesome beta reader and supportive friend. I don't know if I would have finished this fic on time if she hadn't helped me through all the rough spots by her encouraging words. Bestie, you read everything but the ending...I hope you like it <3

The decree is written, now, let the story unfold.

“As a father, you couldn’t ask for a better place to raise a child.”

You’d heard Shep say these words to Hunter your first day on Pabu, and you had to admit, it made your heart flutter a little bit. You’d fallen hard for Hunter a long time ago but duty always got in the way. At first, you hadn’t realized just how much you cared for him during the Clone War, serving as their medic, until Hunter received a shot in the chest. It was then that you realized, or rather were honest with yourself, that your friendship was always more than just a friendship. Almost losing him gave you a clarity and an honesty with yourself that you needed, but that didn’t make things easy. In fact, they made them harder.

Because now you knew how YOU felt, but you had NO IDEA how he felt. Every day, you’d face a new challenge, a new battle, overcome insurmountable odds against the Separatists on top secret missions and won. Every night, you’d have a heart to heart with Hunter, talking about things that made him laugh, made you laugh, things that made you cry, or things that upset him. 

But never unburying that heavy secret locked away in your heart. 

You considered yourself brave in many aspects but not when it came to problems with the heart. You could tell Hunter anything and everything, except how you felt about him. Instead, you’d find little things every day to show him you loved him. You’d fix his caf the way he liked it, you’d make sure the others were considerate of his sense, you listened to him when he wanted to rant, you showed him you trusted him. You were his shoulder to lean on, his unofficial right hand man. Technically, Crosshair filled those shoes but not always. You tried to be the head of reason when the boys fought and patched them up when they were done arguing. 

Then the Clone War ended with fateful Order 66. Your world turned upside down and even though circumstances were different, your situation was the same. 

That secret would have to be pried out of your cold dead hands. 

You’d been on the run, constantly in fear for your lives and that of the child in your care. You’d started to love her as your own daughter, and you could see Hunter did too. You’d seen Hunter with Cut and Suu’s children before, but somehow, this was different. He’d cared for her as a father would. And that made your heart melt more than you ever thought it could. 

Now, here on Pabu, having something that resembled peace and a chance at a life, was it time? Could you actually have the dream you despaired of. The dream which was a nightly comfort but in the morning seemed unreachable as something you thought you couldn’t hope for? 

Shep’s words teased you. Taunted you. Pried at you. 

Perhaps, perhaps it was time to open your heart? 

“So have you reconsidered staying?”

“For soldiers, putting down roots is an occupational hazard.” 

“Is that all you are? Soldiers?”

You’d seen the thoughtful look on Hunter’s face. It was the one he made when he was considering something. There was no contention, just thoughtful pondering. 

Somehow, some way, that moment spurred you and you worked up the courage. 

Hunter sat in the cockpit, swirling his knife. You approached and leaned against the door. You’d love to sit there and watch that for hours. You smiled a little to yourself, waiting for him to recognize your presence so as to not scare him into a mistake (not that he’d ever but…better be safe than sorry.) 

“Echo said he’s on his way. Will be here in a few rotations.” he said without looking up. “Omega will be glad to see him.”

“Yeah, she misses him, the poor kid.”

Sheaving his knife, he turned to you. 

“So, what can I help you with?”

“Oh, you know, just checking in on my Sargeant. You’ve been in here all day.” You placed some fruit native to Pabu in front of him. You never could remember the name, but you’d noticed he liked them. 

“Thanks,” he gave half a smile while you took the seat next to him. “What kind of trouble are Wrecker and Omega getting into?”

“Ohhhh probably best not to know right now. Just enjoy the few moments of peace while you can.”

He chuckled and cut into the fruit.

“Soooooo” your heart pounded. You were actually going to do it. You got this…just had to breathe and remain steady, it’d be ok. 

Hunter gave you a side eye, silently offering you a piece of the fruit. Kriff, he can tell. You tried to slow your heart best you could. 

“So.” He prompted you.

You laughed. “I heard Shep the other day. Something about settling down…ever think about it?”

He sighed. “More than you know. I honestly don’t know what to do about it. I’d like to but… It’s … complicated.”

“Ever think about marrying a pretty woman and having a family? Raising Omega somewhere safe where she’d be happy…”

He huffed a little. 

“Who’d I marry? Please don’t suggest the woman Wrecker’s friend was trying to set me up with.” 

At the words, the muscles in your face felt heavy and turned sour. The twinkle in your eye went out and the joy in your demeanor dissolved. 

An empty smile remained on your face. No indication to the outsider that anything had changed. But Hunter wasn’t an outsider. He knew you inside and out. 

Who’d I marry? You weren’t even a consideration. You weren’t on the list. Of course you wouldn’t be. It’d be foolish for you to think that. Why’d you hope in the first place? You should have known better. 

Swallowing hard, you bit back tears and forced a laugh. 

You had Hunter’s full attention now. He sat up straight and leaned forward a bit. 

He immediately sensed the change of demeanor. Your heart rate plummeted but beat hard. Your focus was gone, staring into nothing. Even if it was just for a millisecond, he’d have noticed it, but it lasted longer than that. 

Your hollow laugh filled the cabin.   

He knew he messed up.

Hunter moved to speak again but it was too late. You’d gotten up and moved toward the door. 

“Well um, I should go check on Omega and Wrecker and see what they’re up to before they do too much damage. Yeah, yeah…”

The next moment you were out of the cabin and down the ramp without a second look behind you. 

Kriff. He had to fix this. 

He almost went after you. He almost made it out the ship, but an incoming transmission stopped him. This could be the one he was waiting for. He looked longingly out to where he saw you hugging yourself, making your way slowly across the shipyard, and went back inside the ship. 

Kark it all. This’d better be important, Echo.

Tech was gone. Omega was taken. Crosshair a prisoner. Echo abandoned them, again. It was just you, Wrecker and Hunter now. A ship once filled to bursting with life and light, warm with the love and laughter shared between its walls, was now cold with an emptiness, a magnanimous devoid maw that the ship had never known before. 

Tech was dead. Crosshair was gone. Omega was taken. 

He was lost. 

Hunter might as well have added you to the list of lost as well, because even though you were physically on the ship, you weren’t with him. You were distant. Gone. In every way possible other than physical. You’d done your best to keep Wrecker and himself together. You’d been the same insurmountable strength you’d always been for them to lean on. You were being the strong one for them because you knew they couldn’t right now. He was angry, frustrated, focused and lost all in one but didn’t know where to direct that energy. As always, you came through. You acted the same as how you did throughout the entire Clone War, except not. The actions were all there, but there was a lost life to it. 

A lost love. 

And it was his fault. 

Though you were strong, you weren’t invincible. 

During the day you’d serve them. Got them food, made sure they rested, used every resource imaginable to find the little lost loved one. You tried to make them laugh and smile if you could or focus on the task at hand. Completing small missions to get by was his bane, because all Hunter wanted to do was find Omega, but you brought him back to the present, reeled in his reckless side when it got to be too much. You kept track of the inventory and how and when to push on. 

But every night he’d hear you silently cry yourself to sleep. 

You’d go and comfort Wrecker, then you’d offer the best gesture you could to him to encourage him, then you’d retire to your bed, broken down by the day. Tired, exhausted, empty. 

He saw it. And he caused it. 

And he hated himself for it. 

He’d lost you in a hasty, foolish sentence. One he’d said without much forethought. One he said because he was afraid if he’d said too much, or given any indication of the deeper feelings he had for you, you’d have rejected him and he’d lose you entirely. He thought he could be your friend. You deserved so much more. So much more than himself and what he could offer. He’d wanted to stay your friend so that way, even though he couldn’t have you, you’d be happy. He’d make sure that whoever he was, the man you’d marry would give you all the love he couldn’t. 

Turns out he was wrong.  

You did return his feelings and he broke you.

He should have gone after you, but he didn’t. He thought he’d have time. He thought he could do it when you’d return to the ship and he could sit down with you uninterrupted but he was wrong, so wrong. Echo arrived and in moments, though he didn’t know it, his life turned upside down. When the mission was declared, his focus turned to that. 

He should have talked to you. He should have let you know how he felt. 

But the manner of your hurt shifted. You were no longer hurt, but cold. 

Perhaps you didn’t want him to love you anymore. He didn’t know what to do. So much was wrong. So much that shouldn’t have been, was now his reality. 

In truth, you DID deserve more than him. Perhaps this was for the best. This hurt would pass and you’d meet the one you were supposed to be with. You could get over this fancy for him and live an actual life with someone else. 

The thought made his stomach churn and threatened to vomit, but perhaps, that’s what was meant to be. 

After all, sometimes to love someone you had to let them go. And Omega, she needed him right now, fully focused on nothing else but finding her. 

It was late in the night watch, Hunter sat alone staring at the broken pair of goggles and a plush toy that belonged to the child of the ship. His child, not by blood but by choice. 

Taken from him in a cruel twist of fate. 

He closed his eyes and leaned back in the chair. Hunter wasn’t normally one for crying but he felt close to it now. He didn’t know what to do, but he knew Omega took priority over himself. He HAD to find her. Bring her home. Oh Force, what was Hemlock doing to her?

He felt his head start to pound and his brow furrowed. 

It hurt so much to love. This was love, wasn’t it? After all, what would he know? All he knew of it was what was in the novels and holofilms…

Something cold touched his head and he jumped in surprise. Opening his eyes, he found you had taken a few steps back surprised, with a blanket and an ice pack in hand. 

It didn’t go unnoticed you’d had the scent of fresh tears on your hands. 

“I’m sorry, I thought you were in one of your uncomfortable sleep cycles.” You offered gently. “You looked like you had a headache so I brought you this.” You shook the ice pack. 

Hunter sat up and rubbed his head. “I…can’t sleep.”

He looked down. It was so hard to keep your gaze. His throat tightened and tears sprung against his will. All he could do was sigh, long and heavy. 

Hunter was silent, not knowing what to say. He tried opening his mouth a few times but closed it at every attempt, frustrated. 

You slowly drew near him, considerate as you always were. Giving him a chance to stop you if he wanted or needed, but he didn’t. You crouched down in front of him and took his hands. 

A shock of surprise sprung his head up immediately and sent a shiver through his body. His brain registered your hands were cold and instinctively he moved to warm them, covering them completely with his own. But his mind was fully focused on your face. 

Your eyes glittered with unshed tears and your mouth had a half, crooked smile. A ghost of the one you’d had before. But there was something in your gaze he’d missed, he’d longed for. 

It was ‘that’ look. 

You hadn't looked at him like that in a long time. 

There was a warmth and a love aflame. A gentleness that hadn’t been there these long past few weeks.  

If eyes were truly the window to the soul, he’d seen that the embers were dying, but not gone. 

You squeezed his hand. 

“We’ll find her. I promise.” 

There was such a conviction in your voice, determination. A rawness that almost freighted him. A testament to the power you had. The power of your will and spirit. The power of your determination. One of the reasons he loved you so much. One of the elements in your looks that he yearned to see again after missing it for so long. 

He squeezed your hands. 

“Thank you for everything.” He swallowed hard, voice now scratchy and sore. 

You nodded and stood, pulling your hands from his. You placed the pack on his forehead and placed the blanket on him in two swift motions and made to go. You were fast, but not too fast for him. You’d tried to retreat, but Hunter jumped and grabbed your arms, centering you to himself. 

A surprised look crossed your face and he saw you searching him, wondering. 

