#who you KNOW has never been on a deep space mission before. never been home away for so long

[g0at0ad]

biting clawing screaming crying desperate for more content about the lovely terrible mother-son relationship between Janeway and Kim. it's SO unhealthy I love it

[makingqueerhistory]

Queer Book Recommendations

Every once in a while I like sharing some queer book recommendations on here as I read a lot and I get requests to share some of the books I love, so here we go! 

Tell Me I'm Worthless: Three years ago, Alice spent one night in an abandoned house with her friends Ila and Hannah. Since then, things have not been going well. Alice is living a haunted existence, selling videos of herself cleaning for money, going to parties she hates, drinking herself to sleep. She hasn’t spoken to Ila since they went into the House. She hasn’t seen Hannah either.

Our Wives Under The Sea: Miri thinks she has got her wife back, when Leah finally returns after a deep sea mission that ended in catastrophe. It soon becomes clear, though, that Leah may have come back wrong. Whatever happened in that vessel, whatever it was they were supposed to be studying before they were stranded on the ocean floor, Leah has carried part of it with her, onto dry land and into their home. 

You Made a Fool of Death with Your Beauty: Feyi Adekola wants to learn how to be alive again.It’s been five years since the accident that killed the love of her life and she’s almost a new person now—an artist with her own studio, and sharing a brownstone apartment with her ride-or-die best friend, Joy, who insists it’s time for Feyi to ease back into the dating scene. Feyi isn’t ready for anything serious, but a steamy encounter at a rooftop party cascades into a whirlwind summer she could have never imagined: a luxury trip to a tropical island, decadent meals in the glamorous home of a celebrity chef, and a major curator who wants to launch her art career.

Silver Under Nightfall: Remy Pendergast is many things: the only son of the Duke of Valenbonne (though his father might wish otherwise), an elite bounty hunter of rogue vampires, and an outcast among his fellow Reapers. His mother was the subject of gossip even before she eloped with a vampire, giving rise to the rumors that Remy is half-vampire himself. Though the kingdom of Aluria barely tolerates him, Remy’s father has been shaping him into a weapon to fight for the kingdom at any cost.

Disintegrate/Dissociate: In her powerful debut collection of poetry, Arielle Twist unravels the complexities of human relationships after death and metamorphosis. In these spare yet powerful poems, she explores, with both rage and tenderness, the parameters of grief, trauma, displacement, and identity. Weaving together a past made murky by uncertainty and a present which exists in multitudes, Arielle Twist poetically navigates through what it means to be an Indigenous trans woman, discovering the possibilities of a hopeful future and a transcendent, beautiful path to regaining softness. 

The Perks of Loving a Wallflower: As a master of disguise, Thomasina Wynchester can be a polite young lady—or a bawdy old man. She’ll do whatever it takes to solve the cases her family takes on. But when Tommy’s beautiful new client turns out to be the highborn lady she’s secretly smitten with, more than her mission is at stake . . . 

It Came from the Closet: Queer Reflections on Horror: Horror movies hold a complicated space in the hearts of the queer community: historically misogynist, and often homo- and transphobic, the genre has also been inadvertently feminist and open to subversive readings. Common tropes—such as the circumspect and resilient “final girl,” body possession, costumed villains, secret identities, and things that lurk in the closet—spark moments of eerie familiarity and affective connection. Still, viewers often remain tasked with reading themselves into beloved films, seeking out characters and set pieces that speak to, mirror, and parallel the unique ways queerness encounters the world. 

Refusing Compulsory Sexuality: A Black Asexual Lens on Our Sex-Obsessed Culture: Everything you know about sex and asexuality is (probably) wrong. The notion that everyone wants sex–and that we all have to have it–is false. It’s intertwined with our ideas about capitalism, race, gender, and queerness. And it impacts the most marginalized among us. For asexual folks, it means that ace and A-spec identity is often defined by a queerness that’s not queer enough, seen through a lens of perceived lack: lack of pleasure, connection, joy, maturity, and even humanity.

[thefallennightmare]

Arranged-one

Pairings: Mob!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: language, smut, angst, fluff, mentions of death.

Summary: Reader would do anything to make her parents happy and that included agreeing to an arranged marriage. She never expected it to be to one of New York's most feared Mob Boss: Bucky Barnes. He is anything but loving towards Reader however when her parents are mysteriously killed, Bucky makes it his mission to find out who were at fault. And in the process, ends up coming close to losing Reader.

Authors Note: here we go! This is my first time at a mob boss au so let's hope you all like it! Tags for this will be open, just shoot me a message or comment if you're interested!

Arranged Masterlist

I sighed while looking up at the large mansion in front of me, bags placed neatly behind me. The driver gave me a curt nod and with a smile of thanks, I saw him on his way before looking back at the mansion; my new home. 

Anger radiated throughout my insides when I thought of the reason why I was in this mess in the first place. 

My parents. I loved them to death, they would do anything for me and I for them. 

I was to be married off and not to any regular man. In a week's time, I was going to be married to New York’s highest feared mob boss. Confusion filled me at first when I couldn’t quite understand why they thought this was a great idea but deep down I knew why they did it. They wanted the best for me, to be set up for the rest of my life and not have to worry about anything. Which is exactly why they set up this arrangement. 

With a soft sigh, I ascended the staircase up to the front door and softly knocked, the nerves attacking me. I bounced on the soles of my heels as I waited. 

The door opened, revealing a small, older lady who had a confused expression. “Can I help you?” 

I nodded. “Uh, hi. My name is Y/N Y/L/N, I believe Mr.-.”

Her eyes lit up while furiously nodding. “Yes, come in.”

With a smile, I went to drag my bags inside but she waved me off. “Don’t you worry about that. I’ll have someone grab that and bring it to your room.” 

She motioned for me to follow her inside and that’s when I took in my new home. A large grand staircase twisted and turned upstairs, and one hallway to my right and another towards the left. 

“I’m Barb. I’m here for whatever you need,” the older lady smiled. 

My own matched hers. “Thank you, Barb.” 

“So,” she motioned to the hallway on my left. “If you go down that hallway you’ll find the rest of the house; kitchen, living area, gym, a couple bathrooms, and the laundry room.” 

She then pointed to the hallway on my right. “Down here is an empty room that’s been used for storage and his office. He doesn’t like to be bothered unless it’s an emergency. A good rule to live by: Door open means come in, door cracked means ask, door closed means turn your back and walk away.” 

I quirked a brow. “You know from experience?” 

“I’ve been taking care of this house and him for the last 10 years. A little piece of advice?” 

When I nodded, Barb continued. “He may come off as an asshole sometimes but he really is a sweet loving man.” 

Her words warmed my heart. I had heard rumors about him, everyone has. They weren’t positive ones either. There was a reason why he was the worst feared mob boss of New York. 

“Upstairs is where the bedrooms are,” She motioned for me to follow, which I did. 

Once we reached the top of the stairs she nodded towards two closed doors. “The door on the left is the master bedroom and that one across the hall is yours.” 

“Wait, we’re not sharing a room?” I questioned. 

Barb shook her head. “He doesn’t want to pressure you. He already knows that you weren’t too fond of this arrangement so he wanted you to have your own space  until you’re ready to stay with him.” 

I could only nod, not sure what to say exactly, so Barb opened my bedroom door allowing me to step inside. 

The room wasn’t anything special, I mean it was the size of my old apartment so the extra space was nice and the bathroom was breathtaking with the large tub facing the large open fields behind the home. But what caught my attention was the large bouquet of roses on the bedside table and a gorgeous floor length black dress lay on the edge of the bed with a note. 

Dinner tonight. I’ll meet you at the bottom of the stairs at seven. 

B.B.

“Where is he anyway?” I asked Barb while shedding off my coat, letting it drop onto my bed. 

“In a meeting but should be finishing up soon. Feel free to have a look around and make yourself at home. Just make sure to check his-.” 

“Check his door before entering,” I finished Barb’s sentence with a smile. 

Barb waved goodbye, letting me be by myself to settle in. However, just as I was about to call after her for my bags, a large blonde walked into my room and placed all of my things in the doorway. 

I knew in the way that the muscles in his back and arms flexed that carrying all of my things didn’t bother him. He stood tall before a smile peaked out from underneath his beard and he slicked back his long blonde hair out of his face. He was dressed in a light blue dress shirt and dark dress pants, the shirt bringing out the blueness of his eyes. 

He definitely had to work for him. 

“That should be everything.” 

I nodded at him. “Yeah, thank you, uh-.”

“Steve Rogers. But you can call me Steve,” he extended his hands. 

Hesitantly I placed my own in his and with his size, I was shocked at how soft his grip was; almost as if he was afraid. Our hands lingered together for a few more beats before he dropped his hand away and stuffed them into the pockets of his pants. 

“Do you need anything?” Steve asked. 

“I think I’m good, thank you.” I gave him a smile. 

“Of course but if you do, let me know. I’ve been assigned to you.” 

I squinted my eyes at him. “Assigned?” 

“Your bodyguard. You’re not allowed to go anywhere without me,” Steve informed.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I cursed, suddenly feeling the anger that was dormant since before I walked into this house. 

“I don’t need a babysitter.” 

Steve hesitantly nodded. “I understand but he insists.”

Not saying another word, I pushed past Steve and sprinted down the stairs towards the office, not caring to look to see what his door was like. I may have agreed to this marriage, reluctantly, but I did not agree to have a babysitter and be followed around everywhere I went. I needed to have some rules in this arrangement. 

Thankfully the door to his office was cracked but I didn’t bother to ask if I could come in. 

“You’ve got some fucking nerve,” I seethed as I entered. 

He was in the middle of sitting on his green velvet couch and crossed his leg over his other knee. Even underneath his smirk, I knew he was upset about my barging in. I was so angry about this that I didn’t even notice how breathtaking he looked under the faint light that emanated from the lamps next to his couch. But then once the anger dissipated slightly, my gaze fell onto his left arm as he ran a hand over the stubble on his chin and an audible gasp fell through my lips when I realized that the biggest rumor about him was true. The light brushed off the metal, his fingers poking out of the sweater he was wearing.

“Sit,” he pointed to the chair across from him. 

I stood my ground while crossing my arms over my chest. “I don’t need a fucking baby sitter, Barnes.” 

“Call me Bucky.” 

I wanted to wipe the smug smirk off of his face. 

“I can take care of myself,” I stated flatly. 

“I’m sure you can but given my reputation, I think it’s best. Steve’s one of my best men, he’s worked for me since the beginning. I trust him.” 

My soon to be husband leaned back into his couch, resting the different arm across the back of it. If he noticed me staring, he made no comment about it, only nodded to the chair across from him once again. 

I ignored him, yet again. 

“Next time you make a decision about me or how I’m going to live around here, run it by me first alright?” I suggested. 

Bucky’s eyes turned dark. “You do know who you’re talking to, right?” 

I scoffed. “I don’t give a fuck who you are, James Buchanan Barnes. The only reason why I’m here is because of my parents and their wishes.” 

We were interrupted by a knock to the door, a group of men clutching briefcases close to them. 

“I thought our meeting was scheduled for four,” one of them said. 

These men screamed ‘sketchy’ and knew whatever kind of meeting they were about to have was going to be one that I shouldn’t be around for. 

Bucky nodded. “We were just finishing up here.” 

He then turned his attention towards me. “We can finish this discussion during dinner.” 

“Consider this conversation over,” I muttered while storming out of the room, letting the door slam behind me.

[snoozepotato]

We’ll Be Fine -14- (Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x f!Reader)

Disclaimer: I do NOT own the original source material or any of its characters.

she/her pronouns + female anatomy

Category: slice of life, slow burn, mutual pining

Warnings: 18+, SMUT, swearing, eye contact, p-in-v sex, unprotected sex, over-stimulation, multi-orgasm, creampie, soft Ghost, anxiety, scars, tattoos, fluff

Masterlist

Summary: Ghost shows up at your room late at night, he just got back and has been gone longer than expected. You missed him a lot and things get out of hand (≖ᴗ≖)

Part 14

~UNDONE~

You’ve been trying your best to keep the negative thoughts at bay, it's not abnormal for missions to take longer than expected. But Ghost's vague estimate of a few weeks left you unsettled, even more so as time started to pass. A few weeks had turned into a few months, as life slogged by on base around you. Keeping yourself weighed down with busy work while your mind drifts.

Things take time, hell, you know that from experience. Even so, you’ve been worried about him, it's started affecting your already inconsistent sleep schedule. And dammit, you missed having tea with him in the morning!

You'd been brooding in your room since completing your work for the day, curled up in bed wearing Ghost’s hoodie. You're thankful he never asked for it back, in moments like these it was one of the only things that kept you grounded. Snuggling into the garment and taking a deep breath. It's been a while but somehow his scent still lingers in the fabric, or maybe it’s just some wishful thinking on your part.

Fuck, you're a wreck…

A sudden knocking on your door startles you from your position on the bed. Staring perplexed, why would someone be here this late? There's a sudden spark of fear that shoots through you, with the odd hour, what if it's bad news? You're frozen there for a moment, feet dangling off the edge of the mattress. Anxiety sitting cold in your gut as you just stare blankly through the darkness.

Until another knock erupts from the other side of the barrier, louder this time. You spring from the bed, the fear overtaken by curiosity. Whoever it is better have a good reason for waking you… Well, you technically weren't asleep, but you should be. You hastily unlock the door to peek your head out, only to be greeted by a broad chest.

There in your doorway, looking a little worse for wear is Ghost.

You're struck by the view of him standing there clad in that worn mask with the skull face plate. You've seen him wearing it on more than a few occasions, usually when he's on his way off base for work. It's rather intimidating, you're sure it serves its purpose out in the field. But if you're being completely honest, it's always left you feeling a little heated.

“You’re home,” dazed words escape you, feeling foolish at your choice of phrasing.

“Did I wake you?” He's grasping the door frame with a gloved hand, peering down at you with mild concern. Did he strip his gear off and immediately come looking for you? When did he even get back?

“No, I couldn't sleep… You can sit down,” you mutter, turning on the light and motioning him in. Taking one last glance out into the vacant hallway before closing the entry after him. Leaving you alone in the quiet of your room with Ghost, who's stripped off his jacket and taken a seat at your desk chair. Your frazzled mind is racing while you try to keep your rapidly slipping composure. The space grows quieter by the moment as he sits there staring at the ground between you.

“Everything ok?” You ask, but his mind is somewhere else, “Simon?” Stepping forward you stand in front of his seated form. The sound of his name coaxes his gaze up to meet yours, and fire erupts in his dark eyes.

“I’m fine,” he mutters.

“I was worried about you,” the words fumble from your lips as you take another step forward to stand between his widened legs.

“That why you're moping about your room… In my clothes?” He's smirking beneath the fabric of the mask, very obviously taking in your form before him. You can’t help but feel naked under his heavy gaze despite the oversized garment.

Observing wordlessly as he removes his gloves, and rests a now bare appendage at the hem of the sweatshirt. Your eyes are locked, as he searches for any sign of hesitation. Caressing the delicate skin of your thigh before trailing up to halt at the waistband of your shorts. Heartbeat hammering away in your chest as he dips a finger beneath the thin fabric. Dragging it down till the garment slips, pooling at your feet. A shaky breath escapes you as his lingering touch skims back up your leg to rest on your bare hip.

“Nothin' under those, you waiting up for me?” He murmurs darkly, eyes burning into yours.

“I missed you,” the words slip out as he lazily pulls you down to settle into his lap without resistance.

You reach out to caress the side of his face, thumb brushing over the rigid material of the weathered mask. He's watching you, curiously eyes meeting yours. Embarrassment creeps in as he catches your dreamy stare. Looking away with blushed cheeks and shifting restlessly.

“You seem to like this one,” he coaxes, tugging you further against him, putting an end to your weak attempt at retreat.

“I never said that,” you mutter defensively, caught off guard by his accusation, not that it wasn’t true…

“Don’t have to, I've caught you staring at me,” he pauses, “guess I never thought that was why.”

The dry words only further your embarrassment, as your head slumps against his shoulder to hide your feverish complexion.

Suddenly you’re hoisted upwards, choking down a shaky breath as the stiffness of him presses against you. Your legs braced around him as he makes his way over to your bed, lowering you onto the cot and caging you beneath him. As your body sinks into the thin mattress pad your mind is suddenly plagued with doubt, insecurity sparking in your chest.

