#but on the other hand. idk. the way everythings gone lately feels like certainty things are gonna be okay | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dameronology · 3 years

Text

cold coffee in the morning {poe dameron}

summary: aka the one where you and poe can't seem to work out your commitment issues, and also the one where c3po is the unsung hero (based loosely on the song by ed sheeran)

warnings: language, brief innuendos

enjoy! idk why i'm writing this at 3am but we mooooove

- jazz xx

Poe Dameron had never needed another person before - then he met you, and the idea of ever existing as an independent being for the rest of his living years had suddenly seemed like the most unappealing thing since Luke Skywalker's blue-milk cheesecake. The way you'd whirlwhinded into his life with your gorgeous smile and contagious laugh had knocked the usually-suave pilot completely and utterly onto the floor. Bruised ass aside, he wasn't mad about it. He was happy to have you in his life in whatever way you'd let him.

And what way that was exactly, he didn't know.

You were friends; close, close friends. Bonded for life through your shared goofy humour and seemingly-endless banter. Then you did things that friends didn't normally do - at least not in Poe's experience - and you would act like it was nothing. As if your nights spent together and the whispers you lost between the sheets meant as much to you as the things you did for your other friends, like stopping Finn from tripping on his shoe laces or picking up R2-D2 when he toppled over. It was as though every-time you crossed that line, you immediately regretted it; then, a few days later, you'd decide that you missed Poe, and you'd repeat the same mistake again and again, like you were trapped in a time loop of love and pain.

The feeling would stay with Poe for days; your hands tangled in his hair, his skin against yours, laughter rippling through clashing teeth and soft lips. The way you fell beside each other, sharing highs and secrets and inside jokes; the way you would reference one of your late night talks in shared conversations with friends, and his brown eyes would flick to the ground, cheeks burning red at the fact you'd remembered. It made his heart-rate pick up and palms sweaty.

And sometimes, just sometimes, it would make up for the way you'd leave in the morning; the way he'd arise to find a you-size hole in his bed and heart, and a cup of half-finished caff on the side. With his brain tinged with the remains of a hangover from the previous night, he'd pour the cold beverage down the sink and go about his day.

Poe did manage to catch you one morning; he'd purposely set his alarm so that he would stir earlier than you and rest assured, you were still dead to the world when he came around. The sun outside was still rising, the sky a dull pink-and-blue, the day fresh with hope and brimming with potential for heartbreak. It felt unnatural to see you quiet and peaceful, and not running your mouth and poking fun at anyone who would listen. There was a reason that C3PO avoided you like the plague - it wasn't his fault he was an easy target.

"You watching me sleep, creep?" You murmured.

"Just enjoying the view." Poe replied. He rolled over, crossing his arms behind his head. "You're usually gone by the time I'm awake."

You peeled one eye open, your one-eyed glare enough to send a shiver down his spine. "Don't be passive aggressive, Poe. Just say it."

"Isn't it a little early to be so feisty?"

"Isn't it a little early to make back-handed comments?" You shot back.

"Sorry. I was trying to find a way to bring up such a touchy subject."

You reached across to squeeze his check. "And you did a great job, curly."

"Alright, that's enough of that." He swatted your hand away. "I did want to talk to you about it, though."

"What is there to talk about?" You sat up, brow furrowing.

"You're confusing." Poe began. "During the day, we're friends. At night, you can't keep your hands off of me."

"It's kind of sexy and mysterious." You tried to joke.

"Sexy and mysterious is tiring."

"Sexy and mysterious is also late for work." You quipped.

You rolled out of bed, reaching for your strewn clothes. Without thinking, you pulled one of Poe's shirts over your head, grabbing your boots and socks. So many of his clothes had just snuck their way into your wardrobe - all of your friends had noticed it, but none of them commented on it. Everybody knew that there was something going on between you, but they were wise enough than to point it out. There had been one new guy who tried to ask, but he'd quickly been shut down.

"I'll see you tonight?" You asked, tugging on Poe's your jacket.

His brown eyes lingered on the floor for a moment, before flicking towards you, holding your gaze in a chokehold. "I don't think we should do this again."

You wavered for a moment, a wave of guilt clouding your judgement for a moment. This had never been about feelings - at least not for you. It had just a bit of fun; a bit of fooling around with a hot pilot. You hadn't meant to get in so deep, or get to a point where you were dismissing his feelings in favour of your own. It was more of a survival instinct than anything - breaking his heart to save your own.

That was it: lack of trust, presence of fear. All things that stopped you taking the full plunge, simply for the worry of letting him hurt you - or worst, you hurting him. Maybe it was a little late to start worrying about the latter. That ship had sailed a long time ago. Maybe it had sunk too.

"Poe-" you began, before pausing. "I have a lot going on in my life. I just don't have room for anything real right now."

"I thought the same." He was still staring right at you. "So I made room."

"It's not that simple." You reminded him. "It's not like...decluttering a room. I can't just Marie Kondo that shit and declare my love for you."

Poe froze at the mention of the L-word. It had been an elephant in the room for a long, long time - but it was outdone by the presence of bigger elephants. Like the ongoing war, and the fact that mortality had never seemed so fucking relevant. It was something you wanted to put a pin in for later, but later wasn't something that was guaranteed these days.

"Fine." He shrugged. "Good talk."

The guilt weighed on your brain for days, like a lead hat made of bullshit and regret.

You hadn't realised how much of a hole Poe Dameron left in your life until he was gone -- it was massive, like someone had broken into your home and ripped out two of the walls during a harsh winter storm. Everything felt a little colder and more confusing, and the amount of times you'd had to resist temptation to find him and beg for forgiveness was astounding.

The only reason you hadn't done so was because you knew what you would have to do. Give into your feelings, and let yourself become fully and entirely his. Let him into your life and into your heart. All the bullshit you'd spewed about not having room had been just that: bullshit. You didn't need to make room for him in your heart when he, entirely and wholly, was your heart. And he'd taken a little bit of it with him when he walked away - well, when you'd walked away.

Is this how it felt to be the villain?

"Is everything okay, master?" The sound of your favourite droid brought you back to the present. "You're being uncharacteristically quiet. On average, you've usually said 356 words by 9AM."

"You keep count?" You glanced up from your paperwork, eyebrow quirked. "I'm fine. Just tired."

"Eight of ten times that you've said that, you haven't been fine-"

"- just give it a rest, Threepio." You cut him off. "Please?"

"If there's anything I can help with, let me know." He replied. "A droid's logic can be surprisingly helpful."

"I'm fine but thank-" you stopped in your tracks, pondering for a moment.

Logic. That was certainly something you lacked - the part of your brain that was supposed to be rational was too busy thinking about hot pilots.

"Master?"

"Sorry." You blinked. "Maybe I'll have your input on something."

"Please, go on."

"I love someone and he loves me." You said. "It's just very complicated."

"If a problem can be reduced down to seven words, I would not class that as a problem." Threepio said. "I would say a problem is at least thirty words or more."

You thinned your eyes at him. "What are you saying, goldilocks?"

"Perhaps, your problem is only a problem because you think it is." He replied. "When you lay things out and look at them logically, it can make more sense."

"Logic isn't my strong-point. You know that better than anyone."

"You love Master Dameron and he loves you-"

"- I never mentioned names."

"My apologies." Threepio said. "I was simply reading the room."

"Right."

"Remove your emotions, and those are the facts." He continued.

It was bad enough when Poe was right, but it was even worse when C3PO was. But, for all his theatrics and whining, he was right. Decisions made with logic rather than emotion always had a better outcome. It was plain and simple: you and Poe loved one another. Everything else - your fear and his dismissiveness and your collective confusion - only existed because you let it. But your feelings for each other? That was something you couldn't help.

"Right - thanks." You murmured. "I'll be right back."

You quickly stood up, tossing aside your datapad and immediately exiting the room. The base was small, and Poe was never that far away, even when the room was on the furthest side of the base. It was also your favourite place in the entire camp; it was covered in photos of you and him and your friends, and it was always warm. The mixture of sentimental clutter and little knick-knacks, paired with the gentle smell of his aftershave clinging to the sheets and clothes scattered around, made it feel like an actual home.

You didn't bother knocking - that formality had gone out the window long ago. Instead, you took a deep breath and gently opened the door. There was no certainty that he would even be in - you could only hope. The chances of him being anywhere else were pretty slim.

They'd worked in your favour today, because Poe was stood by his coffee machine, a towel wrapped around his waist. His hair was wild and curly and there were still drops of water on his back.

He turned around when he saw you, brow furrowing. Mostly because he had never seen you so breathless and sweaty, but also because he hadn't expected you to ever talk to him again. He'd always known you to stick by your decisions - he normally admired your stubbornness, but as of recent, it had been fucking exhausting.

"Hi-"

"- I love you." You suddenly blurted. "Hi."

"I-" Poe paused, putting down his coffee. "What?"

"I love you. More than anything in the world, ever." You shrugged. "That terrifies me, but I can deal with fear."

"You can. You're pretty bad-ass." He casually nodded.

"Right." You smiled. "I'm sorry it took me so long to say that."

"Hey, it's okay." He gently smiled. "Come here."

You met half way across the room, bodies colliding in a tight hug. His warm, post-shower skin felt like heaven against yours, large hands dragging up and down your back. He consumed everyone one of your senses at once, but mostly, he consumed your ability to think. Your brain was so over-loaded with feelings that the rest of it completely broke down and malfunctioned - kind of like the time you spilt coffee on BB-8.

"I love you too, by the way." Poe gently murmured. You let out a small chuckle.

"I know." You smiled.

"What made you say it now?"

"Threepio said something about logic." You muttered. "The only logical thing for two people who love each other to do is be together, right?"

"I mean, I can think of other things-"

"- Poe!" You whacked his shoulder.

It was though you had untangled your feelings, and the only thing left was a line that went straight from him to you.

"You're right." Poe said. "Thank you for realising it."

You smiled, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. "Thank you for being patient."

"It's worth it." He couldn't help but grin. "Do you want some caff? It's still warm."

tags: @anetteaneta @poestardust @marvelinsanity

#i want a POE now please #idk why i even wrote this #hoe well #poe dameron imagine #poe dameron fluff #poe dameron blurb #poe dameron x reader #poe imagine #star wars fanfiction #star wars x reader #star wars imagine #star wars fluff #star wars x you #star wars angst #star wars imagines

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drabbles-mc · 3 years

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Reverence

Juice Ortiz x F!Reader

Request by Anon: How about a Juice x female reader where she wears short sleeves for the first time round the clubhouse, and the boys get a glimpse of the scars of her arms, from where she used to do silly things to deal with her shit, but after a chat with Chibs she just gives up trying to hide it, and it breaks Juice's heart because he's liked her for so long, and a bit of angsty fluff happens, before it turns to smut with some vague body worship. Idk. Feeling shit about mine atm - glad it's behind me

Warnings: smoking/alcohol, mentions of scars & self injury, unprotected sex

Word Count: 3.8k

A/N: As someone else who has also put this chapter of my life behind me, I’m really glad that you trusted me with this request! Hopefully I did it justice. It’s a little soft, a little sad, but it was really cathartic to write. Hope you enjoy. xo

SOA Taglist: @masterlistforimagines @adela-topaz-caelon @mijop @chibsytelford @xladymacbethx @i-just-read-stuff (If you want to be tagged just let me know!)

Join my group-chat here: (X)

You knocked lightly on the door to Chibs’ dorm, dreading the conversation that you were about to get yourself into with him. He called for you to come in, and taking one last deep breath you did. He was sitting on the edge of his bed, glasses low on his nose as he ran his hands back through his hair. He glanced up at you and smiled despite the exhaustion written all over his face.

“Y/N,” he waved for you to come closer, “to what do I owe the pleasure?”

You chuckled, biting back your nerves as you kept your arms crossed and pressed tight against your chest, “I, um, I was just wondering if you had a sweatshirt I could borrow? Half-sack spilled beer on mine. I feel naked in just a tank top.”

He nodded as he stood up and walked over to the little pocket of wall space that passed for his closet. He leafed through a few hangers before pulling a black hoodie for you, “Whatever you need, love.”

An audible sigh of relief escaped you as you stepped closer to take it from him, “Thank you. I owe you, seriously.”

He chuckled at how grateful you seemed for the small gesture, “It’s really no—” he paused mid-sentence as he watched you reach forward to take the piece of clothing from his hands.

You looked at him, and followed where his eyes were looking. Your heart dropped into your stomach as you watched him scan your arms. There was a reason you always had on a hoodie, or flannel, or sleeves of any kind despite the fact that you lived so close to the California coast. There was also a reason that Chibs was the person that you went to, to ask for a spare shirt to wear. However, as you watched the concern begin to pool in his eyes, you worried that you might’ve made a mistake.

“You can keep the sweatshirt,” he reached forward and rested his hand on your shoulder, “But I’ll be the first to tell ye, forever is a long time to try and hide. A long time to be ashamed.”

You felt tears stinging at the edges of your eyes and you tried desperately to force them back into hiding. You reached up, quickly brushing them away. You’d never spoken to any of the guys about that part of your past. It was behind you, but the slightly discolored scars etched into your arms felt like a constant reminder that you would never be able to fully outrun it. You didn’t want them to see that part of you, you didn’t even want to see it in yourself.

“C’mere,” Chibs pulled you into a full hug and you let yourself melt into his chest. He rested the side of his head against yours as he ran his hand up and down your back, “If there’s anyplace that you should feel comfortable in yer own skin, it’s here,” his voice was gentler than you’d ever heard before, “Ev’ryone’s got scars, love. People like you ‘n me jus’ wear ‘em on the outside instead.”

Your body was trembling as you fought the urge to break down completely. Tears fell from your eyes onto the smooth leather of his kutte. You couldn’t force yourself to pull away and look at him, “I don’t want them to see me differently. I don’t want them thinking about that part of me—I don’t want me thinking about that part of me.”

Chibs stepped back from you so that he could get a better look at your face. He thumbed a stray tear off your cheek and gave you a sincere smile, “C’mon now. There’s nothing but love for you here,” he pressed a kiss to your forehead, “I’m not tryin’ to tell you what to do. ‘S your life, your body. But I’m thinkin’ it might be time ta forgive yerself a bit.”