“We need to talk.”

You looked away, tears starting to gather again, a breath catching in your throat wanting to break free. 

Hunter cupped your face with his hand and slowly, softly turned your gaze back to him. 

“Please.”

You nodded, but then looked away again. 

“Ok, but not now.” Your voice was heavy and empty. That void look entered your eyes, extinguishing the flame that was there before. 

“No, you should get some sleep, you look exhausted. You’re always looking after us. Tonight, take care of yourself, yeah?” He rubbed his thumb against your cheek, whipping away a tear that escaped. “Tomorrow.”

You nodded. “Tomorrow.”  

Lifting the blanket you’d brought for him, Hunter placed it over your shoulders with a reassuring squeeze then turned back to his chair, cradling the ice pack to his forehead. 

Tomorrow came, but started off all wrong. Emergency lights flashed and sirens blared. The Marauder made an emergency landing on the treacherous mountainous planet below. The hyperdrive malfunctioned and threw you out of hyperspace. It was a tumultuous, uncontrolled landing but Hunter managed with minimal damage to the exterior of the ship. The haul was a little banged up, but other than that, the smoking hyperdrive was the focus of your concern.

There was no Tech to fix the ship now. You were on your own.

“Do you think you can fix it?” Hunter looked at you worriedly. You’d helped Tech plenty of times in the past. You considered yourself pretty capable with all the training you received from him. 

Taking a look around, you carefully considered. 

“I think so, but it’s going to take time. This superficial stuff I’m not too worried about. We’ll have to make port somewhere soon anyway for supplies. We’re low on everything.” You’d been looking at the inventory the last few days and the lists were concerning. “I think we have enough credits to get by until we can do a job and earn more.” You rubbed your forehead. “I’ve been running numbers on how to keep ourselves sustained without needing to distract ourselves from our mission with a whole bunch of side missions anymore. I think it’ll work but you’re going to have to trust me. But I digress. I’ll patch up the hyperdrive which seems to be the main problem. I’ve got a weird feeling about this place, I don’t want to be here too long. Weather might not hold out for extensive repairs either.”

“Alright, we’ll discuss this when I get back. I’ll scout the area and see what we’re dealing with.” Hunter turned to leave, then paused. Half looking back he spoke: “And, I do. Trust you, I mean.” 

With that he put his helmet on and shouted to Wrecker. 

“Keep her safe. I’ll be right back.”

It’d been an hour. And Hunter wasn’t back. 

Whipping the sweat from your forehead you heaved a big breath.

“I think that’ll do it Wreck. Where’s Hunt?” 

Wrecker looked nervous. “Not back yet.” 

You looked at your wrist chrono and raised your eyebrows in surprise. Highly unusual.

“Ok, I’ll go look for him. Protect the ship.” 

“We should stay together.” Wrecker added quickly, “I’ll come with you.”

“I would like that too but at this moment that’s a luxury we can’t afford. We have to split up.”

Wrecker groaned. “Bad things ALWAYS happen when we split up.”

You softened and patted his shoulder comfortingly. 

“I know, big guy, I know. But the less we argue, the sooner we get Hunt back.”

Wrecker paused and nodded. “Ok.” He sighed and took his place by the ramp of the ship. “And…..it’s good to hear you call Hunter, Hunt again…”he trailed off uncertainly, “but it’s kinda making me scared. You think he’s….?” 

Your heart clenched in realization. You didn’t think how your hurt would shed and affect others. “Oh Wrecker….” You started but he stopped you. 

“Aw Doc, I am just worried about ya. You two always meshed together, you know? So when you didn’t, and now get soft again…” He shook his head. “Get Hunter back, and everything will be ok, yeah?”

“Yeah, it will. I promise.” You started off your sentence quaking but with every word you found your conviction. It was time to go. 

“I hope you two can work things out. I always liked it that way, ya know?”

You smiled, “Yeah I do actually, and I did too.”

“Well, do you think that … whatever happened…you two can fix it?”

Your smile faltered a little bit but Wrecker didn’t see that. Really, only Hunter would have been the one to notice.

“I’ll do my best.”

With one last nod to Wrecker, you set out.

You weren’t exceptional at tracking but Hunter taught you a thing or two. 

It was time to bring Hunter home.

Hunter skirted the edge of the cliff carefully. His foot set a few loose rocks tumbling into the unknown. Knife unsheathed and corned against the endless void beneath him, he glared at his enemy. Hunter met these villains almost as soon as he left the ship. It didn’t take him long to realize their harmful intentions and led them away from the ship, hoping to buy you as much time as he could to fix the ship. He’d taken out ten of these bandits already, but this one was of a higher status, he could tell by the large hat he wore and more expensive weapons he possessed. He’d be more of a challenge but that would only make it more fun. 

Hunter growled and lifted his knife in the ready. Blood and sweat dripped from his face from the few scratches and scrapes he had. 

He was prepared for anything.

“Get away from him!” An agonized voice filled with terror screamed. 

Your voice. 

Hunter’s heart dropped to his stomach and for the first time since the crash, terror entered his veins. He was prepared for everything, except that.

Garnishing your blade, you swiped the air to show the mysterious stranger you were serious. “Leave him alone!”

Hunter’s throat closed up. You didn’t have your blaster, and while still decent with the blade, you weren’t ready for this yet. He hadn’t finished your training. 

“Meshla, no!” 

Hunter reached out, distracted only for a moment but a moment is all it took. In the second he tried to get in between you and the enemy, a kick to his stomach sent Hunter over the side

“Hunter!” You screamed after him in terror. 

What you didn’t see was the flip he made or how he grappled onto the rock. If only you had the enhanced senses he did, you might have heard his hard breathing, the uneven sob, and the continuous prayer that somehow you could live long enough for him to get to you. 

His heart pounded. He wanted to call for you but that’d only make things worse for you. He grunted as silently as he could. He had to get to you. 

He heard your angry grunts, the slices of knives through the air, missing their marks. He heard you yelling unintelligibly and savagely. The man’s gleeful laughter. 

Your painful cry.

No

Those were some of the longest seconds of his life. What happened? He tried to climb faster but the rock was so slippery.

Watching Hunter get shot. Finding him shot again in the same place all this time later by Cad Bane, and now seeing Hunter tumble over the edge was more than you could handle. Anger like you’d never felt it bubbling all over you, tingling your fingers and guiding your blade’s every movement with hardened focus.

No, you couldn’t lose him like this. You wouldn’t. The man was quick, practiced. But you’d had a good teacher. Now wasn’t the time to doubt. Sure, you wished your blaster had survived the raid on Ord Mantel but there was nothing you could do about that except replace it when you made port.

You tumbled, dived, parried. This demon wouldn’t win. He made a hit on your arm and you cried out. The evil, smug smile he had was enough to refocus you instantly. Jumping for him unexpectedly, you caught him by surprise. You pushed your entire body against his in a close roll.

And your blade found a home in his heart. 

Breathing hard, it took you a moment to realize…you’d won. You defeated him! Hunter would be so proud.

Hunter!

Diving for the cliff, you slid toward the edge. 

“Hunter? Hunter!”

Hunter looked up at you, face hidden behind his visor but all the emotions were spilling from his mouth. “Are you ok? Mesh’la, what the karking hells?”

“Grab my hand!” Ignoring him, you reached down. “I’ll pull you up.” 

Hunter clasped your hand but you let out a cry of agony. Collapsing in a heaping pile. You were shaking but your grip held firm.

“Mesh’la…” 

“Don’t you dare let go. Don’t you dare.” Your demand was dry and forceful, but fear spilled from every word. “Please.” Your plea was soft, broken.

“Alright.” He tightened his grip.

Tears streamed down your face as you panted, hulling him up. Hunter seemed so heavy. You’d done exercises like this before and it was a lot easier. Hunter seemed to notice your lack of strength too.

You pulled and heaved and scooted and rolled until you managed to get his body over the lump. Immediately, Hunter started his barrage on you in between heaving breaths of his own.

“What were you thinking? Don’t you know you could have gotten yourself killed?”

You got to your feet and brushed yourself off, head dizzy with emotion and adrenaline.

“Do you,” you panted, “have any idea what you did to me? Don’t start with me…”

“Oh honey, just wait until I get started—“ 

You turned to look at Hunter who also had gotten to his feet, the words registering, but sounding quite distant. Was he yelling? You weren't sure. Suddenly, your breath was knocked from your lungs and a sharp pain invaded your entire body. 

Falling to your knees, you clutched your side to find it wet and sticky, and warm. You didn't need to pull your hand away to look at it to know there was blood, yet that's what you did, and you were shocked nevertheless to find the red, sticky substance on your hands. Gasping with wide eyes, you missed Hunter’s cry of alarm.  

“You’re bleeding!”

Hunter ran over to you and caught you as you crumpled to the ground in pain. Gathering you to himself, he rested your body against his.

Tearing off his scarf from around his neck, Hunter pressed it to your wound.

“You’re losing so much blood.”

“Nah, I know exactly where it is. Here, there, and a little over there.”

“Not funny.”

“I thought it was.” you faintly chuckled. 

With a dark look, he cut the red fabric into strips and bound your abdomen tightly. 

“I’ll get you back to the ship as soon as I can, just hold on for me ok?” 

You nodded but your eyes now felt so heavy. You just wanted to sleep. 

Scooping you up, Hunter started at a full run. 

The bouncing hurt. Every pounding bounce sent fire mixed with ice through your body. Your head rolled back and your eyes shut.

“Hey, hey, cyare, look at me. Look at me! Don’t give up on me yet, please.” 

Hunter came in running. 

“Wrecker! Wrecker! Get the ship started, we’re leaving NOW!”

Wrecker didn’t miss a beat. He saw you dangling limpless in Hunter’s arms and dashed up the walkway. Wrecker tore through the room, doing the start up sequences as fast as he could then meeting Hunter in the gangway, he threw the med kit at him. 

Back in the cockpit, Wrecker took the controls. 

Placing you in his bed, Hunter slapped your face.

“I know you’re in there, wake up! Wake up! Don’t leave me now, I need you. I can’t do this without you. Omega is depending on you. You’re stronger than this, come on!”

Injecting you quickly with a stim and re-wrapping your wounds, Hunter frantically chaffed your wrists until your eyes fluttered open. 

“Hunter?” You were looking around, trying to sit up. 

“Hey, hey don’t get up.” He placed a hand on your forehead, then your pulse points. He felt you slowly but surely starting to equalize. “Just rest for a bit, ok? I’m going to stay right here if you need anything.” He pulled up a chair next to you. 

“I’m ok,” you smiled weakly, “I was so scared when I saw those tracks. I thought I’d lost you again. But you’re ok, and that’s all that matters to me.” You squeezed his hand, then let the darkness take you.

All was still and dark. The Marauder gently rocked in what would pass for the early hours of the morning, if there really could be a morning or night in space. 

All was still and quiet inside the Marauder. Wrecker was by the controls watching the ship’s course and motion beacons, Hunter was fast asleep, leaned over the bed and holding your hand. 

You on the other hand were restless. Buckets of sweat fell from your forehead. Dizzy and disoriented, even laying down, a nauseous feeling crept up your stomach into your throat. 

You wormed your hand out of Hunters, not wanting to wake him. It’d been too long since he’d gotten any sleep at all and at last the complete and utter exhaustion took him over. You pushed on the bed, attempting and failing to drag yourself up. 