“You're sure?… You were gone a while” you murmur awkwardly, propping yourself onto your elbows as you peer up at his looming figure.

“I’ve been waiting so patiently, love,” his words drip with desperate sincerity, that fire smoldering in his eyes as he descends upon you.

His hands work their way up your sides to snake beneath the material of the sweatshirt. Pulling the garment over your head and tossing it onto your desk chair. Your bare state would have felt unjust if his own shirt hadn't followed suit immediately after.

Leaving you laying there trying not to gawk, while nimble hands make quick work of his belt. Freeing the beast that's clearly trapped within the confines of his pants. To say the scale was daunting would be an understatement, but lying there beneath his toned figure, you were more than willing to accommodate.

“You ready for me?” He drawls, stroking his hard cock as he gazes down at your exposed form, like he's about to devour you.

“I’m all yours,” you coo as he brushes your entrance. Slowly teasing his head in and out of your already dripping slit, taking care to drag across your needy flesh till your thighs are twitching with building anticipation. A tightly coiled spring ready to burst, trembling and desperate for more.

The impatience quickly takes hold, hooking your knee over his hip to pull him deeper into you as he hisses out a curse. Consumed by the satisfying pleasure of being filled to the brim, his name uttered as a breathy sigh escaping your lips. Glazed eyes half-lidded as he admires your blissed expression, all for him.

“Fuck, you're tight” he rasps, the pressure building as your release begins to spill over. Gripping your knee, he pushes your leg up to split you open for his greedy length.

Gasping out in desperation, you arch to meet the friction of his rhythmic thrusts. Chasing that perfect angle, body tensing as you pulse with crackling pleasure. Riding out your orgasm all the while swimming in his murky gaze. The feeling of unraveling in his hands, fallen apart and at his mercy.

It's overwhelming.

Catching notice of your unrest, his pace slows as you try to catch your breath. But your eyes are downcast, suddenly afraid to meet his stare.

Icy doubt licking at your chest.

“Keep your eyes on me love,” hushed words murmured against your ear. You suck in a sharp breath, swallowing down a whimper as his heat leaves you. He grasps your chin with a firm hand, forcing you to meet his sharp gaze. Expecting to face the reaper, only to catch sight of his bare stumbled jaw. Your eyes lock for a long moment, the mask is gone. You're left gaping at him, eyes wide and startled.

“You alright?” His words are short, concern sparking in his stare.

You're so used to anonymity, it's easy to never see someone's face when you're sitting behind a computer all day. There was always that sliver of secrecy with Ghost until this moment, and it had always felt normal. Even so, it's still his eyes that draw you in, his trust in you is so blatant now. Every ounce of anonymity was stripped away, Simon caging you beneath him.

“I’m good,” you mutter through a sigh, leaning into his touch as his hold relaxes to caress your flushed face. His tense features unwinding at the view of you smiling up at him.

“Bend over for me love, I want to look at you, all of you,” he murmurs, your eyes held in his tender gaze.

Pulling you from your lying position, to bend you over the bed before him. Anxiety creeping in again as he admires your form from behind, feeling utterly vulnerable under his heavy gaze. But this heat washes over you, like he’s engulfed you in the fire smoldering in his eyes.

“Pretty little thing,” he breathes, running a hand down the length of your back, thumb tracing along the curve of your spine. He can feel the scars that lie beneath the white of your tattoo, a reminder of where you've been, how you got to him.

“Look how easy you’ve come undone for me,” he teases, an evident smirk in his tone.

Your back arches as he drags the head of his cock over your already sensitive flesh. Entering you again from your position bent over the bed. Your leg lowers to the floor to retain your balance as he presses deeply into your soaked folds. Simon letting out a low grumble of a moan as he thrusts to bury himself completely within you.

“Fuck, you're so wet,” he groans.

A strained wine escapes your lips at the friction, vision losing its focus momentarily. Craning your head to the side, catching his dark stare out of the corner of your sight.

“Your eyes… Do something to me,” you gasp breathlessly, your heated words gripping him as he continues relentlessly thrusting into you.

“Sensitive,” you sputter, bucking against him as the walls of your heat twitch with building pressure. Rough hands pulling you by the waist to meet his pounding length.

“Good,” he pants, “let go for me.”

Snaking a hand around you to rest the pad of his finger on your swollen clit. The action alone causes your hips to spasm involuntarily from overstimulation. Trembling wrists nearly give way as he circles the tender flesh.

Biting back a gasp as you're pushed over the edge again, your walls clenching around him as another orgasm rolls through you. His large hand cradles your breast, arching your back further as his thrusts grow frantic, cock pulsing as your heat spasm.

“Fuck,” he rasps, groaning as he jerks stiffly within you. Release spilling over, your body pressed against him, his breath hot in your ear. You shudder as his cock throbs, filling you with warmth, and you're unable to suppress the soft moan that escapes your lips.

His fingers curl into your side as he buries his face into your shoulder, thrusting sharply into you once more, completely drained.

You knew he'd eventually have to leave, but you couldn't help but drift off to sleep nestled against him. Simon's back to the door as he gazes down at you, keeping watch over your resting form.

The mask has returned when you wake sometime later, to a hand brushing the stray hair from your face. He murmurs something but you don't quite catch it through the haze of your slumber. In your foggy state, you completely miss him nabbing the mug off your desk before heading out the door.

The sound fully rips you from your stupor as you sit up in your cold bed, realizing you're once again alone in your room. You contemplate letting sleep take hold, but instead get up to re-clothe yourself in the sweatshirt he'd discarded on the chair. You feel kinda pathetic laying there sulking again in his absence, missing the furnace of a man in your bed...

But your thoughts are halted by a firm knocking on the door. Before you can second-guess yourself, you're already yanking the entry open. And there he is standing outside your door again, but now holding two cups of tea. Changed out of his dirty clothes from earlier, but still wearing that mask… 

What a fucking tease.

“Told you I'd right be back,” he states plainly, making his way back into the small space and taking a seat at your desk.

Watching amused as you settle back onto your bed. It's quiet as you sip your tea, mask left discarded on your pillow. His short-cropped hair lay disheveled, pressed against his head from the long hours of wear. Calling your name softly, he looks so tired but there's this levity in his eyes.

You might have made a lot of mistakes in life, but meeting Simon Riley wasn't one of them. Looking at you with that tender gaze, it felt like home. Somewhere to return after the horrors of the world take their toll, hands to guide each other through the darkness.

WELL then, I hope you enjoyed (′ꈍᴗꈍ‵)

Thank you so very much for reading, this is all I have planned for this section of their story. I've got a few related fics/oneshots mulling in my brain so be on the lookout for those and more art!

@tallrock35 @violet-19999 @hypernovaxx @k4marina @sebsbee @d4z01 @ramadiiiisme @embers-of-alluring @enfppixie

[mtchacffinz]

Omg if youre taking requestsss,

Could u plsss do something like reader is being neglected bcuz (charac) is too busy with work but then they realise and then spend time.. like angst to fluff ahh

Maybe with few characters like cyno, haitham, wanderer, xiao??

Thank you!!

💗💗💗

prompt! Been away for too long, won't you atleast miss me?

cw! gn! reader, tooth-rotting fluff (SFW), clinginess, maybe a crybaby reader in a certain part, words of affirmation, established relationship, lots of tender moments, mentions of Chasm Archon Quest

note! i love fluff. this is adorable so i shall deliver. plus, i think my acc needs some fluff too after all the smut I've written! (⁠´⁠ ⁠.⁠ ⁠.̫⁠ ⁠.⁠ ⁠`⁠)...

Here we are, overthinking again. In all seriousness, this can't be! Many suns and moons have passed, yet he still hasn't said a single word about his whereabouts! Did he somehow forget about contacting you? Maybe he fell down a hole through a ditch never to be heard again.. Perhaps he fell in-love with another lovely surpassing your wits and charm?

You were no stranger to solitude. It doesn't scratch an itch anywhere in your mind space that requires you to gnaw on your lip every waking moment you feel that churning feeling in your stomach. Definitely not— Absolutely not! You believe that some parts in life are needed alone to be addressed with just the right amount of tenacity and resistance. You would come back to your loved ones with triumphant smiles chanting "I'm back, I'm back! I did it!" like a warrior.

Your mind spiraled into incoherent theories about his unknown agendas— too indulged notice the recurring voice that seems to speak your name.

And when you finally turn to see behind was when he finally graces your presence.

CYNO.

There was tense aura in the air, the last breath leaving even more awkward than the last. It was obvious Cyno wants to say something, but his lips stay sealed— quietly observing you waiting to see how you will move instead.

It seems as if he thinks you're really upset. Just an inference, his intuition— a baseless assumption. I mean, who wouldn't be after leaving your partner hanging for 3 months straight venturing out into the desert?

He's a lovely partner. You think that, wholeheartedly. You really do. But seriously!? You understand there must've been at least some sort of viable explanation, but a part of you couldn't help but feel upset.

"I'm glad you're home safe." You finally speak, releasing a big sigh. It was as if a big weight lifts off your chest. Your smile says nothing more than joy and relief. Well, maybe a little too joyful.

Because you know full well if you speak your next words, your voice would break.

So you keep your lips pursed only for you to keep your own thoughts. Cyno is no average man. As a Mahamatra with fearsome agendas, his life is always on the line whenever he ventures out into the wild. Once, he returned to Avidya Forest with curse marks all over his body— crimson spurs trail over his gear, you were barely keeping it together!

Seconds pass, it was grew concerning that none of you were saying.. well, words. After all, you both have just reunited, and Cyno has probably gone through a rigorous mission that rendered his lips sealed, right? With curious eyes, you steal a glance from his figure. Your partner stood with remarkable posture, eyes evasive of yours. The young man seemed to be contemplating something.. expression a little solemn and glum.

With a gulp and a hesitant stare, he finally speaks his mind.

"I'm.. sorry. Forgive me, dear. There was a huge misconduct within the Akademiya and Matras I had to keep anonymous for—" he stops a little before continuing. Cyno's gaze is at the floor. "I had to keep anonymous for you.. for us. I couldn't send out letters. Please forgive me, (Y/n)."

Cyno takes another deep breath. "I understand if you'd like to lash out on my sudden return, so feel free to do so—" you quickly wave your hands in fluster.

"Ah, no no no! Really, Cyno, it's fi—ne...uhuh." You suddenly hiccuped.

With the first crack of your voice, your eyes immediately began to flow waterfalls. Salty tears pricked your (e/c) optics glossing over them with a glint. Cyno immediately rushes to your side whilst you immediately clung onto him like he's your life line.

Oh, Archons. He's your life. Just by his voice just now, you almost felt like your heart melted AND got crushed at the same time with just the weight of his words. Lash out? Of course you would! You're worried SICK. And you've missed him!

"You have no idea! I was holding onto these for 15 minutes earlier!" Your voice broke, fighting for your feelings. Cyno only wipes away your tears and nose with his sleeves in panic— repeating his apologies in a hushed voice over and over again.

AL HAITHAM.

The scent of scroll dust, his calloused hands, his warm breath on your head. For the past hours of his return, you only asked for one thing: to be held until you, yourself— let go of him. And judging by how how long Al Haitham has unknowingly neglected you, he's willing to make up for his wordless days.

But..

"Hey, honey.. dear..?" the Scribe softly calls out, gently tapping your shoulder. "Sweetheart? (Y/n)?" A little too indulged in his arms, you fail to give a response. This was when he sighed, and nuzzles deeper into your neck.

"(Y/n), it's been six hours. Surely you're feeling a little better now?"

"You've been gone for months."

"I know. But it's almost dinner, and we haven't eaten yet."

"We can starve here." You respond just as quickly. He sweatdrops, unable to tell if you were joking or dead serious. Look, his arm is cramping, his whole body is sweating, and he's dehydrated. The blanket that was wrapped around your body was on the floor, and you seem to be a little tired yourself. Taking matters into his own hands, you get surprised that his arms suddenly wrap tighter around you, lifting you up in his arms.

"You're ridiculous," Al Haitham puts you around his shoulder like you're a sack of rice, making his way through the kitchen. "I'm making dinner. You cling onto me all you want. We're eating."

After all, you never said anything about him moving while holding you, right?

All you could do was grumble and whine in his ears. The scribe doesn't seem to mind, as he gets a pan, his seasonings, and his food. Tapping your back occasionally, with every turn he make, your partner makes sure the doesn't accidentally burn or hit you with something while you're in his shoulders. With time passing, you're starting to get a little embarrassed yourself.. getting dragged all the way from the bedroom the the kitchen. Tugging on his clothes, you called out his name.

"Haitham, please let me down.."

Maybe it was the wind carrying your words away, but he doesn't seem to react. Your partner only focuses on whatever he's frying at the moment with his free arm on your figure. With lips pursed, you repeat again.

"Haitham."

"I heard you. I don't want to, you're staying there."

"What? No way! You're probably tired!"

"Oh? Don't back out now, I was going to feed you as well. I'm yours the whole week— I'm not leaving your sights very soon." Your partner says with a voice enough to leave no room for rebuttals and arguments. Seeing your face, slowly being taken over with embarrassment, ignites a small flame in him.

After a few mere moments of your silence, you grasp onto his clothing once again. This time, your voice was softer, a little more calmer.

"You're gonna be mine the whole week?"

WANDERER.

Ever since his return, the Wanderer has been gracing you with diverse stories from different parts of the land. Now, he isn't one to ramble his mouth nor entertain anybody with his experiences— so the indigo haired man could consider this "spoiling" you rotten.

After a long, exhilarating lectures of Vahumana Darshans, as well as interviews from other nations regarding his thoughts on different political matters— Wanderer has finally made enough time to spend with people he could actually tolerate.

On the other hand, he has been too kind, taking you to vast sceneries and feeding you all sorts of delicacies. It's as if he's trying to make up for something.. and you know what, you have no idea. But this? This is nice! Ignoring his witty and no-filter-opinion attitude, Wanderer has been significantly nicer to you last time you met.

Shopping, sight seeing, trying all sorts of new things. After all, what does he do with all the Mora he receives when he's but a puppet who doesn't even need to eat nor sleep?

He looks for no reciprocation nor gratitude, because he unknowingly believes seeing your smiling face because of him is enough to make his entire day. Of course, that doesn't stop you from profusely thanking him and actively trying to lessen all the things being given to you because do you really deserve it?

I'd you asked him, he'd look at you like you're crazy. Why wouldn't you deserve it? Why else wouldn't it be you? Do you prefer I do this for anyone else?

As night engulfs the sky, kissing it with a gentle good bye, the moonlight greets your resting frame. The Wanderer had found interestingly large lily pads that could hold up to 4 persons. Apparently, aranara's use it to navigate around lakes they couldn't get across.

The scenery is wonderful. Fireflies emerge from the shadows, and the lake sings a mellifluous tune every gush of waves it encounters. You were resting well, and his elysian self was beside you.

You were strange, that's for sure. Strange enough he'd like to keep taking you in like you're oxygen, as if you're some sort of life line to live from. Wanderer is not a man with too much words, so he could only gaze up to your figure.

A familliar noise of waddling makes their way towards you, an Aranara falling suit. It bee lines towards your figure, cozing up to your body.

Wanderer picks it up by its head gear, clicking his tongue.

"Hey. No cuddling. You lay beside me."

XIAO.

Xiao melts deeper into your arms as if he's lightweight, surprising you with the sudden return of his warmth.

His touches were featherlight, his firm hands on the small of your back. Fully aware of his fatigue eating away his skin, the Adeptus clutches your figure tightly.

"Sorry.." Xiao's voice was barely above a whisper. You frown upon his state, but your eyes were never pitiful. He knew of that. You say nothing but hold him in your arms in response. Mere moments pass with the wind blowing ever so softly in the sky.

You lull him with soft whispers, sweet nothings grazing his ear leaving out one another. Xiao's a little bashful— he's the one who's failed to keep up with your mundane agendas in everyday life leaving you alone, yet upon his return— you greet him with the best embrace this world has to offer.

After all the events at the Chasm, his encounter with Bosacius, and most of all, the lingering miasma that's been exceedingly abundant within the area, Xiao wasn't able to make time and shake off all the troubles he's facing. The Adeptus lie solemn with the softest look in his eyes gazing at your own. You know full well if he opens his mouth now, all that will come pouring out is his endless apologies that could be recited in millenias.

