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#nah it’s definitely yearning my heart is broken
inideation · 3 years
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i hate waking up
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pinkmirth · 3 years
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—𝐌𝗼𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐁𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐠𝗼𝐮 𝐊𝐚𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐢 [𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐰 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞]
《𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐝𝗼𝗺𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝗼𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 + 𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐝》
Boxes splayed across the bare, sheen hardwood of your newly owned apartment, some contents of them being haphazardly tossed out onto the floor, courtesy of Katsuki. Speaking of, the eager ash blonde had been taking this whole unpacking thing with a ravaging approach, a little more aggression than enthusiasm being displayed. This disregarding husband of yours had already broken two vases since the moving van hauled in your belongings..
You caught wind of his incoherent murmurs throughout the day, which were practically countless by now. You’d been racking your brain since, attempting to discover what had gotten your poor Katsuki so upset. Despite the marriage that bonded you and him, Katsuki’s profession usually got in the way of many personal things. For a while, it’d been a danger just for the pair of you to live together, so you haven’t been. Until now. It had been three days since you and him moved from the comfort of your hometown, Musutafu, to the renowned capital, Tokyo, and you wished you could say it had been smooth sailing. Unfortunately, a certain Bakugou wasn’t having the best time, always sputtering a profanity or a groan left and right. His case of the grumps was probably a trip of his complex emotions, either caused by a sense of neediness, deprivation of some sort, or bottled rage. You were betting, practically hoping on the first two instead. Knowing your husband, it meant well that he’d get his hands on miscellaneous household items to crush, smash and break, as some way of channeling his anger episodes. Three days down the line, and you already needed to replace a handful.. Though, it was currently dinner time, and you were sure that was a good thing. Katsuki’s little funk would wash away come 6pm. Cooking had a way of melting away the male’s heaps of stress, especially when you offered to join in. Throughout that hour of making food and serving you his prideful dishes, he always carried a subtle smile. Dinner wasn’t something to worry about. “Fuckin’ hell!” Scratch that. Telling by the pestering clatter of the cabinets he was yanking open, to the dastardly echo of his stomps, it seemed that you couldn’t rely on the succor of food for any longer. “I oughta’ set this lousy kitchen on fucking fire!” You let out a hefty sigh, picking yourself up from the spacious beanbag, since you were yet to assemble any couches, before strolling over to the kitchen, awaiting to see the reason behind your husband’s exaggerated shrieking. “Katsu-Chan, what's the issue..?” Your husband immediately bombarded you with a growled rant, “I can’t find my shitty apron!” You eyed Katsuki through furrowed brows. Is all this attitude really about one measly apron? Nah, I doubt it, your inner voice chimed. “And there ain’t any more pepper seasoning, so I haven’t got a clue what I’ll cook now..” he spewed through gritted teeth, recklessly tossing away the poor frying pan that he’d been holding onto all the while, impressive dents imprinted onto the handle, curved into the shape of his fingers. In that case, you had one more household item to replace. Noted.. “I can’t find that damned thing,” he spoke with an exasperated huff, his hands flying up to the cupboards, motioning them open and closed with the slightest violent tendency. “Hate to break it to you, sweet cheeks, but we ain’t eating dinner tonight,” you scoffed over Katsuki’s recurring dramatics, “These past few days have been shitty anyway..” He’d said it throughout a lowly mutter, but it was enough to cause a nervous stream to rush through you. Did he not like it here? Perhaps the city was too busy for Dynamight, maybe he wasn’t immune to getting homesickness as he liked to brag about, or it couldve been that he just wasn’t ready to get used to such a foreign occurrence in your relationship— living together. But, of course, considering your nature to bat things off with a joke of some sort, you contorted your worries into a comical stick to jab at your husband with.
“Darling, if you’re on your man-period, you should’ve just said so..” you’d said it with fabricated pity, all the while holding back your chuckles as his brows began to furrow, upper lip curving vexingly.
“You think you’re so damn funny, dontcha’, woman..?”
“Yeah, just a little bit.”
Another rasped groan left the lips of the ever-impatient Bakugou Katsuki, “Oi. Are ya’ just gonna keep giggling on about my little anger episode forever?”
Hm. For once, he actually acknowledged it for what it is, you thought briefly, before making your way around the glossy, marble-design kitchen island, your hands finding solace on his defined, muscular triceps. 