You glanced at Hunter, considering only for a moment, then resurfaced your determination. No, you’d let him rest. You could do this. Grasping the blanket’s cocooning you, you attempted to untangle the heavy sheet entwining you. It was so heavy, suffocating. 

With a heaving breath, you pushed your feet off the bed and lunged your body forward.

You were standing. 

But as soon as you got up, you realized your mistake. The ship spun and the dull aches over your body were awakened. Your stomach’s pain blew its trumpet and your ears felt like balloons that were going to pop. You must have swallowed marbles because there was barely any room in your throat. 

Oh well, you could only push forward. 

Stumbling into the bathroom, you turned on the cold water. Perhaps that would help. 

The first thing Hunter noticed was his hand was cold and clammy. The lack of warmth left a devoid and empty feeling embedded with a nervous foreboding. 

Next came the darkness, which became a haze, and that haze turned into a bubble as he fought he was to consciousness. The bed in front of him was empty and Hunter could vaguely make out the things around him, noises indecipherable. He thought he heard trudging of feet scraping against the floor, the turning of a facet with the gush of water, then a loud crash, and thud with a BAM!

Instantly his body was alert. Dashing toward the source of the sound, he knew subconsciously what he’d find. Your body on the floor, sprawled out and drained. Your face was pale as death, eyes hollow. You didn’t look like this a few hours ago? 

“Mesh’la? mesh’la! what happened? Did you hit your head? Why are you up?” A thousand questions spilled from his mouth in worry. 

Worming his body behind yours, he gathered you up gently. You mumbled something that was lost even to his hearing. 

Concerned, Hunter removed his gloves, and placed them on your face. 

You leaned into his warmth, shivering, unable to get warm, yet your skin felt like fire to him. You were burning. Beads of sweat danced on your forehead as large as the tears that fell from your eyes.

“Why didn’t you wake me?” Cradling you now, he carefully wrapped himself around your body. This allowed you to curl in on yourself and tuck yourself in further to his chest.

“‘M sry.”

Kriff, you could barely speak. 

“Don’t be sorry. I got you now.”

“Hunter, I-I can’t hear you too well.”

A wall of realization hit him hard. Kark it, he knew what happened. 

The fever, the swelling, the loss of balance and your voice, not to mention your hearing? 

You had an infection. 

Fear invaded Hunter’s senses. He’d never been sick like this, having super immune genetics (one thing to thank the long necks for he supposed). But now, how could he help if he didn’t know what you were going through exactly? 

This wasn’t the first time you were sick like this. He remembered the story you told of your childhood, and how one winter, you fell through the ice which resulted in something like this. The incident left you vulnerable and weakened, and he worried about you. 

You were tough and fought it out. But what if you couldn’t fight this one off? Would your second brush with death be enough to claim you?

Tears swelled your eyes and poured onto your cheeks. Small sobs started to wrack your body as emotion overtook you.

“I…sorry…don’t burnden…’Mega, gotta find…” 

“Hey, hey, it’s ok, I got you, I got you. You’re not a burden. We’ll get you better then we’ll find her. Hey, I got you, it’s ok.” Hunter had no idea how he managed to sound so calm. He’d never seen you like this before and it terrified him. Your small sniffles and hiccups reminded him of a small child. Every nerve and essence of his being screamed at him to protect you. 

“I’ll get you some water, I’ll be back. You have to stay hydrated.”

“Stay, I’ll get it.”

Hunter looked up to find Wrecker looking down at the two of you with a sad look in his eyes. “You should be with her.” He disappeared then returned a few minutes later with a full flask of cold water. 

Hunter brought it to your lips, but you barely swallowed any before relinquishing your strength to an empty sleep, exhausted by the struggle. 

Silence bore down on the three of you as Hunter and Wrecker looked on while you slept an uncomfortable sleep.

“I knew we should have stuck together.” Wrecker said sadly at last, not looking at Hunter. “I told her I’d come with her…”

“It’s not your fault, Wreck.”

“Bad things happen when we split up, I told her that….”

“This is all my fault.” Hunter hung his head. “I—”

“That kind of talk isn’t going to help her, Hunt. Don’t even think that. She made up her own mind. She was scared for ya, Hunt. She even started calling you ‘Hunt’ again.”

Hunter looked up surprised, then back down towards you. You’d stopped that since that morning on Pabu. You’d been formal with him afterward. It was either Sargeant or Hunter. 

He shifted then lifted you in his arms, bringing you back to the bed. He set you down then ran his fingers through your damp hair, worry evident in his eyes. 

“We need to get her to a hospital, Wreck. I don’t know what to do…Without Tech…I’m really scared right now.”

Wrecker placed a large, comforting hand on Hunter’s shoulder. “Then we go. We’ll get her better, Hunt. Don’t worry. I think we have a few of those fake IDs left Tech made. We’ll make something work.”

Swallowing hard, Hunter nodded.

Instead of letting go, Wrecker’s grip tightened. In one swift motion, Hunter was enveloped in a hug. If he was being honest, he didn’t mind in the least. 

Hunter sat by you in silence as the ship flew through hyperspace toward the hospital, watching your fitful sleep. Your forehead was creased in pain and your mouth turned into a pout. One hand carefully stroked your sweat soaked hair, the other intertwined with yours.

The waiting was the worst part. Not being able to do anything to help or accept, fate could only take its course and he could only stand by and watch. The worst enemies were the ones he couldn’t protect you from and he hated that. He couldn’t fight the infection with his blade, or take away your pain by shooting the cause with a blaster bolt. 

He leaned his forehead against yours and swallowed a sigh. Was this agony what you'd felt when he'd been shot? He remembered what delicate care you took of him. You'd been more than thoughtful, and tried not to show your concerns but he saw them anyway; just as he could always see you. But there was something else there that at the time he hadn't realized. And now he hoped he hadn't realized it too late. 

“You asked me before if I’d settle down like Shep asked……………and in my dreams, yes. I always wanted to, even before he asked, with you. It was you, it was always and only you.”

Silence was your response. 

 “Please, don’t leave me now. I already lost the others, I can’t lose you too.”

The steady rhythm of your heart was promise enough for him right now, he had to hold onto hope. 

“We can take it slow. Take our time. We don’t have to rush into anything but please, please stay with me and I’ll be yours for the rest of our lives. That’s my promise to you. I–I love you. Always have, always will.”

Perhaps if he’d hadn’t been so tired, he would have noticed the slight squeeze of his hand you have him. 

Hunter walked into the hospital carrying you wearing civilian clothing hoping he looked more inconspicuous than he felt. He approached the nurse at the front desk. 

“Excuse me, my wife needs help. She had an accident…”

“Chain codes.” the nurse said flatly without looking up but holding out her hand. 

Hunter fished them out and gave them to her. 

“It’s urgent, she needs to see a doctor ri–”

“Just sit down over there and the nurse will be with you shortly.”

“But she needs a doctor NOW!”

The nurse glanced up annoyed. 

“Keep that up and she’ll have to wait a full rotation, buddy.”

Hunter glared but didn’t say a word. Normally he would have fought back harder but with your life on the line, he couldn’t find it in himself to do it. So he did as he was bid, and took a seat in the waiting area. 

You blinked your eyes open with a smile. 

“Hey Handsome.” 

You reached up for his face, and he took your hand in his and gave it a quick kiss. 

“Hey,” Hunter kept his voice low, giving you a quick smile before making a quick survey of the area, “to catch you up real quick, we’re married. You’re my wife and we took you here after an accident on our farm. You’re going to be ok, ok?” 

His eyes darted across your face, looking, searching, for any indication that his words would come true. Even here and now on the brink of being saved, he felt like you’d suddenly vanish and be taken from him. 

He didn’t know what he expected from you, a nod of recognition maybe? But he didn’t get that. Instead, you chuckled. 

“Married? Already? So much for wanting to take it slow, Hunter.” 

To his surprise, a laugh burst from his lips, a smile replacing the worry for a second. He shook his head. Even now, you were trying to look out for him, making him laugh while you were the one who needed help. 

“Always looking out for me, aren’t you?” His voice was warm and full. The deepness of his voice like chocolate on your sore ears, not that he’d know that of course. All he could hope for was that you could hear the depth of love and gratitude he had in such a few words. 

You smiled, “always have, always will, I promise you that.” 

Hunter heard the nurse approach and looked up, only to be faced with a jaw dropping phenomenon. 

“How can I help you today? Wait…Hunter?”

It was Nala, your old classmate.

“Nala?” Hunter repeated, stunned. “You work here?”

“Yes…” her eyes drifted down to you. 

An unsettled feeling came over Hunter. You hadn’t been in touch with anyone since Order 66. Whose side was Nala on?

He didn’t have to wonder long when her face went white and she dropped down on one knee to be at your level. 

“What do you need? Let me assess her and see what I can do.”

Nala came running up carrying various vials and all but shoved them in Hunter’s pockets. 

“Give her this as soon as possible. It’s safer for all of you if you just take it and administer it on your ship. I got word of Imperials coming here shortly. I’ve listed instructions on how to give it to her safely. You should go before someone recognizes you and hands you over. Goodbye, and good luck. Take good care of my friend. When she gets better, tell her to give me a call!”

With that, Nala turned and left, trying her hardest not to give an impression of concern. 

Back on the ship, Hunter did as instructed. After making sure you were carefully placed in bed and made as comfortable as possible, he enlisted Wrecker’s help as soon as they’d jumped to hyperspace. Hunter knew Wrecker wasn’t going to like it, but there wasn’t another way. 

You’ll want to give this one to her first. It’ll regulate her body so she can take the following medications. It’ll help her breathe easier and adjust to what’s coming…it won’t appear so right away so don’t worry. You’re going to need to give this to her in quick succession so don’t wait to see the effects.

Hunter injected the hypo into your arm. 

This one is the IV with the antibiotics. Get her hooked up quickly and make sure the bag is drained before you take it out. 

He rubbed your arm and inserted the needle.

This one, inject into her chest near her heart. This one will hurt the most. 

This one, he couldn’t do. 

“This…is going to hurt.”

“I know.” You stared at the ceiling, trying to catch your breath and collect your courage. “It’s ok.”

Of course you knew, you were a medic. He would have cringed at his own words, but he couldn’t help it. His own fear mocked him and he wasn’t ashamed of it. Pain was pain, and nothing could make him like it or want that for you. All he could do was prepare you in any way he could. 

Your breathing was labored, huffing your breaths, greedy for air, gluttonously swallowing in as much as your lungs would let you. 

“Tell me.” You looked into his eyes, trying to focus, “tell me about it? I can’t seem to remember anything from our big day. What happened? Who was there? How did it go….How did I look?” You huffed a little laugh at the last question, “nevermind, don’t answer that.” Your laugh caused a coughing fit to follow. 

Hunter gripped you firmer as your body racked, fear unmasked in his eyes. 

Shutting your own, you tried to center yourself. 

“Crosshair probably made trouble, didn't he. He and Wreck competed to see who could eat the most cake and got sick, right?” Your voice was nothing other than a whisper, but Hunter could still pick up the dream-like tilt in your voice. The little smile as if it was a real memory, breaking across your lips. 

“Of course, would you expect anything less?”

Another chuckle turned into a gasp of air. 

Hunter kept his gaze on you as he spoke, his hand on your cheek facing him so you wouldn’t have to see what was to come. Rubbing gentle circles in your cheek and wiping away tears, he tried to speak without a shake in his voice. He didn’t know if he succeeded, but ever after that, he’d remember the images burned in his mind both, of the story he was telling and the raw reality of your pain. 