Instead, your hands gently caressed his cheeks— pecking those pursed lips who let out a soft sigh.

Xiao returns the gesture by holding you waist down, firmly keeping his hands on you. Chasing after your lips it was like something clicked in him the moment you even lent him a moment of your vulnerability. He was hungry, that's for sure. The Adeptus made it obvious with his knitted brows and those piercing gaze.

Amusement bubbled at the bottom of your stomach, letting out a small chuckle. Xiao's confused eyes met yours, questioning your sudden interest.

"You returned to me, that's lovely."

He responds to your claim in a grumble, now averting his eyes. Xiao's hand never leaves yours.

"I have to.." Those hands slowly travel to your cheeks, caressing them in pure affection. "I need to."

my smutty writings are usually the ones who get attention, so I'm wondering how this one will do? 🎶 Anyway, I'm also planning on writing for Honkai Impact's Kalpas 🤞 STAY TUNED

[silverynight]

Witch hunters

Tanjirou knows they'll find him; he's seen it. He kisses Nezuko on the forehead and puts a necklace with a protective spell on her.

She's a demon, but a good one; Tanjirou has tried to find the right spell to make her human again, but so far all his attempts have been futile.

Before the rumors about him using black magic spread, Tanjirou thought he had time to find the cure, but now he's not so sure.

He's succeeded in hiding from witch hunters all this time, but these are the nine best of the whole land. Tanjirou is not sure if they'll give him time to explain himself.

Maybe he should've agreed to marry that man; the rejection made him come up with all those lies about Tanjirou after all.

The day of the arrival, Tanjirou prepares Nezuko to go into the forest alone; he knows she's very strong and powerful now that she's a demon, but that doesn't mean she's indestructible.

Despite hating lies, Tanjirou does lie to her and promises he'll see her again; he knows if he doesn't do this, she won't leave him.

"If I don't come to you quickly, go look for a place to stay for a while, okay? I'll find you."

Nezuko nods and doesn't hesitate because Tanjirou has never lied to her.

This could be the first time and last if everything goes completely wrong.

Once she's gone Tanjirou starts preparing a protection spell around the house that he knows it won't last forever, but perhaps long enough to explain his case to the witch hunters.

Tanjirou sighs; it's snowing, but it doesn't affect what he can see in his enchanted mirror.

They're getting closer.

They say those nine witch hunters have powers too and that's one of the reasons they can fight demons and black magic users. They're also very skilled with a katana.

He takes a deep breath before going outside; there's mist but it disappears in a second before revealing nine warriors. They know they can't come inside for now.

Tanjirou takes a few steps closer; he hears them gasp, but he decides not to look at them in the eye... instead, he starts talking.

He tells them how his family died, he speaks about the demon who can use black magic and cursed his little sister; he tells them that he's been helping people and trying to find a cure for Nezuko.

It's painful to bring back some of those memories, but he needs to be honest and vulnerable around them if he wants them to trust him.

"I don't want to hurt anyone, I just want my sister to be human again," Tanjirou stops abruptly because he can sense the magic shield disappearing.

He doesn't run because he hopes they believe him; he has always trusted people, he likes to give them opportunities to prove they have good hearts.

Tanjirou falls to his knees waiting for the worst when he doesn't hear anything from them in a while; maybe it's asking too much of them to believe in a complete stranger who knows how to use magic.

He can feel their past pain; he knows they have suffered a lot and they have probably been betrayed a couple of times too.

Sometimes they can't risk trusting someone again.

Tanjirou understands and hopes they don't find Nezuko.

When he's about to close his eyes a hand reaches out to him; he takes it, knowing the spell is gone and rises before looking into very deep blue eyes.

"We'll help you," says the swordsman with black hair, right before another gets closer and takes Tanjirou's other hand.

"We'll protect you, my boy!" This one is like a flame; Tanjirou doesn't need to be a witch to guess what kind of powers he has.

After they introduce themselves, Tanjirou goes into the woods and brings Nezuko back for them to meet.

They're actually very kind and some are affectionate too; Kanroji and Tokito are constantly hugging him and Rengoku doesn't seem to understand what personal space is most of the time.

But Tanjirou likes them; he makes meals for them and welcomes them into his house that has become their home too because they're constantly there whenever they're not on a mission.

It's nice to have friends... Tanjirou didn't know he needed that because he had spent a while on his own.

He can definitely get used to this.

***

It's nice to stay in one place; before he met his Pillars (the best witch hunters) Tanjirou had to move often in order to protect himself and his sister.

Now he can have a normal life again; he even goes to the nearest village because the people there trust the hashira and when they told them Tanjirou was a good witch they didn't hesitate to welcome him and even his sister.

He has a couple of friends in the village now; the Pillars are constantly coming back to his house, they bring him gifts and are constantly staying with him and even helping him with his potions.

Tanjirou patches them up every single time; he usually makes healing potions for them so they can take care of themselves, but they often come back so Tanjirou cleans their wounds.

He has started to think that they enjoy when he takes care of them.

"A kiss, please, I deserve it, for being a good patient," Uzui often says, leaning closer to him. The first time Tanjirou thought his wives would get mad and they do get mad, but only because they want Tanjirou to kiss them as well.

"If you're going to kiss him, I want one too!" Shinazugawa demands before hissing at Uzui.

Usually that only leads to Tanjirou kissing every single one of the Pillars.

He doesn't mind though, they're his friends after all.

***

Weird things start to happen; young villagers start visiting him to ask for his advice on love. Which is something Tanjirou has no experience with.

Except that one guy who wanted to marry him and then started spreading rumors about him when Tanjirou said no.

"Are there any good love potions I could use?"

"There is not such thing as good love potions," Tanjirou explains to the girl. "Because all of them just give you a very basic idea of love and turn the person into something they're not. Besides, they don't last long. It's better for you to look for real love."

"So you don't do that? You don't make love potions?"

"No. I don't like them," Tanjirou says. They're in his books, but he never makes them.

"I told you he made them fall in love without magic!" Another girl giggles, confusing Tanjirou. "Besides, look at him, he's adorable!"

"He's very pretty too."

Tanjirou is about to ask what they're talking about when Rengoku walks in and the first thing he does is to kiss him on the cheek.

The people around smile knowingly at them.

"So when is the wedding?" An older man asks.

"Probably during spring. Tanjirou loves spring," Kocho answers like she's been part of the conversation the whole time.

What are they talking about?

Then someone asks for a potion and Tanjirou has to push the confusing thoughts out of his head for a moment.

That night all the Pillars arrive and they ask Tanjirou and Nezuko for a moment of their time.

"It seems there has been a misunderstanding lately," Himejima explains calmly, taking one of Tanjirou's hands. "We've been trying to court you for the past weeks, Tanjirou."

It's very overwhelming at first, but part of Tanjirou finally understands; they've been trying to tell him all this time in their own ways.

They have been showing him how much they care for him.

"We love you," Iguro says, surprising the redhead. He's not usually that vocal when it comes to his feelings. "And it'd be an honor if you agreed to marry us all."

"Nothing will happen if you don't want this, of course," Tomioka assures him. "We can still be friends."

Tanjirou realizes a little bit late that he loves them too and he's glad for this conversation because who knows how long he would have remained oblivious if they didn't choose to speak to him about it.

"I'd love to marry you. All of you."

Nezuko gives her approval and the Pillars decide to celebrate their engagement; they make dinner.

Tanjirou gets kissed a lot that night.

They have their spring wedding and it's everything Tanjirou had wished for.

Actually, now that he thinks about it; he's glad he said no to that man all those months ago.

His Pillars found him because of that.

***

Patreon

[citadelsanchez]

How about Rick goes on a mission and he’d been gone for a very long time, and female reader is depressed because she wants to see him, and rick finally comes back home and sees shes crying because she misses him can be smut or fluff or both I don’t care. :) or dont even have to do it at all lol

have a good day 💕

Cannnn do.

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

2 months.

That's how long you've been in your dark cloud of melancholy and anger.

How long you've been adjusting to life without him. You know that he's a headstrong wanderer and you tell yourself that you don't care. That you would never slip and show any pushback to hinder him from doing what he wants. And that just happens to currently be a lengthy space mission with Morty, -that his parents very begrudgingly agreed to, and you pretended to show enthusiasm for.

But goddamn it, you ache for him. And you hate to admit that but it bubbles in your chest until you feel like you'll collapse from the sensation. And you're conflicted because you know he would care if he knew, but he wouldn't let on about it. Because he wouldn't expect you to show it. So you just fill your lungs with air and try to continue through your day, everyday.

How could you not miss Rick? His indignant nature to those around him, cracked only by the far and few in between moments where he shows his compassion that he tries so desperately to stow away. It's always made you yearn for him, mentally and physically.

And you feel a somber sense of pride, knowing that you've changed his ways some.

You've chipped heavily at the wall of protection he guards constantly. He throws jabs at you, then softens his eyes immediately after. He gets black out drunk and rages about his family and love lost; then lays his head in your lap, finally losing consciousness, while you stare in wonder. He creeps into your bed at night when he thinks you're asleep, laying still beside you for a few minutes, just to be sure you're not awake, before wrapping an arm around you and resting his chin on the top of your head. You always make sure to breathe softly to imitate your deep slumber while you smile in content. "I-I'm uh, not a cuddler," he'd said before.

You lay in your bed now, hands clutching your blanket and tears pooling quietly in your eyes while you think of this.

It's become a nightly routine- you begin to shake and sob a little, while looking through pictures and videos you've saved on your phone of Rick. You at least know that Rick is alive and safe as you hold close the stuffed "Mini Rick" doll he'd given you that tracks his status and updates if he's in danger. "Rather give it to you t-than Beth, she'd just go nuts," he'd said. You've called him a few times over the past 59 days but never got a response, so you left it be. Knowing that he was alive was all you had.

"Rick, where are you? Come home, please. I-I miss you. It's-it's been so long. I need to see you., seriously.." You tell the doll through tears, staring into its beady eyes. It was useless- you knew it didn't have a listening feature because that's not what Rick designed it for.

["Rick has a heart rate of 95 bpm and is not in danger"] the doll spoke in Rick's programmed voice.

Your eyes burn as you pulled the blanket over your head. You're glad that no one can hear your awful wailing since you live alone.

Hours seemed to pass as sleep slowly started evading you when you hear a whooshing noise and a small grunt. Terrified, you scream in surprise and hold your phone flashlight in front of the sound.

"A-ah Jesus fuck, Y/N, it's just me," you hear a gruff voice curse. Rick.

"Rick? Is it really you?" You ask, a flood of emotions now filling your head.

He puts his portal gun in his coat pocket and sits on your bed. "W-who else do you know with a fucking poORTAL gun?" He burps.

You reach out to hug him and bury your head in his neck. "I um, missed you dickhead," you say, feeling a mountain of stress fall from your body as he hugs you back.

"I missed you too I guess," he mumbles and you hit him playfully.

"Wow, I'm glad I get the ultimate privilege of being an 'I guess'."

He rolls his eyes and takes a good look at your messy hair and stained makeup. "You uh, look a little rough."

You feel embarrassment creep up as you wipe your face. "Yeah, I was watching sad animal videos. I-I don't know why I do it to myself" you say, impressed by your own ability of making something up on the spot.

Rick stares at you with a slight look of amusement and sympathy on his face. "Uh huh, you're as convincing as always. Come here" he says, pulling you softly to lay down with him.

Your cheeks flush realizing that he's probably pieced together why you were actually crying. Of course, smartest man bullshit. Why wouldn't he?

You're staring at his soft face and blue locks while his eyes are closed. He looks exhausted, but somehow still so angelic. "T-turn around," he demands. You scoff lightly and roll over, before feeling both of his arms come around your waist and his chin rest on top of your head.

"We're uh, not done with the mission yet" Rick speaks quietly.

"Still? Why are you here already then? Not that I'm complaining."

He's quiet for a minute before responding. "You needed to see me."

Your brows furrow in confusion as his arms tighten around you. "What?"

He kisses the back of your head. "You should sleep now."

"Rick, what do you mean by that?"

Silence again before he responds. "You said that you needed to see me."

You pause and register what he's saying. Mini Rick. He heard you speaking to the doll.

"Rick! So you could hear me the whole time?"

He traces the outline of your stomach with his head still resting comfortably on top of yours. You can hear the smugness laced in his voice. "Sure could, sweetie. B-but like I said, let's get some rest."

[cxsmicbaby]

little bit - 2

CHAPTER TWO OF A SERIES 

chapter 01

pairing : miguel o’hara x fem!reader

warnings : mild description of blood/injury; cursing throughout. enjoy :) dm if you wanna be added to the taglist! 

word count : 3.5k

miguel gets hurt during a mission. he doesn’t want your help, but you give it anyway. things get a little bit heated. 

                                                      𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪

If I had it my way, I would never go home. It all just feels so stale, and boring. After getting a taste of something like the Spider Society, it’s difficult to return to a place where half the city hates you. 

Truly, that’s not even why I don’t like coming back. I mean, that’s apart of it, but there’s a far more real, physical problem that makes me dread walking through the portal today; the man waiting for me on the other side. 

Strange is not a bad guy. Sure, he’s got his quirks, but at his core he is just as determined to help people as I am. It’s just that he’s become a bit insufferable since I joined Miguel and the others; insufferable, like I cannot stand to be around him for longer than 10 minutes before feeling like I’m going to implode. But I can’t spend time on my Earth without reporting back to him, because if I don’t do it myself he’ll just find me, anyhow. 

“Look who decided to show up.” I squeeze my eyes shut and bite my tongue, feeling irritation already brewing in my chest. Taking a deep breath, I turn to face the doctor. He’s wearing a grey robe—a normal one, not a magic one—pajama pants, and slippers. It’s 3pm. 

“Can you get off my case, just this once? I had to deal with something.” I certainly did. Hobie and I spent the entire morning and early afternoon scrubbing away at the damage we did on Monday, despite objections from the other spiders. I was right, everyone thinks the lobby is too sterile. But of course, Miguel knows best. 

“Something? Is that something tall and annoying?” 

“Oh, don’t be so hard on yourself, Strange. You’re not that tall.” 

He stares at me like he’s going to start laughing, and then he just sighs, walking past me. “Come on, let’s get this over with. I have something to do later.” 

“Something? Is that something... a lady?” 

The doctor scoffs, waving his hand to tell me how stupid he thinks I sound. To be fair, that wasn’t as good as his, but I couldn’t think of anything else. But he doesn’t say no, so I assume that this is his way of letting me know he’s going on a date later. Even though Strange and I have our differences, we’ve known each other for long enough that I can be happy for something like that—his last date was more than a year ago, and it ended with a slap and a suit soaked in red wine, so I can only hope this one goes better. 

“You’ve been gone for longer this time,” he says, as we enter his study. For a man that claims to be so uninterested in material goods, he seems to have spared no expense in the decor of his living space. Sure, the sanctum was already pretty lavish, but I know for a fact that some of the shiny objects I’m currently looking at were not in here last time. 

“It’s fine. It’s different for the others ‘cause a lot of them don’t have other heroes, but we’ve got the Avengers! The city doesn’t really need me that much,” I counter, taking a seat in one of the plush burgundy chairs. The cushion sinks a little under my weight, just enough to be comfortable. I need to invest in some better furniture for my apartment, because this is the best chair I’ve ever sat in. 

Strange shakes his head, and takes a seat by his desk across from me. “It’s not about that. People are noticing that you’re gone, you know. And not just civilians.” 

My eyebrows raise. “That’s ominous. Who’re we talking about here?” 

“Tony, for one. God, that guy is irritating. I’m starting to wonder whether I should just tell him, so he stops calling.” 

It takes all my willpower not to remind him just how similar he is to Stark, but to be fair, Tony annoys me more than Strange ever has. It baffles me how some of the other spiders actually work with that guy. Maybe he’s cooler in their universes. 

“Just tell them I’m on vacation or something. That’s normal, right? Even heroes take vacations,” I suddenly feel like I can’t sit anymore, so I stand and start to fiddle with the things on his desk. A heavy blue sphere that looks like crystal catches my eye, and I pick it up without asking, turning it around in my hands. I can see my own reflection. 

“Yeah, but not without saying anything. And put that down. It’s my paperweight.” 