The thick straps of his black, square neck tank top gradually began to slide past his shoulders, shadowing over his collarbone before you inched it back up.
“Do you.. like it here, Katsuki?” By the moment he answered your answer with an aggressive snort, you realized you had nothing to worry about.
 “Why the hell wouldn't I? We didn’t pay for this house just to hate the place,” he scoffed, his large palms skimming over the small of your back before thick fingers of his wrapped around your waist.
“That’s a relief, but you’ve been acting a little grumpy— Like something’s bothering you. Could you just tell me how you’re feeling?” You finally admitted your questioning thoughts with an expectant look, watching Katsuki return your curiosity with a subtle smirk. “You wanna know what’s bothering me..?” 
“Y’know what, never mind. Don’t wanna hear it, Katsu-Chan.”
Your abrupt response had him knitting his brows and emitting confused huffs. “So you’re just gonna change your mind on me like that?!” You jabbed at his chest with your pointer finger to punctuate your reply, “because you made it sound creepy, that’s why!”
Katsuki then tightened his grip around your waist, earning a breathy gasp out of you. Before you could question the blonde, he already had you hauled up into the kitchen island, standing between your dangling legs with the tip of his nose grazing yours. You couldn’t help but let out a sigh at the comforting warmth of his sizey hands, your arms instinctively flinging around the back of his neck.
“Alright, I’ll tell you the truth, hon,” confessed Katsuki, “The move has been great, but horrible. It all went good, I guess. No missing items, moving trucks arriving in record time, everything we wanted. But there’s one more thing that we wanted that you seemed to forget about, you lil’ idiot..”
Despite the use of an insult, his cheeks and ears began the bloom a subtle but pretty pink, his sharp red eyes averting from your own blinking ones.
“Care to inform me on whatever I forgot..?” You skimmed through my your memory frantically in those few seconds that he’d paused, trying to dig up a pleasing answer before he told you himself.
“Privacy, [Y/N].. We’d have so much, too much once we moved to our own place. And we loved the sound of that. Y‘know why, right..?”
Your heart suddenly leapt within your chest at his indication, his left brow rising suggestively as he briefly cocked his head. You definitely knew why.
“So we could have times like this. Without any damned interruptions. I can suck your face off without one of my shitty friends popping up unexpectedly, ain’t that swell?” His voice held the slightest bit of laughter in it, his tone comical and yearning.
“So.. if I said that I wanna feel you close to me..” you murmured, your breath fanning over his proximate lips, “Like, really really close, it wouldn’t be a problem, yes?” A teasing, lingering peck was what you placed across his cheek, earning a genuine grin from Katsuki as a response.
“Who the hell’s gonna stop you? In fact, I’ve got my own idea,” his lowly voice came out booming nonetheless, but of course, the benefit of privacy made sure that his volume wasn’t a problem.
“I wanna watch you. While you watch me.” He didn’t have to be lewdly exact with his words, the lust-blown gaze in your husband’s vermillion eyes was enough to tell what he wanted. It was simple enough as he’d said; Mutual masturbation, just a few minutes before dinner time would commence.
Albeit the serene atmosphere, you couldn’t hold back your snicker over your realization. Bakugou Katsuki, your impatient lover. The poor guy had been in such a distasteful mood, only because of his unnerving libido..
“You wanna watch me take off my panties, huh?” Your teasing statement came out as a suggestive giggle, your hand placed sturdily at the nape of his neck while the unoccupied one got to work on making his fantasies a reality, tugging at the hem of your leggings hastily.
“You’ve gotta watch me too, y’know,” Katsuki reminded you with a gravelly chuckle, shimmying and pulling his bottoms off as though there were no time to spare.
His half naked form had attracted you in an instant, eyes drawing to his thick cock, semi-hard and already being encased into his moving palm.
“Don't just stare. It works both ways, sweet cheeks. I wanna see some fingers moving’ already,” Puffs of breath were taken between his words, ruby red eyes already lidded with an agape mouth that poured out the most arousing groans.
“Nah, I think I’ll just enjoy the show for now,” you decided matter-of-factly, pressing a sloppy kiss along his defined jawline, causing him to emit another grunt, lowly slapping sounds being heard from his vulgar ministrations.