You took a deep breath as you ran your hands over your face, wiping away the remnants of your tears, “Thank you, Chibs.”

He smiled, nodding, “You know I love you, darlin’.”

After that, he excused himself and walked out of the room. You were thankful for the moment of privacy to weigh out everything that he had just said. He always spoke with so much certainty, but this was the first time that certainty had been blanketed over with so much softness. You wished that you could completely buy into everything that he had just said, but you still found yourself pulling the sweatshirt down over your head.

When you walked back out into the expanse of the clubhouse, you looked around to see who else was there. It was starting to get a little later, and more people were starting to flood in. Pretty much everyone in the MC was there, as well as the usual crowd of friends and girls from CaraCara.

You locked eyes with Chibs, who was sitting on the couch with Bobby and Jax. You were afraid to meet his gaze, afraid of what you might see when you did. Part of you was expecting him to look upset, or disappointed, but his expression didn’t falter at all. He gave you a slight nod and a small smile as he went back to the conversation that he was in.

Once you were back behind the bar with the prospect, you felt your nerves begin to subside a little. Staying busy and keeping your mind occupied was key. The two of you were cracking open a record number of beer bottles as the night continued to get busier, but you didn’t mind it. Truthfully, you thrived off the controlled chaos of the clubhouse.

You’d just brought in a few more cases of beer from the back storage room. Taking a moment to catch your breath, you lifted the bottom hem of your sweatshirt to wipe away a few beads of sweat that were beginning to trickle down your forehead. You weren’t expecting Chibs’ sweatshirt to be so heavy and well-insulated, but you felt like you were on the brink of overheating.

For a moment you pulled at the sleeves before mumbling a quiet, “Fuck this,” to yourself before pulling the top off over your head. You tied it around your waist and went back to work, feeling like a huge weight had been taken off of your shoulders. Breathing felt a little easier, and you knew it wasn’t just because you weren’t sweating anymore.

As the night wore on, a few of the guys had come up to get drinks from you. They’d be in the middle of telling a dumb joke or talking shit about something else happening in the clubhouse when you’d hand them their drink. They would see the lines that went across the insides of your arms. Some of them would pause when they clocked it, others would just look back up at your eyes and continue whatever it was that they had been telling you. No comments, good, bad, or otherwise, were made, and you were so relieved. Chibs was right, and perhaps you should’ve known better from the get-go, but better late than never.

You were just about to tell Half Sack that you were going to step outside to grab a smoke when Juice popped up on the other side of the bar. He had the same silly, childish grin on his face that he always had when he came over to talk to you. You chuckled as you leaned forward onto the bar.

“What can I get you, Juan Carlos?”

His smile grew, making his eyes crinkle at the edges, “Just another beer, please.”

You threw him a wink, “You got it.”

You grabbed a bottle for him, easily popping the top off on the edge of the bar before handing it over to him. You were just about to start up the flirty banter that always went back and forth between you two when you saw the smile drop from his face. Everyone else had moved so quickly past the scars on your arms that you’d almost forgotten about the fact that they’d never seen them before. Perhaps you should’ve known that it would be different with Juice. His eyes traveled up your arms and shoulders until they reached your face. When his eyes met yours, you could see that the light was slipping out of them. The hustle and bustle of the clubhouse began to fade away as you looked at him.

“You okay?” you asked.

“I, uh,” he stammered slightly, “Yea. I’m…I’m good.”

You knew that it was going to be on his mind all night, and he wouldn’t be able to think about anything else until you two talked about it. You offered up a smile, “I was just about to step out and grab a smoke. Keep me company?”

He nodded, practically jumping out of his seat at the opportunity, “Of course.”

You chuckled as you turned back to Half Sack, “You’re in charge for a little bit, prospect. Don’t let the place burn down.”

Once you came out from your side of the bar you lightly took Juice’s hand in your own and tugged him towards the door. You were trying not to think about the mounting concern in his eyes as you pushed your way out into the night air. It was still warm out despite the fact that the sun was long gone. There was the slightest hint of a breeze and you reveled in the way it felt as it coursed over your arms.

You sat down on top of the picnic table, feet resting atop the bench. You glanced over at Juice and motioned for him to join you. Once he did, you reached over into the pocket of his kutte and pulled out his pack of cigarettes.

He managed a smile, “Didn’t realize you invited me because that’s where you were going to get your smoke from.”

You chuckled as you pulled out your lighter, “Least I brought my own light.

You tilted the pack towards him and he took one with a laugh and a shake of his head, “Something not quite right about you offering me a smoke from my own pack like this.”

You laughed as you set it down next to you, “My pack now.”

He let you light his cigarette for him. You rested the side of your leg against his as you both stared towards the street, soaking up how quiet your little town was outside the fences of the compound.

“You wanna talk about it?” you finally broke the silence.

“About what?” he feigned ignorance, but not well.

“About that sad look in your eyes.”

He pressed his lips together for a moment, and you could tell that he felt bad that he wore his thoughts and emotions so clearly on his face. It was part of what you liked most about him, though—you wouldn’t want it any other way.

“I’m sorry,” he shook his head, “I didn’t mean to make it weird. I just…I didn’t know.”

Your laugh had a touch of hollowness to it, “That was on purpose.”

“What changed?”

You shrugged, “How long can you hide so much of yourself? There comes a point where it’s just…not worth it.”

“I’m,” he couldn’t take his eyes off of you, “I’m so sorry.”

You looked over at him and shook your head, “Don’t be. It was a long time ago. I’m a different person now.”

“No, I mean,” he paused as he tried to get his words in order, “I’m sorry you felt like you had to hide it. No one should have to feel that way, especially not you.”

You took a drag from your cigarette, letting out a long, slow stream of smoke, “You have nothing that you need to apologize for. What I did, what I do, none of that is on you.”

For a few minutes neither of you said anything more. You could see it on Juice’s face that he had a million thoughts going through his head. If anyone knew the weight of the kind of hurt that drove you to do things like hurting yourself, it was Juice. He never said anything in particular, but you knew that despite the energy he had and the brightness of his smile, he was a man who knew how much hurt a person could carry in silence.

“You know what my first thought was when you started working here?” he finally spoke up, his voice a little lighter.

“What’s that?” you smiled over at him as you flicked the last of your cigarette away.

“I thought that it was only going to take about a week for someone as gorgeous as you to get sick of all of us here and quit,” he laughed for a moment before shaking his head, “And my second thought was how much I was going to miss looking at you from the other side of the bar.”

You laughed, unable to lie to yourself about the warmth rising in your face, “You get in over your head fast, huh?”

“One of my best and worst qualities,” he snubbed out his cigarette and turned to look at you, “I’m really glad you stuck around.”

“Me too,” you nodded, twisting your hands in your lap.

“I know it’s too little too late, but,” he nervously tapped his fingers against his knee, “you know I’m always here for you, right? If you ever wanna talk. I’m…I’m never too busy for you.”

You rested your hand on top of his to try and calm his nerves, “I appreciate that.”

His mind slowed down as the warmth from your hand bled over into his. He let out a breath that he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He slowly took his hand out form underneath yours and slid it up your arm, the pads of his fingers ghosting over the ridges and divots that remained despite years passing. His hand traced over your shoulder and up your neck until it came to rest on the side of your face. Your heart was pounding inside your chest but the rest of you felt perfectly calm.

“You’re so beautiful,” his voice came out as a whisper.

You let out a quiet laugh, “You don’t have t—”

“I mean it,” he still spoke softly, but his thumb tracing lightly along the side of your face gave you pause, “You’re one of the most beautiful people I’ve ever seen. And I’m…I’m so glad that you’re not hiding yourself anymore.”

You felt a lump forming in the back of your throat at the sincerity of his words. Taking a shaky breath as you fought the tears that were beginning to form in your eyes, you rested your hand over his. You shut your eyes for a moment before opening them to look directly into his.

“Kiss me,” you let the words slip out.

His eyes went wide for a moment but he didn’t hesitate. He leaned in and caught your lips in a kiss. His touch was gentle as he brought his other hand up to cup both sides of your face. You leaned into him, arms wrapping around his torso as you tried to pull him closer to you. You could feel his lips curling into a smile as he kissed you.

He pulled away and you were caught off-guard at the sudden loss of contact. You were about to ask him if you had pushed it too far when he hopped off the picnic table and scooped you up right after. You laughed as he draped you bridal style over his arms and made his way down the side of the clubhouse. For a minute you both felt like a couple of teenagers as he snuck in through the side door and went straight back to his dorm.

He laid you down on the bed and you both instantly kicked off your shoes. You couldn’t wipe the smile off of your face as he climbed on top of you. He straddled your hips before leaning down to press his lips back to yours. Your hands made their way to the back of his neck, pulling him closer to you. You let your nails rake lightly down the back of his head as his tongue ran along the inside of your bottom lip.

He quickly untied the hoodie around your waist before his hands slid up underneath the thin fabric of your tank top, and despite the fact that his body was giving off so much heat, you found yourself getting goosebumps. You lifted your shoulders from the mattress, allowing him to pull your shirt off over your head. He tossed it to the side and you couldn’t help the giggle that came out of you as he did. There was a noticeable softness in his eyes as he looked down at you.

Unable to stop yourself, you reached and tugged at the hem of his shirt, making him smile as he shed it and tossed it aside with your own. You propped yourself up and lightly traced your fingers down the side of his face. He caught your hand with his own and pressed his lips against your palm. He kissed your knuckles before letting his lips slide down to your wrist. A jolt of fear went down your spine as your body tensed up. His eyes found their way to yours and he paused, trying to glean from your expression whether he should stop or keep pressing onward.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and nodded for him to continue. His lips curled slightly into a smile before he pressed them back against your wrist. “There isn’t a single part of you that I won’t love,” the words fell from his lips so easily.

You felt yourself getting choked up and you couldn’t say anything in response. He dropped kisses all along the inside of your wrist and forearm, leaning closer and closer to you as he did. Each touch was caring, delicate, like he was trying to softly wash away years of bad memories. He let his fingers trail up your arm as his lips found their way to your neck and eventually back to your lips.

Every last bit of self control had left your body. You felt little tears stinging at your eyes as you realized that no one had ever taken their time with you like this before. You cupped his face in an attempt to keep his lips latched onto yours. After a few moments, though, he pulled away again. He took your other hand in his and started the whole process over again, just as slow and meticulous as he had been for your other arm.

When he was done, he laid kisses across your collarbone and chest, lips slowly starting to wander down your stomach. Without missing a beat he undid the button and zipper on your jeans. He repositioned himself for a moment so he could slide them off your legs. He kissed your hips, fingers treading lightly over the thin fabric of your underwear. His hands ran over your thighs, and he couldn’t help but to notice the scars there too—fewer and less severe, but still faint lines crossed over parts of the skin there. His lips painted over those as well.

His hands and lips covered every available piece of your skin, explored every reachable curve. And it was the most comfortable you’d ever felt with someone, despite the intensive intimacy of it all. He made his way back up to you, hand caressing the side of your face. You couldn’t do anything but smile and press your lips against his.

As your lips moved so perfectly together, you found your hands straying towards his belt. He smiled into your kiss as he quickly undid it, kicking off his pants right after. The warmth from his legs seeped into yours as he positioned himself between them. You felt his fingers maneuver around the waistband of your underwear before they traced along your skin, causing you to shiver and moan.

His lips latched onto your neck and you felt your back arch into his touch. He pressed a soft kiss just below your ear before asking, “Can I keep showing you how much I want you?”

Your breath caught in your throat as you listened to the quiet reverence and desperation in his voice, but you managed to make yourself say yes. Within moments both your underwear and his found homes on the floor. He caught your lips with his as he slid into you, swallowing your soft moans.

His movements were slow, like he was trying to memorize every detail of what it was like to be with you like that. His hands roamed over your entire body as he thrust into you, desperate to be as close to you as he could possibly manage. Your nails raked lightly down his back and you felt him shiver at the touch.

Time faded away as the two of you remained laid up in his bed, bodies as tangled as the could manage to be. He lifted your legs and wrapped them around his waist. His name fell from your lips repeatedly as his pace increased. The tension building in your body was almost too much to bear, your nails sinking into his shoulders as you fought to keep the slightest bit of composure.

He nipped lightly at your neck, “Let go for me,” it was a soft and almost pleading four words and you couldn’t help but to do as he asked, letting go and allowing your body a true flood of ecstasy. He wasn’t far behind you, soon carefully collapsing onto your chest.

Your nails absentmindedly trailed up and down his neck as you both laid and tried to catch your breath. He pressed featherlight kisses along your chest and collarbone, earning a smile out of you.

“You’re incredible,” he gazed up at you as he said it.

You chuckled, massaging small circles into his shoulders, “I think you’re pretty incredible too.”

Comfortable silence enveloped the two of you. Juice pressed his head to your chest, reveling in the steadiness of your heartbeat as his fingers danced along your arms and sides. The pads of his fingers leaving warmth in their wake.

“Can I stay with you tonight?” you asked, although you were fairly sure of the answer.

He lifted his head and looked up at you with a smile, “You can stay with me whenever you want.”

He shifted off of you and pulled you to him. The two of you were facing each other, foreheads pressed against one another’s. His breathing slowed and you took comfort in the feeling of his chest rising and falling as it was pressed against yours. As the two of you settled underneath the covers you couldn’t help but to feel as though the four walls of that little room had witnessed the start of a whole new chapter for both of you.

#soa #sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy imagine #juice ortiz #juice ortiz x reader #juice ortiz x you #juice ortiz imagine #juan carlos #juan carlos ortiz #my writing #sons of anarchy fanfiction #fanfiction #drabblesmc

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mizunetzu · 4 years

Note

haha it's me again! could i get iida dating a delinquent male reader? (stuff like he smokes and breaks rules) like iidas trying to get the reader to follow the rules and he's like "i'll do that if you go on a date with me" so he does and the readers actually a really chill guy and they have a fun time, some fluff please?