I look up at him to see he’s being entirely serious, and I regretfully do as he says. What an extravagant paper weight. 

“So, what am I supposed to do? Get on Jimmy Fallon and announce my temporary retirement?” 

Strange takes the paperweight from the place I’ve left it and starts turning it around in his hands. Asshole. “Just don’t spend as much time there as you do. You need to balance it, or else this isn’t gonna work.” 

It sounds like he’s trying to tell me what to do. That’s an issue of his; always trying to be in charge of everyone and everything around him. I used to fall in line with that, but I have two control freaks in my life now and the newest one doesn’t really leave room for anyone else. 

“Listen, Doc, everything’s gonna be fine. If Stark gets too nosy, I’ll just come back and make something up. You have more important things to worry about than where I am, and I have more important things to worry about than you,” I fire back, narrowing my eyes slightly as I watch for his reaction. He doesn’t seem fazed by my defiance; he’s more amused. Doesn’t matter—it’s time to get out of here and get what I really came back for anyhow. (Boba. The Spider Society has every drink imaginable in the cafeteria except boba.)

“Alright. You do what you want, but just be careful. You’re messing with things beyond your understanding, you know. Even beyond mine.” 

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” 

Before he can launch into a rant about how this is very much not a ‘whatever’ situation, my watch vibrates. I think that it’s probably my empanada alarm—I set one so I can bring Miguel food everyday at the same time, because I noticed that if I bring it after or before he gets too busy to eat it. But it’s not. It’s from Jessica, and she only calls when there’s something serious going on. I almost feel guilty for thinking that this is the perfect escape from this tedious conversation. 

“See ya, Strange. Duty calls.” 

And just like that, I’m gone, barreling through a wormhole on my way back to my new home. I think it’s pretty much gotten to that point, anyhow. I’ve probably slept in my apartment on Earth-72 like 3 times since I joined up.

When I step out, I’m greeted by more chaos than usual, which is saying something. The room is filled with panicked shouts and spider-people running in every direction; including up and down. Hobie is nowhere to be found, and neither is Miguel, or Jessica. A chill runs down my spine. Something is wrong. 

I see Ben talking frantically to someone else and I rush over, beginning to panic a bit myself. “Ben, what happened? Is everyone okay?” 

He grimaces. “Miguel, Hobie, and Jessica went to take care of an anomaly. It turned out to be worse than they thought it’d be, and we sent back up, but nobody’s come back yet. They’re all dead, man. They’re all gone...” When he trails off, his eyes unfocus and his eyebrows furrow, obviously getting lost in his melodramatic bullshit once again. 

My heart is steadily climbing up my throat. For the first time, I find myself unable to sit through this with him, because for the first time, it’s actually scaring me. “Shut up and tell me where they went.” 

He doesn’t even time to come up with something dumb to say before the room is suddenly lit up in oranges and pinks, swirling for just a moment before they collapse in on themselves, and out come just the people I was panicked for. First comes Hobie, and despite a slight limp he seems just fine. Then Jessica, with no physical wounds, but a look on her face that tells me the worst is yet to come. 

And then Miguel pours out, almost collapsing onto the floor before he clutches his stomach, forcing himself to stay upright. I can see a dark patch of what I assume to be blood on his right ribcage, and though his mask is on I can tell his face is twisted in pain. My hands almost reach out, as if I could grab him from my distance, but I settle instead for an expression that must look like I just witnessed yet another tragic family death. 

“What the hell happened?” I say, quickly walking over to the three. Spiders that must’ve been sent as backup exit the portal quickly after, all groaning and sporting some sort of injury. Jessica’s eyes go hard and she pins me down. 

“You should’ve been here. We needed you,” she scolds. Every time she talks to me this way I always feel like a little kid, despite our ages not being too far apart. Guilt chews away at me the longer I stand there, trying not to turn my attention to Miguel and the way he’s trying to hide how badly he’s hurt. 

“Give her a rest, she’s been workin’ hard. We got it done, didn’t we?” Hobie chimes in, his voice slightly strained. I wonder just how badly this fight went for everyone to have gotten hurt; the need for any backup at all is startling, seeing as usually it only takes one of us to finish an anomaly off. 

“With a lot more collateral damage than there needed to be. Someone take Miguel to the infirmary, he’s banged up bad.” 

I turn to him, but he’s already started stalking off. 

“I’m fine,” he calls, but I can hear the weakness in his voice; it’s lacking that dominance, that certain tone of his that makes you want to obey every word he says. So I follow behind him. 

“Miguel, let me help. I promise I’ll be gentle.” 

“No.” It comes out as more of a whimper, which I’m sure was not his intent. I swallow at the way my stomach flutters and continue to walk by his side, unsure of where he thinks he’s going. There’s no way he’s going back to work like this. For god’s sake, he still has his mask on, so he must not really be going anywhere. He’s just trying to get away so he can wallow in his suffering and refuse all help. I won’t let him, not today. If I can stand up to Strange, I can stand up to him. 

I move so that I’m blocking his path, and cross my arms in front of my chest, hoping to hide my heavy, nervous breathing. 

“I’m not asking, I’m telling. You need medical attention, but if you won’t let a professional help you, I’m going to.” 

Miguel studies me. I can tell he is, even though he still has his mask on. His eyes narrow and his posture slumps just the slightest bit, like he’s given up. For just a moment, a thick tension hangs in the air, pressing hard on my chest, but then Miguel inhales deeply and breaks the spell. He doesn’t say a word; he only nods, and pushes past me. This is professional. This is me helping a friend. Me helping my boss. So I should treat it as such. Right?

                                                     𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪

Miguel wishes he let himself bleed out. 

That would be preferable to the situation he has put himself in instead, he thinks, as he watches your face. He’s seated on a chair in his room, his suit peeled down to his feet so you can have access to all his cuts and bruises. He has imagined himself like this with you so many times; you nestled between his thighs, your fingers dancing across his abdomen as you carefully sew his gash shut. In his mind, it’s always led to more sinful activities, and those images are playing on a loop behind his eyes as he watches you. He swallows hard. He remembers a few nights ago when he let himself get off to the thought of you, and he almost recoils from your touch. 

“Does it hurt?” you ask, glancing up at him with so soft a gaze he feels like he’s going to melt into a puddle at your feet. 

“No.” Miguel figures that speaking plainly will aid him through this, because if he lets you hear but a tremble in his voice he’s sure you’ll know. 

You’ll know that his heavy, labored breaths are not because of pain or exhaustion, and that his grip on the arm of the chair is not to brace for each movement of the needle. You’ll know that he’s thinking about how pretty you look on your knees. You’ll know that he wants nothing more than to grab you by the shoulders and kiss you, hard, to slip his tongue into your parted mouth and squeeze all the softest parts of you. 

“Ok,” you say, smiling. “Tell me if it does. I can be gentler.” 

He’s not sure you can. 

It’s torturous, how slow you’re going. You don’t want him to feel pain at your hands, the idea of which pokes worryingly at his heart, but Miguel thinks if he sits here with you for any longer he’s going to lose his mind. 

“Did you guys, uh...” you trail off, some semblance of guilt clouding your pretty face. “Did you guys actually need me?” 

Oh. You’re ashamed that you weren’t there. Miguel will not tell you this, but he’s glad you weren’t there. If you got hurt like he did he would have ripped the anomaly apart with his bare hands. And that would be a little hard to play off as just normal boss duties. 

“No,” he starts, and you brighten up for a moment before your expression sinks once more. He didn’t mean it like that. “If you were there you would’ve just gotten hurt like the rest. You would’ve gotten in the way.” 

Why, oh why, did he say that? It’s not even true. From an objective standpoint, you being there would have helped them immensely. Even Miguel acknowledges that you are one of the most talented spider-people he has recruited—though, the only person he acknowledges it to is himself. 

“Oh,” you say, your voice soft and quiet. The sound makes his chest ache. 

Miguel wants to say something more, but he stops himself. 

You sew him up in silence, which he thought would help, but now he can only focus on your breaths that fan over his bare skin, and your tongue that is poking against the corner of your lips as you concentrate. He feels his cock ache just the slightest bit and his eyes go wide, realizing that the worst possible thing that could happen right now is very, very close to happening. This needs to be over, now. 

“That’s enough.” Miguel tries not to sound panicked, but he’s sure some of it slips through the cracks. You pause and look up at him with confusion. 

“I’m almost finished. Just sit tight, it’ll be over soon.” 

You move to continue, and in his fear he pushes your hands away. “Don’t. I told you, I don’t want your fucking help.” 

He can see you’re hurt by that. God, what a fucking mess this is. The last thing he ever wants is to hurt you but it seems in order to keep himself from you, that’s what he has to do. The day you find out about the perverted, disgusting ways he thinks of you is the day he will disappear forever. He would sacrifice anything to keep that from happening. 

“I don’t understand. Why do you hate me so much? God, why do you hate everyone? All we ever do is try to help you.” You back away from him, still on your knees, and your hands fall frustratedly to your sides. Miguel is surprised by this reaction, because he’s so used to you letting everything he says slide right off your back. But he’s gone too far now, he can see that. Your eyes are shiny and your forehead creased in defeat. 

He can’t say anything, because if he does words will come out that he needs to stay hidden. So Miguel just watches you with eyes he’s sure are hard and cold, and he sees your face fall even further, your tongue poking at the inside of your cheek as a bitter laugh escapes you. 

“Fine. Do it yourself.”

You toss the needle onto the table with the rest of the supplies and stand, moving to leave. And this is what Miguel wants, right? He wants you gone. But he betrays himself, because before you can even reach the door, he finds words bubbling in his throat and he’s unable to stop them. 

“Wait. Don’t... you can stay.” It doesn’t even sound like his voice. He sounds weak, weathered by a raging storm that refuses to let up. You pause, but you don’t turn, crossing your arms in front of you as you sway from side to side. And Miguel’s body is aching to reach for you, to tell you the truth. That he is so infuriatingly infatuated with you that the very idea of you leaving makes him twitch. 

“I’m...” it feels like his throat is constricting, trying not to let the words out. “I’m sorry. That was... unnecessary.” 

You still don’t move, and Miguel’s sure you’re going to leave anyway. But then you do turn, and the smile on your face is so wide that he panics for a second that he’s said something more exciting than what he really has. 

“It was mean. But, I accept your apology. Thank you, Miguel.” You’ve said his name hundreds of times before, but this time he feels a surge of something strange in his chest; but not like before, in the shower, or when you were between his thighs, staring up at him. Something stronger than that. Something scarier. 

He swallows hard. “You can, uh. You can finish up now.” 

You’re between his thighs again. One of your hands is flat against his stomach, keeping the skin taut, the other sewing away, your elbow resting on his thigh. His chest is heaving again. But he’ll fight it, if it means you’ll smile. You’re still smiling. 

“Does it hurt?” you ask, glancing up at him again. 

Miguel sighs sharply. “A little bit.” You smile a little harder. 

“Sorry. I’ll be gentler.” 

Again, he’s not sure you could. 

                                                     𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪

CHAPTER THREE

[hotheadedhero]

All That's Left

There's routine and there's getting used to change. Some are quickly adaptable but, depending on the circumstance, it isn't always that easy.

Leonardo x Reader

Warning: angst

Being a ninja has its perks: one can evade the eyes of man whilst making way to their destination. However, even with such skill, moving through the night is more optimum, especially for Leonardo. Shifting over buildings and hiding around dumpsters is one thing but more open areas are difficult to navigate whilst adhering to the element of stealth. Luckily, the elements are in his favour: the downpour of rain shielding him by both sound and sight. He isn’t typically one to go to such lengths to get to one place unless it’s in the name of a mission but this has become a routine as of late. He does it as frequently as he can given his circumstances but it never feels as though it makes up for all of that lost time. By now, he knows this path like the back of his hand: sneak past ground watch, jump over the gate, and take the fifth walkway from the left. A few more paces and he’s made it. His observance is dim but his lips pull as best as they can at her sleeping form.

"Hey," he greets quietly. "Sorry, it’s been a few days since my last visit."

Despite the blank, paling face that stares back at him, his smile remains. He lays the flowers down and kneels before her.

"I would have brought everyone else with me but I decided to be a bit selfish today. Just the two of us. I hope that’s okay.”

Again, silence follows and he readjusts his sitting position to get comfortable.

"Things have been quiet lately," he continues, his eyes absentmindedly gazing over her bed. "I'd say it's a nice change but I wouldn’t mind the distraction."

He huffs a laugh and his head cranes towards his shoulder before straightening again. The gentle pierce of his brown stare wanders over the rest of the cold space that surrounds them. Despite having come here for the last two months, there’s still something new to look at. He remembers when he first heard of this being her new residence and how long it took to adjust. Often, he still finds himself heading towards her old apartment out of muscle memory. 

"I know it probably sounds like a broken record at this point but everyone misses you. I… miss you.” 

There’s a grasp on his throat, a squeeze that only tightens the more he tries to fight it. He swallows past the restriction, mouth dry, tongue suddenly alien to him. Just keep a level head. This isn’t anything new by now. His cheeks cave in against the deep intake of air. 

"There's a lot I should have said when I had the chance," he whispers hoarsely, though no words follow in this empty promise of rectification. 

He can’t do it. His eyes clamp shut with his lips, firmly pressed to hold back the internal incursion. He can't even bring himself to say it: what he wants to say; what he's wanted to say for so many years. There's no point knowing that he'll never get an answer. His fingers dig into the sodden ground, pulling away the strands of grass that have only just begun to grow above her. It breaks beneath his palms and sullies the very hands that tremble under his hunched body. He should remain composed. He shouldn’t fall apart like this. Is it not he who should be able to think straight during dire circumstances such as this? Be the voice of reason? For his family but not himself it seems. Not right now. 

With a heavy, laboured breath, his head pries upward to meet her grey face once more. The carved letters of her name stare back at him, dowsed in rain and he can only hope, wherever her spirit may be, that she isn’t crying for him. He doesn’t deserve her tears. He was in South America saving all of those people when he should have been here to save her. If he had come home when he was supposed to, this never would have happened. Leonardo and his brothers would have been back doing patrol before any of this could become a reality. She would still be alive. She would still be with him. He took her for granted and now he’s paying the ultimate price. 

“I thought I might find you here,” a voice calls out to him. 

A familiar voice. Not the one he’d be wishing for but a welcome one nonetheless. He tears his gaze away from the gravestone to be met by his friend April, who kneels beside him. She tilts her umbrella so that he may be sheltered too and together they sit quietly. Rain is their only comfort with this mutual understanding of unrest in the air. There isn’t anything that can be said to make better of this; nothing that hasn’t already been repeated countless times. 

With the clouds readying their part for day’s oncoming dawn, April takes her stand and outstretches a hand to her friend. He waves his muddied fingers with a pathetic attempt at a laugh and rises lethargically.

“Come on. You can’t hold onto this guilt forever, Leo,” she reminds him, just as everyone has been since his return. “She’d want you to let go.”

He's not sure he'll ever be able to rest on that idea. Not until he learns how to say goodbye, at least - the last word he had said to her so carelessly, not realising it would indeed be goodbye.

This is something shorter and a bit different but an idea that would not leave for the life of me. Hope you enjoyed!

[rickssugarplum]

Rick Returns

After a much too long hiatus, I have finally made a new Rick fic. Wow. A lot has changed since my last fic, but I want to thank all of you amazing readers who have been so patient. Please forgive me if my writing is a little rusty. Thanks again and excited for Season 7 tonight! ❤

(Rick C-137 x Reader) SFW-, Swearing, Hurt/Comfort, Missing Someone, Season 6 Spoilers, 1,900+ words

Rick comes to see you again after a long time. And you find some changes in him.

    *************************************************

It had been too long. Far too long. You hadn't heard a single word from Rick in what felt like a lifetime and were still wondering what the hell went wrong. It seemed to have happened out of nowhere. One day, everything had been fine, and then suddenly, he all but disappeared. He didn't come see you anymore; he wouldn't call you up, not even a single text. At first, you started to think an adventure went awry. Then you started thinking something was really wrong, but you weren't sure what. Is he on a new planet? Did he have to do a high-paying mission? What if he's hurt? Or could he be dead? With how things are now, he might as well be. He started to become a series of bittersweet memories now. You did everything you could to try to forget him, but that was pointless. Rick Sanchez wasn't a man you can just forget, no matter how hard you tried. Many tears were shed, and many thoughts crept into your mind. If his leaving had nothing to do with his space-traveling lifestyle.