“You think you’re cute, huh..” hissed Bakugou, trudging his clothes back on with a grunt, to your dismay. “Forget it. Instead of putting on a show for a brat like you, I’m gonna go straight to dinner.”
You accepted the fate that your actions resulted in, ready to slide off the island, just before his stern hands stopped you. He gave you this glance, one that made you eye him in suspicion as he kept his hands on each of your thighs, spreading them apart with a lax grin.
“Katsu— Ah!” By now, the blonde had already dropped to his knees, now face level with your clothed heat. “W-what about dinner..?!”
“Whaddya’ mean?” His tone came out rasped and attractive, a growing smirk reaching his lips as his fingers prodded at the band of your bottoms, “This is my dinner, babe..”
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fleetingpieces · 3 years
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My One in a Million CH 5
Ok ok it’s here!! Once again, thank you @knittingdreams and @inloveoknutzy for being such amazing betas ❤️ And thank you @wonder-womans-ex for the idea of Sirius making awful cookies haha @donttouchmycarrots @sunflowerfox87 @justdyingontheinside @heyoitslysso @whataboutmyfries Please let me know if I forgot anyone that wanted to be tagged! :)
And of course, the lovely characters are from @lumosinlove ‘s world 
Thank you so much for reading y’all! ❤️
Masterlist
Chapter 5 - Making amends
Sirius had a plan.
It was very simple. He wanted to clear the air with Remus, show him he wasn’t a horrible person. And to do that, he needed to stop being an ass.
Sirius had never been more self-conscious of how much his family affected his moods. He hated the idea of them having that kind of power over him. After all, he’d escaped that house years ago to avoid precisely that: having no control over his own life.
He had a tendency to go on a self-destructive streak whenever he felt overwhelmed by his parents' demands, it was the only way he knew how to cope with it. It was unhealthy, he was perfectly aware of that, and he was tired of not being able to find another way. Yeah, he wanted to do something nice for Remus to compensate for his behaviour, but he also wanted to do this for himself. So, now that he was feeling like his own person again, Sirius was going to fix all of his bad habits, go back to being a decent human being, and apologize to Remus. 
It was going to work.
“That’s not gonna work.”
Sirius stared at Finn. He was sprawled on the couch, carding his fingers through Logan’s hair, who was sitting between his legs. Sirius would never admit it, but sometimes he was jealous of the relationship they had. He yearned for something like that.
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“Well, you can do all of that, but it will all be for nothing if he still refuses to even look at your face.”
“Why don’t you just tell him you’re Padfoot?” James asked as he walked into the room with two bowls of snacks in his hands, before he plopped down on the floor. “D’you think he’d tell?”
“No, I don’t believe Remus would do something like that. He would definitely try to keep Padfoot’s identity. I just…” Sirius trailed off and stared down at his hands, fiddling with them on his lap. Then he lifted his head to look at James’ confused expression. “I just don’t want the same thing to happen again. Not that I think Remus would try to take advantage of my popularity, but I…” he heaved a sigh, “I don’t want him to like me just because I’m Padfoot. I want him to like me because of me.”
There was a short silence as his three friends glanced at each other, and then Logan snorted.
“You big softie,” he said with a smirk. Sirius threw a cushion to his face.
He didn’t tell them the other reason why he was reluctant to tell Remus the truth: he was scared he would disappoint him.
The man thought so highly of Padfoot, it was so obvious by the way he spoke of him and how his eyes shone when he did. But would he still think the same if he knew that Padfoot was in fact his annoying neighbour? It seemed so important to him, for reasons Sirius didn’t understand, but still. He didn’t want to ruin that for Remus.
“So what are you going to do?” James said through a mouthful of chips.
Sirius perked up and smiled wickedly at his friends, making them groan even before he started talking.
“I’m glad you asked, Prongs. I’m gonna start by soundproofing my recording room. Which is why you lot are here today.”
James let out an audible gasp, “and here I thought you actually enjoyed our company. You were planning on using us all along!” he tilted his head up, placing his wrist on his forehead like he was about to faint.
“Outrageous.”
“I’m shocked.”
“I never expected this of you, Sirius,” Finn added, pretending to wipe the corner of his eyes.