IIDA DUDE MY GOD. MY RELIGION. MY SAVIOR. ok. Okok so. You said fluff and I delivered. But like-I mayyyyybe sprinkled in some angst. No worries. Fluff ending guaranteed. Also you know I enjoyed writing something when I broke my 1000 words rule. Like sheesh this is 3000 pLUS WORDS-

Also if iidareaders reblogs I’ll eat my shirt in joy

——————

Iida x reader - Selfish Promise

⚠️warnings - delinquent reader? Selfish-y Iida? Idk. None lmao

Pronouns - male, he/him

——————

(Y/n) wasn’t going to lie. Iida really got on his nerves. He’s always up his ass about sagging his pants down low, or running in the hallways. It’s not like it was his business. He was in class 1-B, for god sakes.

Everyone in 1-A knew him as that “1-B boy” who always liked fucking with Iida. And he did, it was fun to see him get all pissy and red when he unbuttoned his dress shirt to the point you could easily flash him if you tugged hard enough. Iida was pretty, but even more pretty when he’s flustered. He wasn’t going to deny the fluttery feeling in his chest when he sees an opportunity to interact with Iida.

Which is how (y/n) found himself smoking outside the UA dorms, sitting outside on the steps and staring up at the sky. He didn’t smoke much, only when he really needed to destress, but something felt compelling to just pull one out today.

He already heard the engine boosted footsteps hurling his way, a smile growing on his lips. Once the blue haired boy was in sight however, he wiped it off and replaced it with a neutral expression.

“You shouldn’t be smoking on school property, (L/n)-kun!”

“Mm? And you shouldn’t be on 1-Bs dorms. Wait til Vlad or Monoma finds out.”

Iida stumbled back, biting back the scowl forming on his face. He took the cigarette out from (y/n’s) fingers, and stomped on it. (Y/n) clicked his tongue as Iida hiked his glasses up his nose further.

“Stop acting like such a ruffian!”

“Then go on a date with me.”

Iida choked on his own spit. He knew that (y/n) joked around a lot, but this was just excessive.

“(L-L/n), you shouldn’t joke about such intimate matters like that with someone you barely kn-“

“I’m not joking.” (Y/n) stood up from his step, and stood infront of the taller boy. “I’m dead serious.”

Iida opened his mouth, then closed it. “(L/n) it is highly inappropriate for two students, let alone boys, to go on a romantic outing! This is a place for learning!”

“How bout we make a promise then? A deal if you must.” (Y/n) seemed completely calm, but inside he was sweating like a clam. He had said it on impulse, and there was no going back. Either sell it till he declines or hell, he has a date.

“If you be my boyfriend and go out with me for one full day, I’ll stop acting like a ‘ruffian’ or something. I’ll follow the rules and whatnot.”

“B-boyf...” Iidas words got caught in his mouth. “W-WHY?”

“I’m not going to try anything...! It’s..it’s just for my own...reasons...! If...that makes sense...”

Iida ran a hand through his hair. Did (L/n), a delinquent, like-like him? A proper former man from the Iida family? He wasn’t romantically attracted to the shorter boy at all, but this was a good chance! He could finally be set on the right path if he agreed to be his significant other for one day! Easy enough!

Iida pushed up his glasses once more. “Fine. I will do it. But afterwards you better keep your end of the bargain.”

(Y/n) held the tiniest smile and extended his pinky. Iida looked at him confused, before hesitantly interlocking their fingers and shaking it.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Gimme your number. I’ll text you the info later.” They exchanged phone numbers, and Iida bid him goodbye.

(Y/n) felt like he was on top of the world.

—————

“Oi Iida! Over here!” (Y/n) waved his arms around frantically, trying to get the boys attention. Iida spotted him, and made a beeline towards him. He gave a smile and bowed slightly.

“Good morning, (L/n)-kun.”

“Morning! Haha, I’m glad you came! I didn’t think you’d actually show...and you’re on time aswell! As expected of uptight iida.”

(Y/n) was in a pink, slightly oversized hoodie and black sweatpants. Iida was expecting him to be in full black, ripped clothing with skulls on it. He wasn’t expecting him to look so...soft? If you looked at him, you wouldn’t think he was the same person smoking on the steps of a prestigious school.

“Oh well, what time did you get here?”

“An hour ago.”

Iida deadpanned. Even he wasn’t that extra. “Why...”

(Y/n) rubbed the back of his neck shyly and chuckled. “I was so happy I couldn’t wait, ahaha!”

(Y/n’s) probably smiled more times today then the whole time he’s been enrolled into UA. It was an odd sight, but Iida felt a sort of proudness that he was probably the only one who got to see this side of him. He glanced at his face one more time, this time, looking at his red eyes and cheeks.

“...are your eyes swollen..?”

“Oh I...I couldn’t sleep...”

(Y/n) awkwardly chuckled for the 100th time that morning. Iida was about to go on a tangent about how sleep is important to you, but (y/n) suddenly grabbed his wrist, and pulled him forwards. He was practically dragging the poor boy.

“Is there anything specific you wanna do, Iida?” (Y/n) mused, looking around the plaza.

Iida shrugged.

“No, not really. Today’s more of your day, so I’m fine with anything.”

A bright red painted itself onto (y/n’s) cheeks, as he turned back around to hide it. It was usually iida getting all red and flustered, (y/n) wasn’t used to it. Still, it felt kinda nice.

“Awesome dude!”

(Y/n) went on rambling about places they could go to or eat at, but Iidas ears drowned out the noice as he looked at his smiling face. He didn’t know someone so...rude, could look so sweet. (Y/n) tugged at Iidas shoulder.

“...though I suppose, we could just go to a field and train, right?”

—————

(Y/n) got back up to his feet for the 5th time, and charged at Iida. He knew he couldn’t beat him with speed, so he’d have to rely on his quirk as much as he could. They were sparring in a little patch of grass near a small clearing, with a big tree providing the two boys shade. Iida swerved out of the way, making the smaller boy tumble onto the ground face first.

“Ah! (Y/n)! Are you okay?”

Iida rushed to the boys side and tangled his fingers in his hair. “It’s a little swollen but it’s not bleedi...(L/n)-kun...?”

(Y/n) hid his blush with the back of his hands and tensed up. “You..called me...(y/n)...dude..”

It was Iidas turn to tense up. His glasses fogged up as he swung his arms around madly. “IM TERRIBLY SORRY! IT WAS AN ACCIDENT, I SWEAR! IJUSTGOTWORRIEDANDSAIDITONACCIDEN-“

“Dude it’s fine! I-I dont mind..!” (Y/n) jabbed him lightly on the chest.

“L-let me treat you to some food! As apology for your head I mean!” Iida stood up, pulling (y/n) to his feet aswell.

—————

(Y/n) was rambling on nervously again, with chopsticks resting nimbly between his fingers. Iida couldn’t help but gaze at his face. His eyes were softer than he expected, softer than the mockingly hardened eyes he pointed like a sword towards people at UA. His gentle clad smile could raise the heavens, with one crinkle near his left eye and a dimple dangerously close to the corner of his mouth. He had unusually long eyelashes for a guy, but it made him look even more pretty for a bad boy.

“Why are you a delinquent at school when you’re such a sweet and funny person?” The words dripped out of Iidas mouth unconsciously, quickly covering his mouth too late.

(Y/n) flushed bright red, squeezing his chopsticks a little too tightly. “W-well...I don’t know. It’s not like I’m doing it on purpose. People just think I am because i don’t like socializing with everyone I meet? Like-id rather hang out with someone I know and like than go out of my my way to befriend all of class B, y’know? Does that make sense? Ahaha sorry I’m rambling again. I don’t get to talk much with my few friends. And they’ve pretty much heard everything I have to say so it’s refreshingtotalktoa-“

Iida cut him off before he talked his tongue off. “If you don’t talk to people you don’t know well, then why are you talking to me so openly?”

“Because I like you.”

(Y/n) said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. He wasn’t tripping over his words, or laughing nervously. He looked at Iida and said it like saying “the sky is blue” with so much certainty, it made a knot tighten in iidas throat.

Iidas question was, why though? Why did his heart thump along the buttery smooth rhythm of (y/n’s) voice? Why did his head reel every time he saw (y/n’s) eyes light up talking about something he found interesting? Why was he at such a loss for words when his gaze fell on him so attentively?

Iida cleared his throat. Maybe he was just excited to have a new friend. He didn’t see him in a romantic light! How could he? He’s just worked up on the fact that this hardass delinquent boy wasn’t who he thought he was.

“Shall we go, then?”

————

The date went by like a dream. Technically it wasn’t over yet, as the promise was for a full “day”, but window shopping and dicking around while Iida chops aggressively really tires you out. They both ended the day by sparring at the same clearing, before taking refuge on a bus stop bench. The sun was completely gone. Leaving behind the pasty purple and blue sky, washing over and killing the clouds.

“Ahhh, time flies by so fast! Damn, well, the days still not yet over soooo.”

“Yes, yes I know.” Iida chuckled. He thought he was going to have to bear through this day, but it was actually quite splendid. He definitely feels like he’s made a new friend.

“Well, is there anything you wish to do before the day is over?”

“Yeah um, so,” (y/n) cast his eyes down, fiddling with his fingers. “C-can we hold hands..?”

Iida wordlessly set his hand on top of (y/n’s) smaller one, waiting as he interlocked their fingers together. His hand was warm, way warmer than (y/n) was expected. He didn’t know, Iida seemed like a cold hands guy.

They sat quietly under the ambient streetlight, occasionally rubbing a thumb over the others hand, feeling it’s warmth and staring off into the distance. Iida didn’t notice his eyes drooping lower and lower until they were finally closed.

Iida let his thoughts roam. It was something he did when he was going to bed, or simply just resting his eyes for a bit. He thought of his family, what he would do for class on Monday, and finally, (y/n). It was the most prominent thing on his mind, and not because he was unconsciously resting his head on his shoulder, softly but firmly gripping the warm hand underneath his own.

The idea of (y/n) so soft and vulnerable in front of anyone else didn’t sit right with him. He wanted that sweet, kind side all to himself. It was selfish, and even wrong if he thought about it. (Y/n) was so sweet and respectable during this “date” of theirs. Perfect manners for when inside the classroom. If anything, he should be more than glad to have the world share this side of him.

So why was he feeling this way?

He felt a shoulder nudge from under his head, before a hand started vigorously poking at his cheek. He initially ignored it, but once he registered the current situation he jerked up and

“Iida. Iida wake up. It’s 11:40. We should be heading back before midnight. A-at least I want to so we can um...we can still technically legally hold hands by promise-“

Iida rubbed at his eyes in embarrassment. “My sincerest apologies for falling asleep! It was not my intention-“

”oh no it’s all good! I-I kinda fell asleep too. It’s been like...2 hours.”

Iida checked his watch. (Y/n) was right. 11:45 pm. He knocked his glasses up higher on the bridge of his nose and stood up. He extended a hand to (y/n) who tiredly accepted it and pulled himself off the bench.

They spedwalked towards the train station to catch a train back to UA, when (y/n) tugged on his sleeve, halting temporarily.

“Iida.”

Iida turned around with a hum. (Y/n) kept his eyes fixated on the ground, but held on to the sleeve of Iidas jacket like a lifeline.

“Today...is almost over.”

“Yes, um, it’s about 11:57 so we should hurry back-“

“Before the day officially ends,...can you kiss me?”

Iida focused on (y/n’s) downcast face. It wasn’t an expression of nervousness or any sort of flustered emotion. Instead it held a look of unreadable shame.

“If you do, then I would have no regrets. My feelings for you will also end here. I’ll try my best to end it. My feelings grow stronger for you everyday when we bicker or when I simply just see you, so I want to end this with a grand fina-“

“I refuse.”

(Y/n) looked up. Iida glasses glared white, preventing him from seeing his cerulean eyes. But he got his answer from the frown Iida was sporting on his face. Even he could agree, it was a silly request, but he couldn’t help by feeling just a tad bit hurt by how quickly he was shut down.

“I understand.”

(Y/n) averted his eyes, flushing with embarrassment. He scanned the area for something other than Iida to look at, before his eyes landed on the parks clock.

12 am.

Midnight.

The date was officially over.

(Y/n) was quick to let go of the sleeve he’d been clutching for a while now. “A-ah! The day has ended. The dates over.”

He stepped back and ducked his head into a 90 degree bow. “Thank you so so much for coming with me today.”

“I’m really happy.”

His expression betrayed his words. If there was one word to describe it, Iida would say it looked dead. Hollow, even. It looked hollow, like the sinking feeling harboring itself in his chest. He knocked against his ribcage multiple times to shake the achy feeling in his chest, but it never went away.

“Well, let’s head back now. It’s late.”

(Y/n) silently walked past Iida. It wasn’t until seeing his watery face drenched in silent hot tears walk by that Iida realized,

He was in love with (L/n) (Y/n).

He was in love with the sweet delinquent boy who smokes and sits on desks, but also has the most hypnotizing laugh. He was in love with the boy who wore saggy pants to school, but also wore an oversized pink hoodie that made Iida reluctantly imagine him wearing one of his own jackets. Oh, how cute he would look.

He was hopelessly, graciously, entirely in love with (L/n) (Y/n).

Iida ran up to (y/n), who had walked past him and kept going with the assumption that he was behind him. His breath crystallized in the form of fog when he ran, faster than he ever did without using his engines. There wasn’t enough time to hike the fabric of his pants up, and he’d rather not burn them to a crisp with the steam from his engine.

“(L-L/n)!”

He wasn’t sure if he heard him. He was still a great length away.

“(L/n)!”

He was closer now. Close enough for him to hear. He was either lost in his thoughts or outright ignoring him.

“(Y/N)!”

The boy whipped his head around so fast, his tears flung into the cold air and landed beside him on the ground. Iida didn’t think far ahead as to brace for landing, choosing instead to glomp (y/n) into a soul crushing hug. Though, it was more of a tackle with the the way they both tumbled over and hit the ground with a thud.

(Y/n) was able to soften the blow with his quirk, but the impact of Iida landing on his chest still knocked the wind out of him. He was waiting for Iida to start swinging his hands and start apologizing profusely, but instead got pulled up to his knees and encased in a more gentle hug.

He was buried in the crook of Iida neck, who in return nuzzled himself into (y/n’s) hair. They stood, or rather kneeled, in a stiff silence, rocking back and forth ever so gently.