Did I do something wrong?

Did he find someone else?

Was I...not enough?

Many months had passed, and you were certain the blue-haired scientist was out of your life forever.

Close to midnight, you were in your bathroom washing your face and getting ready to sleep. As you enter your bedroom, about to lay down in your bed, you hear a sound you thought you would never hear again—the loud warp of a portal.

Immediately, your heart sped up rapidly as you wondered if you were hallucinating. But when you saw a young brunette boy in a yellow t-shirt, you were completely puzzled.

".....Morty??"

You were worried he was here to tell you really bad news about his grandfather. But you had no time to even ask what was happening before another figure broke through the portal. A figure much taller. The silhouette of his spiky hair caught your eye immediately.

It was him. He was here. Rick was back in your room.

His eyes were fixed on you right away. There was almost a determination in them. Yet he also looked unsure.

"Thanks, Morty. I'll take it from here." He motioned the kid to the portal, presumably back home. The boy took a worried glance at both of you before turning back through the portal and disappearing. Now it was just you and Rick. Looking into his eyes for the first time in forever, all the pain came back crystal clear. And the source was right in front of you.

"Bab-"

"DON'T. YOU. DARE. 'BABY' ME."

Rick shut his mouth and understood right away. You were not going to let him off so easily.

"You son of a bitch." You spat at him.

"I know you're mad, and I-"

"Mad!? You ghost me for months; I haven't had even one measly fucking text, and you think I'm mad!?" You interrupted. "I didn't know what the hell happened to you! All these months without any contact from you. Nothing."

Rick stayed silent. He had no argument to make.

"At first, I just thought, 'Oh, he's on a big adventure with Morty! No biggie!' Or had a run-in with an alien mob or something, and it would just take a bit longer to get back to me," you explained. Looking back at Rick, he was rubbing the back of his neck, his eyes looking down to the floor. But you knew he was still listening.

"I was starting to think you were dead." You confessed, trying to keep yourself together.

Rick took in a deep breath before he answered. "I owe you an explanation. All I ask right now is that you'll let me give you that," he requested.

Goddamnit. Just hearing his voice again is painful.

"I thought you were done bailing on people," you said bitterly.

Rick interjected, "Hey, don't start with that." You watched him grab his flask out of his lab coat and take a sip from it.

"Why? Truth too much for you? Does the great Rick Sanchez actually have a kryptonite?" you mocked.

Rick put his hand over his mouth, keeping himself quiet as you let out everything you suppressed inside all this time.

"You told me you'd never leave me behind. No matter where you'd go, you would stick around." You scoffed. "I was really fucking stupid to believe you."

Rick was starting to get agitated. This was not how he pictured this playing out.

"Ugh. Look, I didn't come here to argue."

"No. You want to smooth everything over so I can do any favors you'll want. Bet you never even thought about me all this time. Out of sight, out of mind, right?"

"It's not like that!" he argued. The nerve of him "Why wouldn't it be? It's the same ending to every chapter in your life, Rick. You'll never change."

He winced. That one stung a little. You knew some of your statements could hurt him, but you were too angry to care. Part of you wanted him to see how it felt to be let down by someone you've given your heart to.

"You left an entire dimension after destroying it."

Rick was losing his composure. "Don't."

"Left your family on a tiny planet when the world was going to shit."

He didn't want to hear any of this. "Stop."

"You left Morty to be with some fucking crows."

"Knock it off," he warned.

"Or what!? Are you gonna leave again?" you challenged. "I was starting to accept the fact that you wouldn't come back. What would stop you now?"

"That's not what I meant!" he argued.

"Why would I be so special that you wouldn't bail again? You've done it your whole life. Starting with your own wife and daughter!"

Rick lost it. "I DIDN'T LEAVE MY WIFE AND DAUGHTER!" he shouted. His hands tangled in his hair, and his eyes squeezed shut.

That stopped you dead in your tracks. Confused, you stepped closer to him. A soft gasp escapes when you see that his face has now become wet with tears.

"Rick...?" you said softly. All the rage you previously had inside you has now completely evaporated. This new shift startled you. He was not someone who openly broke down. Nor would he tell such a lie while doing so.

If he didn't leave them, then why weren't they ever with him? Unless his wife took their child and left him, or if they had...

...........

No.

A new feeling is integrated into you: guilt. You were starting to pick up all the tragic pieces together. The heartbreak was plain to see on Rick's face as he trembled in front of you.

In that moment, the source of all his demons became more clear than ever before. He had truly suffered the worst kind of pain.

"Oh...Rick...." Your voice cracked. The distance between you both closed as you wrapped your arms around him. He accepts them immediately and holds on tightly.

"I'm so sorry..."

His face is buried in your neck. To shield his face, or more to just feel you again, it didn't matter. Right now, he needed this. Stroking his baby blue hair, you had almost forgotten how soft it was...

"Rick...I'm sorry...I had no idea..." you said in shame, thinking back to everything you'd said to him before. Now, he had every right to be mad at you. But his first response you received was a soft, gentle kiss on your neck, making you lightly shiver.

"It's haunted me for many years. Consumed most of my life," he confessed. Lifting his head up, you see his face. His eyes were red, and his cheeks were damp from his hurt flooding out of him. Your thumbs gently brush away the tears under his eyes. "I...thought I had finally could have a new chance to find some stability, be with a family, but...something did come up...and it all came flooding back..."

Your brows raised at that.

"So...that's why I haven't been around."

You still weren't entirely aware of the whole story. But one thing was certain: When Rick Sanchez is consumed by something, he gives his all into it.

"I'm such a fucking idiot..." you blurted out, shaking your head. "I thought...you had just gotten bored and moved on from me..."

Rick interjected, "Oh no, baby no..." He pulled you back into his arms, placing your head on his chest. His heartbeat soothed you as you took a deep breath in and out.

"You weren't the only one I hurt here... I-I had kept Morty out of it all too..."

A sigh escapes you. "He's such an amazing grandson to you," you mutter.

"Yeah...but he's not my grands-"

"Yes, he is." You interrupted. "It doesn't matter where you came from or where he came from. He's been there for you through everything and seen you at your worst. And the fact that he came here tonight with you just to make sure you were okay shows me that he still cares about you despite everything. I know he wouldn't want any other Rick. And you wouldn't trade him for any other Morty. You are his grandpa, Rick."

His arms hold you a bit tighter, a silent 'thank you' for your encouraging words.

"Did he tell you to come talk to me?" you wondered.

"Uh no. I, uhh, hooo boy...You won't believe it when I tell you," he warned you awkwardly.

"What?" You didn't know what or who else could convince him to do anything.

"I...was told I should see you by...my uhh...therapist..." he finished, rubbing the back of his neck.

Your eyes bugged out in shock. "A therapist!? You're seeing a therapist!??

He scoffs "Okay, you really don't have to rub i-" His sentence is cut off by a surprise kiss on his cheek, leaving him a little startled. "Oh, Rick. I'm so proud of you," you say sincerely. It's as if hell had frozen over. He really has changed.

"Yeah, she's, uh, she's alright," he admits with a small smile. "She also told me to tell you what I needed to say, so... I'm sorry."

Your vision starts to get blurry with tears. Those two simple words from this man mean so much. Cupping his face in your hands, you give Rick a small smile before leaning forward and pressing your lips to his. Your arms wrap around his neck, never wanting to let him go. He holds you close when he kisses you back with a little more desperation. He hasn't been kissed by you in so long.

When you finally break away to breathe, you look into his eyes again. This time, they look more serene. As if he feels some shred of peace for the first time in... he can't remember when.

"I've missed you..." you whispered. He pressed his forehead against yours.

"I missed you too, baby..."

With that, every shattered piece of your heart had been put back together. There was more he needed to share with you, but the emotional reunion and the fact that it was late at night left you exhausted. But you were going to sleep much more peacefully with the eccentric man resting beside you once again.

After all these painful months, Rick was finally back. He's changed in some ways, and you were looking forward to seeing how these changes would guide him to a better path.

Because, no matter what happens, you will always love him.

❤

[tempe-brennans]

even if you lose it, it will find you

author's note: hi apparently i do still write. who knew. this is just a little bit of angst but mostly fluff.

summary: you and jake find your way back to one another

He should have known you’d come. And he knows it’s you, even without turning around. He can feel it–that bone deep sense that he’s always had about you.

The one that he never wants to lose.

“You didn’t have to come.”

There’s a soft grunt as you sit down next to him on the sand.

“Of course I did.” You lean over, knock your shoulder against his. “You wanna talk about it?”

He contemplates saying no–keeping his fear to himself–but he’s tired.

What’s the point in being so tough when lonely is all it gets you?

“I’m scared,” he whispers.

He knows you know what he’s referring to, knows you’d seen everyone enter the Hard Deck, ready to celebrate their last night before…

Jake finds himself unable to finish the thought. He’s never been this scared before a mission, but, then again, he’s never had so much left unsaid–so much too lose.

“That makes sense,” you murmur. “It’s a scary thing.”

He can hear the concern in your voice, though all you’ve done is validate him–no mention of the fear he can tell you feel.

He shakes his head, chuckles softly. “It’s stupid, but I keep thinking of Rooster’s dad.”

“Yeah?”

“You know–how he must have felt as it…as it happened.” He shrugs. “Or maybe he didn’t have time to think. Maybe he was gone so fast he didn’t get to think of his son or…or…picture his wife’s face in his mind one last time. Maybe he was just here. And then he was gone.”

“Maverick wouldn’t let that happen to you, J. To any of you.”

He nods. “I know. I know he’d do anything to stop it.” He pauses. “But I’m sure he felt that way about Goose.”

Your silent, and Jake says the thing he’s most afraid to say.

“I don’t think it’d bother me as much if I didn’t feel like I’d be leaving you behind,” he whispers.

“Jake?”

He stands, suddenly to nervous to sit still, and you follow suit.

Looking at you, he murmurs, “I miss you, so much. And I just need you to know…” Tears catch in his throat, and he can’t speak.

You smile, albeit sadly, and step into his space.

“You’re gonna be fine,” you murmur, fingers dancing over his chest, settling on his heart. “So, whatever it is you want to tell me, you save it until you come back.” In a move that shocks Jake to his very core, you lean forward, press the barest of kisses to his lips. “You’re not saying goodbye to me, Seresin,” you hum. “Not here. Not right now.”

Jake’s arms wrap around your waist, hold you to him the way he’s imagined for months.

“When you come back,” you murmur, lips against the shell of his ear, “you find me. You find me and you tell me.” You pull back, look him in the eye. “It’ll give us both something to look forward to.”

You step away, out of the circle of his arms, and begin to walk away. Looking at your back, he can’t resist, can’t hold it back.

You have to know. Just in case.

“I love you,” he calls.

You look back, over your shoulder, softness in your eyes that nearly makes Jake cry.

“I love you, too, J,” you reply. “I never stopped.”

Then, you’re gone, and suddenly, tomorrow–and whatever it brings–don’t seem quite as scary. There’s a renewed sense of confidence in his gut, if he’s honest.

He knows now that he has something to come home to.

x

He steps out of his Jeep, feet planted firmly on the ground.

And for once he’s happy about that.

He walks the few steps to your front door, knocks, and only has to wait a few minutes before it swings open.

You jump into his arms as soon as you get sight of him.

“You came back,” you murmur, fingers carding through his hair.

He squeezes you tighter to him, breathes you in. “I told you I would.” Pulling back to look you in the eyes, he adds, “And I never want to break another promise to you.”

He doesn’t put you down, simply carries you over the threshold of your house, too enamored to put space between you.

There aren't many people in the world that Jake would let himself be vulnerable in front of. In fact, it was only ever with you that he ever let the arrogance fade away, let himself just be.

He'd never had to try with you–never had to pretend.

He kisses your forehead, and, unable to ignore the siren call of your lips, he leans in.

He’s thrilled when he realizes you’re doing the same.

He pulls away, just for a second, just to catch his breath, and he has to say it.

He’s imagined it since the two of you had talked.

“Please, baby,” he mumbles, eyes squeezing shut. “Please give me–us–please just…just give us another try.”

Jake isn’t sure if it’s the way your fingers card through the hairs at the base of his neck, or the way he can feel your breathing even out against him, but it settles his frayed nerves, calms the blood rushing in his ears, and brings him back to the moment.

It's the only reason he hears you when you hum, “Okay.”

He pulls away from you. “What?”

You nod your head. “I want to try again.”

Jake grins before he can help himself. “You do?”

“Of course I do.” You lean in, nose dragging along his own, whisper, “I’ve missed you.”

His heart feels lighter than it has in months–broken pieces slotting back into place the moment you say the words.

He can’t resist kissing you again.

He’s the luckiest man in the world.

“I’ll never let you go again,” he whispers. “I promise you.”

He can feel your smile against his lips, “I’ll hold you to that, Seresin.”

He laughs. “I’d expect nothing less.”

[ximmortalis]

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader: A solemn vow

Summary:

The man sitting in front of you isn't Simon, it's Ghost.

"Shut up," It's spoken in a hiss, "What makes you think you can help eh? You sit in blissful ignorance, you don't see what I see out there, the horror of it all."

A/N: Mentions of a past abusive relationship

After being away for six months. Simon had finally returned home to you. It was a complete surprise. He'd given no indication that he was on his way back. You hadn't heard anything from him for the last two months. It wasn't new; sometimes, when he was away on a mission, he would have to cut contact for a while. If you were lucky, he would pre warn you ahead of time.

This time you weren't so lucky.

Simon always called you, that was the rule and after three weeks of not hearing from him, you accepted that you probably wouldn't for a long time.

You know that you shouldn't worry, after all the two of you have a running joke that the only thing that can kill Simon Riley, is Simon Riley.

It doesn't stop the worry that seeps itself deep in your bones, holds your mind hostage in the dark of the night. His job is dangerous, he doesn't tell you the darkest parts of it but you get an idea from the many times you'd had to wake him from a nightmare that leaves him drenched in sweat.

So, when you walked through the front door to see him sitting on the couch, elbows on his knees with his head hanging low, wearing the black balaclava.

It stopped you dead in your tracks.

Simon never wore the mask at home.

The man sitting in front of you isn't Simon, it's Ghost.

You're unsure how to approach him, unable to get a read on him. He knows that you're there but he hasn't made any attempt to remove the mask or move for that matter. It unsettles you making you second guess every move you want to make.

Despite sharing the same body Simon and Ghost are two entirely different people.

Simon, who is a little rough around the edges and a behemoth of a man who has been through his own personal hell, from what you learned from whispered confessions in the dark of the night. A man who had to learn that he was deserving of good things and love; is soft and gentle.

He would die before he hurt you.

Fiercely loyal and protective, he loves with all his heart. Simon lets his carefully constructed walls down and trusts you intimately to not break him. At first you found it to be strange, but it became obvious that beyond his towering height and at first scary looking demeanor, he was fragile. He only trusted at most a handful of people and when he welcomed you into that group, you swear it made your heart swell beyond the walls of your chest.

You put him back together piece by piece and in turn he did the same for you.

Simon wasn't the only one that needed putting back together. You had also dealt with your fair share of demons and Simon had tenderly mended the parts of yourself that you'd deemed broken.

"Not broken love, just bruised is all."

Together, the pair of you had formed something nothing short of beautiful, relearning how to trust and how to love each other. Molding your lives around each other, becoming intricately wounded together. No matter how far he went, the red thread connecting your hearts went with him, never breaking.

However, Ghost, you don't really know him.

Simon doesn't allow for you to see that side of him. From what you're witnessing in front of you, this man isn't who you know. The unforgiving tension in his shoulders, the way his hands clench and unclench almost rhythmically. He screams danger and it makes your heart jump into your throat.

Words fail you as you stand cemented in place. You can do nothing but watch as he gets up and walks away, without a word or a glance in your direction. It's only when you hear the lock of the door to his study do you release the breath you've been holding.

He doesn't have to say anything for him to communicate. It's clear that he needs space, needs time to decompress to peel Ghost away from his skin.

Simon disassociates from himself entirely to become Ghost, who is a weapon. The only focus is finishing the mission regardless of the cost. To make the calls that Simon Riley is incapable of making.