“D’accord, d’accord!” Sirius huffed. “Dinner’s on me, oui? Don’t look at me like that, Prongs. I know you’ll be recording in here as well, so you might as well stop complaining and help.”
“Why are we here then?” Logan grumbled as he burrowed closer to Finn’s front, searching for his warmth.
“Cause you love me too much, and cause me and James alone would probably end up building a fort instead.”
James grinned cheekily at him, like he hadn’t dismissed that idea yet, but he got up. The four of them went to the room at the end of the hall, where Sirius had a couple of computers, lots of collectibles, and piles of acoustic foam and command strips to do the job.
“You know, you could probably teach Remus a thing or two about video editing. Leo showed us some of them and they’re good, but they are missing a little something,” Finn said offhandedly.
Sirius tripped over a chair, sending it wheeling against the desk.
“You...you saw the videos?” he asked, trying to sound nonchalant about it, but the effect was completely ruined with Logan snickering in the background. 
“Wait, since when are you friends with Leo?” James raised his eyebrows as he stared suspiciously from Logan to Finn.
Finn blushed slightly, but it was Logan who answered. “Oh, you know... we hung out a couple of times after the party. He’s cool.”
“He’s cool,” Sirius snorted. He hadn’t missed the way all three of them had thrown glances at each other all night at Halloween. There was something going on that he didn’t quite understand yet, but he wanted to give them the space they needed to talk about it if they wanted to.
Besides, there were other things on his mind as of then.
He’d completely forgotten about the existence of those videos. How that had happened after the display he saw on the balcony the other day was beyond him. Working on the room and waiting for the guys to be distracted enough was torture for Sirius. He had to keep reminding himself it was for a good cause, that Remus and his other neighbours would appreciate it.
But as soon as the food arrived and the guys sat down in the living room to watch TV, Sirius disappeared back into his recording room.
Finding the videos wasn’t hard. Apparently, there weren’t that many Remuses out there that were yoga instructors. Shocking, he knew. He pulled up the first video that appeared and almost choked on his breath.
There was Remus, bent backwards in the air over another man’s feet. Sirius registered at the back of his mind that the man was Leo, but he was more focused on the way Remus seemed to be flying as Leo, who was lying on the floor, kept him up by pressing his feet at Remus’ lower back and curve of his ass. A pop-up note at the bottom of the screen said the pose was called “back bow”. Sirius could understand why Finn thought he could use some help with editing, but right then, he didn’t really give a crap about that. Not with Remus’ muscles stretched taught to keep himself balanced and in shape, the tights he was wearing hugging the length of his legs and hips snugly, leaving very little to the imagination.
Sirius watched, transfixed, at the way Remus bent gracefully, his lean body arching and flipping in the air before Leo caught him. It was fucking gorgeous.
At the end of the video, a link was dropped that Sirius clicked almost on instinct. He was led to a website that offered all sorts of merchandise: mats, t-shirts, hoodies, sweatpants, leggings, and a few more things. Before Sirius could stop to analyse his fanboy (and slightly stalkerish) behaviour, he started adding stuff to the cart.
“Sirius, what the hell are you doing? Your food is getting cold.” James entered the room but stopped short when Sirius hastily got up and stood in front of the computer screen. He raised an eyebrow and glanced around his best friend, surprise marking his features when he got a look at what he was doing. “You really are smitten, aren’t you?”
Sirius rubbed a hand over his face, dropping himself back on the chair. He could talk about it with James, James wouldn’t make fun of him. “I...I don’t know. I’m just so curious about him. Like...I really want to talk to him more? Is that weird?”
“Nah, it’s not.” He walked over and propped himself on the desk next to Sirius, “I think it’s great that you’re actually trying. Don’t…” he sighed, “don’t close yourself off. You don’t need to do that anymore.”
Finn and Logan’s laughs drifted in through the door, breaking the haze in Sirius’ thoughts.
“Yeah...Yeah, thanks Potts.”
James bumped his fist against Sirius’ shoulder, smiling fondly at him. “No problem. Now get your ass there and eat your food.” He slung an arm around Sirius’ neck and started dragging him to the living room.
Sirius laughed and let himself be steered into a chair as he stole a glance at his two other friends, who were stealing kisses and food from each other, thinking that maybe James had a point. Maybe it was ok for him to want this.