“Sorry.”

“Wah! Don’t apologize! You did nothing wrong, you had the full right to deny my request-“

“No, not for that.” Iida untangled himself from the warmth of (y/n’s) body to look at him seriously. “I’m sorry for breaking our promise. Our deal.”

(Y/n) wiped his stray tears away, all bitterness turning itself into lighthearted confusion. “But you didnt-“

(Y/n’s) words fizzled out in his throat when a pair of lips shut him up. His eyes fluttered closed as he wrapped his arms shakily around Iidas neck, drawing him closer than he already his. After what seemed like forever, Iida suddenly jumped back with fogged up glasses and heavy blush on his face.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I wasn’t thinking! Forgive me!”

“You know, all you’ve done was apologize all day. Is this what you normally do in class?”

“NO!” Iida fell back on his ass, a yelp escaping from his throat. (Y/n) chuckled ironically, pushing himself up to his feet and extending a hand towards the blue haired boy.

“I still don’t see how you broke our deal.”

Iida dusted himself off and adjusted his glasses. “Well-listen I-“ For once in his life, he was at a loss for words.

“I...want to e-extent it. O-Our date, I mean.”

Iida stood rigid as a board as (y/n) blinked.

“Wait-so like, you’ll go out with me tomorrow?”

“Yeah.”

“And the day after that.”

“Yes I suppose so.”

“A-and how bout a week from now-“

Iida grabbed (y/n’s) shoulders and shook him roughly. And by rough, I mean rough. This boy has enough beef to throw (y/n) into the sun.

“I-I WANT TO GO OUT WITH YOU FOREVER! I WANT YOU TO BE MY BOYFRIEND! I...I WANT TO BE YOUR BOYFRIEND! I WANT YOUR KINDNESS AND SWEETNESS ALL TO MYSELF! SO BE IT YOU’RE UNINTENTIONALLY A NEGLIGENT BOY AT SCHOOL! I WANT THIS SPECIAL SIDE OF YOU RESERVED FOR MYSELF! IVE NEVER BEEN SELFISH IN MY WHOLE LIFE SO SURELY THIS IS FINE! I WANT TO BE SELFISH! I WANT TO HOLD YOU IN MY ARMS MORE! I WANT TO GO ON SOME MORE DATES WITH YOU! (Y/N)-KUN I LOVE YOU!”

Iida has never considered himself selfish. He wasn’t the type to want something all to himself. If his friends wanted to be friends with someone he disapproved of, so be it. If he bought food but a fellow classmate was starving, he’d be eating only half as his classmate would be happily munching on their portion. If it was reasonable, he’d be willing to give up anything. It was the right thing to do.

Surely all of those good deeds would permit him to be selfish just this once. He’d never known the feeling of wanting something so bad to the point you felt like you were boiling. Of wanting no one else to have someone look at them the same way they looked at him. And how utterly satisfying it felt to have someone to claim as your own. Just this once couldn’t hurt anyone.

And by god, the impossibly wide smile (y/n) held was one thousand percent worth it.

————

“Halt! No running in the hallways, (L/n)-Kun!”

(Y/n) slowed down to a stop and sighed. “Dude, get off my dick.”

“Still pestering (L/n) huh? As expected of Iida!” Mina and Uraraka giggled, as they both disappeared inside the 1-A classroom. The hallway was empty now, making both Iida and (y/n) relax. (Y/n’s) pissed off expression softened, a smile now growing on his face. Iida swears it’s like talking to two different people. It’s kind of scary.

“Good morning, Tenya-Chan~”

“Uh-uh. Don’t ‘Tenya-Chan’ me. You know the rules. You owe me a kiss for breaking a rule. Gimme.”

Iida made grabby hands at (y/n), puckering his lips jokingly. God, he didn’t want to admit it but (y/n’s) sense of humor was rubbing off on him.

(Y/n) snorted at his boyfriends antics, pressing a gentle kiss onto his mouth. “Well-I gotta go, bye bye, Tenya! See you later. Call me, you sexy lamppost.”

(Y/n) timpered off to his classroom, his bad boy attitude returning once he stepped inside. Iida stood there, in utter confusion, before turning around and walking inside his own class.

“Ne ne, Iida, I’ve noticed you’re kinda like...less strict with that 1-B baddie. What’s up?”

Mina followed behind Iida with a curious, shit eating smile on her face.

“Ah. We...became good friends. He’s not as bad as I thought, I suppose.”

Mina looked at Iida unconvinced.

“You know, I saw you and bad boy kissing out there. My god. Iida. You gay liar.”

Iida, along with probably everyone else in class 1-A, collectively choked on air.

——————

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foulserpent · 3 years

Text

yeah more elaborated thoughts on the ending of 3.0+1.0. spoilers obviously

ok so EOE is heavily pessimistic w,ith a slight aspect of hope when examined closely. a traumatized 14 year old who has had what little was good in his life taken away and all his fears validated is put in control of the apocalypse, so OF COURSE he decides to take the easy route and create a world without individual humans to hurt each other (since thats the main option on the table). thats entirely natural and understandable. and by the time he comes around to rejecting this, its partially too late, and we’re left with a desolate world, but with the hope that people can reform and a potential for a future. he suffers tremendous consequences for what isnt so much a personal failing as like, pretty much inevitable. and i dont really like analyses that treat it as like Punishment For Shinji's Sins bc even if maybe its meant that way, this is still a situation where him and the other kids are victims. but i feel like the consequences are IMPORTANT like it shows that he has accepted the potential for pain and is willing to face it.

eva 3.0+1.0 is almost the exact opposite, where shinji knows exactly what to do, manages to make peace with everyone in his life, and create a better world. which like, if you take the og series and rebuilds as one set of media Maybe works, but on its own is a little hollow too. and definitely feels like a sudden and unlikely transition from how despondent shinjj is at the beginning with no real concrete impetus for change

i mean idk since they DID confirm timeloops i think it might be implied shinji was aware of the previous timelines and that informed his decisions? but its never really shown. idk i think id rather see some key transitional moment(s) that prepare shinji to make peace with everyone, bc as it stands its just a couple things with not-rei (and then hes weirdly unaffected by her death) and him hallucinating kaworu once and then hes suddenly like. hes good. hes fine. i mean i dont want an extra hour of him being despondent but it wuould have been nice to have a lot more buildup to him being willing to reject instrumentality/make peace with everyone.

but also i feel like a more balanced ending thats STILL very optimistic would be that hes able to reverse the destruction to the world but not reset it altogether. like its still the post apocalyptic post 3rd impact world you see at the beginning, but its no longer coreified, life can grow again. that way there ARE consequences and shinji has to live in this world he (unwittingly) created, but its one where people can live and 'rebuild' (lol) where theres a hope for the future and day to day happiness, even if its not an idealistic certainty

bc this ending feels a little weird underneath the superficial happiness like... what happened to that village and its ppl? the baby and etc? are they just gone? even if they were like, transferred to the new world, it kinda feels like everything they built was kinda for nothing.

i mean like THE core theme of evangelion is facing things instead of running away, and like on one hand shinji very much does face things (literally finding resolution in every one of his relationships, which is the emotional core of the show) but hes still kinda "running away" in a sense.... but then on the other end, its very directly a 'return to the real world' and a conclusion to the meta arc of shinji as kind of representing the audience a little, not to mention anno lol. i honestly just dont know how to feel about it. still liked it tho

#its REALLY interesting in that its very different when viewed only in the context of the rebuilds vs in the context of the full series #like not even just in the 'having context informs your thoughts on it' way like it very literally changes the meaning of the ending a littl #i really did like it overall tho i never would have expected the rebuilds to end in a way that isnt garbage lol

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calpops · 4 years

Text

shatter | c.h.

Distance brings problems to the surface of your relationship with Calum. A break feels like the only option. You hold onto hope that it will bring you back together and that if it’s meant to be it will be.

1.5k words

dates with cal masterlist

<< >>

Your heart sinks as Calum sighs and sets himself on the edge of the couch cushion; three places away from you. Usually he’d settle completely at your side, pull you into him and let your head rest against his chest, grin as your fingers tapped the rhythm of his heart against his ribs and know you were both finally home for the night. The moon would have usually guided you both to bed but tonight it casts haunting shadows that cut across Calum’s somber face. You swallow down a lump in your throat and play with your hands set in your lap.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” He asks, voice tight and trying not to break.

“I think it’s what we need,” you explain and try to convince him and yourself.

Things had gotten rocky between you as band responsibilites took off and distance made everything hazy. He was gone and busy, you were home and alone. You convinced yourself that when things calmed down and he was home more it would be different. Things would go back to the way they were before he left. It would go back to feeling like home. But they stayed distant. He was still gone; celebrating the success, riding out the highs of all the successes his hard work brought. You were happy for him. But, you were still alone, not one for parties or late nights. You were shaken by the disturbance that entered your lives and lent you realizations. You felt like three different people all in the same breath. There was you when you were with him, you when he was away, and you somewhere in between those times. You weren’t sure who that was anymore.

“A break,” he said around a sigh. “You really think we need a break?”

“It already feels like we’re in the middle of one,” you admit and feel your heart crash. You hate to admit it but the truth has never been easy to admit. “You’ve been gone for so long.”

“I’m home now,” he insists and doesn’t understand—you can’t fault him for that, you haven’t explained yourself all that well.

“Not really. You’re still gone almost every night. When you are here it’s different. There’s a disconnect. It’s not like it used to be. I don’t know if I can handle how it is right now. I don’t know—it’s me, it’s me, it has to be me. I’m just”—Calum moves to you and cuts off the bubble of hysteria you can actively feel rising in your chest. He grabs your hands and soothes you.

“If you need a break I can stay with Ashton for a while,” he says and you can see the heartbreak and crash of emotions that sweep through his eyes. He frowns, you hear his breath catch in his throat and you turn away from him; unable to witness how much this is hurting him. “You’re right. I haven’t been around. It’s been different.”

“I want to get back to normal, but I don’t know how.”

“Time. Communicating. This… this is the first step,” Calum said and though the realization was painful for both of you it was necessary and held a splinter of hope for the future. “Thank you for telling me. I want to get back to what we had too. If this is how you think we should do it then I’ll do it. I’m sure Ashton won’t mind if I crash with him, for a while.”

A while held a certain promise that things would recover. It held heart and hope and a certainty that sounded unbreakable. You don’t know how long a while might last, what challenges might crop up in the face of a break or how feelings might change. Something sits heavy on your chest. You are asking for a break and now you feel you need to afford Calum his freedom in the meantime.

“You can see other people, if you want,” you say though it burns from the tip of your tongue to the bottom of your heart.

He shakes his head. “I don’t want that. I don’t want anyone but you.”

“I just need time to find me again,” you say but the sentence breaks in the middle and though it feels the break has begun Calum pulls you to him and offers you comfort.

“When you find yourself, I’ll be waiting.”

***

Days without Calum bleed on in a heartbreaking haze. He wasn’t around much before the break became official but now there’s no waiting around for the possibility of a late night call or an early morning surprise of him walking through the door. He took a few suitcases of things with him—clothes, his bass, journals and when you come upon the empty nightstand on his side of the bed you realize he took a photo of you two he snapped on your first anniversary. Duke went with him to Ashton’s and without the click of his claws on hardwood or the low hum of Calum’s bass the house is much too silent for your liking.

There’s no more waiting around for him or the crushing disappointment of missed calls. There’s no more aching over his absence and wondering if he preferred being out than being with you. It was your choice and now you can only hope he isn’t hurting the way you were. All of the absences also mean there is no more play fighting for the remote or making jokes while making breakfast. There’s no more erratic heart beats and smiles that leave you with wildfires of warmth blazing through your blood. There’s no more Calum.

He surprises you one day, shows up on the doorstep with a timid knock and bashful eyes.

“I need to get some things,” he admits and you realize more time has slipped past than you thought if he’s in need of extra things from the house.

You can sense his anxiety as he collects what he needs; note the hesitation as he reaches for shared things. Your worlds have become so intertwined it’s hard to tell what’s yours and what’s his. Separation becomes a fine line; a hairline fracture in the glass house you’ve built around each other. You hope you both don’t shatter as a consequence.

He leaves you all too soon—not before reminding you he loves you and breaking your heart in the same breath—it enforces a hollow hole that drives it’s way further through your heart. His reappearance shifts your perspective and keeps you up for nights on end. You feel the cool side of the bed is much colder now, you notice the fridge and cupboards are way too stocked with food and the coffee table is lonely without music magazines and picks discarded all over it.

It’s during a late night when you can’t sleep that you find yourself wandering the house. Pacing up and down the halls and feeling nervous energy bite through you. Your pacing isn’t enough. You leave the house with no real destination in mind but are not surprised when you pull up to a familiar abode. The lights are out but you wind up on the doorstep without hesitation, ring the doorbell and hear a bark that sets your already flickering nerves ablaze. The door opens to Ashton who rubs at his tired eyes but takes you in and gives you a sympathetic smile. He doesn’t complain about the late hour. Only invites you in and stalks off so that Calum might take his place.

You come face to face with him; curls mussed from sleep and eyes red rimmed. Your heart lurches at the sight and the distance he doesn’t seem to want to close.

“I think I’ve realized something,” you begin with around a forlorn sigh filled with regret.

“What’s that?” He asks barely above a whisper and you hear the hope that beats through each syllable.

“I’m my best me when I’m with you,” you admit and clap your hands together to get them to stop shaking.

He stays still; stoic and calm and it shoots uncertainty through you.

“I shouldn’t have come—I’m sorry,” you say in a sudden realization. It’s not fair of you to show up in the middle of the night with all of your regrets clouded around you. You start to turn around and rush out the door but his voice stops you.

“Sweetheart don’t leave.”

His term of endearment reserved solely for you beats your heart a little faster, fills it with hope and makes your eyes burn. You look down, willing yourself not to cry, not to shatter when you’re so close to bringing you both back together.

“Not without me,” Calum adds on and pieces together cracking shards of your relationship.

“You’ll come home?” You ask.

He nods.

“You’ll stay?” You ask again and hold your breath.

“I left once already. I’m not doing that again.”

You let out your breath and let go of all your hesitations and close the distance between you. He welcomes you with everything he has. You feel at home in his arms.