He cannot be Simon on the battlefield; he has to be nonexistent, so he slips on his mask to become that. It's a barrier between himself and Ghost. In a way he kills Simon each and every time he puts on that mask.

You'll just have to wait for Simon to dig himself out of his grave and come back to you.

It's been just shy of a week and the house is still eerily silent, you haven't seen Simon as he stays locked away. At least you know he's eating from the empty plates left outside the door.

The days are bad but the nights are worse as you lay and stare at the empty side of the bed for countless hours. His pillow no longer holds his scent and you mourn the loss of it. You miss him more now than you did when he was away. It's hard to describe like his namesake; it's like living with a ghost.

You don't know how to help him.

Not having him by your side is killing you, the ache inside your heart grows more and more each day. It's that burning need for him that leads you to take a very risky decision.

You call Johnny.

If anyone can help you know it's him he knows Ghost better than anyone.

Johnny knows instantly that something is wrong, his voice filled with concern, you're calling him in the wee hours of the morning of course something is up. You explain to him the predicament that you're in, how he came home wearing the mask and how he has closed himself off from you.

You find yourself almost pleading with him to help.

"Don't you worry Lass, I'll sort that eejit out for you."

"You can't tell him I called, he'll go mad."

Johnny laughs, "Mad at you? Never, but I'll not tell him, now get to bed."

"Thank you."

"No need to thank me hen, just let ol' Soap take care of it."

After a quick goodbye to him you settle yourself down, you can't help but worry you know you've crossed a line by calling Johnny but you found yourself with no other option. After almost a week with no change you're desperate for something, any small glimpse of your Simon.

You just hope he sees it the same way you do.

When the sun's morning rays peer through the window directly into your face, you scrunch your eyes together and roll over, like a bad habit you reach out seeking him but you're met with nothing. Just a cold and empty unforgiving space. The dam breaks and you can't stop the tears as they pour down your face. You feel ripped open so raw and vulnerable, he's here but he's not and it hurts.

Face burrowed in his pillow to quieten your sobs, you allow yourself to purge all the negative emotions you're feeling; unable to hold it back no longer. You're lost and incredibly lonely, the silence is driving you crazy; you've started talking to yourself out loud as you go about your day, saying anything to fill the empty void.

When you finally do calm down and get your emotions in check, you feel exhausted but you drag yourself out of bed regardless to start another day. You've been trying to keep yourself busy as best you can, today you've got on a cleaning spree. Even going as far to get down on your hands and knees and scrub the skirting boards.

In your spree you noticed that his duffle bag is still where he left it and you haul it into the kitchen to tackle the pile of washing that needs doing. As you pull out his dirty clothes, you make sure to check all the pockets. Simon has a habit of leaving items inside of them and you've accidentally washed his wallet at least twice. It doesn't take you long until you find something; a cigarette lighter. By the end, you've found a few more lighters, an almost empty pack of cigarettes and odd bits of change. You can't help but let out a small chuckle, it's not that it's funny, no, it's just so Simon.

You look inside the bag to make sure you got everything, opening the many zips to check for no hidden dirty socks.

"What you doing?"

His voice is tense and it startles you; when you turn he is standing in the doorway his face still covered by the black mask.

"I'm just-" You stutter, looking anywhere but at him, "Washing needed doing."

"Really? Looks like you were rifling through my shit."

You shake your head, "N-no, just making sure I got all the dirty clothes."

The duffle bag is clutch close to you subconsciously using it as a barrier between you and him.

"Sure, you were." You can feel the building animosity from his tone alone, warning bells start ringing in your head.

"I was-"

"Liar," He snarls and within a blink of an eye he's in front of you, roughly snatching the duffle from your hands with such force you almost fall forward, fabric burning your fingertips. You're frozen in place; he's never spoken to you like this before. Even during past arguments, you've both spoken to each other in calm tones; taking small breaks when it gets too much.

He's so close that you can feel his body radiating heat, usually comforting but this time you find it suffocating, the heat rolling off him is coated with rage. You risk looking up at him and your heart stops, he's staring down at you with dead eyes, it makes you think if this is what his enemies see before he kills them.

Your heart thunders in your chest and he stalks away from you, pacing around the kitchen with quick steps, his chest heaving with each step.

"I've told you before, don't touch my shit but you don't listen do you?"

"I'm sorry."

He whirls on his heel and you don't need him to take the mask off to know he's baring his teeth. You take a step back the counter top digging painfully into your back, you've never seen him like this before and it scares you.

No, it terrorizes you.

"You called Soap."

It's said with no emotion it's not a question, he knows that you did. Lying about it will get you nowhere, you know that first hand it just makes things much worse.

"Yes," You whisper and you see all his muscle tense, his breathing once more heaving as his rage boils to the surface once more.

"What," He spits out, "Gave you the fuckin right?"

You can't speak, fear has you in a chokehold, your head is shaking rapidly from side to side pleading for him to stop but he's lost to the anger that your plea is unseen. He barks the question out at you again, it's a clear order to answer; like you're nothing more than a soldier who messed up.

"I was just trying to help you."

It does nothing to pacify him, it does the complete opposite in fact.

"Help?" He sniggers at you as he slams the duffle down on the kitchen table. "I don't need your fuckin help."

"Si-"

"Shut up," It's spoken in a hiss, "What makes you think you can help eh? You sit in blissful ignorance, you don't see what I see out there, the horror of it all."

It's an angry confession he has let you in only slightly but his anger isn't allowing him to open up fully. He's releasing so much unadulterated pain but the rage is clouding it, mangling it as it comes out, twisting it so that it can only leave his body as pure fury.

You watch helplessly as he paces once more, his hands are gripping at the fabric of the mask. Nausea churns in your stomach, acid burning the back of your throat. Tears burn your eyes as you follow his every move, trying to anticipate what he's going to do.

He picks up the duffle bag and turns in your direction, he lifts it slightly and your mind goes blank.

At this moment, you don't see Simon.

You don't even see Ghost.

All you can see is him.

The man you thought was banished from your mind. The man who hurt you, who broke you all those years ago. Bracing yourself for the hit that is going to come but it doesn't. The sound of glass breaking cuts through you, it's loud more so than any of the words that have been screamed.

The sound makes you whimper and plead.

It's your sound of fear that pulls Simon out of his red mist. When he finally comes down enough to actually look at you and the sight breaks his fucking heart.

You have your arms in front of your face in a defensive position, shaking violently. He can hear you sobbing; broken pleads repeating like a prayer.

I'm sorry, I'm sorry, please I'm sorry.

Don't hurt me, please don't hurt me.

Won't do it again, please just don't hurt me.

You're begging for him to not hurt you, but it's not his name you're saying. No, it's the monster of your past that you're pleading with.

It's like ice water is poured over him.

Simon has done the one thing he promised to never do; he broke you.

He rips that mask from himself, finally burying Ghost deep inside. Something that he should have been able to do long before he stepped through the front door.

His throat feels raw, a testament to how loud he was shouting. All the anger that he was feeling is very quickly defusing, leaving behind an overwhelming sense of regret and bone chilling guilt.

"Love-" It's the first softly spoken word from him since he got back and he takes a tentative step towards you. Simon calls your name trying to pull you out of the personal hell he put you in.

It doesn't.

It just makes you worse.

You flitch somehow managing to curl more in on yourself, as if you're trying to make yourself disappear. Your hands buried in your hair, twisting the strands around your fingers, clawing it out.

He moves towards you at a pace too fast, wanting to stop you from hurting yourself more.

Big mistake.

The scream you let out is nothing short of gut wrenching.

It freezes him in place.

And in the blink of an eye, you're moving.

In your haste to escape you slip on the broken glass that litters the floor but it does nothing to slow you down. Stumbling to your feet, he hears as the front door opens - slamming against the wall.

By the time he reaches the front door before he can even call your name, you're gone.

"Fuck, you fuckin bloody idiot."

It's raining and you've left in nothing more than a t-shirt and sleep shorts.

"You absolute bastard Simon."

Now isn't the time for him to wallow in self pity, he has to find you. Get down on his hands and knees, beg for your forgiveness. He just has to hope that you'll find it in your heart to forgive him.

Simon is going out of his mind. He's been looking for over an hour and he hasn't found you yet. His coat doing nothing to protect him from the ever present gloomy Manchester rain.

It isn't called the rainy city for nothing.

His fingers flex nervously against the steering wheel as he waits for the traffic lights to turn green. There is one last place that he hasn't looked yet, he'd hoped that you'd found refuge somewhere inside, out of the rain. Really, he should have gone here first after all, it is your happy place. There is something that you love doing more than anything else, you had very proudly admitted it to him, not one ounce of shame.

You love to feed ducks.

Even going as far to have your favourite duck.

"He's a mandarin."

"An orange?"

"Don't be silly Simon, he's a duck. Been through the wars that one only has one eye."

When he finally lays his eyes on you it feels like he can breathe again. You're sitting on the bench that overlooks the pond, hair plastered down flat, heavy from the rain. Learning from his past mistake he approaches with caution, but loud enough so that he doesn't startle you. His knees hitting the hard unforgiving ground as he submits to you, ready to beg.

You're shaking and breathing too fast for his liking, teeth chattering loudly. He takes off his coat and drapes it across your shoulders and you pull it closer around yourself.

"No orange today?"

It's a weak attempt to reach out and rebuild, but he can see from your eyes that they are devoid of all emotion, just empty pools of nothing. He needs to bring you back before he can apologize.

"He-he thought it was stupid."

Barely a whisper but he hears it loud and clear.

"Said it was childish."

He doesn't need to ask, he knows what you're talking about. Simon only knows little about your ex but it's enough for him to despise him. How a man could take someone like you, with all your kindness and unbridled love and nearly destroy you.

It makes him want to set Ghost free.

"He's all I can see, can hear him in my head," Your hands cover your face, "Over and over and over."

Every over is punctuated with a fist hitting the side of your head. Simon decides that now is the time he needs to bring you back. He's gentle when he takes hold of your wrists but you still make a feeble attempt to fight the hold.

"No- no, stop. Look at me love, I need you to look at me."

Despite the pouring rain he can see the fresh wave of tears rolling down your cheeks. Yet, you still won't look at him and it kills him, hurts worse than any bullet he's taken. He makes a desperate attempt to reach you, placing your hands on his face.

"Feel me, please- love just feel; it's me. I'm here."

When you do finally look at him, the world around you comes to a stop. For the first time since he's been back you finally see your Simon.

Not Ghost. Not him.

Simon.

You see him along with his scars, you feel the scruff of his growing beard. How the raindrops cling to his lashes and he is simply beautiful. Sorrow and grief fill the pools of his eyes, he's open and raw showing you everything that you've wanted to see since he got back.

"Welcome home, Simon."

He collapses into you burying his face into your stomach. His body hitches with each breath a concentrated effort to not break to keep himself together, the warmth of it only remind you of how cold you actually are.

When he looks up at you, his eyes are red and he looks exhausted. His hold on you is tight; desperate even - as if you would disappear if he let go.

"I'm sorry," It's blunt and to the point but it's spoken softly, "I'm so fuckin sorry."

He presses a delicate kiss on the inside of your wrist; the first time you've felt his lips against you since he's been back.

"Please," A whispered plea, "Never again, I- I can't."

Calloused fingers brushed against your cheeks cradling your face, thumbs brushing away stray tears. He looks you straight in the eye.

"Never."

A solemn vow.

One he will not break.

Slowly inching his face closer towards you, studying you carefully. His intention is clear but he waits ever so patiently for you to close the gap. He doesn't have to wait long. You move quickly to close that miniscule space, craving the feeling of his lips on yours; fill your lungs with him and only him. The kiss is desperate; a perfect representation of how you've been feeling, you've yearned for this for six long agonizing months. It pulls a needy whimper from you and Simon holds you close.

When he pulls away he doesn't go far tucking his face into your neck, each exhale like a feather. Simon needs this to know that you're there, when you ran to escape him for the first time in a long time he felt fear. He felt vulnerable and he didn't like how it made him feel. The ache in his knees is bordering on painful yet he takes it, punishing himself.

The cold has made you numb and the little warmth that Simon had you've quickly sapped away, once more leaving you shaking.

"Let's go home, yeah?"

You nod eagerly and Simon slowly rises; knees protesting the movement. You go to stand but instead with no effort, he picks you up, arm under your knees, the other around your back, your arms wind around his neck.

It's the warmth that hits first as you walk back into your home. At first it feels wonderful as it starts to chase away what felt like a persistent chill but that quickly fades, the wet clothes that cling to you feel horrible against your skin, you're stood awkwardly, arms slightly out to avoid them touching your wet shirt. Simon is gentle as he guides you towards the bathroom. He turns the shower on and gets it to the right temperature, steam quickly gathering in the space. He strips out of his wet clothes, leaving them a pile in the corner.

He stood just in his boxers and bizarrely you cast your mind back to when he would hide his body from you, he didn't want you to see the abundance of scars that covered his skin. You've traced everyone of them with your fingers, pausing while he'll tell you the story behind them.

"Sneaky bastard tried to gut me, missed the vital parts. Lucky for me, unlucky for him."

"Stabbed myself with my own knife trying to show off."

Some scars when you've grazed over them he goes deadly still. Only letting you get a glimpse of their history.

"Dad like to smoke."

That one sentence spoken in such a monotone way, like it almost meant nothing, painted a picture of some of the untold violence he'd experienced. It's clear that the memories of them are painful and it makes your heart ache for the small defenseless boy that's trapped within him.

You're brought back when you feel his fingers grasp the bottom of your shirt, he looks at you asking for permission and you lift your arms in reply. He takes care as he removes each piece of clothing, keeping you steady as he takes down your underwear. It's not the first time that he's done this, usually it's in the throws of passion and even after countless times he still chuckles when you squeak when your back meets the frigid tiles.

This time is different, he's gentle and taking his time, treating you like fine porcelain. When he's done, he guides you under the warm spray of the shower, the heat of it chasing away the cold. You take a moment, savoring the feeling as the water cascades over you. Simon slips in not long after, wrapping his arms around your torso holding you close to him; your back against his chest, the steady beating of his heart reverberating against yours.

Calling to one another.

The silence that surrounds you both isn't uncomfortable, it's soothing.

"Lemme take care of you, eh?"

He reaches for your shampoo, it smells like strawberries. The scent is uniquely yours, and every time he smells the sweet scent regardless of where he is, he's reminded of you. It's hard when he's away, makes his heart clench as he longs to be back home. Simon has magic hands and makes you purr as he lathers it into your scalp. Perfect pressure as he works, paying special attention around the sides. You're practically half asleep by the time he's done, leaning against him. He's careful when he rinses ensuring none of the soapy water enters your eyes.

You take it in turns caring for one another, he has to crane his neck down so you can properly reach to shampoo his hair. The normally soft stands feel dry and rough and Simon melts as your nails work to get rid of the dirt and grime, letting out a satisfied groan. With each act of care, you're stitching yourselves back together, mending the parts that have frayed, the bond that you share pulsing with nothing but love and adoration.

Even after you're both washed and clean you stay under the warm spray embracing one another. A gentle sway in his movements as he clutches you to him, when his cheek brushes against yours, the short and sharp hairs prickle your skin.

"You need to shave."

Simon huffs a laugh, it's the first words you've spoken to him since leaving the pond.

"Thinkin' of growing a beard."

You laugh out loud and it's like music to Simon's ears. "Wouldn't cope with it under your mask, you'll itch like mad."

"Good point," He hums, "Best sort it out then, yeah?"

Knowing what he wants, you reach over and turn the shower off, he follows you out of the shower. You wrap yourself up in a towel, you grab all the items that you need lining them neatly on the bathroom skin before hopping up to sit on the cabinet. He stands in between your legs, perfectly still as you work the shaving cream over the lower half of his face.

Simon loves it when you shave him, perfectly capable to do it himself but there is something intimate around it when you do it. Having your delicate hands so close to his throat, a place that his enemies aim for makes him feel vulnerable in all the right ways. Plus, he gets to see your adorable concentration face, how the tip of your tongue peaks through your lips. It's no wonder that sometimes he couldn't help but ravage you on the sink cabinet you're sitting on. You've become a professional over time, your once shaky hand now steady as you work the razor over his skin. Your skilled hands never leave him with any nicks or razor burn and he's grateful for the time and attention you pay to it. By the time you're done, his skin is practically glowing from the gentle care.

"Skin care is important Simon, all that paint is just clogging your pores."