“Tech filmed the entire thing; we’ll have to rewatch it; would you believe Echo had more champagne to drink than anyone? He was so happy the entire night. He was also the only one next to Wrecker to cry.”

You smiled through gritted teeth.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. You looked beautiful all dressed in white…” he stumbled over his words now as Wrecker garnished the needle, “your dress dazzled with little jewel thingies and you liked spinning in it because it reminded you of a waterfall or a butterfly’s wing. I couldn’t keep my eyes off you. And when you walked toward me, I was a mess, because I knew I was the luckiest man in the world, and I couldn’t ever have imagined you more beautiful.”

You swallowed hard. 

“Omega couldn’t stop smiling or singing; and when the music at the Pabu sunsets starts and the orange sun starts setting in the sky, it hit you just right and…”

You screamed as muffled of a scream as you could, but it rang in Hunter’s head so loud it bounced around until he felt like he was going to be sick.  

“Aaand, and, when the sun set, we resaid our vows under the stars, just you and me. Always, just you and me. I’ve got you, it’s ok.”

Your eyes rolled back and all went dark.

Breathing never felt so sweet. You smiled, feeling like you could laugh and cry at the same time. The pain was gone and you felt great! Energy was surging, and life felt beautiful again. Despite the illness, you remembered everything that happened with vivid accuracy. Though your eyes were closed, your mind was very awake and registered everything in perfect memory.

Not just the pain, but the sweet moments too. Hunter taking such good care of you, his poor fear and concern, the thoughts he confessed because he thought you couldn't hear.

You felt the urge to stretch but couldn't move. Opening your eyes and looking around, the sight made your heart melt. Hunter was curled up half beside and half behind you. His body was curled in around yours, holding you as if he feared when he woke, you wouldn't be there. 

Your heart was gripped by the softness of the gesture and you didn't want it to end.

You reached your hand up, running your fingers down his face and neck. The touch was enough to wake him. He stirred, then jolted with realization.

“You're awake!!!” Tears gathered in his eyes as he cupped your face with both his hands. “You're ok.” He smiled and swallowed so hard you could hear it. You embraced him, burying your face in his neck.

“I love you.” 

You froze. You didn't expect him to actually confess to you while you were awake. Hunter sensed your hesitancy and started to pull away, but before he could move an inch, you were grabbing him toward yourself again. 

“I love you, too. So much.”

“Can…we talk? I can't wait anymore.”

“Of course.”

Hunter turned shy. He found his hands extremely interesting as he fiddled with the blanket rim. His face turned red and he tripped over his words.

“I only said what I did because besides you….I wouldn't want to marry any other woman. Who would I even marry…if it wasn't you?”

He paused briefly before continuing.

“I always felt like you deserved way better than me…I can't offer you anything but myself and that's not much of a gift.”

“Hunter! No! You—” 

He gave you a sheepish look and cut you off.

“And I'm so sorry for everything that happened, for how I hurt you. I should have gone to you sooner, I should have…”

Now it was your turn to cut him off, but instead of with words, you captured his mouth with yours in a kiss 

You felt his shock, which made you smile, and soon he joined and returned your soft show of love, holding you even closer than before.

“You scared me.” Hunter said, kisses becoming needier. 

“You scared me first!” You countered, meeting his veracity. “More than once!”

When you both stopped for breath, you settled back in his embrace. 

“Hunter, you're all I could ever need or want. The gift of yourself is more precious than anything or anyone in the galaxy, and that's more than I deserve. All I've ever wanted was the war to end so we could have a family of our own, your brothers all be near us if they're not with us while we raise Omega and children of our own.”

Hunter's face darkened. 

“I wasn't strong enough to protect you or keep this family together. I lost Omega.”

“You didn't lose her, Hunter. She made a choice. She didn't want to lose you, and neither did I. You don't control the galaxy or have some responsibility for everything that happens. It's ok to breathe, Hunt, and let go. All we can do is move onward and face the galaxy together, just like we always do.”

Hunter nodded, the shadow slowly falling from his face, replaced with something gentler. 

“And that story I told before, about you in the white dress?”

“Yeah?” You blushed sheepishly, recalling with a bubbling laugh trapped inside your chest. 

“What do you say we make that real?” Leaning closer, he whispered in your ear, “I want to see you all in white, for real. I want to be yours, only yours, forever. I want to have a family, with you and only you. My brothers can all live close by and we can all be together. We can raise Omega the way she deserves to be raised…and I can love you, the way you deserve to be loved.”

“Yes! Oh yes! My sergeant, I am yours and only yours, now and forever!”

Filled with new determination, you smiled even wider, gripped his hand and got out of bed.

“Come on, now, love, let's go get our kid. Time to bring our family home. Time to start healing and growing.”

"The Empire be warned, we're coming."

Dividers by @stars-n-spice @ve-ti-ver and @djarrex

[milf-murdock]

Last Kiss (Part 2)

Simon “Ghost” Riley x 141!Reader 

Summary: Simon believes his S/O went down in a plane crash in a mission gone wrong, only to find out upon return that she made it. The relief causes Ghost to finally confront his feelings about you and how much you mean to him. Unbelievable back-from-the-dead smut ensues, along with some tooth-rotting fluff.  Warnings: some angst, implied reader death (but she’s fine!!!), happy ending I promise :,) Some minor description of injuries (bruises, cut lip), smuuuuuuut, filthy filthy smut, praise, pet names (sweet girl, good girl, darling, sweetheart), P in V, unprotected sex,  cream pie, fingering, umm I think that’s it…  A/N: Well part two is finally here and definitely among some of the filthiest I’ve ever written. Goddamn the brain rot goes deep for this man… Your comments and reblogs are so appreciated <3 I hope you enjoy!

You finally made it through the debriefing and back into the security of your quarters. Your favorite part about coming back from a mission, especially one that went as tits up as this one, was the steaming hot shower that came after. You stayed under that spray for longer than necessary, the hot water soothing your aching joints. 

On the whole, you had come out of things pretty unscathed. Several bruises, a few cuts, a minor split lip from where you hit the dashboard. Even you were impressed with your ability to crash land in such dire circumstances. With a deep sigh, you let the hot water race over you, absentmindedly watching the dirt, blood, and grime swirl down the drain. 

Simon was pacing outside your door. His thoughts had been going 100 miles an hour since you got back from your mission. 

The grief of thinking he lost you. The pain he felt in that moment was insurmountable.   

Then that moment of seeing you. Alive. Those words flashed over and over in his mind. 

She’s alive. She’s alive. 

The relief was like a shock to his system. 

And now in the aftermath of it, Simon felt like he had emotional whiplash. With all of the extreme highs and lows of the day, Simon still could not get the needling feeling in his heart to settle down. Something broke in Simon when he heard your voice say your plane was going down. And now that you survived, now that fate had brought you back to him, him, of all people, he just couldn’t let you go. He couldn’t go back to the way things were before. Things were different. He was different. 

With a deep breath, Simon braced himself, and finally knocked on your door. 

No response. 

With a frown, Simon tried again. He knew the debrief was over, so where the hell were you? Still no answer. Finally, Simon gave up and tried the door, pleasantly surprised to find it open. Fortunate for him in this case, but he made a mental note to talk to you about keeping your door locked for safety purposes–anybody could have come in. Simon smiled to himself as he caught himself being a bit overprotective. 

That’s when he noticed the gentle hum of the shower in the background.  Ah, he thought to himself. That explains it. He took a seat at the edge of your bed, steeling himself for the upcoming conversation. 

With a final moment of appreciation for the hot water, you turned the dial and shut off the shower, drying off before securing a towel around your body, tucking it in. Humming to yourself, you made quick work of your wet hair, running a brush through it for a quick detangling. The exhaustion was settling deep in your bones now, and you found yourself dreaming of the moment you could collapse into bed. With a sigh, you opened the bathroom door, and immediately let out a scream. 

“Fucking hell Simon!” you clutched at your chest as if to calm your racing heart. “You scared the ever living shit out of me!” 

Simon was immediately up on his feet and across the room. 

“Shit, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” Simon held his hands up as if to assure you he meant no harm. It wasn’t as if this was the first time you two had sought out each other’s company like this after a mission. In fact, it was practically standard at this point, borderline sacred. You just weren’t expecting to open your door and see this hulk of a man sitting there with his skull mask. 

“Fuck, are you okay?”  Simon continued, closing the distance between you two, his hand tentatively reaching out to you. 

You let out a small laugh. “I’m…fine,” you chuckle. “You just scared me.” 

Simon looked unsure, thrown off now that he had scared you so badly. 

Sensing his unease, you take his hand in yours and place it over your heart. “Here, feel.” 

“Damn,” Simon muttered, feeling the rapid rhythm beneath his fingertips. “I’m sorry.” 

You were about to brush it off and remind him you were fine, when you caught sight of the look in his eyes. 

Simon pressed his hand against your chest a little harder, a sadness taking over his expression. Suddenly it wasn’t just a joke about feeling your high heart rate. He was soaking it in, realizing what every beat of your heart meant. 

You are alive. You are here. 

He focused on that heartbeat, each pulse a neon reminder. 

You’re alive.

You’re alive. 

You’re alive. 

You covered Simon’s hand with your own, your hand almost laughably small in comparison. You knew what thoughts that must be running through his head; they were the same thoughts you often had when Simon returned from  yet another dangerous mission. 

“Hey,” your gentle voice pulled his gaze from your heart back to your face. 

“I’m okay, Simon,” you assuaged, pressing his hand into your chest. 

“You’re okay,” he repeated, more to himself than anyone else. 

“Fuck,” he said, so quietly you almost missed it. “I thought I lost you, today.” Simon paused, swallowing hard. “I really thought I fucking lost you.” 

This time it was you who closed the distance between you, pressing your face into Simon’s firm chest. His strong arms wrapped you, pulling you closer. He held you tight, pressing his masked face to the top of your head. He drank it all in: the feeling of you in his arms, the scent of your shampoo filling his nostrils, the feeling of your heartbeat. 

And in the aftermath of his grief and the rush of emotions enveloping him after, three words fell from his lips: 

“I love you.” 

So quiet, you thought at first you imagined them. 

You lifted your head up, looking into those light brown eyes. One hand drifted up his chest, coming to rest at the base of the balaclava. You paused. 

With a small nod from Simon, you had all the approval you needed to gently lift the mask, slowly revealing that strong jawline you loved so much. Those deceptively soft lips. The gentle curve of his nose, the faint outline of a scar shimmering in the bedroom light. The messy locks of blonde that you loved to run your fingers through. Your simon. 

“Tell me again,” you whispered. “As Simon.” 

Not once breaking eye contact, Simon took your face in his hands. 

“I love you.” 

And with that declaration out in the open, he pressed his lips to yours. 

The kiss was a tender, sweet thing. You found yourself tangling one of your hands in his, and gently guiding him back to your bed. You made sure your towel was secured before taking a seat on the bed, motioning for Simon to join you. 

As you felt his body weight shift the mattress next to you, you took a deep breath, preparing yourself for this next part. It wasn’t easy to relive it so soon. 

“When I–” you cut yourself off, immediately feeling choked up. 

You took another breath. You could feel Simon’s eyes on you, but focused your attention on a stray string coming unraveled at the edge of your towel. That string suddenly became the most fascinating thing in the world to you as you stumbled through your confession. 