***
Standing in front of the door with the number ten on it, Sirius felt a bit like an idiot. He was there, with a canvas painting -wrapped neatly in parchment paper- under one arm, and a box of homemade cookies in his hand.
Lily had mentioned what it was exactly that Sirius had broken, and Sirius had looked at many local artists until he found one he thought was perfect.
The cookies had been Sirius’ idea. He’d made them himself and vowed to never let any of his friends find out about it or he wouldn’t be able to live it down. 
Pumping himself up, Sirius plastered his best smile on his face and knocked on the door. A few moments later it swung open, and then Remus was in front of him, still looking back into his apartment with a smile.
“I’ll be back in a sec,” he said, but when he turned around and looked at Sirius, his smile faltered. The waver of those lips made Sirius’ heart tremble too. “Hi.”
“Hello,” Sirius breathed. After a few seconds of both of them just staring at each other, Sirius cleared his throat. “Can I...um...Can I talk to you?”
“Sure.” Remus seemed surprised, but he crossed his arms and stared at him, waiting.
Oh, this is worse than I thought. Sirius shifted his weight. “Is it ok if I come in?” he asked, and then he thought about Remus’ first words. “Or..oh shit, do you have company?”
“No,” Remus frowned. He glanced suspiciously at the stuff on Sirius’ hands before he heaved a sigh and stepped back to let him through.
Sirius’ first impression of Remus’ flat was that it suited him. It was warm, just like Remus seemed to be with anyone that wasn’t Sirius. It hadn’t gone unnoticed by him in the past few weeks how sweet and kind he was, always smiling and helping others. Sirius really wanted to be his friend. Ok, maybe more than friends, but right now, he would be happy with just that.
“What do you need?” Remus asked in an uninterested tone. He didn’t invite Sirius to sit down, and instead just stood there in the middle of the living room.
Sirius turned to look at him, his mouth opening to start apologising, but his attention was drawn to something behind the other man. Cocoa was approaching them slowly, placing one paw in front of the other without making a sound, his yellow eyes focused on Sirius’ face and his lips slightly pulled up.
A wide smile pulled at Sirius’ mouth, his eyes lighting up. “Hey doggy!” He crouched, extending a hand towards the animal.
“Sirius, don’t!” Remus tried to stop the dog, but Cocoa was already onto Sirius. And then he froze altogether at what he saw. Cocoa merely sniffed Sirius’ hand, sat down, and started wagging his tail.
Sirius laughed, “whoa, you’re even larger up close.” His eyes found Remus’. “Why are you so jumpy? He’s such a good dog,” he said as he started scratching Cocoa’s ears, “aren’t you?”
The wolfdog barked once and leaned into Sirius’ hand with its tongue hanging out.
“I...I don’t get it,” Remus was staring at him in awe, his mouth hanging open as his dog got closer to Sirius.
“What?”
“Cocoa is never so friendly with strangers. It usually takes him a long time to stop being alert and wary...but he seems to like you.”
Cocoa licked Sirius’ face as if to confirm that statement, making Sirius laugh again.
“Of course he does. We’re the same, aren’t we boy?”
“What do you mean?” Remus asked, still looking slightly disoriented.
“Well, I’m named after the dog star, aren’t I? And I’m a Black,” he gestured between himself and Cocoa as if he was stating something obvious.
The corners of Remus’ lips lifted up like he was trying really hard not to smile.
“Oh my God, that’s the silliest thing I’ve ever heard!” he said, covering his mouth with a hand.
“You can deny it all you want, but he loves me.”
Cocoa inched even closer to Sirius and put his nose on the box that was still in his hand.
“Oh no, that’s not for you. Sorry, boy.”
“I’ve actually been meaning to ask, but what exactly is that?” Remus frowned.
“Oh, right.” Sirius petted Cocoa one last time and got up, fidgeting with the paper covering the present he’d brought. “Well, this is why I wanted to talk to you. I um…I only found out a few days ago that you were the person I bumped into that day. I just wanted to make amends.”
He handed Remus the big square package and waited anxiously as the other man narrowed his eyes at him and started ripping the paper off. He was pretty confident in the choice he’d made, but he hoped Remus would like it.