“I’ve missed you,” you mumble against his chest and finally slow tears to fall; tears of relief and love.

“I’ll get my stuff tomorrow. Let’s just grab Duke and go home.”

You nod, though you’re pretty sure just being in his embrace again feels more like home than your house ever could.

<< >>

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#calum hood blurbs #calum hood imagines #calum hood angst #5sos blurbs #5sos imagines #5sos angst #calum hood x you #calum hood x reader #5sos x you #5sos x reader #cal!dates #chblurb

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spacestationdaedalus · 3 years

Text

post-canon JM but make them vigilante monster hunters

never seen a single episode but i think this might be the plot of supernatural? idk i bugged the server with this and now other ppl have to see it.

tw for general monster-related horror and descriptions of it, and very very mild injury

ao3 link here!

...

It's late. Again.

She sighs, rubbing at her eyes until starbursts dance in her vision. If her lab manager knew she was in here at god, is it already 3? in the morning, he would probably have a fit. But it's not her fault her work has been so. Uncooperative. Realistically, she could be doing some of this at home, but the lab computer already has everything she needs, and it's so much easier to focus here.

Well. Most of the time.

Her water bottle is still half full, but she decides a walk to the vending machine at the end of the hall would do her some good. She can stretch her legs and get some caffeine at the same time. Best of both worlds.

Right then, a sound cuts through the air. It's a dull roar, crescendoing to a peak that it maintains for a handful of seconds before fading away. As jumpy as she gets this late, she hardly bats an eye as she digs her wallet out of her backpack. It's a common sound to hear in the building, one that you get used to quickly once you spend some time here. The university has a wind tunnel it uses for classes, as well as research. She's seen it before, used it first hand - even down in the basement of the building, the roar of the compressed air tank when the valve is switched practically shakes the foundation. That's how you tell the first years apart from everyone else. They're the ones who jump when they hear it, looking around in confusion, and sometimes fear. But it doesn't take long for it to become background noise.

She's more concerned about the fact that it's so late. Some poor graduate student, down in the basement in the middle of the night running the tunnel instead of sleeping. Or doing literally anything else. Unfortunately, she can relate.

The door shuts with a weighty slam behind her. The silence of the building is even sharper after the echo of the wind, and she fights down the urge to shudder. The hall is long, dark - the university installed motion activated lights in most of the buildings a few years back, and the effect they create as she walks down the hall is surprisingly eerie. The fluorescents flicker on with the faintest clicks and hums as she walks below them, boots clicking against the tile floor. She's a fast walker, always had been - and the incessant sound of her footfalls in the quiet somehow puts her even more on edge.

The pale light from the vending machine reflects against the linoleum in a way that could be inviting. In theory. But it's really more off-putting than anything else, like the sickly glow of a motel sign off of the interstate, flickering a destitute "no vacancy" into the night. The selection is slim, but she punches in the code for an overpriced iced coffee that feels cool and familiar in her hand.

The scream of the wind tunnel comes and goes again, louder, now that she's outside the lab. She can't help the unease creeping down her spine in the wake of its silence. On one hand, it's a comfort to know at least one other person is in the building with her. But even then, the still quiet it leaves behind is always worse, and it sends the hair on the back of her head standing at attention.

It only gets worse as she walks, and she fights the urge to look over her shoulder. Everyone knows the feeling - when you're a kid, and you sneak into the kitchen in the dead of night to get a drink, only to sprint back up to your room as soon as you can because you're so, so sure something is coming for you.

And now that she's thinking about it, she can't not think about it, which is as futile as it is frustrating. She tries to force it down along with the beating of her heart, but the fear simmers beneath the surface like a pot on the stove, two seconds from boiling over. She's already more than halfway back, just a few more seconds and she can slam the lab door shut behind her and feel almost safe.

The roar of the tunnel, again. She can't help the jump, this time, on edge as she is. Strange, they don't usually run it so many times in so few minutes-

A thought comes to her then, without warning, the way they do when you realize you've forgotten something important. She remembers the conversation with striking clarity - Ajay, her roommate, working on a big research project. He needed to test his prototype in the wind tunnel, and he'd lamented to her over dinner the other day that a replacement part they needed downstairs wouldn't arrive until next week. Which sucked, because he has a deadline for a paper submission coming up and needed more data-

Most of this is useless. But she remembers, now, better than anything she ever has, that the wind tunnel hasn't been working all week. The lab is closed, would be until Wednesday, until the new part comes in.

The roaring shriek comes again, pounding against her eardrums in a way it never has before. Oppressive. Almost hungry. It's closer, it's louder.

It's behind her.

She turns. As she chokes on her own heartbeat and sinking dread, she turns.

And something is behind her.

Thin and wrong, inky black and too many limbs. A long torso with a long head attached, crooked on its neck. Gaping white sockets where eyes would, should, be. It has no mouth, and yet she knows with absolute certainty that it was making that sound. A mocking imitation of something so familiar.

And she knows, an anchor sinking into pitch black water, that it's going to kill her.

blood blood i need blood your blood your face you

It's in her head, a voice with no mouth to speak it. She opens her own mouth to scream, but it's useless to her. Nothing comes out, not even air. Maybe she can run, she has to run, has to get away. But she can't bring herself to turn even a sliver from the nightmare in front of her. A deep, primal fear convincing her that the second she can't see that thing is the second it will get her.

Maybe she can run, still, with her eyes on it. But one of her feet finds the other in her panic, and she falls to the floor. She thinks she feels a pain in her wrist, but it's dull and far away. Hardly a blip on the radar of fear fear oh my god what is that thing-

It's coming for her, all bending joints like limbs of a puppet, pulled by invisible strings, limping, creaking in unnatural steps and lunges. Its eyes never once leave her, glued to her in hungry determination. The roar comes again, but it's twisted and warped like scrap metal and just as jagged around the edges.

And then it stops. Not more than ten feet from her. Frozen. She doesn't breathe, she doesn't think she could if she wanted to.

"That's enough."

It's a man's voice, from behind her. She doesn't have it in her to turn around, to look away. But it doesn't matter. Whoever it is god she hopes it's a who and not a what steps up next to her, in front of her. It might not be accurate to say he's shielding her, but he's between her and it, and she doesn't feel relief, but she feels. Safer, somehow.

She's never seen him before. His hair is long, streaked with grey, half tied up in a bun at the back of his head. He's wearing a long dark coat over long dark pants, tucked into black combat boots. And that's really all she can see from the floor.

As he steps forward, the creature seems to recoil. It hisses, maybe, and then another sound follows. A sad remixing of its own imitating screech from before, not quite a howl but more of a cry. It sounds pained, almost, creaking and desperate. Limbs rear up, but amount to nothing. It's an uncoordinated movement as it falls back on something like haunches.

"I'm watching you, now. There's nowhere you can hide from me."

The man's voice sounds strange to her. There's a cracking, almost static quality to it. She has no idea what the man could possibly be doing, but it looks like it's working.

Until it isn't.

The thing writhes and shrieks again, louder. She can feel it down into her bones, scraping at her marrow, god she wants to throw up. The man in front of her staggers slightly. He mutters something like a curse under his breath, brings a hand to his head. The thing is moving again, shambling towards them. It looks weaker, shakier than before but no less threatening. No less horrifying. Maybe even more so, with the look of a sick, maimed animal as it staggers down the street.

She thinks she might be about to pass out with the sudden chill that overtakes her. But the fading of her vision never comes, and is that. Her breath? She can see it in the air in front of her, condensing like it does on cold winter mornings. With a blink she realizes there's a fog as well, come seemingly from nothing. It's thick and low-hanging, coating the floor of the hall and swirling upwards. It chills her exposed skin, goosebumps racing up and down her arms.

She assumes the thing must be doing this, a defense mechanism or something, but it's slower than before. Subdued. It's still making its way toward them, but it looks lost, like a fawn trying to walk on new legs.

Until another man comes from an adjoining hallway, and bashes its head in with a baseball bat.

It's a solid hit, and the thing goes down almost immediately. The man, the new one, gives another swing, and another, and a few more, for good measure. His bat is slick with something dark and oily. And then the thing is still.

It's quiet for a second, two, then-

"Excellent timing as always, dear." The staticy click of the first man's voice is gone. He sounds out of breath, even though he hardly moved.

The second man laughs, and the cold and the fog seems to fade with it. He's bigger than the first man, taller. He's wearing a bomber jacket over a nondescript t-shirt, fingerless gloves and jeans frayed at the edges. Like he just walked out of an action movie. Or a horror movie. With the thing laying at his feet, the second might be more fitting.

"That was cutting it a little close, Jon. We knew it was with the Stranger, that it could fight you off-"

"Yes, yes, thank you, Martin. That's what the bat is for, after all. The Lonely was probably a bit overkill, though."

"It's not overkill if we don't get ourselves maimed, Jon-"

The first man - Jon, apparently - turns to her then. His face is scarred, and dark shadows hang under oddly bright green eyes. But his gaze isn't unkind as he looks down at her.

"Sorry, are you alright? I was hoping we could take care of this when everyone was gone, but-" He laughs darkly. "Well, I was in university once, I should have known at least one student would still be here in the middle of the night, even on the weekend."

The man going by Martin walks over, as Jon extends a hand to help her up. She's lost all hope of her brain trying to process what's happening but step one can at least be get off the floor. But she can't even do that properly. The hand she raises is the same one she fell on, and the twinge from her wrist shoots up her arm almost immediately in a shout for attention.

It must show on her face too, because Jon makes a sound and then Martin's asking her, "Oh, are you hurt?"

"Uh, n-no, I mean…'s just, uh, my wrist. Kinda, fell on it funny." Her voice isn't exactly steady, but it's a far cry from where she was expecting it to be. At least she's orbiting the realm of comprehensible.

Martin crouches next to her. Up close she can see his face in more detail - his eyes are a slate grey, like the fog from before. But they're kind, wrinkled at the edges when he smiles softly at her. "Mind if I take a look?"

She's not exactly in a position to say no, so she gingerly holds her arm out. His hands are rough, calloused, but surprisingly gentle as they probe her wrist. She can't stop the trembling, now, completely unrelated to the pain.

"It's a sprain." Jon says, laced with certainty somewhere above her.

Martin sighs, long-suffering. "Thank you, Jon, I was getting to that."

"Just trying to help." She can't see him, but she can practically hear the cheeky smile tacked to the end of that sentence.

"As much as I hate saying it, he's right." Martin eyes her with something close to humor, like they're in on a joke together. He shrugs a backpack off of his shoulders, rummages through it with one hand. "I think we have some elastic bandages left for something like this…"

"Front pocket." Jon says again. He's moved closer to the thing, the corpse, it must be, now. He's turned away from her, and she can't see his face.

"Thank you, love."

"Of course."

"Um-" She cuts in suddenly, her nerves and panic getting the best of her. Martin looks up from her hand, and Jon turns back to glance at her.

"Sorry, uh, I just- what the fuck was that?"

"I'd tell you not to worry yourself over it, but I don't think that's much of an answer." Jon says, coming back towards them. He crouches down before he continues. "Let's just say this is...our day job."

"It is three in the morning, though."

"That would be the, colloquial use of the term, Martin."

"Just saying." With Martin in front of her she can actually see the cheeky grin, this time.

He uses the bandage to wrap her wrist. It smarts a bit, but the pressure helps. He's clearly adept enough to do this and talk at the same time, because he cuts in next. "We're here to make sure things like that-" he gestures with a nod of his head. "-don't hurt anyone."

Her mouth is full of sawdust. "W- what, like, monsters and shit?" She always did swear a lot when she was stressed.

"More or less."

"If it's any consolation," Jon says. "These things aren't exactly...common. You have to have a special kind of luck to run into something like this."

Yeah, luck.

He sighs, then. He looks tired. "I'm so sorry. If it means anything. This isn't the kind of thing you'll be able to just forget, or-"

"That's why we're here." Martin cuts in. He's finished with her wrist, neatly wrapped and held in place with little wire clips. "To try to stop stuff like this from happening, before it happens. Sorry we were late."

It's not a stretch to imagine what would have happened if they hadn't shown up even later, or not at all. But it's something she will try very, very hard not to think about.

She swallows. "I guess...thank you, then."

"Of course."

The adrenaline and sudden lack thereof leaves her with a jittery exhaustion deep in her core. But she has so many questions, how could she not-

A chill, and a rush of wind and waves hit her before she can get another word out. It's gone as quickly as it had come, so much so she thinks she imagined it. But suddenly, she's alone.

The men going by Jon and Martin and the misshapen corpse of that thing are gone. The hall is just as it had been before, dim lights and freshly polished tile. No sign of anything, or anyone. Except for her.

She knows with crushing certainty that it wasn't a dream. Couldn't be a dream. But she knows that's what people will tell her. So she says nothing. She says nothing, and hopes nothing ever leads her to cross paths with those two ever again.