“When I realized that I was going down,” you started, fingers teasing more of the string loose. “I wasn’t sure I was going to be able to make the landing. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’ve navigated my fair share of crash landings, but this was…different.” 

You swallowed. 

“As I was trying to maintain control as best I could and brace for impact, there was only one face that flashed in my mind. Yours.”

“Your face. Your kiss. Everything we’ve shared, and everything I want to share with you. I saw you. And I knew that my only regret in all of this was that we didn’t have more time together.” 

“And when I realized that I made it. And that I’d get to come back to you,” your voice broke, but you pushed through. “I knew I needed to tell you.” You finally brought your eyes up to him. 

“I love you, Simon.”

For the second time that night, you felt Simon’s lips against yours. But where the first kiss was soft and sweet, this was a bright, burning, passionate thing. It took you by surprise, but as soon as you felt Simon’s tongue slide against your lips, requesting permission, you were done. Your mouth parted and the kiss deepened, both your tongues fighting for dominance. It  was a frenzy now. You sat up on your knees, taking Simon’s face in your hands. He was kissing you like your life depended on it, and for a moment you wondered if maybe it did. 

You sat yourself across Simon’s lap, straddling him, and reached down to undo your towel. Simon’s hands reached for your own, following your guide as he undid the twist that held it in place. 

Simon pulled back from the kiss as your towel fell away and his eyes explored your body, a ravenous look settling into his features. “Fucking hell you’re beautiful, love,” Simon muttered, causing a flush to rise up and color your cheeks. 

And then his lips were on your body, spreading kisses and leaving a trail of wildfire behind. Your neck, your collarbone, down to your breasts, working the supple flesh until he took one nipple in his mouth, giving it a firm suck. Your back arched, further pressing  your chest into him, and his hands found their way to your hips, holding you in place with his firm grasp. 

With a small pop, Simon released your nipple, kissing his way across your chest to the other one. Your fingers wound through his hair as he continued his attention to your delicate breast. A deep moan escaped your lips as your eyes fluttered shut at the sensation. 

Simon’s mouth on you was heaven, but you needed more. And Simon needed it too. You could feel his hardness beneath you, growing with every kiss and suckle. Your need bubbling up inside you, you couldn’t stop yourself from grinding up against him. Simon let out a groan as you made contact with his erection over the harsh fabric of his pants. His arousal was evident, and his moans only made you want him more. 

He finally released your breast, and the cold air hitting your sensitive peaks sent a shiver through you. Simon’s warm hands roamed your body, his touch spreading an electric shock across your body. He couldn’t get enough. It was as if he was proving to himself that you were here. You were safe. You were right in front of him. And he was determined to feel every inch of you. 

His hand slid down your stomach and across the upper part of your thigh, and you felt your cunt clench at the sensation, a needy whimper escaping you. You’d have been more embarrassed if you didn’t feel so fucking electrified by his touch. 

Simon’s fingers grazed higher on your thigh until finally meeting your sensitive flesh. 

“Fucking hell,” he groaned as his fingers met your warmth. “You’re so fucking wet for me already, darling.” 

Your quick retort died on your tongue as his fingers entered you, every coherent thought eddying out of your head. With expert precision, Simon curled his fingers, finding that perfect spot right inside you that had you seeing fucking stars. 

Simon was drunk on your pants and your moans as he continued to fuck you with his fingers. 

“Fuck,” he grunted. “That’s right–ride my fingers, sweetheart. Just like that.”

Simon brought his thumb to your clit, rubbing small circles over the swollen bundle. You felt your orgasm continue to build as he continued to his that spot, over and over. After the adrenaline of the day, you knew you weren’t going to last long. It only took a few short minutes before your body was shaking on Simon’s lap. 

“That’s right darling, let it go,” he encouraged, his deep voice low in your ear. “I’ve got you. Let it go. Come for me.” And with that, you fell apart in his arms. Your orgasm came over you in crashing waves, your body twitching as your cunt clenched his fingers, his name echoing out of you in a scream. 

“Fuck yes, good girl,” Simon groaned. “Ride it out. I’ve got you.” He continued to ease his fingers in and out, slowly and tenderly prolonging your orgasm. Right at the cusp of oversensitivity, your body continued shaking in response. Carefully, he slid his fingers out of you, bringing them up to his mouth for a taste. 

“Fucking delicious,” the audible sound of him sucking your juices off his fingers was almost enough to send you into another orgasm. 

Simon’s strong hands found their way under your ass, grabbing the back of your thighs to lift you up and set you on the bed. Your legs still hadn’t stopped shaking from your orgasm and you were thankful for the assist. 

Finally, you found your words. “You know, it’s really not fair that I’ve already come, and you’re still fully clothed,” you manage to gasp out, your voice unbearably shaky though you don’t miss the look of pure fucking satisfaction on Simon’s face knowing he brought you to this point. 

Simon gave a light chuckle, amused by your glare at the offending items on his body. “Alright my impatient girl,” he joked, before making quick work of his shirt, revealing his lean muscled torso. You licked your lips, taking your bottom lip between your teeth. Simon made quick work  of his belt, removing it with one hand, and then letting the rest fall to the floor before crawling back on the bed towards you. 

His muscled arms encased your face as he held his body above yours, eyes staring into your own. There were no words–there didn’t need to be. You had said them all. There was nothing but the love you felt for one another and the solace of being together, of being safe and together.

Simon lined himself up at your dripping wet entrance, waiting for a nod from you to continue. Typical Simon, you thought to yourself. Always asking for permission for what’s already his. Nevertheless, you pressed a quick kiss to his lips before giving him a nod.

And then Simon was thrusting home. 

“Fuck,” he hissed. “You’re so fucking tight.” 

“Relax darling,” he coaxed, “Let it stretch. You can take it.” He dropped his forehead to yours, his eyes fluttering shut as he struggled for control. You could feel yourself stretch around him, adjusting to his size. It didn’t matter how many times you did this. The first thrust was always the hardest. After a few moments, the need became overwhelming and you found yourself wiggling your hips beneath him, urging him to move. 

“That’s a sweet girl,” he breathed out, gently pulling out and thrusting back in. He pushed himself up on his forearms, giving himself a better angle as he thrust in again. “Oh look at you taking me so fucking well.” Your back arched off the bed as you met him thrust for thrust. One of his hands reached out to grab the headboard, his well-defined muscles rippling as he pounded into you. His pace was picking up, as if he simply couldn’t hold back anymore. 

You were here. You were his. And he was going to savor it. 

The sounds of your skin slapping echoed in the room as his strong hips thrust against you, his balls slapping your ass. You could feel the beginning of your second orgasm building up inside you as you cried out Simon’s name and your hand slid between your bodies to circle your clit. 

Your name fell from his lips–a pleading, a prayer, a promise. His hips thrust deeper inside you, making sure you took every last inch of his thick cock. He could feel you tightening around him, choking his member, and the sound of his name on your lips sent a rush of primal lust through him. 

“Simon,” you panted, gasping for air. “I’m so close. I’m so fucking–” you couldn’t even finish your sentence, the words dying in your throat as Simon tilted his hips, hitting that spot inside you that made you see fucking stars. 

“Fuck yes, darling. Come for me,” his moans grew increasingly more desperate. “I need to come,” he grunted. “I need to come with you.” 

With a final scream, your orgasm crashed through you, sending every fucking nerve ending in your body aflame. Your cries were drowned out by Simon’s grunts as his hips thrusted harder and faster within you. You clenched around him as your orgasm ripped through you, milking his own orgasm from him. “Fuck,” he roared as his cock plunged into you a final time, flooding you with his warm seed. “Fuck that’s it, sweet girl. Fucking hell, that’s it.” His hips gave a final jerk before finally coming to a stop. 

Simon dropped his forehead to yours, both of your ragged gasps for air intermingling. With a gentle shift of his hips, he slid out from you, coming up to rest on your side and pulling you close to his chest. 

“That was fucking amazing,” you muttered, still too cockdrunk and tingly from the high of your orgasm. “Hey, if this is where it gets me, maybe I should crash my plane more often,” you teased, nuzzling in closer to his firm chest.

Simon tensed beneath you and instinctively pulled you tighter, one hand tangling itself in your hair to hold you as close to him as possible. “Don’t you even fucking joke about that,” his voice was barely below a whisper. 

You were too far gone to even apologize; the events of the day, your two mind blowing orgasms, and Simon’s warm embrace all crashed down on you at once, making it impossible to keep your eyelids open. Sensing that you were fading fast, Simon pressed a kiss to your temple. “Sleep,” he murmured. “I’ve got you.”

Masterlist ✧ Ask Box

[prince-liest]

some recent thoughts on Nie Mingjue and Jin Guangyao, and why even though I find Nie Mingjue very frustrating in the midst of his Baxia-induced anger issues, I think he’s also a pretty sympathetic character as a whole and it’s really understandable why he thinks the way he does

(as someone who ships 3zun and nieyao, and through the lens of “Jin Guangyao is my blorbo”)

I’ve seen a tendency to paint NMJ and JGY’s relationship in black and white in terms of who was fundamentally more in the right, which to be honest is not really the approach I take to fandom in general. to me the tragedy is that NMJ and JGY before JGY's casting-out had immense respect and perhaps even love (platonic, romantic, whatever) for each other. in the end, a lack of mutual understanding of each others' circumstances that could have otherwise eventually been overcome was driven, by bigotry, Jin Guangshan, and the Nie cultivation style, into becoming an insurmountable difference that eventually killed them both

NMJ definitely Did Not Get where JGY was coming from when JGY was making survival decisions and keeping secrets. he was simply not raised in a way where he ever even had to think about the types of choices that JGY has been forced to make since he was quite young. but at the same time, NMJ was a teenager raising his brother and his sect from a very young age and I think it's a disservice to his character to fail to acknowledge that his entire life he expected to die a young and horrific death, just like he watched his father die, and that this expectation deeply colors his approach to the world. JGY plays the long game. NMJ does not get to think about that, he just has to raise his brother, win a war, and try not to drive his sect into the ground before he kicks the bucket in a violent and gruesome manner. he does not have a choice about any of these things.

and said things are extremely difficult to do, especially as a teenager, which I think is a reflection of MDZS's whole thing where their entire generation is just traumatized by war and conflict and a dearth of genuine, honorable guidance and leadership, which leads to such fractures

but it's also a series of tasks that required the kind of attitude that Nie Mingjue develops, and that in combination with Baxia’s influence gives him this really immovable perspective on life that he just won't budge on with JGY. I think it’s really significant that when Jin Guangyao does regularly play Clarity for NMJ, they get along quite well. and I also think it's really understandable why NMJ is so stubborn and headstrong - he's had to fight his way through being sect leader and not take "no" for an answer, because what the hell else can a young, new leader do to avoid being taken advantage of? frankly even if he had taken up a bit of whatever guile Nie Huaisang didn’t hog from the Nie gene pool... why would he direct it towards self-preservation? he has no room for that kind of fear because he is going to be dead in a few years.

importantly as well, Nie Mingjue unjustly judges Jin Guangyao because he is unable to understand the context that JGY is coming from, but that same righteousness is the reason that he's the first person to have given Meng Yao a fair shake and rewarded his hard work and labor, and that matters a lot to Jin Guangyao and their relationship as a whole. you can’t really have one without the other unless you give Nie Mingjue time to grow up.

unfortunately, Nie Mingjue died his 20s, and was in his teens when the Sunshot Campaign began. look me in the eyes and explain to me what kind of behavior you expect from a 20-something with a magic rage sword.