“What the hell is this?”
Remus was staring down at the landscape peeking out of the torn paper: a beautiful impressionist rendition of a full moon over a waterfall, with a pack of wolves peeking out of a forest. It was very well done, and not at all deserving of the glare Remus was throwing its way. Sirius’ head was reeling. How did he manage to make someone so kind and polite react in this way every time?
“I know it’s not the same as the one I broke, but I-”
“Damn right it’s not!” Remus snapped. His hands were shaking. Cocoa seemed to sense something was wrong, cause he was there in an instant, standing in front of Remus, trying to find where the threat was. Remus plunged on, his voice rising with an emotion Sirius couldn’t place, “My mum made that for me! You think you can just replace it with any expensive crap? You can’t possibly believe this is the same as something that meant so much to me, something that kept me going during-” Remus cut himself off and looked up to the ceiling. He was breathing hard, rubbing his temple with one hand while he held the painting in the other.
“I...I didn’t know. I… fuck,” Sirius closed his eyes, cursing himself, before looking pleadingly at Remus, trying to convey his emotions properly. “I’m so, so sorry. I never intended it to be a replacement. I...I just wanted to apologise.”
He’d fucked up. He’d fucked up royally before he’d even properly met the guy, all because he couldn’t control his bad temper. He should probably go before making things worse. But he didn’t want to. He’d come here to make everything better, not to leave things like this. Glancing around to buy some time, he tried to think of a way to reverse the situation.
His eyes found something and, without even thinking about it, he blurted, “oh, so you bought the game?”
“What?” 
Sirius pointed awkwardly to the NHL game box sitting on top of the coffee table. “I know we started on the wrong foot, but maybe we can have a rematch? Break the ice with something we’re both comfortable with?”
Remus stared at him like he was crazy. Maybe he was right, but Sirius was anything if not determined.
“Remus, I’m trying, ok? Just...I have cookies?” He shook the box hopefully, making the cookies rattle inside.
Remus took a deep breath, thinking it over as he stared at Sirius. He heaved a sigh when he reached a conclusion, his chest deflating as some of the anger left his body. "Fine."
He gestured for Sirius to take a seat while he went over to place the half-opened package in another room. Sirius opened the box of cookies and left it on the coffee table before sitting down on the couch, tapping his fingers over his legs as he waited.
The couch was probably big enough for three people, but when Remus walked over, he eyed the free spot next to Sirius and sat on the floor in front of the table instead.
Well, their thighs were definitely not touching this time.
The air was so tense as Remus started up the game, that Sirius thought it would snap and hit them both in the face.
Cocoa padded over and jumped onto the sofa, placing his head on Sirius' lap.
"Traitor," Remus muttered, making Sirius snort despite the heavy atmosphere. From where he was sitting, Sirius could only see his profile, but he was sure he saw the man throw a sideway glance at him and purse his lips. He reached over to grab a cookie, biting into it with extra force, and he instantly pulled a face. "These cookies suck."
Sirius was surprised by such a blatant answer. He leaned forward on his elbows, placing his chin on his hands to try and hide the blush he could feel creeping up his neck.
"They can't be that bad." He snatched one from the box, propping it in his mouth under Remus' attentive eyes, and instantly started coughing. "Oh my god."
"Where the hell did you buy them?"
"How did they turn out so bad?!"
"Wait…" Remus turned to look at him fully, his lips pressed in a thin line to suppress a smile, "did you make these?"
"No," Sirius replied instantly.
"Oh God, you did!"
"Très bien, je les ai faits! I'm sorry I offended you with my awful cooking skills, I just wanted to give you the neighbourly welcome I owed you, d'accord?"
"What are you, 60? Minnie from the floor below made biscuits for me when I moved in."
Sirius sputtered, placing a hand over his heart, "what?! She never made cookies for me!"
“It’s not a competition, jeez.”
“But I wanted cookies,” Sirius pouted.
“You can have these,” Remus deadpanned as he flicked the box.
“Ugh, stop that. That’s the last time I try doing something nice for you,” he grumbled. Remus looked stunned for a second before he turned away.
It was quiet while each of them chose their team and started playing. They were a lot more relaxed in their game than they'd been last time, although that didn't mean they weren't giving it their best.