#the magnus archives #tma #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #jonmartin #tma fics #my writing #wrote this at 4 in the morning and realized i actually vibed w it so here we are

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surveys-at-your-service · 3 years

Text

Survey #423

“i won’t think about you when i’m older / ‘cuz we never really had our closure”

Are you better at cooking dinners or making cakes/biscuits/sweets? Neither. Have you ever cut someone else’s hair? No. Who was the last guest in your house and what were they staying for? My late grandmother's husband stayed overnight when he was driving from New York to Florida or the other way around, idr. How many long term relationships have you been in? Two. Do you sleep with all the lights out, or do you leave a lamp or even the television on? My snake's heat lamp stays on. Who is one person you have forgiven, but still have not “forgotten” what they have done? My dad. Are you a fan of Lana Del Rey? I don't think I've even heard one of her songs. Do you know your blood type? A-. Do you know your mother’s birthday? Yes. Have you got your period at the moment? I haven't had my period since I started TMS. It's honestly so fucking frustrating that it obviously had an effect on my body, but not my depression. I've officially finished TMS as of a few days ago and now I just feel so void of hope. Have you ever been pregnant? No. How old were you when you first went on a plane? Idr, I was a little kid. Have you ever had to take out a loan for anything? Not me personally, but my parents have for my education that I threw away. Are both of your blood parents still in your life? Yes. I don't see my dad a lot, but he's still in my life regardless. When was the last time you went apple picking? I’ve never been. Someone asked you what you wanted, what would you say? Happiness. Have you ever been drunk at school or work? I have not. How many bedrooms are in your house? Three. Are you smart about computers? Not really, no. Have you ever played Just Dance for Wii? Yes. My sister loved them, so we have a few. Do you own a Xbox 360? No. I'm a PlayStation girl. Would you ever do a sex tape for a million dollars? No. I'd be mortified. So, do you need a nap? I really should take one. I slept like... maybe three hours last night. I was up most of the night having a fucking life crisis. What would you rather be doing? Something fun. What sport are you the best at? I haven't touched any sort of sport since I was a teenager. Do you have a little sister? What’s her name? Yeah, Nicole. Do you complain a lot? Kind of, but I generally try to keep it in surveys nowadays. I'm just tired of shit. Would you rather go to an authentic haunted house or an ancient temple? Ohhh, tough pick, but I've gotta say the ancient temple. Do you like fruity or minty gum? Both, really. Are you looking forward to any day of this month? Well July is practically over, so I'll answer for August. I'm looking forward to my nephew's birthday. Have you ever gotten detention? A few times for getting too many morning tardies in high school. Is there a traumatic event that you’ve experienced that’s changed your life? Definitely. Do you buy a majority of your clothes from a certain store, or do you just pick out items of clothing you could see yourself wearing, not caring about the store it came from? The latter. Have any of the artists you’re fond of released new albums recently? Powerwolf did recently. Would you ever keep your favorite animal as a pet? I could write a college-length essay on why meerkats do not make good pets whatsoever. Do fucking not get one. I can barely fathom how it's legal in some countries. Ever cried so much you threw up? No, but I've gagged. Who is your best guy friend? Girt. What do you two do when you hang out? Mostly just watch TV and play board games. What is a movie that you thought you would hate but you ended up loving? I dunno, really. Do you even like horror movies? I love horror movies. Do you live in the country? I wish I still did. :/ Me and Mom hate hate hate living in these suburbs. What is your favorite accent? British. Have you ever had a boyfriend your parents didn’t like? No. Do you drink Pepsi or Coke? Coke. Pepsi is gross. What do you plan to do on your 21st birthday? I was literally in the psych hospital for my 21st birthday lmao. It's kind of a painful memory, but I also won't forget the love and kindness people showed me. I especially remember the friend I made there getting the lunch lady to literally go and buy me a slice of cake. Everyone also sang happy birthday to me and gaaaah I'm getting emotional. Do you have any person in your family with an addiction to beer? That was my dad's drink of choice when he drank. Do you take a lot of pictures? Unless I have my camera and am somewhere pretty, no. What kind of face wash do you use? Water, lol. Does drama always seem to follow you? Nah. Does anybody in your family race? No. Are you closer to your mom or dad? My mom. How much money did you used to get from the ”tooth fairy?” Uhhh... I want to say $2 or something? I might be way off, idr. How long do you want to live with your parents? I WISH I could have moved out with an s/o already, but that's just not how life's worked out. Do you have a laptop or desktop? I have a laptop. Do you like your parents? I love them. Do you secretly like someone? It's not a secret, no. Would you ever date your best male friend? Tried that once and it didn't work out. I liked him more as like a brother. What are you currently listening to? "Better Than Me" by Hinder. I really need to turn it off, but I can't make myself. Do you want to be single? I really wish I had a partner to love and motivate me to strive to do better, but I know it's better I'm single right now. I'd just relive the Jason situation, I'm sure. I'd just drag the person down and lose them. Did you go out or stay in last night? I'm almost always at my fucking house not doing shit, so. Have you pretended to like someone? No, that sounds pretty stupid... How is your heart lately? Hurting. A lot. Are you wearing socks? I hate wearing socks and I'm in bed anyway, so no. What do people call you? Britt, mostly. Do you get stressed out easily? VERY. Have you ever been taken to the emergency room in an ambulance? No. What is wrong with you right now? Where the hell to begin. Do you own something from Hot Topic? A lot. Would you rather sleep with someone else or alone? With someone, so long as the bed is big enough to comfortably fit two of us. Do you still talk to the person you last made out with? No. I'm certain he wants nothing to do with me. Have you ever seen your best friend cry? Sadly. Did you get any compliments today? Definitely not. I look and feel like a wreck right about now. There's nothing to praise me about. Have you ever gone to a beach? Many times. What would you say if someone asked you to get high right now? Unless it was an edible, no. I'd do almost anything to try and make me feel better right now, even if just for a little while, but I'm unwilling to smoke anything. Do you believe that everything happens for a reason? HELL no. Have you ever done volunteer work just because you wanted to? Honestly, no. Do you have long nails? No; I never do because I have an awful habit of picking at them. Do you like the gender you are? I don't like or dislike it, honestly. I'm just neutral. Do you generally look nice in photos? HA. Have you ever had a stick insect as a pet? No. What colour are your father’s eyes? They're dark brown. If I handed you a concert ticket right now, who would you want to be the performer? Ozzy, duh. Name three facts about your family? We're very, very spread out geographically, some of us (in other words, me) are emotionally distant, and uh... idk. Would you ever get into a long distance relationship? Only if it was a certain person, our lives were more on track, and we were making plans for either of us to move soon. What’s the most thoughtful present you’ve ever received? Probably this really long letter my mom wrote for me on my bday a couple years ago. What’s your favorite hot beverage? Hot chocolate. Did you ever play an instrument? If so what? I played the flute for many years, all through middle school and through much of high school. Would you rather carve pumpkins or wrap presents? Carve pumpkins, for sure. Do you think you’re important? I don't fucking know. Probably not. What’s the best compliment you’ve ever received? Idk. Have you been diagnosed with any mental disorders? *hands over thick book* Have you ever moved to another state or country? If so, how did it feel to be new? No. Do you know how to properly eat food with chopsticks? No. My hands are way, way too shaky to ever accomplish that. Are you more of a leader or a follower? Definitely a follower, but I can step up in certain situations. What was the first thing you ate today? Well, I was seriously depression-eating last night, way past midnight, and had a peanut butter sandwich. If you could spend the day, doing absolutely anything, with anyone, anywhere, what would it be like? LET'S NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOT RIGHT NOW. If I were to ask you how you are doing, and you were only able to answer completely honestly, what would come out? "Falling apart." I've lost direction, motivation, strength, hope, just everything. What is the one thing that you have been avoiding that you should do? I need a fucking shower so bad that it's embarrassing. I just can't move. I have no energy, emotionally or physically. I just can't make myself do it. Is there anything that you wish you could take back? So, so badly. What, in your mind, could make you truly happy? Actually reaching goals. Losing weight. Healing my legs. Knowing with certainty that I wasn't emotionally abusive to Jason. Moving out of this town and back into the country. Financial stability. A job I thoroughly enjoy. I could go on, but let's not. If you could change one conversation in your life, what would you say differently? Would it have REALLY made any difference? God, let me take back shit I said in that fucking letter to you-know-who. It's so hard to believe I once thought it perfectly justified and realistic. When is the next time you’ll change your hairstyle? Will you color it? I don't have any plans of changing the style in the foreseeable future. I want to color it BADLY. To just SOMETHING. Do people normally say you’re a fast typist, or are you rather slow? I'm like, a lightning-fast typist. Have you ever been considered the ‘smartest person in school?’ No; my best friend in HS was, though. Her GPA was fucking insane. I was in the top percentile, though, so I was up there. What the hell happened to that girl. How many drugs are in your system? If we're including prescriptions, a whole hell of a lot. What’s on your schedule for tomorrow? Jack shit. Like usual. Do you currently have any bite marks/hickeys on your body? No. Do you call anyone baby? Excluding my pets, no. What’s your current mood? lol if you've gotten this far reading, you can make an educated guess. Do you think you are a good person? Bro I just don't know. What were you doing before filling out this survey? I was playing WoW. How late did you stay up last night? Like, 4:30 or so. When was the last time you cried really hard? I wanna say like a week ago? Is your hair longer than your shoulders? No. It still badly needs a trim, though.

#survey #surveys #random questions #lyrics: ''better than me'' by hinder

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lurkerdelima · 7 years

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Idk if anyone's prompted you that Silverflint kidfic thing yet, so if they haven't? *raises hand* ;D I am a sucker for kidfic. So how about... Silver singing 'dance to your daddy' to a wee babby they can't quite bring themselves to leave at an orphanage. Pretty please with cake on top?

Thank you so much for this! ❤️ I will take all the kidfic prompts that you or anyone else wants to send me, honestly. I deviated from the prompt just a little but I think it's still good. This might end up cross-posted to my AO3 later; for now I'm so eager to post it I'm just putting it here.

Tentatively entitled “these three remain” from the Corinthians verse - and now these three remain: faith, hope, and love, but the greatest of these is love.

To say things have not gone quite according to plan would be a very large understatement.

Through a series of events this narrator should not like to waste time on, Flint and Silver have found themselves proprietors of a smallish inn on the coast called The Boat & Bird, living in the back rooms under a flimsy ruse of being business partners.

There are two adjoining bedrooms at the back of the inn; one sits entirely unused.

On an otherwise unremarkable rainy, dreary day a harried young woman comes to stay at their inn. She brings with her a baby girl no older than perhaps eight months, a green-eyed sweetling with soft dark curls and a dimpled smile.

She seems an easy enough baby to Silver, who never does learn her name - her mother is called Madeleine. Still, despite the baby’s sweet disposition, the mother has difficulty with her. Madeleine has a short temper and tends to yell at the babe when she fusses for too long. More and more Silver helps with her child, because he's got a way with babies (always has). He can feel Flint watching him while he dandles the girl on his knee or takes her on an educational tour of the kitchen. He doesn't know what it means, that Flint watches him so closely when he's got the baby.

One morning, Silver wakes to the sound of Madeleine’s baby wailing piteously. They've been staying at the inn for nigh on six weeks, so Silver's gotten more than used to the sound of the baby crying. He frowns, though, at how frantic and miserable she sounds - why isn't Madeleine soothing her? Surely she can hear how upset the baby is. Perhaps she needs help.

“Madeleine,” Silver calls as he gets up from the bed in just his breeches, wandering out into the hall toward the young mother’s room and pulling his nightshirt on over his head as he goes. “I can take the baby if-- oh, dear.”

He's just pushed open the (unlocked, not even fully shut) door of Madeleine’s room and found nobody but the baby. Madeleine is long gone, with all her possessions. Meanwhile her baby sits up in the blanket-lined box where she's been sleeping, red-faced and howling at the world at large. She reaches for Silver, opening and closing her hands in an obvious request. He crosses to her and scoops her up immediately, resting her on his right hip.

“Where has your mummy gone, hm?” he asks as he carries her from the chilly, barren room. “Do you suppose she's coming back?” he asks, knowing in his gut that she won't, that she's left the baby on purpose. Unwanted. Abandoned.

It feels very familiar, to Silver.

He carries the baby to his and Flint’s bedroom, sitting down on the bed with the sniffling infant in his lap.

“Nice of you to help her mother,” Flint mumbles, obviously still half-asleep.

“Her mother left,” Silver says flatly as the baby reaches out for his hair, tangling her fat fingers in his curls.

“When will she be back?” Flint asks, cracking one eye open and peering up at Silver.

“I don't think she will be back at all. She took everything with her except this,” Silver says, gesturing to the baby in his lap.

“What?” Flint gasps, suddenly fully awake, sitting up in bed and staring dumbfounded at Silver.

“She left the baby here. I don't think she's going to come back for her, James,” Silver says quietly, looking down at the little girl in his lap. She's calmed considerably and is contenting herself with pulling Silver's hair and chewing one of his fingers.

“We have to-- do something,” Flint says, rubbing his face with both hands. “We have to take her to the authorities, or an orphanage or...something,” he says, clearly at a loss.

“I'm not giving her to strangers,” Silver says with calm certainty. He's already made up his mind; he's just waiting for Flint to understand that this is the right thing to do.

“We're strangers!” Flint protests. “You can't seriously be making a case for keeping someone else's baby,” he says, sounding aghast.

“Her mother took everything else with her. Everything!” Silver hisses, trying to keep his voice down so he won't startle the baby. “Every last hairpin, every gown and stocking and earring. All she left was the girl. She meant to leave her here, James. With me. With us.”

“We can't be parents,” Flint says quietly. “You have to understand that we--”

“We what?” Silver challenges him. “We would be worse for her than an angry, neglectful mother who didn't want her in the first place? Worse than a nonexistent father? Worse than no parents at all, growing up in a dismal orphanage or alone on the street? You can't really believe that,” he says. “I'm keeping her, James. If you don't care to live with the terrible burden of a loving partner and a darling baby girl, you're free to leave whenever the mood strikes,” he says. He gets up from the bed and stalks irritably down the hall to the kitchen with Baby (he's starting to think of her that way, as though it's her given name) on his hip, tucked up under his right arm.

They don't really speak to each other for three full days after that. Silver takes care of Baby on his own, while Flint stalks around and scowls and mutters.

But he doesn't leave.

When at last they do speak again, it's late and Silver is getting the girl ready for bed, chatting away to her as is his wont. “Come now, Baby,” he coos, wrapping her in a blanket and smiling down at her as he settles her gently into her makeshift crib in their room. Someday soon he'll have to get her a bed that's not a box.

Flint looks up from where he's sitting in bed, rereading Cervantes. “You can't just keep calling her that.”

“What, Baby?” Silver asks as he pulls his shirt off over his head and joins Flint in their bed. “It's what she is, is it not?” he asks, trying not to feel overly giddy that he and Flint are talking.

“Yeah, b-- well. I was about to say that I don't call you Pain In My Arse or Bloody Idiot or Unfathomable Nuisance, but I do,” Flint says, closing his book softly and studying Silver with obvious affection. “However, point is she won't be a baby someday, and she'll need a real name. Since neither you nor I ever thought to ask her mother what she called her, I suppose it falls to us to choose a new one.”

Silver eyes the book in Flint's lap. “Dulcinea.”

Flint snorts. “Ridiculous. No,” he says.