[painted-bees]

Thinking a little more on the whole "when did Margie and Raf realize they were In A Relationship?" question, and while they'd both struggle to find a definitive moment, I think there was one particular situation that arose to kinda...lock things in for them.

Sometime prior to autumn 2009, Margie was headhunted by Bioware[Edmonton] thanks to the recommendation of an old Orbital Media colleague who was trying to establish/salvage Bioware's beleaguered handheld dev team. Following a promising phone interview, she was asked to make a 30 second demo track as part of the hiring process, and met expectations well enough that she was offered a job as an in-house musician and sound designer. Which also meant that she'd have to move to Edmonton. She had been keeping Raf up to date with this whole thing, mostly because she was too excited to keep it to herself. Raf was hugely supportive and excited -for- her. 'Cus like...he plays games. He even plays Bioware games, so, yanno...very cool. But he had also assumed this was gonna be more of a freelance contract kind of thing. And so, hearing her mention that the company would cover the costs of relocating her to Edmonton comes as a weird surprise. And suddenly, he's having a real hard time being excited for her. He keeps it to himself, 'cus he'd be an asshole not to. He's been really adamant with himself, and with anyone who asks, that he and Margie are just really good, comfortable friends/roommates. But even by this point, he's kinda known and been unwilling to admit to himself that the only reason he hasn't openly recognized their relationship for what it actually is--is because the non-committal ambiguousness provides him a clean way out if he starts feeling cagey/uncomfy about anything. It was an exit door that he liked keeping open incase he needed it. But Margie had seen it differently. To her, it was a door she figured she was gonna have to leave through eventually. Because Raf would inevitably find a more serious partner to settle down with, or he'd be whisked off by some other important venture that she couldn't be a part of. She figured he was leaving that door open because his current situation was a temporary transitional stage in his life that he simply allowed her to be a part of. And so, she's not really torn-up about the prospect of leaving, especially under the circumstances. It presented an easier, more exciting transition than she might have had to face if Raf had 'outgrown' her first.

So, Margie's excited about the new job offer, and Raf's sitting there feeling like he played himself--while being wholly unable/unwilling to tell her "Hey, uh...this sucks, actually, I really don't want you to go." Because that'd require him to admit that he's been lying to himself--which sucks. But more than that, it'd require him to admit that he's been lying to her--only employing honesty as a tool of convenience to dissuade her from going and getting something really good for herself. He can't, he won't. The sudden off-key in his tone, though, doesn't go unnoticed by her, and Margie is perfectly candid about the whole "we'll visit each other, I'll stay in touch--I'm not gonna disappear on you lmao" Except that's not really...how Raf operates. Distance + time does not make this man's paranoid lil' heart grow fonder. There's never been a relationship-friend, family, or otherwise-with enough staying power for Raf to maintain it once they're no longer within physical proximity. Even if he wants to 'keep in touch', it quickly falls off. He's just known...too many people, and been too many places...his brain doesn't have the bandwidth to maintain close relationships when there's a distance. And, after a long enough pause in communication, his paranoid anxieties lift the barrier of entry higher and higher until it's almost insurmountable. People become strangers again. Always. In the end, Bioware did not get to develop any more handheld titles, and the handheld division in Edmonton is dissolved before Margie was even offered a job start date to plan her big move around. And so the whole thing falls apart before it even had the chance to get started lmao. At which point, Raf finally allows himself to be honest and say "thank god, I was fuckin' dreading an empty apartment again." Treats her to a consolatory dinner, and gets to tell her as much as he is able to figure out for himself--that he doesn't really know what he wants, actually--but that things aren't as casual and clean-cut as he thought it was. He still can't bring himself to be like "yes, romantic committed relationship, that's us, that's what we are" but he does at least take measures to establish that he'd really like to take off his shoes, place them on the rack next to hers, and close the door behind him.

[shortpplfedup]

Ayan being a gremlin to Akk: accurate. Akk being pissy with Aye: also accurate. Getting together isn't a personality transplant operation; they just like kissing each other now they haven't become different people. And people also don't magically know how to be in a relationship, communication and compromise is required. We saw pretty much nothing of established-relationship-post-curse Akk and Ayan in the original series, they literally JUST got together. It's been what, a few weeks in-universe? Maybe a couple months max? Now that they're both starting to heal from their life traumas and out of the pressure cooker of the Suppalo situation and Ayan is reasonably confident that Akk isn't going to end it all, now we are seeing the part where they actually figure out how to be in a relationship with each other (well, some of the early calculus).

These two have ZERO clue how to navigate a relationship. Akk's repressed ass couldn't even acknowledge to himself that he had any kind of romantic inclinations towards anybody until basically moments ago. He is just starting to understand his needs in a relationship through his relationship with Ayan, a person he has never felt the need to people-please with, so yeah, he's salty and snapping. As for Ayan, he's learning that Akk isn't this way because of the circumstances or the environment, he's just like this. He cares about everything and everyone while Ayan cares about what and who he cares about and doesn't really give a rip about the rest of it. There is an intersection there, because what and who he cares about is Akk, but they haven't gotten to that intersection yet where they actually understand what the other person is REALLY asking for. Akk wants Ayan to care more and be less standoffish and more engaged. Ayan wants Akk to care less and be more self-protective and less self-sacrificing.

That general approach is also bleeding into the relationship. Akk wants Ayan to be softer with him (like he was when he was worried he was gonna hurt himself) and Ayan wants Akk to be tougher with him (like he was when he was worried he was gonna tear down everything). It's not an insurmountable problem, but it will require them to use their words, absorb the implications and deliberately alter their behaviours.

Akk's people-pleasing (Ayan's gripe is literally that Akk cares too much about others) and Ayan's self-centredness (Akk's gripe is that Ayan considers himself too much and others not enough) are canon. This is literally what brought them into each other's attention in the first place: Ayan doing whatever he wanted and Akk being pissed about it. Add in that Ayan enjoys riling Akk up for horny reasons and Akk softens whenever Ayan gets affectionate with him. Add in that Ayan has seen in 4k the extreme consequences of Akk's people-pleasing (the literal campaign of terror he rained on an entire school, lest we forget), just like Akk has seen the consequences of Ayan's self-centredness (Thua's anger at Ayan's hypocrisy of staying in while pushing others out).

They just like each other. They haven't become different people. And they now have to learn how to communicate and compromise because liking each other means they care about not hurting each other. Which is one of the themes of the special. One of the things @bengiyo says over and over again on @the-conversation-pod is DICK IS NOT MAGICAL IT DOES NOT FIX YOU. It's why we both bonded over loving drama about staying together more than drama about getting together. This is so intriguing to me, watching this play out, because this is the part romances tend to ignore, either because they end before they get here, or they gloss over here with a time skip. As somebody invested in the intricacies of long-term relationships and the compromises people make or don't make along the way, this is working all over for me.

[kyliafanfiction]

Absolutely horrible (but in a possibly fun if done right) fic idea:

Instead of selling out Marquis identity to New Wave, the henchman in question sells him out to Empire 88 (I think there's a mention somewhere in the text of it being one of his goons who sold him out, could be wrong, but this is a fic, so it could just be a part of the AU).

Now, the text of Worm itself - I don't know if Ward sheds any light on this, or if there's a WoG, but you might, by now, know that I feel quite content to ignore those at my leisure anyway - leaves it ambiguous if Marquis actually killed Iron Rain or not. He could have been trying to subtly reach out to Amelia and lying, or it could have really happened.

Regardless, one assumes Allfather (who would have still been around at the time) isn't a fan of Marquis either way, or the lie wouldn't have been believable at all (if it was indeed a lie). Marquis is a tough customer, but given enough force brought to bear, it's plausible E88 could beat him, though perhaps with casualties.

Marquis is hardly going to just surrender to hand Amelia over to them, so assuming he doesn't successfully grab her and run away, he's probably fighting to the death. He dies, Empire 88 now has this little girl.

They could and certainly might just kill her, but it's possible that Allfather (or maybe Kaisar?) has a much crueler idea: Take little Amelia and indoctrinate her as a Nazi. Allfather's two kids had triggered, so E88 is well aware of second gen triggers and all, so she could also be a useful or powerful parahuman for the Empire later too.

If Iron Rain wasn't killed by Marquis, then it's just a great way to get one last dig in on Marquis - raise his daughter as a minion of his Empire. If Iron Rain was killed by Marquis, well, eye for an eye, a daughter for a daughter doesn't have to mean killing the daughter... can just mean having a new daughter.

Eventually Amy would be pretty successfully indoctrinated, one assumes, and by the time she's a teenager and triggers (could do some alternate power for Shaper, could just give her the same powers) she's a believer in E88's ideals. Ideally, since I'm a fan of Amy and would want to see a story where she eventually breaks away from them, she would eventually have cracks in her beliefs (including the whole 'shit, I'm gay' thing, with a different flavor of self-loathing) and the arc of the fic would involve her leaving E88 and unlearning her racist baggage.

Amy isn't blonde haired blued eyed/etc (not that that has stopped IRL brunettes/etc from being Nazis or Neo Nazis) so that's going to be an issue too but presumably not insurmountable. What her personality would be like - beyond racist - is hard to say. Probably still introverted, and I think we'd have a lot of the same second guessing herself that she has in canon pre-Birdcage, but beyond that, you could take it various ways. Maybe a certain degree of overcompensation because she feels a need to prove herself (I'd imagine whoever raises her in E88, she'd be getting a lot of pressure to be 'worthy' of being a member of E88)

Possible further plot thread ideas:

Sibling relationship (genuine, not one messed up with incest crushes) between Theo and Amy, if Kaisar takes Amy in himself.

Public rivalry with Glory Girl (or whatever Vicky's cape name is in this AU)

Due to comedy of errors type events, she ends up being kidnapped by the Undersiders briefly, or something like that. Being at the Bank (or a similar circumstance) during a robbery could be funny because E88 might not want to get involved publicly or risk outing Amy, and Amy has to keep her powers under wraps too, unmasked (whatever they are)

Various scenes of hating herself for being 'a disgusting dyke' when she notices a female cape being attractive mid-fight or something.

Tattletale exploiting the above (played mostly for laughs)

I do love shipping in my fics, so there are possible ship ideas this fic could have: Taylor/Amy is a classic, Vicky/Amy could be possible (depending on how it was done), but of course, any shipping would really need to wait until after she's made sufficient progress breaking away from E88.

[soulkeeper801]

Unfulfilled - Huh Yunjin

Yunjin x f!reader

Angst

Words: 0.8k

"I'm in love with you," you said in a trembling whisper, "you're just too stubborn to see it."

"I can't love you," she replied, a tear rolling down her cheek, "not now."

The weight of her words hung in the air, a heavy cloud of sorrow and regret. The tear that trailed down her cheek mirrored the ache in your chest. You had bared your soul, only to be met with a heartbreaking reality. It wasn't a rejection born out of indifference, but rather, a tragic circumstance that seemed to cast a shadow over any possibility of love.

"What do you mean, 'not now'?" you implored, your voice a mixture of confusion and desperation. The room felt colder, the atmosphere more oppressive as you waited for an explanation that could make sense of the turmoil in your heart.

Yunjin took a deep breath, as if summoning the strength to reveal a painful truth. "There are things going on in my life, things I can't burden you with. The group, the tours, the practices. I'm not in a place to give you the love you deserve, and it wouldn't be fair to either of us."