When you've finished applying the soothing balm, you finish the routine the same way you always do, pulling him down for a soft kiss.

You hum, "All smooth again."

"Thank you, love," He leans in again, stealing another kiss, he can feel you smile into it, "You're welcome, Si."

"Let's go to bed."

"It's the middle of the afternoon."

"And?"

You roll your eyes playfully but you can't deny the fact that you're tired, "Okay then."

Simon still doesn't let you lift a finger as he dresses you in the fluffiest pajamas you own, he even carefully blow dries your hair in the way you like. When you finally do get into bed you plaster yourself against him, throwing a leg over his hip, laying your head on his shoulder. His hand rubbing up and down your back soothingly.

"I missed you," He confesses, "Not being able to hear your voice."

"I missed you more when you came home," You swallow the lump in your throat, "Being so close, yet so far away."

He squeezes you tighter against him; he isn't saying anything but you can hear as his mind turns over, searching for the right words. Simon has always struggled when it came to talking about how he felt, so used to just being alone and ignoring his emotions. It takes him a while when he finally starts to explain, you listen intently and patiently when he takes long pauses.

Putting together the parts of his jumbled story, the picture starts to become clear slowly. The mission had been in his words a 'shit show' from the beginning, the Intel they were working with hadn't been the best, going in practically blind. How he and his team had spent months in the desert, the unforgiving heat during the day and the freezing temperatures at night had destroyed the team morale. They'd risked their lives to save a captured squad and in return they betrayed them.

They lost four good men in that fight, one of them had a pregnant wife waiting for him at home.

He didn't want to cut contact with you but he had no option. They had been compromised and ultimately he had to keep you safe, keep you away from falling into the dangerous part of his life. Simon spares you the violent details, he never shares that.

The mission was a failure.

They found out that they were just chasing their own tails. Intel was wrong and in the end, wasted months of time for nothing and that left him furious.

"Six months for fuckin nothing, men lost their lives for nothing."

"Not your fault," You soothe rubbing your cheek against his shoulder, "You know that right?"

Simon knows that the job he has is dangerous and people dying isn't anything new, it comes with the work. Still, he struggles where to draw the line, where the blame should lie. At the end of the day be did his job, followed the orders given like a good soldier, it wasn't his fault that the information was wrong but men died under his watch.

Still angry when he returned back to home base, he was going to stay for a couple of days to get the mission out of his system but the overwhelming urge to come home to you, beckoned him like a siren song. He should have stayed on base, decompress and strip Ghost away from himself, but he needed to see you. It was a bad decision and he knew as soon as he walked through the front door, the air smelt too clean and the couch was far too soft. It felt wrong. His home was his safe place but in that moment it was far from it, he felt like a caged animal. He was going to leave but then you walked through the door.

He didn't want you to see him this way, so he locked himself away. Attempting desperately to dig himself back from the grave, but he couldn't and the harder he tried the more Ghost stubbornly remained.

Then Johnny called him and he knew that you had reached out to him. The reasonable side of him saw your side, the desperate situation that he had put you in and that it had pushed you to make this choice. Unfortunately, he got blindsided by rage and in his fucked up brain a line had been crossed. He was going to leave just for a few days but then he'd seen you with his duffle and his mind just snapped.

"You were scared of me."

You shake your head, "Never, I didn't see you Simon, it wasn't you I was afraid off."

"Still, it was my actions."

Sitting up so that you're sitting on top of him, you look down at him, staring deep into his eyes.

"I love you," You speak softly, "You're my safe space, taught me what real love feels like. You don't scare me Simon, I know the real you, sometimes more than you do."

His eyes become glassy and his breath hitches in his throat. Large hands finding your waist and squeeze ever so gently, as he grounds himself.

"I don't deserve you."

You smile, "You deserve nothing but good things Simon Riley."

"Come ere."

It's a kiss that fortifies your bond, one that it's filled with both an apology and forgiveness. Soft and slow, you hold one another tightly and when it ends you stay just basking in each other's presence.

The red thread connecting you to each other now has a kink within it. It'll be a reminder of a difficult time but that's all it will be, like a scar it carries a story, one that doesn't need to be told but it shows that the two of you not only survived but prevailed.

He made his solemn vow and in turn you make yours, you'll remind him everyday just how much he deserves to be loved.

[hauntedhokage]

could you do something with a jealous genma? maybe he and the team's medic are an unofficial thing and after a mission where another ninja was being a bit too needy genma needs to let off some steam and stake his claim???

ooop i sure can!

word count: 1.4k

warnings: jealous!genma, shower sex, hair pulling, unprotected sex, biting/marking,

Returning home after long missions was always nice. Especially when the mission itself hadn’t been particularly difficult; but there was a tension lingering throughout your team that you couldn’t place, which made time feel as if it was crawling by as you traveled. To be back in the village under cover of darkness, with nobody around to welcome you back or ask questions was particularly nice this time around. Aoba letting you know that he’d deliver the report to the Hokage in the morning, since nothing eventful enough had occurred to warrant anybody getting out of bed to receive the report, was even better. 

Which left you walking home with Genma, who lived in the same apartment building as you but wouldn’t be going to his own space. He never slept alone after a mission, even the easy ones, always preferring to crawl into your bed to help him decompress and ground himself once more. Something about the way he walked beside you told you that he was going to need a bit more than just a warm shower and some spooning to calm down, but since the mission hadn’t been too rough you’d be able to provide that additional activity that he’d be looking for. 

You wait until you’re behind closed doors to say anything, your voice soft as you work at his vest as you ask, “Are you okay, Genma?”

“Fine,” he mumbled around the needle in his mouth, forcing a smile when you pulled it away from him so he’d speak more clearly.  “I swear.”

“I don’t believe you,” you comment, pushing the vest from his shoulders and stepping away when the heavy garment falls to the floor. Instead of continuing to undress him, you head for your bathroom so you could start the shower. If he wanted to act like that, then you weren’t going to baby him like you knew he’d want you to. He could take his own clothes off and scrub his own body if he wanted to act like that. Or better, go sleep in his own damn bed. 

He joins you in the shower after a couple minutes, hands coming to rest on your hips with a gentle squeeze before he’s pulling you back against his chest. 

“M’sorry, baby, I just don’t like it when people get too comfortable with you,” he murmurs into your ear, gently kissing behind your ear before kissing a trail down to your shoulder. 

“What are you talking about, the mission was standard?”

"Oh come on, you and I both knew what he was doing." That has you tensing because you didn’t know what anyone was doing during the mission that was out of the ordinary? Especially around you. Was he talking about Aoba or Raido? Raido did get that deep cut, but it wasn’t serious or anything you couldn’t handle, and the way he acted wasn’t out of the ordinary. He needed help, you helped him, then kept close to make sure that the wound had closed properly. Once you knew he was going to be fine, standard formation resumed where you were right in front of Genma until you reached home. 

“Are you talking about Raido needing medical attention?”

“Needing your attention, more like.”

“Considering I’m a medic and that’s who usually provides medical attention, nothing seems weird about that.” You were so close to hitting him for being so…what was his deal anyway? This was not normal for your usually relaxed friend, especially where his friends were concerned. Unless this was about the fact that you two were more than just friends, but there wasn’t a label there for him to get snippy about. But for him to be so upset about Raido’s proximity meant only one thing. “Genma, are you jealous?”

“Wha-no! I just think people should back off of what’s mine.” That has you turning to face him properly, since this was a game that you were not playing with him tonight. Not when he was the one who wanted to “keep things easy” by keeping labels and the like out of the conversation. “What?”

“Since when did we decide on a label? I thought this was just friends having fun?”

He doesn’t have an answer to that, but you give him credit for trying to sputter out a response before you give up and kiss him. “If you wanted exclusivity, you only needed to ask.”

“Yeah?” he mumbles against your lips, grinning at the gasp you let out when he bites your bottom lip. “You wanna be mine?”

You nod, desperate for him to make some kind of move now that he’d gotten you all worked up. Your hand moves from his shoulder to the back of his head, where you take a handful and pull as he gently shoves you against the cold wall. His lips are by your ear, hands gripping your hips tight enough that you know there will be bruises but can’t bring yourself to care when he murmurs, “I’ll make you mine.”

His mouth is back on yours before you can respond, a clashing of teeth and tongue that lacked the delicacy sex after missions usually held. But Genma was on a mission of his own now, his hands moving from your hips so one could grope at your breasts while the other moved down to the apex of your thighs where you’re already wet and waiting for him to take you. 

“Already so wet, all for me right?”

You can only nod, your voice stolen from you when two of his fingers push forward and into your hot cunt. Your hand that wasn’t gripping his hair goes down to stroke the semi-hard length that rests against your thigh, smiling when he lets out a soft groan against your throat before nipping at your neck. You wanted him inside you soon, and you needed to get him ready as he was getting you ready so you could have that, then a nice shower, followed by round two in your bed.

He bites into your skin where the column of your neck meets your shoulder, forcing a moan out of you as his fingers hook and brush against that one spot that could have you seeing stars if he tried. Your body is warm, eyes closing as he continues to move his fingers inside you while leaving a trail of kisses and bites wherever his mouth could reach. He’s hard now, hips rolling in time with your strokes until he’s pulling his fingers from inside you in favor of gripping your thigh to bring it up against his hip. 

“Gonna fuck me now?” you ask, hands cupping his cheeks as he leans in to kiss you. You feel the blunt tip of his cock bump against your clit before sliding down until it catches at your dripping entrance. He knows better than to make you wait, easily pushing himself in until your bodies are flush against each other. 

“Last time we did this we almost broke our necks,” he reminds, nudging your nose with his own as you chuckle.  “So cooperate with me, okay?”

You nod, biting your lip when he starts to pull back, your arms looping around his neck to pull yourself closer to him as he starts to fuck into you. It hadn’t been long since you’d last had sex with Genma, only about a week, but every time feels like the first which made Genma a wonderful lover to have.

“Always feel so good on my cock,” he praises, catching your mouth again and groaning into the kiss as your tongues begin a long practiced dance that has only one end, which comes when he pulls back to look at you as you take him. You looked really pretty like that, and now he knew without a shadow of a doubt that you were his and wouldn’t be looking pretty like this for anyone else. 

“Genma, you’re staring,” you tease, and he grins as a punctuated thrust has you gasping and tugging at his hair as his hands tighten their grip on you. “You’re mean.”

“I’m yours,” he whispers, and you find yourself resting your head on his shoulder as your fingers dig into his back. His skin was still wet so getting a decent grip was difficult, but you were desperate to hold him when he started fucking into you at a faster pace. “I’m gonna make you come here, then I’m gonna take you to bed where I’m gonna make you come again and again. And then we’re gonna shower for real, and then we’re gonna go to bed.”

[chocolatecake47]

Rayla is like: 

Watched her parents leave “I watched you leave"/"Stood there and watched you walk away, from everything we had”, - them being gone/missing for most of her childhood (“but when will you be back?”) “Skies grew darker, currents swept you out again, and you were just gone and gone, gone and gone”- Their ghosting/outcasting “Cause I honestly believed in you/Holdin’ on, the days drag on" - Her trauma and stigma around her parents betrayal slowly isolating her from everyone “My friends from home don’t know what to say”

Coming on a mission of vengeance and murder at only 15 years old and choosing to change the narrative (“My heart for Xadia!/Say the word and I’ll go back into that tower with you!”) “People look at me like I'm a monster"/"I brought a knife to a gunfight"/"when I fought you used to tell me I was brave” - Fighting her father for people she doesn’t know just because its the right thing “they strike to kill and you know I will"/"you had to kill me but it killed you just the same” - Getting ghosted herself and literally being able to travel all over the world and go anymore but not the place she grew up in “And I can go anywhere I want, anywhere I want, just not home” - Believing in her core that she’s not good enough even though she did the right thing, believing everyone is right to be disappointed in her (“they’re right to reject me! I’m never good enough and I never will be!”) “I had the shiniest wheels, now they're rusting"/"They used to cheer when they saw my face, now I fear I have fallen from grace”  - Truly believing that her pain is irrelevant “I know my pain is such an imposition” because she thinks she doesn’t matter “Always taking up too much space or time”, - Expresses surprise over being loved because no one has ever been so open about it or loved her in her hardest darkest moments “starry eyes sparking up my darkest night"/"Rare as the glimmer of a comet in the sky, and he feels like home” - Thinking she has to defend her parents honor and die because of their supposed failure (“All of this happened because my parents ran away, so I have to stay and defend the dragon queen”) “Ghosts from your past gonna jump out at me”/“Remember how I said I’d die for you?”- Thinking it is her job to save everyone without letting anyone be there for her but it always ends up being more complicated “Never a clean break, no one here to save me”

The war finally over, everyone thinking things were finally ‘calming down’ but she was distracted, stressed, looking for closure, her mind kept reeling until her body finally did as well “Clearing the air, I breathed in the smoke”, - Waking up from nightmares with the reality of 3 of her parents being dead crashing over her and holding strong to that sacrificing mentality ("They said that, sometimes, we make sacrifices so that the ones we love don’t have to. It’s part of protecting them”) “I wake in the night, I pace like a ghost, the room is on fire, invisible smoke, and all of my heroes died all alone, help me hold on to you”, Waking from horrible nightmares that Viren has done something to Callum which results in her leaving before he can leave her “I wake up screaming from dreaming, one day I’ll watch as your leaving, and life will loose all its meaning, for the last time”, Desperately wanting her logic to be understood ("Please Callum, this is about who I am") "You say, “I don’t understand,” and I say, “I know you don’t” - Had such a fear the world would divide them it tore at her inside until she couldn’t bear it “I loved you in spite of, deep fears that the world would divide us” - Leaving without telling him  (“Don’t follow me, and don’t look for me {I have to go}.”) “Left Cornelia Street before you even knew I was gone” - Her self-sabotaging brain thinking that despite the love the last two weeks have given her she still wasn’t deserving of good things, and she had to leave because thats what they (meaning her family) did (“But I can’t let you stop me, Callum. No matter how much I want to. I wish I could say that we will see each other again, but I don’t know if we will.”) “Don’t pretend its such a mystery, think about the place where you first met me”, - Believing she’s a burden and her parents aren’t Callum’s problem to deal with/she’s not Callum’s problem to deal with anymore (“from doing what I know I have to do. Leaving.”) “I’m not your problem anymore”, - desperately hoping that he doesn’t hate her even though she’s hurt him, because she thinks she’s doing the right thing by building an illusion to protect him (“Please don’t hate me when that illusion fades, Callum.”)“Never wanted you to hate me” - desperately hoping he’ll still trust her and want her after “Will you forgive my soul when you’re too wise to trust me and too old to care?” - Searching everywhere for any trace of Viren, any trace of what happened to her parents to make the wound stop bleeding “Trace the evidence, make it make some sense, why the wound is still bleeding” - the thought of Callum being something that got her through her hardest times alone “And when I was shipwrecked, I thought of you/When it was real enough, to get me through" - the idea of coming home to Callum & Ezran being the only thing keeping her going “And I just want to run to you, And every time I don’t, I almost do”,

Not knowing what to say, not knowing how to turn up empty-handed after two years, not knowing what to do to make things better, but only knowing that she is falling apart and is goddamn trying her best and she needs him (“All day I’ve, I mean, all week really, I’ve been so nervous and kind of edge-frazzled, you know?”) “And maybe I don’t quite know what to say, but I’m here in your doorway; I just wanted you to know that this is me trying”/“Standing in front of you saying, “I’m sorry for that night”, - The part of her brain that is mean to her thinking its justified if Callum doesn’t want to be with her anymore after what she’s done “So if the chain is on your door I understand” but deep down her heart wants him to say that it wasn’t her fault and everything will be okay and they will be best friends again and that he understands her twisted logic and forgives her for it “Tell me that you’re still mine, tell me that we’ll be just fine, even when I loose my mind/tell me that its not my fault, tell me that I’m all you want, even when I break your heart” - knowing that she has a lot of trust to rebuild with a lot of people “There are so many lines that I’ve crossed unforgiven” -resulting to wait forever, offering to put his heart back together, and promising to never leave again, “I want you for worse or for better, I would wait for ever and ever, broke your heart, I’ll put it back together” because he is the best thing that ever happened to her and the best thing thats ever been hers even if she is realizing it and admitting to it a little late (“the best thing I ever had: you”) “You are the best thing thats ever been mine”.