“Araminta?” Silver suggests, folding his arms behind his head and turning slightly to watch Baby's chest rising and falling. She's already deep asleep, bless her.

“Are we naming a child or a long-haired cat? Christ, John. She'll be a grown woman one day and she'll have to live with whatever we name her,” Flint says.

“Ophelia. Desdemona,” Silver murmurs, wanting a name for his - their - daughter that evokes a certain feeling, that carries a decent amount of weight.

“Far too tragic, both of them,” Flint says, a frown creasing his forehead.

“Scheherazade?” Silver asks, grinning, just to hear Flint groan at him in frustration.

He does. “Go to sleep. Don't suggest any more names until you've had a few hours’ sleep at least, I think you're delirious,” Flint mutters, rolling over and putting his back to Silver, who laughs.

He falls asleep soon after and wakes a few hours later to the pitter-pat of rain on the windows and Baby's fussy snuffling. He rises from the bed and gathers Baby in his arms, managing to pace the length of the bedroom with both crutch and infant, his loping stride slowly lulling his daughter back to sleep.

He sings to her softly as he paces. “Dance to your daddy, my little lassie. Dance to your daddy, my little lamb. Thou shalt have a fish and thou shalt have a fin, thou shalt have a haddock when the boat comes in,” he sings, and by the time he reaches the last line, she's asleep again. He dares to kiss her forehead, as light as he can so he won't wake her, then tucks her into the box and eases back into bed next to Flint. He can tell he's awake, without looking.

“Hope,” he whispers to him, reaching for his hand in the darkness.

Flint takes it, squeezes. “Her name?”

“Yes,” Silver says, swallowing past a sudden lump in his throat.

“Finally, a decent suggestion,” Flint murmurs. He leans in and Silver feels his lips, warm and soft, press to his cheek. “Hope, then.”

#prompt a lurker why not #prompt fills #scrapbullet #silverflint #kidfic #my fic #black sails fic

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tailornorata · 7 years

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I know I'm late but anyway: 5 20 28 38 39 51 56 90 :D

All good, thanks for asking

5. What is your favorite color? I’d say Bordeaux comes closest, but I’m a multicolor kind of person, I love color combinations ^^

20. Are you religious? Yes and no, I am an agnostic at heart, but spiritually oriented in the sense I trust my gut when it tells me something feels like it has negative vibes. Also I tend to follow little superstitions, like rubbing a certain statues paw, not walking beneath a ladder to avoid negativity, I also use protective items of general and personal nature and I stay away from more aggressiv things like oujia boards, or saying the devils name twelve times in the mirror etc. It’s not that I necessarily think these things are true, but I believe we can’t say with certainty they aren’t so why risk it. Also, I personally can see auras, have accidentally astral projected and have seen ghosts and other spirits. Those are only the truths of my perception though, which is inherently flawed due to me being human. So while I can’t deny those things are in my perception I can accept neither me nor others truly know if they are only in mine or exist more universally.

28. What type of music do you like? Almost everything regarding genres, except Schlager. In every genre though there are obviously artists and bands I like better than others. Also, I don’t like offensive lyrics so that narrows it down quite a bit. Vulgar lyrics can be fun, but they rarely are, so that narrows it down as well. There is still a lot left though. On my playlists you will find everything from hardcore over metal to rap, swing, punk, pop, house, trance, dubstep, international music, nightcore, classic, opera, to a-capella etc

38. What’s the longest you’ve ever gone without sleep? It was a few hours over 70, I think something like 74 or 75 hours, I’m not entirely sure because the last two to three hours were kinda like a fever dream…at the end I only wanted to sit down on my bed for a moment and the next thing I know is I woke up and it was dim outside. I had to look at my phone to find out if a day was starting or ending. And which day it was.

39. Do you have any scars? Yes, I have a scar on my right hand because I work a lot with knifes and stupid me accidentally grabbed a blade. And I have a scar on my left hip where I had a minor surgery.

51. Are you scared of spiders? Again, yes and no. The spiders where I live are mainly harmless creepers. I don’t like them and use non-lethal home made spray to keep them from entering my room, because I can’t sleep well with closed windows. But there are places (everywhere where it’s warmer than here bt mainly australia) where I don’t feel like going because their insects and spiders are bigger and more dangerous than ours. And yes, that is something I think I might be scared of. No need to find out how scared.

56. Most used word? Idk, probably dude/Alter

90. What makes you angry? Discrimination and Disrespect. It’s a cold, calculating anger though. I usually don’t get boiling hot angry. My anger can’t go away when I cool down, it stays until I find a way to satisfy it.

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archiveofolives · 7 years

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Ring of Keys and Other Stories VII

A/N/SUMMARY last fic! this has been fun. celebrations is set post-movie in the canon timeline which is prolly a giant spoiler lmfao. and that’s all you really need to know so enjoy maybe! and thanks to everyone who liked, reblogged, and left encouraging comments and kudos ❤️ this one’s for all of you!

RATING/WARNINGS ~pg or ~pg-13 i think idk/n/a

WORD COUNT 3,840

AO3 here

—

When Baze died, he thought he would never see Scarif, again.

But there it was when he opened his eyes, all fine sands and shoals and blue water and swaying trees like arachnids in the skies. The air was awfully quiet—no striking beams or screams of explosions, fighters swerving overhead and the filtered voices of the Empire’s Troopers. And it smelled clean, crisp and fresh, a relief from the stink of burnt air and burnt flesh. So was this Death all along?

With a sudden realization, he gasped sharply, like he was gutting himself, and flew up to stare and gape all around him. He sat where he’d died and he was alone.

He stared at the last place where he saw Chirrut lay supine, and saw only sand.

“No,” he whispered, quickly getting to his feet, racing the beating of his heart. “No, no, no!” Where was Chirrut? He was just there, he’d said that if he looked for the Force…!

“Chirrut!” Baze’s scream was a coarse anger burning through the silence. He flung his voice out to the emptiness, spinning like a drunk man in search of it. Why was he alone?! “Chirrut!!” Chirrut had said that if he looked for the Force, he would always find him there. And the Force connected all layers of life to each other. So where was he? Was he brought to the right place?

If this was Death, how could he live again? Was there a way to die again?

“Chirruuut!!” He yelled, doubling over as if that would carry his voice farther.

The responding silence was more than he could take. It was like a cruel deity mocking him. Fear came quickly to him like an unwanted lover, wrapping him in cold, unforgiving arms, suffocating him like an obsession. His breath shook, knees quivering. Where was he—

“Baze?”

It was like an echo that never existed, supplied by his imagination. But Baze was thunderstruck by certainty the moment he heard that distant call that that was him. He was here.

He stopped all of a sudden, dropping all his thoughts all at once. He sniffled, wiping his tears hastily before he could be caught crying like a boy and made fun of. “Chirrut?!” For all knew, this could just be an illusion, of course. He was alone, there was no one else to confirm it for him. But then, on the other hand, it was better to go mad than to deal with Chirrut’s non-existence sane.

Fortunately for him, that didn’t seem like the case. “Baze! Where are you?”

Baze almost jumped and cheered at the reply, still from a great distance though it was. Looking at the horizon, back to where he’d last seen their cargo ship blow up, he doubted Chirrut was anywhere so near. He couldn’t see his shape forming, anyway. If this was a product of his madness, then Chirrut would already be right there, wouldn’t he? Right where his mind wanted him. “I’m down here! At the beach.”

“Beach?” Chirrut sounded confused. “Oh!” he said after a moment. “Okay, okay, I remember now. I’m up here on the mesa!”

“The mesa?!” Now it was Baze’s turn to be baffled. If this was his imagination talking, he’d either gone crazier than he could imagine, or he was a lot more creative than he gave himself credit for. His brows joined each other tightly in the middle. What was Jedha doing in Scarif?! Or did Scarif have mesas of its own? It didn’t look like that when they were touching down. “Where is that?”

“Where is that? Really, Baze?!” Baze wasn’t sure but it sounded like Chirrut was laughing. “Come on, Baze! Who raised you?!”

Who raised him?! What a thing to say! Baze opened his mouth to protest.

“Anyway, look— listen, I mean.You know where to find me so I’m gonna go ahead, okay?”

“What!” Baze barked.

“Keep up!”

Keep up?! A blind man was telling him to keep up? Baze was bewildered. He supposed if one survived death—if survive was a word that could still be used for them—one enjoyed the feeling of…well, being indestructible. In a way. Chirrut must be over the moon.

“Chirrut!” Baze called him again. “Chirrut!!” Typical of the man, though, Chirrut went on his foolhardy way, anyway. He snarled, listing down an endless number of items he swore he would do once he’d caught up with that blind fool. Jedha damn him, where was he, anyway?! What mesa? How would he start to find his way?!

Look for the Force, Chirrut had once told him as he lay dying, and you will always find me.

Baze’s knees almost collapsed under the weight of his understanding; it was like a planet had come crashing down on him. He couldn’t believe it had taken him that long before he grasped that Chirrut meant for him to use the Force as a compass. Of course!

How embarrassing. Baze felt the familiar heat of shame rushing up to his face. He’d strayed so far from his faith, he may as well be a child now, learning the first teachings of the Force. He couldn’t even remember the last time he prayed before the last few moments of his lifetime.

Well, was he not once the most devoted Guardian of them all? Baze figured it was just like muscle memory—or at least he hoped so.

Rolling his shoulders and popping the bones of his neck, Baze started back the way they came, towards the landing pad. It wasn’t lost to him that he wasn’t really following a suddenly enlightened path of the Force, more so that he was following an age old technique that was proven to work when he least expected it: winging it.

⚭

Making his way to the mesa, Baze began to realize many things. The first was that he felt light. He left the beach without his backpack and his cannons but they’d been nowhere to be found in the first place. And then his bones felt strong, and all of the aches that came with age and a life out on the streets, a life full of risks were gone.

The second was that his kasaya robe still fit him even though it had been years since he’d last worn one. He didn’t notice this until after he realized that the red armor over his collar was gone. He thought that was part of what made things lighter—the kasaya robe wasn’t made simply to distinguish them as the Guardians of the Whills, after all, it was made with form and function in mind. It was in one that he first learned how to fight with his hands—which was why no matter how much time had passed, he still remembered how to move in one without tripping all over his train.

The third was that the Force wasn’t a secret pathway. It was the belief that wherever he was going, whichever turn he took, he was going the right way. Or as Chirrut would put it, he was following the will of the Force. Baze didn’t stop to think about this until he couldn’t remember the last time he saw those arachnid trees. When he looked back, Scarif no longer existed behind him, hidden as it were by the canyons and swooping dunes that could only come from Jedha. It was a spectacular view, Baze thought, gazing over the vast golden landscape, halfway up the trail that would lead him back to his beloved NiJedha.

He couldn’t begin to describe how good it felt to be home, again. It was different from the relief of coming back after a long gig offworld, it was sweeter than that. It was closer to the bliss of having reached his final destination, that triumph of having accomplished the last hurdle before the prize.

Sweeter still, this was the NiJedha that the Empire had never yet touched. Where the walls weren’t rubble and the air didn’t smell like the fumes of their tanks and the ground wasn’t broken by the weight of them. He could see clear skies where there had once been the belly of a Destroyer, he could go wherever he wanted and there would be no Trooper to stop him. This was the NiJedha of his childhood; he could recognize it almost as if it was his own shadow. It was a pleasant discovery but not one, he could say, that surprised him greatly. For this was a perfect world—he understood that much by now. A world where everything made sense, and everything fell into place.

The city was empty but he didn’t need it to be full. He passed through the once-bustling marketplace and found himself a full body mirror suspended off a hook at the side of a dubious antique shop. The reflection that looked back to him was off-putting—quite simply, he looked like a homeless man who’d been dressed by the Guardians out of pity. He was the main character in a story about charity and compassion. Which was to say: he looked like a charity case. That was unnerving.

The leather bindings had to go—there was no going around them. Baze had never bothered with them in the past, they were just things hanging down the sides of his collar, to keep his hair off his mind, useful especially when sniping someone. Chirrut liked to pull on them when he was being playful, singing ding dong as he laid on his lap but aside from being a cat’s toy, there was no longer any use for them.

The ends came free with one determined tug each. Little by little, the old straps unraveled and fell off. He gathered the rest of his wavy locks to the top of his head where he looped them and knotted them and sealed them in place with an elastic band. The result still wasn’t all that impressive, but at least he was cleaner and he looked more like he was in his element.

Now he could say he truly was ready—ready to leave the past behind, ready to face eternity. Without a second glance, Baze moved on. He knew where to find Chirrut, of course. He realized a bit late that he always had.

High above him, the Temple of the Kyber loomed ever closer—a massive monolith of faith and knowledge erected near the edge of the mesa. For as long as he could remember, it had become nothing more than a shadow of what once was, a monument for everything that was broken and gone. Now it glimmered under the light of the unseen sun, a promise of many tomorrows.

That started now—with a man in his own kasaya robe who sat on the temple steps, welcoming him with a grin. He was…as he had remembered him—not as he had left him. Carefree. Strong. Alive. He couldn’t see where he’d left his staff but Chirrut didn’t look like he’d noticed either. He shined like a changed man, glowing with a star within, brimming in its light. Was it any surprise that the Force looked good on him?

Baze smiled in contentment. He would say it to him, he would tell it as a joke. He missed the sound of Chirrut’s honest laughter.

Chirrut leaned forward, arms on his knees, as if to look at him better. Baze stood still, a man carved straight out of patience while Chirrut satisfied himself with his appearance. He could feel his heart bursting for no other reason than that he had finally come so close to the man he loved the most. Then with a decisive nod, Chirrut passed his judgment. “Took you long enough.”

Baze’s mouth fell wide open, and all the light that seemed to fill the place suddenly grew dimmer—or maybe that was just his own eyesight and his rising temper. What a thing to say to welcome him! And after a long journey without a map. He’d perceived differently—this Chirrut was still the same man! Impudent, stubborn, infuriating.

“Took me long enough?” He sputtered in absolute surprise. He jabbed a finger to himself and demanded, “Took me long enough?!” Chirrut laughed at him. Well, he got what he wanted but it was at his expense. And just the nerve of this man, really! “If you didn’t like me taking long enough, then you shouldn’t have gone and run off like that in the middle of a war zone!” he cried, marching, stomping his way up to Chirrut’s damn throne.