Her words hit you like a punch to the gut. The realization that circumstances beyond your control were the barrier between the love you felt and the love she couldn't give left you feeling helpless. You wanted to reach out, to comfort her, but the invisible walls she had erected seemed insurmountable.

"I wish it could be different," she continued, her voice now barely above a whisper. "Timing is everything, and right now, the timing isn't in our favor."

A bitter understanding settled in, mingling with the pain in your chest. It wasn't a matter of choice but a cruel twist of fate that kept love just out of reach. The room, once filled with the promise of shared emotions, now echoed with the silence of unfulfilled longing.

"I don't want to lose you," she confessed, her voice breaking the silence. Her eyes, soft pools of uncertainty, locked onto yours, pleading for understanding.

"And I don't want to lose you either," you replied, your voice edged with a mix of determination and desperation. The connection between you felt fragile, and you clung to the hope that your shared emotions could overcome the obstacles in your path.

"But I can't ask you to wait for something uncertain," she continued, a furrow forming on her brow as she struggled to convey the depth of her internal conflict.

"Uncertain or not, I'm willing to wait," you asserted, your heart pounding against the walls of your chest. The room seemed to close in, suffocating the air between you as the weight of the conversation intensified.

She reached out, her fingers grazing yours in a bittersweet caress. "You deserve more than that," she insisted, her touch a painful reminder of the intimacy you craved but couldn't fully embrace.

"I deserve a chance with you," you countered, the ache in your chest translating into a defiant resolve. The echo of unfulfilled love reverberated in the space between your words, each syllable a plea for a future that seemed elusive.

A heavy sigh escaped her lips as she withdrew her hand, the physical distance emphasizing the emotional gap that loomed between you. "I wish it were that simple," she admitted, her gaze dropping to the floor as if unable to meet the intensity of your conviction.

"It doesn't have to be complicated," you urged, desperation seeping into your tone. "We can face whatever comes together."

She hesitated, caught in the struggle between her desire for you and the harsh reality she couldn't escape. "I don't want to be the reason you risk everything you've worked for," she confessed, her vulnerability laid bare. "You deserve the chance to chase your own dreams."

As the truth of her words sank in, you felt a surge of conflicting emotions. A part of you wanted to fight against the circumstances, to defy the odds and claim the love you believed was worth waiting for. Yet, another part acknowledged the wisdom in her words, recognizing that sometimes love alone couldn't conquer the complexities of life.

She reached out, brushing a strand of hair from your face, and you couldn't help but lean into the touch, craving her warmth even in the face of heartbreak.

"Promise me you'll be happy," she whispered, her voice cracking with emotion.

"I can't promise that," you replied honestly, a tear escaping your eye. "But I can promise that a piece of my heart will always belong to you."

With that, she stepped away, leaving you standing in the wreckage of a broken heart. The echoes of her footsteps faded, leaving you alone with the weight of unspoken words and the ache of a love that, for now, remained suspended in the realm of what could have been.

[reasonsmandy]

Rare Things

Sam Claflin x Fem!Reader

✧.* requested by anon — Maybe something where reader and Sam knew each other for years (like right person wrong time) and then they finally start dating

✧.* summary — The paths of destiny are traced in different and curious ways, pieces that couldn't connect at certain times in the future would fall into place. Sam and you were pieces of fate about to meet again.

✧.* warnings — none

✧.* word count — 2.2k

✧.* ☁️ — Sam Claflin's Masterlist

There were several things about your work that amazed you, the way you were able to architect the writers' ideas, harmonize the actors' chemistry, bring the writing to life in front of the studio camera lens and provide a magnificent work of entertainment for the audience. You've always loved directing works since you entered the theater universe, there was a connection backstage where magic was created that you always felt like you belonged and that's when you decided to architect your career.

It didn't take you long to grow in the middle, of course things weren't handed to you on a platter, but with the sweat and talent you've been developing since you were very young, the steps were taken to where you are now. On your way here, you had already worked on some big projects, and that's when you met Sam Claflin.

You were relatively young when you first met, and from the very beginning, there was an undeniable connection between you. Your hearts synchronized effortlessly, causing palpable excitement in your chest every time he was near. His smile held a magnetic charm, capable of illuminating even the darkest of moments, and his infectious laughter made you feel an instant sense of belonging by his side. When his gaze met yours, the entire world faded away, leaving only the two of you in a timeless bubble of affection.

But despite the deep bond you shared, the path of your love was not without obstacles. You both tried to navigate the complexities of a romantic relationship, eagerly embracing the love that blossomed between you. However, as time went on, it became apparent that a formidable challenge loomed over your connection—geographical distance.

Sam, you see, had other recordings in a faraway country, a responsibility that demanded his presence in a distant land. The physical separation took its toll, stretching the limits of your love and testing its resilience. The enchanting power of Sam's smile and the laughter that once echoed through your shared moments now seemed distant, like faint echoes from a place you could no longer reach.

The voice inside Sam, which had once proclaimed that there was no one who could compare to you, now grew quieter, suppressed by the weight of the distance between you. The inexplicable connection you once shared began to fade, like a whisper carried away by the wind, as the physical space between you expanded.

Though your hearts ached for each other, the universe seemed determined to keep you apart. The jolt of electricity that surged through your veins when your hands touched was now overshadowed by the vast expanse of the world that separated you. The warmth of Sam's embrace, once a sanctuary, now felt out of reach, leaving an ache in your heart that couldn't be eased.

You both fought valiantly to keep the flame of your love alive, attempting to bridge the distance with late-night calls, heartfelt messages, and promises of reunion. But the strain grew too heavy, and the burden of distance proved insurmountable. Despite the love that still lingered, the circumstances forced you to make a painful decision.

And so, with heavy hearts, you realized that the physical separation had taken its toll, placing an unrelenting strain on the fragile threads that held your love together. You chose to part ways, knowing that it was the only way to preserve what remained of your hearts.

It hadn't been a breakup due to fights, or very drastic disagreements, but aiming at the good of both of you, a way of understanding that even though you loved each other, it was necessary to let destiny trace its paths. And it took a while, but it happened.

When you received the script for Daisy Jones and the six you were delighted with the project and the idea of the adaptation finally, you had already read Taylor Jenkins Reid's books and were a big fan of her work so you jumped right on the idea. When you guys started working on the casting and testing the connection between the actors it took a long time to find the ideal actor for Billy Dunne, and when you saw that well-known figure walk through the audition door your heart skipped a beat just like the first time.

There he was, his short hair, that characteristic smile that captivated everyone in that room, you try to maintain your serenity but lose all your posture when those eyes link to yours. He looks surprised to see you but tries to contain it, you can tell by the way his eyebrows come together so discreetly that it's a detail that probably only you noticed. It doesn't take long for Riley to join you and spend the monologue with Claflin, watching him perform has always been and always will be a privilege, the way he embodies the character wonderfully makes anyone stop what they're doing just to see him.

By the time he finished you knew you had the perfect Billy Dunne.

…

When you started to live together again on set, you knew that there wouldn't be a rancorous past between you, quite the contrary, it was as if you slowly allowed yourselves to get closer as before. Sam always admired your work a lot, for him it was sensational to work with you and let his character be guided on screen by your instructions and scene reading. You guys were quite a team and that conviviality soon reminded you of why you felt so connected to him.

You feared that it was something in your head for a moment, that you had identified something that was no longer there, that your memories were so vivid when you looked at him that it was difficult to distinguish if it was your delirium. After all, he was always close to everyone at work, wasn't he? It was common for everyone on set to feel that connection... Right?

Deep down you knew it wasn't, that despite not believing in the mysticism that surrounded all the romantic stories out there, he made you think that there was indeed an invisible thread tying your souls. He made you think about the unimaginable just by hovering over any thought where you could be together, and whether or not you fed those possibilities... Yearning to be with him as you already were.

…

During one of the breaks in the recording, you found yourselves alone, away from the bustling set, immersed in a moment of solitude. The air hung with a sense of familiarity, as if time had momentarily transported you back to the days when your connection was at its peak. Sam watched you from time to time while he threw some small pebbles on the ground, and you felt butterflies in your stomach with his gaze on you.

As you and Sam sat together, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips, you couldn't help but feel a rush of nostalgia. The memories flooded back, and you began to share stories from the day and eventually you couldn't help but bring up the past, the words flowing freely between you.

"You remember that time when we got stuck in that small town during shooting?" you asked, a glint of excitement in your eyes.

Sam chuckled, his voice tinged with fondness. "Of course I do! We thought it would be a disaster, but it turned out to be one of the most memorable nights. Everything cooperated so that we didn't lose the week of work, but that we had some challenges I won't deny."

The laughter that had once filled the air returned, weaving through your conversation like a symphony of joy. It was as if the barriers that had kept you apart had crumbled, leaving only the raw essence of your bond.

With each shared memory, a cascade of emotions washed over you. The anecdotes flowed effortlessly, punctuated by genuine laughter and shared glances that spoke volumes.

"You always had a way of making even the most mundane moments unforgettable," Sam remarked, a hint of admiration in his voice, his comment made your heart skip a beat. "I cherished every second we spent together."

You couldn't help but smile, your heart swelling with warmth. "You don't stay behind one bit, with your incredible ability to bring out the best in everyone. Your unwavering support and belief in my work meant the world to me."

As you spoke, the walls that had guarded your hearts seemed to dissolve, allowing vulnerability to seep in. There was a comfort in knowing that you could trust each other with the depths of your emotions, that your connection had withstood the test of time.

In that moment of vulnerability, the invisible thread that bound your souls seemed to grow stronger. It was as if the universe had conspired to bring you together, to give you a chance to relive the moments that had once set your hearts ablaze.

The conversation danced between nostalgia and hope, threading together fragments of the past with the possibility of a future that had yet to be written. The yearning in your voices, the warmth in your gazes, all conveyed an unspoken desire to reclaim what had been lost, to rewrite the story of your love.

"I've missed this, you know," Sam confessed, his voice filled with a mix of longing and regret. "The ease I have with you, where I know I can share all my thoughts, the way we understand each other without saying a word. It's a connection unlike any other."

Your eyes met, and the unspoken words hung heavy in the air. The depth of your bond was palpable, and in that stolen moment, surrounded by the echoes of memories, you found solace in each other's presence.

You take a deep breath, looking deep into his eyes that seem to pull you into that paradise. "I hope you don't think I'm crazy for what I'm going to say..." You laugh, looking away to the horizon. “I could search far and wide but no one could ever make me feel the way you do. It’s always you, and I think it will always be you.”

He opens a small smile, his hands go to your cheek and he makes you look at him again you feel that no matter what happens, those eyes that make you lose yourself are your way back. You can't contain the laugh that comes out of your mouth, stroking his hand over your face.

“I think we’re one of those rare things deserving of a second chance.” You whisper with a small smile.

"We are one thing, for sure." He slowly approaches you and you anxiously want him to break that distance soon. “I wanna make us work again, if you’re willing.”

“God, of course I’m willing.” His smile was wide and he shifted his gaze to her lips as a silent question. "Can I?"

"Please" You say, getting closer to him.

As Sam's lips meet yours, a wave of emotions surges through your being. It's a kiss filled with longing, the culmination of years spent apart and the hope for a future together. The world around you fades into insignificance as the intensity of your connection envelops you both.

His touch is tender yet passionate, his hands cradling your face, as if trying to imprint every sensation onto his memory. The taste of his lips is familiar, a bittersweet reminder of what you had once shared and what you now have the chance to reclaim.