Long story short the world screwed her over and over and over again. She was the prey so much she quickly had to become the archer in order to survive.

PS. I didn’t want to tag every song cuz then it gets launched into a whole different side of Tumblr, but if you’re wondering where I pulled lyrics from they are all listed under the cut in (hopefully) chronological order (even though I did repeat songs a couple times but not lyrics!)

Haunted 

This Love

White horse

Your on your own kid

Castles Crumbling

Call it what you want

Mad woman

My tears ricochet (this song is so Rayla/Runaan-coded omg)

You’re loosing me

Tolerate it

Long story short

Ours 

False God

Breathe

Daylight

The Archer (this song is also so Rayla-coded)

Anti-Hero

Dancing with our hands tied

Cornelia Street

Getaway Car

Exile

Hits different 

Evermore 

I almost do (Rayllum-coded for sure)

This is me trying

Back to December (this is the most Rayllum-coded song I've ever heard)

Afterglow (i pulled the whole bridge from here basically)

How you get the girl

Mine

[blossomingframe]

T-shirt

This is inspired by a real conversation me and my girlfriend had. First person POV.

It had been a long three hours. Dance class all day tends to lead to three things; a ravenous appetite, being drenched in sweat and being weirdly horny. Luckily unlike most days my girlfriend was waiting for me when I got home. One week of a parent-free house too. As I stretched and massaged my rubber legs I thought about how I’d be twice as exhausted once the day was over- but plenty energised for antics. I suddenly came up with a bright idea. I whipped out my phone to text her immediately;

“Hey babe. My shirt probably already stinks. If I make it worse on purpose would you wear it tonight?😈”

“Oh my God yes I would love to. Mark me with your scent. I want to be second grossest person in the supermarket tonight.🥰”

Perfect. Four more hours of dance. Now the shirt is sticking to skin all over. But the sweating time wasn’t over. I head to the student gym and hit arm day a little hard than usual. Arousal is the best motivator. Then I have a little pre-dinner at a coffee shop; broccoli Mac and cheese, an americano and a slice of chocolate cake. I love any excuse to eat but this time I’m on a mission. Make myself fart.

Once I’m off the bus I walk home in a cloud of joy. I’m a simple,slobby dude; I like food, sex, being gross and gross people. As I get to the door I grin wildly. My sweet girlfriend answers the door. As per usual she looks stunning. I kiss her on the cheek and say; “ it’s been a long day but I’m willing to make it twice as long for you.”She frets over me and compliments me, as I babble on about all the dumb shit I thought about to pass the time. Mid sentence a small burp falls out of her lips. It sounds so normal these days. I can’t help but shower her with compliments though. Especially with the snack packages I can see on the table. My plan needs to be executed though. I excuse myself to upstairs.

Perfect. I can hear my stomach gurgle. I always have a fart brewing but these will reek. I pull my sweaty t-shirt off, screw it up and shove it in my trousers. Then I push down with my hands clasped on my belly. Sure enough I release four massive farts in a row. Deep, bubbly and long directly into the already smelly shirt. I put on a shirt from my “worn once but not too bad” pile then go downstairs to see her stratching her ear while watching TV. Cutie. I say “hey babe you know what I said earlier about my shirt. Well I’ve stunk out this one for you. I hope you enjoy it.” She buries her nose in and stim-whistles a couple of times then puts on the shirt. “Thank you . This feels so cozy.”

“You look cute babe. Walk to the supermarket , wander around to get dinner, get the bus back then eat and fool around with a space documentary on?” “Could we get the bus both ways? I don’t like crossing the big main road.” “Okay country bumpkin we can avoid the horse machines.” “Says the city boy who gets excited every time he sees a cow”

We stand at the bus stop with my arm around her waist and her arm around my shoulders. I am definitely smirking. Sometimes I cannot control the smirk. She looks at me and blushes. Every time she blushes my heart lights up. As we get on the bus a couple of people turn to look. I pull her to the back and we lean on each other as we sit down. No traffic today so it’s only 12 minutes to the bus station. Before I know it we’re picking out discounted fancy pizzas while she talks about peaky blinders. “Can we get some garlic bread as well? And some sour candy?” “It’s your money” “I know but it has to feed us for four more days” “Can we get hummus” “Of course” she gives me a look. I know what that means. That look means I should apply my empathy to myself.

When we get to the frozen aisle an older man is looking at the frozen vegetables. He stares us down, looking for something to comment on. Then his nostrils flare. As I open the door the freezer with the Ben and Jerry’s he spits out “you gen zeds never bathe. Both of you smell awful. It’s anti social. Get your acts together” at my sweet girlfriend. She starts giggling and I start laughing as well. He picks up his bags and walks away. I keep laughing as I pull her in by the waist. “You smell terrible” I kiss her on the mouth. My stomach burbles and feel a bubble shoot up my throat. I turn my head and let out a medium sized burp. I pull back in give her a huge hug. I can feel that she’s nervous but happy I’m happy.

We both go straight to the kitchen when we get home. I open a bag of rainbow belts and place our pizza and garlic bread in oven while she gets a couple of paper plates out of the packet for us. Then she opens her hummus and starts slicing vegetables. I let out another fart as I retrieve the garlic bread and joke “I need to be re-inflated”. I place cheese on and put it back in the oven then hug her from behind and tie her/my shirt so her belly can be seen. I then kiss her on the forehead and start doing a silly dance to pass the time. When we dish up I’m more generous for myself than usual. Then we set ourselves up in the living and I turn on the TV. Then I ask “can I put my hand down your pants while we eat” “yes but let me get comfy” “ok” she pushes her self into the couch corner then places her food in the gap between her legs. I then fumble with her button and zip and push my hand into underwear and pick up a slice of garlic bread. She’s already hard. I look at her quizzically “you were really confident with that old man and I really like wearing your shirt”. We watch the screen as we eat and I touch various parts of her body.

As a supernova fills the screen I polish off my plate and tap her shoulder. She nods then pulls down her jeans and panties. I sit on her lap and put one hand on her clit and the fingers of the other hand in her mouth. Then I get into a rhythm. Mouth-clit-mouth-clit. She makes such fun faces. Eventually I feel a push and release and she moans directly in my ear. I move my two hands towards her belly. It looks cute, round and gassy. I rub gently below her belly button and she lets out her own loud fart. I kiss her face all over and exclaim “such a good gross girl! I love you!” She’s so cute. I collapse into her and we fall asleep on the couch. She’s mine. She smells like me.

[gloria-van-puncake]

The Translator

Teen And Up Audiences

Fandoms:

Star Wars - All Media Types

Star Wars: Rebels

Star Wars: Thrawn Series - Timothy Zahn (2017)

Relationship: Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo/Eli Vanto

Summary:

Set after the Rebel's finale. Sabine and Ahsoka are preparing to search the Unknown Regions for Ezra and clearly, they need a translator. Who better than Eli who's, in turn, searching for Thrawn.

Unashamed fix-it fic for what has not yet happened in the coming Ahsoka TV-Series.

Eli tugged at his civilian clothes, trying to make himself look presentable, as he entered the cantina. It'd been a while since he'd worn anything but one uniform or another and it was not helping him feel at ease.

He recognized the Togruta sitting at a table in the back. Ahsoka Tano, Jedi turned Rebellion leader. Finding info on Tano had not been easy, not with the Empire gone and with it most of his contacts and resources. From what he'd been able to find it didn't seem like Tano had Second Sight but Vah'nya had warned him that she could probably use the Force to read his intentions. Eli took a deep breath, he could do this. For Thrawn, he could do this.

"Greetings," Eli said, playing up his Wild Space accent; anything that would set him apart from Imperial Center. His accent wasn't a lie. There was an 8 in 10 chance that he'd be able to fool her if he stuck to the truth, the creatively edited truth. If there was no outright deception she wouldn't be able to sense it. Hopefully, Vah'nya was right about that.

"I heard y'all are looking for a translator going into the Unknown Regions?"

"We do," the Mandalorian standing behind Tano said, arms crossed in front of her chest - Sabine Wren his memory supplied, Lothal Rebels - looking him up and down. "Which languages do you speak?"

"I speak quite a few but for where y'all going Sy Bisti, Lioaoi and Taarja will be most useful," Eli explained, running his hand through his hair in thought. "I also speak Meese Caulf and Bocce but you could get a droid for that."

"I've never heard of some of those, where did you learn them?" Sabine was tired. She wanted a hot bath and a drink, not necessarily in that order. They'd been interviewing potential candidates for hours but according to Ahsoka none of them had been 'the one'. It wasn't that she didn't believe in the Force, she'd lived among Jedi for long enough to know that it was real alright but right now what it mostly was was a real pain in the ass.

"I'm from Wild Space," the man, he had to be in his mid-thirties, said patiently as if that wasn't obvious from his accent. "My parents own a small shipping company; you pick stuff up when you're around traders from all over, ma'am."

Eli eyed Wren wearily, he'd heard about her part in the  liberation  of Lothal, how they'd blown up the Academy with everyone in it. Trusting her felt like a gamble but he didn't have much of a choice if he wanted to find Thrawn. The fall of the Empire had come as a surprise to the Ascendancy and reinforced Supreme Admiral Ar'alani's conviction that bringing Thrawn home once and for all was the best option they had. The New Republic was still too weak and needed to be watched before a potential alliance could be offered.  

"What's your name?" Tano asked, and Eli wondered if the shiver he felt running down his back was her using the Force on him or just nerves.

"You can call me Ivant," Eli said, sticking as closely to the truth as he could. He'd been Ivant for nearly a decade now, surely that counted.

He'd read about the war trials on the Holonet and the rewards that were still out for high-ranking Imperial officers. He'd have to be very careful. Really, really careful. If he got himself captured and executed for what had happened at Batonn he'd be of no use to Thrawn, quite the contrary.

"What kind of cargo would you be transporting?" Eli asked, testing their honesty in return. He was fully aware of their mission but he wanted to see what they'd tell him.

Sabine and Ahsoka shared a glance. Surprisingly he'd been the first to ask that question.

"That's on a need to know --" Sabine started but Ahoska held up her hand, interjecting.

"He's the one," Ahsoka said with that sometimes infuriating certainty Force-users had about them that more often than not grated on Sabine's nerves.

"You sure?" Sabine asked, narrowing her eyes at Ahsoka. There was something not quite right about Ivant; his clothes were too new, and his posture was a bit too rigid, too formal. Like he wanted to stand to attention but was trying not to. She'd seen this with many of the Imp defectors during her days in the Rebellion. He didn't ping her as definitely Imperial but there was something military about him and she wasn't sure he'd not been making stuff up about at least one of the languages he claimed to speak.

"Yes, I can feel it in the Force. We need him," Ahsoka reassured her.

"We're not traders, we're on a rescue mission," Sabine explained, deciding to trust Ahsoka in this. "Welcome to the crew, Ivant."

Chapter 2

Three months later.

"Ivant!" Wren shouted excitedly, asking him to come and join them in the cockpit the second they'd dropped out of hyperspace. "You have to see this!"

"What?" This better not be another pod of kriffin purrgil, Eli thought sourly as he got up from his bunk. They'd been following the creatures around for the better part of three months, from one backwater planet to another. That those creatures had somehow managed to make the whole Seventh Fleet disappear creeped Eli out; they were another Wild Space myth come to life and this one he could do without.

Eli tugged his questis away into the inside pocket of his jacket and made his way over to the viewport. What he saw made his stomach drop in dread. The ISD Chimaera hung dead and dark in space. No. Please, no. He'd come this far –

He pressed his hand against the transparisteel, trying not to give in to despair. They couldn't all be dead, could they? Faro, Hammerly, Agral, – Thrawn.

Eli stood silently contemplating the fate of the over 30 000 personnel that would have been on board. Friends, colleagues, people he'd once served alongside. The excited chatter from the cockpit painfully reminded him that, despite the easy camaraderie they'd settled into during their time traveling together, just what side Tano and Wren were on and what would happen to him if they found out who he really was.

Tano piloted their ship closer to the Chimaera and to his relief Eli noticed faint lights in the superstructure. Maybe, just maybe, not all was lost. Maybe Thrawn was still alive. If anyone could survive this it was Thrawn. Eli had to cling to that hope. He'd spent his off time reading up on the fall of the Empire and sending reports back to Ar'alani whenever the opportunity presented itself. It nagged at him, in the back of his mind, when he tossed and turned, unable to sleep, that he and Thrawn both would have been on that Death Star if events had played out just the tiniest bit differently.

Pulling himself together, Eli took out his questis. He had a job to do. Not sure if they'd seen the lights but figuring that they would soon or later anyway, Eli ignored the excited chatter coming from where Wren and Tano were discussing their imminent success; something about feeling their friend in the Force. Unnoticed by either Tano or Wren, Eli keyed in their coordinates, transmitting them to Admiral Ar'alani. It was done. The CEDF would be here within a couple of hours, and everything else would hopefully fall into place too.

"Unknown ship, this is Commodore Faro of the ISD Chimaera, identify yourself." A familiar, and oh so welcome, voice addressed them over their comm.

"Well, kriff," Wren muttered but Eli's heart sang in excitement. If Faro was alive, then maybe there was hope that -

"This is captain Ria Talla of the Freighter Meiloorun. We've come to trade for local handicrafts," Sabine tried the by now familiar bluff. She hadn't expected anyone to be on board, not with the ship looking dead in the water. She should have known it was a trick and now that she was paying close attention she could make out pinpricks of light in the superstructure. Just their kriffing luck. Too bad the purrgil hadn't taken care of the Imps for them.

Good grief, Eli thought. Had this actually ever fooled anyone? Did they not realize that anyone on the Chimaera would recognize the Ghost on sight, even with its most recent paint job? They didn't have visuals on their comm but he could vividly imagine Faro narrowing her eyes at this krayt spit.

For a moment Eli wondered just how damaged the Chimaera was but then yep, there it was. Their ship jerked as the Chimaera's tractor beam pinned them in place.

"Want to try that again?" Faro prompted as the tractor beam slowly drew them in.

"This is neutral space, far outside the reach of the for- of the Empire. Under what authority do you detain us?" Sabine was seriously annoyed. After all these years they were this close to finding Ezra and somehow Thrawn's kriffing ship had survived the purrgil intact enough to give them trouble. But just how damaged was the Chimaera? Sabine could make out a patchwork of what looked to be recent repairs. The hull had deep gouges and the Chimaera's infamous paint job was missing where parts had been replaced but not repainted. If they were fully functional, surely they'd have returned years ago. Maybe they were bluffing.

"The planet Yihiri is under Imperial protection. We are authorized by the Yihiri Council of Elders to take any steps necessary to ensure the planet's safety. Identify yourself."

Just great, Sabine thought, another planet that needed their help getting rid of Imperial occupation. She keyed into the secure channel she had to Hera, requesting New Republic help. Even if they didn't manage to find Ezra, she couldn't leave these people to their fate. She'd seen what the Empire did to occupied worlds and worlds that defied their rule. What they had done to Mandalore-

"Can you break free?" Sabine asked Ahsoka, temporarily muting their comm. She really wished Hera was here. Not that Ahsoka was a bad pilot but she was no Hera and they could really use Hera's flying right now.

"Try breaking from the tractor beam again and we will shoot, is that clear?" Faro's voice had taken on an edge that meant she was deadly serious.

"Yeah, kriff that," Sabine muttered. "Ahsoka, any time now!"

The impact of a turbolaser shook the ship.

"Shields at 60%," Sabine warned.

Ahsoka pulled at the controls, trying to wrestle the Ghost free from the Chimaera's tractor beam.

Another turbolaser shot hit the Ghost.

"What do we do now?"

"Shields at 20%," Wren informed Tano.

"Stop, already," Eli snapped, pushing past Wren toward the comm controls. "The next hit is going breach our hull and kill us all."

"If they pull us in we're dead too," Wren snapped back. "Do you have any idea what they'll do to us if they capture us?"

Caught between the proverbial rock and a hard place Eli made a decision he hoped he'd not come to regret and snatched the comm control out of her hand. Not blowing his cover would mean nothing if he ended up dead in space because those kriffing rebels didn't know when to give up. "Don't shoot," Eli said into the comm, hoping that Faro would recognize, and more importantly, believe him. "Commodore Faro, this is Eli Vanto."