“Technically, I walked,” Chirrut argued, non-plussed. He shrugged, watching Baze’s swift progress. “Come now, how could a blind man run off?”

“It’s all the same!” Baze roared. Walking, running…the method in which he left him was not the point, the point was that he was accusing him for being too slow when in the first place, he left him. When they’d stuck together when Jedha fell, when they’d looked after each other in the forests of Scarif…at the end of it all, at the most vital point of their lives, Chirrut still left him. In spite of all the care they’d taken, he’d taken, Chirrut still did the one thing he shouldn’t have done to stay alive. Impudent. Stubborn. Infuriating!

His knees gave in under the power of his emotions, one step away from Chirrut’s position. Chirrut, the Force smite him, only looked on with a smile like an apology—but one worn without regrets. Baze stared at it, at him, incredulous. “You still left me,” he said, gaze turned upwards. “After all this time…after all that I did to keep us together…Chirrut, how could you just leave me like that? How could you have just…let yourself die! Like that? Without a fight?” A hand fell on his chest. “Without me?”

From one side, Chirrut tilted his head slightly to another. His smile remained unchanged, but it spoke volumes where his tongue chose silence. Finally, he moved lower, closer to his heartbroken, grieving partner, and reached up to touch his cheek.

“Baze,” he began, dark eyes looking into his. He looked cheerful for all the crime that he committed. “Did you think I would go, knowing you wouldn’t follow? That world didn’t belong to us anymore, and neither did we belong to it anymore. If I hadn’t pushed the master switch, what do you think would have happened?”

They’d have lost their side of the battle, that much was certain. The only question they had to ask was how it would happen. Death. Captivity, then death. Captivity, torture, perhaps a long episode of it, then ultimately death. Even if some foolish, optimistic side of Baze might argue that they could still have had the slightest opportunity to survive, escape and live, he realized he would still prefer death than to see Chirrut captured and tortured. Or for either of them to be used as a tool for the submission of the other.

Now Baze saw his faithlessness plain. Did he really think Chirrut would leave him just like that? Of course not. Of course Chirrut, of all, wouldn’t do that. His best friend, the man he loved and who loved him back, the other half of his soul. Now, more than ever, Baze understood that. That Chirrut knew what he was doing all along, what he would be doing. And what laid in wait for them beyond life, death, and all that came with it.

“Chirrut,” Baze gasped softly, reaching up to catch his cheeks with trembling fingers. Dark eyes looked back into dark eyes, living pupils following each other. He choked out his surprise, “You can see?!”

Chirrut beamed, chuckling at the base of his throat. With another self-affirming nod, lips pressed in the same way, he delivered another merciless verdict: “Took you long enough.”

This time, Baze responded with loud, ugly laughter, barking unstoppably as if Chirrut had just dropped the funniest joke in the entire galaxy when all he’d spoken was the simple truth. It came through his mouth and painfully, out of his nose. It came even as his tears flowed, spilling quickly like a waterfall. They mingled with his joy, masked under all that laughter—but it wasn’t long until they drowned his cheer. And then he was crying helplessly.

It wasn’t sadness that drove him, it was just…everything. The fear, the relief, the anger, the joy. He covered his face and wept, full of shame and hilarity; he was laughing at himself and his doubts which embarrassed him. Chirrut took him in his arms and whispered sweet hushes. Deft fingers picked at his hair band until it came off and his locks fell around him. Those same fingers ran through them like an instrument, stroking the same chords, playing the same music that would calm him down. This huge baby called Baze.

“It’s okay,” Chirrut sang softly to his ear, kissing it lightly. “It’s okay! Why are you such a crybaby?” he laughed, and sniffled. “We should be celebrating this happy reunion. You and I, together again!”

He and Chirrut, together again. It was the sweetest thing that Baze could have ever heard after all the heartache and the beating but he couldn’t stop. It felt like now that all the fighting was over and all the grief had ended, there was nothing left to do but to cry until he felt sick.

When he let Chirrut peel his hands from his eyes, he was still choking and gasping and leaking all over. Chirrut tittered underneath his own tears, stroking away a graying lock, tucking it behind an ear. “You’re such a sap!” he said, taking his face with both hands to cover it in kisses, like he was drinking his tears and closing his wounds. “My poor, crying Baze is such a sap.”

“You’re one to talk,” Baze croaked, wrapping his fingers over one of Chirrut’s hands. “You’re worse—you’re the pot calling the kettle black!”

“And we wonder why?” Chirrut choked, smiling. “It’s tears of joy, fool. You don’t know how long I’ve waited for you!”

“Idiot,” Baze chuckled. “And that’s supposed to make me feel bad? C’mere.” Reaching to the back of Chirrut’s neck, he drew him for a hungry kiss. Their lips opened up and met in sweetness, containing a private world of wonder within them, warm and familiar. A place like home. So this was how forever felt, Baze thought. This was how it started. He felt so much like a young man again, sharing his first kiss under the eaves of a tree in full bloom.

Chirrut slid down his lap and sat awkwardly, putting Baze between his legs. His fingers made a nest within those long locks as they so often did when they renewed their kiss. Baze slipped a hand between his robe and his flesh to pull him closer, receiving a delightful moan from the man in response.

They stopped to breathe, their lips bruised but hungry still. Baze inhaled Chirrut’s scent which reminded him of nectar and the wood from fragrant trees, no longer of the soil of foreign lands, of cannon smoke and the salt in the sea breeze. He felt a keen temptation to start with his neck but knew better than to rush. Not after they’d waited for each other for so long.

“So when do we start?” he asked instead, brushing the back of his fingers on Chirrut’s damp cheek.

Chirrut’s brows wrinkled briefly as he canted his head sideways again. He looked almost boyish as he did it now that he had regained his dark eyes, and Baze wanted to kiss him more than ever. “Start with what?” he replied.

“The celebration. You wanted one, didn’t you?” Baze said, bearing his weight on the step he sat on. “Or we could just sit here and admire NiJedha, I’m fine with that. We have all the time in the galaxy to do what we want with.”

“Okay,” Chirrut said, nodding while he wiped his face on his sleeves. “Do you want me to pull out a rocking chair for you too, grandfather?” His forearm was up even before Baze’s swinging fist connected with it. The impact cracked sharply in the silence, later replaced by Chirrut’s happy laughter.

“You’d like that!” Baze scowled.

“An eternity of this, are you sure you’re ready?” Chirrut cackled. He fell back to the steps before Baze could retaliate and lifted himself up in a handstand, legs swinging upwards smoothly to bring himself down to the landing before the sealed gates of the Temple of the Kyber—and he did it all without wasting a breath, not even a sound. If he had to compare it with some worldly thing, Baze would be stumped. The Force could give him another lifetime for it and it still won’t be enough time.

An eternity of that. Baze decided he was ready for it.

Crouching near the step, Chirrut folded his arms on his knees, smiling down at him. “You’re sure you don’t want to come inside? You look like you could use a homecoming party.”

“A homecoming party,” Baze snorted, shaking his head. “That’s what you’re calling it now? One day, you’re going to run out of jokes and innuendos.”

“Want to find out?” Chirrut challenged him, holding out a hand like an invitation.

Baze couldn’t remember the last time Chirrut moved so brazenly. Pockets of intimacy had been a luxury for the both of them, who lived by the rules of instincts and practicality to survive and make ends meet. Stay alive, together until time was up. Now it seemed it was time to reap what they’d sown. They both knew the point was not in the finding out, of course, that was just something silly for Chirrut to say.

It was in his hand slipping onto Chirrut’s, and their fingers wrapping around each other. The brush of skin on skin was electrifying, each tiny spark sending shivers up his flesh and a smile up his face. Had he really felt that hand go limp and cold in his? Even if he did, what did it matter now? To him, Chirrut was alive again. And that was that.

They rose, hand-in-hand, eyes locked onto each other as Chirrut moved back and eased the doors open. There would be yet another life to revisit in there, another world to rediscover. They could go on and on reliving the old days, the good ones and the bad ones, just because they could.

What they did with the time they were given, it didn’t matter anymore. So long as they could do it together.

#spiritassassin week #spiritassassin #rogue one #chirrut imwe #baze malbus #liv does sa week #seaofolives original #sa fic

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calpops · 4 years

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Waitttt okay so for that dates with Calum thing, can you imagine our soft boi having a dream about his future with his girl? Like I’m talking the whole nine yards - proposal, marriage, kids, growing old together. And maybe he wakes up in a sweat(?) because he wasn’t expecting that type of dream and he sees her sleeping next to him and his heart just explodes and he literally wakes her up to talk about it and idk if you are still doing this thread but this idea hit me and yeah

Calum falls asleep with you next to him in the new house. The home is new but the routine is old. Every night starts in the same ways, climbing in bed together, whispering while limbs are entangled and heads rest against chests and heartbeats are counted and kept in time with each other. Calum is surprised at the ease of routine, the heavy eyelids that accompany comfortable positions and soft words that either mean the world or amount to nothing more than hearing each other’s voices.

Calum had dreamt of you before; usually flickering images of the day previous floating through his unconscious mind. He could dream your smile and the blush that stained your cheeks, he could dream the giggle that escaped you in breathy wisps and wake with the noise still ringing in his ears. But all those dreams were just floating memories, time spent with you replaying in flashes as he slept. Tonight is different. His slumber is deeper, dreams more vivid and lifelike. His perception of reality momentarily becomes skewed as you become the center of his dreams. They’re flashes, just like usual, but it’s not the past that befalls his mind, not this time. This time it’s a life he has not yet lived that filters in; it’s his hopes painted in watercolor dreams that grace him through the dark night.

He sees you backlit by a halo of light, a smile he’s all too familiar with playing timidly at the corners of your lips. It’s a shy smile but the sparkle in your eyes and the way your hand reaches for his speaks comfort. It’s not until his dream self looks down that he catches the gleam of a ring on your finger and he realizes he’s poised on one knee, looking up at the love of his life; the person he intends to marry. His sweetheart. And although the thought of marriage once rattled him he’s taken away with ease to the next flickering image of you.

You’re in the backyard of your shared home and Calum finds nothing unordinary in the ever shifting dream. The flowers are in bloom, the sun shines on you in beautiful beams. Calum’s dream self surmises it’s afternoon, shadows dance along the backyard and colors shift and swirl and the mundane vision becomes extraordinary. You’re suddenly in his arms, adorned in white and Mrs. Hood falls from his lips in a tilted and excited way. It’s new but feels natural, it’s filled with sparks and your reaction—soft eyes and nod of acknowledgement at the new last name—sends him leaning forward, trying in vain to capture dream you in a kiss.

It’s at that very moment the world around him changes once more. The only constant in the ever shifting dreamscape is you. You always come into his line of vision, the dark fading away as your light shines through. This time you’re standing, leaning against the kitchen counter with a small chocolate bar dipped in peanut butter in your clutches. It’s not strange to him; the combination among your favorite indulgences. But when his eyes wander down and finds your free hand cradling a baby bump his heart leaps. He’d thought of kids but he’d always written it off to a maybe or a someday or his usual maybe someday. Not with you though. Now he’s sure. He knows he wants someday to come and there’s a part of him that hopes maybe someday might be soon.

The next flicker drives you away. He’s not sure where you’ve gone; if the dream has shifted and taken you from his unconscious mind. It’s not until he realizes the weight in his arms and looks down. He finds you in the features of your child together. A beautiful baby with his eyes and your nose. He knows he’s dreaming but this maybe someday has him wrapped around a tiny pinky. Your baby giggles, just like you, and grabs Calum’s thumb and his heart. In what feels like split seconds he watches your two lives become three and then four. A son and a daughter. He sees you raising children together and perhaps it’s a bit idyllic but white picket fences and swing sets build visions of the future. Fences and swing sets turn to porch swings and sunsets, old ages not separating you as he saw your lives play out together and wrinkled hands reach for each other, the ring he dropped to one knee to give you still graces your finger.

Calum wakes with a start, a sheen of sweat coats his forehead and though the dreams had been peaceful his heart hammers in his chest. He’s sat bolt upright as he chances a look at you painted by moonlight. His heart calms as he takes in your sleeping form, the way your lips slightly part and the tousled hair splayed across the pillow case that will result in bed head come morning. He can’t bite back a grin as he shifts and leans down to you—the trepidation and heart racing wake up call melting away as he remembers flashes of a life he wants to live. He presses a kiss to your forehead, gently tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and murmurs a soft sweetheart in the hopes of waking you with ease. He has to tell you about his dream. He needs you to know all that he saw. He needs to know if you can picture the same.

“Cal?” You grumble, voice weak with exhaustion from the chaos of moving. For a moment he feels bad for waking you, rational mind reckoning he could have waited until morning. But your small smile as your eyes flutter open and meet his tells him it’s okay. “What time is it?”

“I don’t know sweetheart,” Calum answers, realizing he hadn’t checked a clock, only the moon still being in the sky giving him any sense of time. “Late.”

“What’s wrong?” You wonder as his gaze settles on your hand that clutches the comforter.

“Had a dream,” he begins, finding it hard to put it all into words. His cadence is slow as you furrow your brows and await more explanation; having never been woken by Calum because of a dream.

“Was it a nightmare?” You ask as he continues to collect the words.

He quickly shakes his head ‘no’. “It was about us. Our lives. It was everything I want.”

Calum welcomes you as you maneuver to be in his hold, head resting against his chest to listen to his words and the rhythmic thrum of his heartbeat. His arms are strong yet soft around you and he presses his chin to the top of your head.

“Everything?” You ask hesitantly, teeth sinking into your lower lip at the end of the question.

“Everything. You wore my ring, you had my last name, we had children and a picket fence and a porch swing. We had each other, we had everything.”

“I want all of that too,” you whisper and Calum’s heart soars at the confirmation.

“Mostly I just want you,” Calum adds on, knowing that fences and porch swings and accessories to life would be meaningless without you in the picture. “I love you, sweetheart.”

You tap his chest three times; right in time with his heart beat and he knows it means you love him too. He falls asleep once more, this time with dreams of certainty that you want everything with him. That being together is everything.

***

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