In that single moment, time seems to stand still. The gentle breeze carries the soft sighs of two souls finding solace in each other's arms. The warmth of the sun caresses your skin, mirroring the warmth that blossoms within your hearts.

It's a kiss that speaks volumes—a testament to the unbreakable bond between you. With each brush of his lips against yours, the weight of the past lifts, replaced by a renewed sense of hope and possibility. The electricity that courses through your veins is a testament to the undeniable chemistry that exists between you, reignited in this tender embrace.

The world around you blurs, and it's just the two of you, locked in a timeless moment of pure love and longing. The kiss deepens, fueled by the unspoken promise of a second chance, a commitment to make things work this time around.

As you finally break apart, breathless and smiling, your eyes meet, and it's as if a universe of unspoken promises lies within that gaze. You know that this kiss is just the beginning—a rekindling of a love story that never truly ended but was simply waiting for the right moment to be rewritten.

In this stolen moment, the power of your connection is reaffirmed. And as you hold each other, your hearts beating in synchrony, you know that together you can overcome any obstacle that may come your way, for your love is stronger than the distance and stronger than the challenges that once stood between you.

This kiss, filled with hope and the promise of a future, becomes a symbol of your commitment to one another, a beacon guiding you towards a love that is meant to be, a love that will endure.

...

Hi, I hope you enjoyed it... If you wanted to ask for something my requests are open, and if you want to ask and don't have any ideas check out my prompt list :) xoxo

Want to be tagged when new stories come out? REASONSMANDY'S TAG LIST

[theheirofthesharingan]

I think Itachi should have fled with little Sasuke and let hell break loose in the village between the Uchiha and Konoha. I am not blaming him, I know he would not want such a future for Sasuke and I understand traumatized children have a right to make wrong decisions. I just think he deserved that, to scape a responsibility that was way too big for child, just leave everything for the adults to solve, as it should have been from the beginning. I just like to think in the what ifs. If he could have been really there for Sasuke always. If he had been able to train him, to finally spend time with him freely. If he got the chance to be honest and transparent for once in his life. If he had been free from guilt and atrocious memories. If their bond as brothers would have never been broken...

Itachi was a character whose fate was decided before he was even born. He existed to live for others and then die for Sasuke. He was never transparent to himself, let alone with Sasuke. For him to snap and then leave on impulse, for Sasuke's sake alone, he would have to live a completely different life. In the circumstances he grew up he thought it was his responsibility to stop things from getting worse.

Repeatedly, he was placed in the situations that demanded he acted in a particular way, so the things that were bound to have terrible consequences would not take place. It meant smaller damage, less casualties, and his worst fears not coming true.

Just in case he did leave with Sasuke, he would still not be guilt-free, because coup would happen, Danzo and his henchmen would not spare anyone. While Itachi (with Obito's help) killed everyone quietly, Danzo and his men would have a hard time keeping it a secret. Dissenters of the Hokage might side with the Uchiha, the rest would go against them, and it would be chaos everywhere. Whether war broke out or not, Uchiha clan's honour would forever be tarnished.

Naruto is loosely set in Feudal Japan, in the era of warriors that valued honour more than anything. Loss of life was nothing compared to the loss of honour. In that case, Uchiha would always be remembered as the clan that went against the village and be blamed for treason. Since Obito was involved too (he attacked the village unprovoked when Naruto was born) he would have taken advantage of the situation as well. If we go by his own words in manga he was waiting for an opportunity to start a war (why else was he sneaking into the village?) and if we go by the novels as well, he was also involved in plotting the coup and manipulating Yashiro Uchiha. No way he would sit quietly in case things got out of hand.

Eventually, it would all come to Itachi and his conscience - that he could have stopped things from getting this bad. Everything he did in canon would happen in this timeline as well, with the addition of Sasuke being their target along with Itachi, and Sasuke growing up isolated from civilization with no one to look after him in case Itachi wasn't around or died.

By taking the burden of the massacre on himself, he remained the only bad guy in the picture. The clan was immortalised and remained honourable, Sasuke was safe and alive, war didn't happen. Heck, even Obito would have been remembered as a hero if he didn't start the war. It still came down to Itachi and his conscience because, while he hoped for the smaller damage, the damage he caused was still enough for him to never have a normal life again.

I've always thought that his illness symbolized his insurmountable guilt. And since it's never made clear what disease he was suffering from, in my head, I believe it's the 'heartbreak syndrome'. When emotional trauma becomes too much it weakens your heart muscles. Although one can recover from it, but when you're living in the kind of guilt that he lived, treatment would be futile.

Itachi never had a chance at living a normal life or be there for Sasuke, no matter how much he wanted to.

[mimisempai]

Just a little hesitation

Summary

Sitting side by side on the sofa, Aziraphale is aware of Crowley's hand close to his own. He doesn't know why, but even though they've held hands so many times before, the few millimeters that separate their hands now seem like an insurmountable obstacle.

Notes

Centuries of self-denial leave their mark...

Day 25 : Holding Hands

On Ao3

Rating G -  1352 words

Aziraphale placed his cup of tea on the coffee table next to the plate of Eccles cakes before leaning back on the sofa and listening to Crowley, seated next to him, recount his latest session at the planetarium.

But the angel soon found it hard to concentrate on the demon's words when he was acutely aware of his hand next to his on the sofa between them. All he had to do was move his little finger a millimeter or two and their hands would touch. They were so close that the angel could feel the warmth emanating from Crowley's hand.

They often held hands, touched and kissed, and yet sometimes, as now, Aziraphale felt a kind of shyness. 

As if something was preventing him from making the simple little move that would allow him to touch Crowley.

But everything was different now.

So why the hesitation?

He no longer needed an excuse, a pretext, or an opportunity to touch Crowley.

All the times he'd had the opportunity, merely because circumstances had allowed it.

As the years went by and his encounters with Crowley became more frequent, the need to touch became stronger and stronger. 

They entered the crowded pub and Crowley exclaimed, "Oh, we're going to the pub! You never go to the pub!"

Aziraphale replied a little annoyed, "We're in the pub now. "

They were forced to stop as the crowd near the bar grew denser and Crowley asked, "What's wrong with the Coffee Shop?" 

Aziraphale looked around for a free table or a way to clear one and replied, "Well, that is precisely the point."

A young woman passed in front of them, prompting him to turn to the demon, place his hand on his chest as he asked, "Sherry for me, please, a large one."  

His hand slid down the demon's body and he moved away to the spot he'd just freed.

It would have been a light, innocuous touch had Aziraphale's hand not lingered longer than necessary, had it truly been provoked by the movement of the crowd. But even though he'd spent years lying to himself, he couldn't do that anymore, and there had been nothing casual about the hand he'd placed on Crowley's chest that day.

"Hell has sent demons. They are milling about outside, they want Gabriel."

Aziraphale could hear Crowley's words, but the exhilaration of dancing with him was far too great at the moment for the words to really sink in. 

As his body moved through the motions of the dance, he replied calmly and confidently, "We're perfectly safe in here. Technically, this bookshop still counts as an embassy." 

They raised their hands in sync, and as Crowley continued his tirade and Aziraphale responded, he couldn't help but feel excited just because their hands were touching, palm to palm, Crowley's fingers curling around his. The demon probably didn't notice, but for Aziraphale it was all he could think about. 

Until he was forced to, for Hell and Heaven never slept.

Reality had forced him to put all these thoughts to the back of his mind. But now Aziraphale realized how much that simple touch, which had been dictated by the dance, had once again been something far from casual and had left an impression on him. 

Accused by Shax, Beelzebub replied with determination and unexpected gentleness, "I didn't collaborate with Heaven any more than Gabriel collaborated with Hell. I simply found something that mattered more to me than choosing sides."

Then Gabriel smiled in a way Aziraphale had never seen him smile before, and while some raved and others made disapproving noises, the hands of the ex-Supreme Archangel and the ex-Duke of Hell intertwined.

Seeing this, feeling their love, Aziraphale couldn't resist the impulse to move closer to Crowley and put his hand on his arm. This time there was no excuse from the crowd or the dance. His body had acted on pure instinct, responding to a need that had been rooted in him for so long he couldn't tell. 

He was barely aware of the turmoil around him, the angels threatening Maggie and Nina, only the loss of contact as Crowley stepped aside to protect the two women. Aziraphale's hand reached out to the demon, trying to reconnect, but the moment of grace was over and the angel slowly returned to reality.

And what a reality it had been.

Fortunately, this reality was quite different now. As he contemplated all of this, his eyes were fixed on their two hands so close to each other. 

Realizing he didn't have to hesitate, he slid his hand over Crowley's. The demon's fingers spread, leaving a space for the angel's to slip through. 

"Took you long enough to make up your mind, Angel."

Aziraphale lifted his head sharply to see that Crowley was looking at him kindly, and realized that, lost in thought, he had completely forgotten that the demon was speaking.

He apologized sheepishly and the demon chuckled softly, "I saw I'd lost you on the way. What was going through your mind? You were staring at our hands, all sorts of emotions crossing your face."

As he spoke, his hand had turned against Aziraphale's and their fingers intertwined.

At that moment, the angel realized what was different now.

He knew his touches were being accepted, received, and returned. 

He rested his head on the demon's shoulder and said softly, "You'd think that now that we're together, everything would be so much easier, almost normal, and it should be, considering what we are to each other. Just like any other couple. And yet sometimes, like now, just taking your hand in mine seemed like something impossible for a brief moment, it's weird, isn't it?"

Crowley leaned his head against the angel's and replied softly, "Not so weird when you think about it, Angel. We've only been together as a couple for a short time compared to how long we've known each other. We've spent years, centuries, denying ourselves so many things that it takes time for some of them to become as innocuous as they are for most people. And that's okay, Angel. There's no time limit, no plan, no list to check off, as long as you do what you feel like doing. At worst, I'll say no. But I really don't think you need to worry about that."

The demon squeezed his hand in his own and cupped the angel's chin with his other hand, lifting his face to his own before moving closer.

He murmured softly against the angel's lips, "Like now, you can refuse if you don't want me to continue."

Aziraphale chuckled softly, "Oh, but I absolutely want you to go on, my dear, and besides, if you don't do it right now, it's me who..."

He didn't have time to finish his sentence because the demon had pressed his lips to his and was kissing him tenderly.

The kiss lingered, their lips parting only to catch their breath, giving and receiving in an endless exchange.

A little later, as Aziraphale snuggled up to the demon, he had his hand in his, playing with his fingers before intertwining them.

He murmured, "So easy."

Crowley kissed his hair and replied, "The next time you hesitate, just think of this moment and maybe it'll be that easy. And if it's not, just say the words and I'll meet you halfway. That's also what being a group of two is about."

Aziraphale brought their entwined hands to his lips and pressed his lips to them before saying softly, "You're right, my dear."

Crowley replied cheekily, "That must have hurt to say, didn't it?"

"I don't like that side of you," the angel replied sulkily.

"Oh, come on, you love me, Angel."

Aziraphale sighed, "I can't deny it."

Then he straightened up a bit and brought his lips close to Crowley's face, continuing, "And I don't want to deny it," then he pressed his lips to the demon's in a kiss that showed him how much he loved him.

He didn't hesitate for a second.

Because sometimes it was that easy.

_________

Still not beta'd

Still not my native language

Still hoping you'll enjoy this story  🥰

Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝

Ineffable Growing Love series : here (After season 2)

Ineffable Husbands masterlist : here (Before season 2)