After a while of being absolutely silent, Sirius sighed. He felt Remus throw a quick side glance at him before looking back at the front.
"I owe you another apology."
The sound of the buttons being pressed and the low noises from the TV were the only things that could be heard as they both stared stubbornly at the screen.
"What for?"
"I've been an ass."
"Yeah, you have."
Sirius chuckled once, "yeah, I have," he said softly. He ran a hand through his hair, checking the score. He was winning, but he didn't really care this time around. "My family...they don't approve of my line of work. I'm not trying to make excuses for my behavior or anything, I just...I was having a really rough time that day." Remus raised an eyebrow at the TV, making Sirius laugh again, "and the days after that too. Damn, my friends had to check up on me every day to make sure I didn’t do anything stupid.” He glanced down nervously, afraid that he’d said too much, but Remus was still staring at the tiny players. “I just needed to get out of the flat as fast as possible. I wanted to apologise afterwards, but I didn't even know it was you. Bottom line is, I am on edge whenever they get involved in my life, and I act stupidly, and I am sorry you got caught up in that. I promise I am working on it."
Remus was silent for a few minutes, mulling something over in his head.
"Hospital," he whispered finally.
"What?"
"I was in the hospital when my mum gave me that." He hesitated before saying more. Sirius wanted to see what expression he was making. "I was stuck there for a long time, alone, and that painting was the only thing that kept me from feeling trapped. It helped me calm down."
Sirius’ heart gave a painful tug at the desolation in Remus’ voice. He had no idea how they’d gotten into this heart-to-heart moment, but his hand instinctively left the controller as he bent down to place it on top of Remus’, giving it a light squeeze.
Remus was startled, finally turning to look at Sirius. The sounds from the game kept ringing in the background, but none of them were looking at it anymore.
“I really am sorry,” he said, gazing intently at him. Remus’ eyes were the richest shade of gold he’d ever seen, glowing warmly, and Sirius was sure that he could light up even the darkest corners of his being. How had he not noticed this before?
The room went a bit colder when those eyes left his to glance at their hands.
“Are you ok?” Sirius asked.
“Yeah, I just-” Remus removed his hand to rub at his neck. “I have things to do. You should go.”
It was clearly a lie, and Sirius knew not to push it.
As he made his way back to his own flat, he had no idea if he’d fixed anything or if he’d just made everything worse.
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ashintheairlikesnow · 3 years
Text
Christmas Specials: Jake and Kauri
Honestly, this is mostly just some genuinely sharp pining and yearning.
“Merry Christmas.”
The box, small and light, drops onto the kitchen table with a sound more like a tap than a thud. Jake blinks down at it, cheerfully wrapped in a bright cacophony of rainbow colors in vaguely ornament-like shapes. Jake sets his coffee mug slowly down, steam curling up into the air, particles of dust briefly visible floating through the beams of early morning light.
Kauri hasn’t slept, and it’s clear - his hair is still mussed, he’s wearing clothes from the night before, that particular look of shadowed satisfaction he has after a night well-wasted. Red-rimmed eyes and the slightest wince at the sun coming in through the curtains, and still… still, he’s Kauri, and Jake’s glad to see him.
“Not Christmas yet,” Jake offers, carefully casual. If his eyes are on Kauri’s too long, neither one of them mention it. Kauri smells like cigarette smoke and another man’s cologne, and he doesn’t smoke so Jake knows that means he’s been with someone who does. “You’re up early, Kaur.”
“At what point,” Kauri asks, with the air of a philosopher posing a question for the ages, “Does it stop being up late and begins being up early?”
“When it’s 7 o’clock in the fucking morning, you’re pretty safely at up early. What brought you by?”
Kauri shrugs, pouring himself a cup of coffee. The house creaks around them, ancient bones settling into the foundation. There’s the telltale squeak of the spot just outside the bathroom door, and then the sound of water rushing through pipes. Chris, in the shower, Jake thinks. Antoni steps around the spot on the floor that squeaks. Leila moved out, and they haven’t gotten anyone new for her old room yet.
“I just decided to,” Kauri says, yawning, and something about the way his eyes close makes him look like a sleepy kitten, rumpled and ready to simply list to the side until he collapses. “Had this to give you.”
“I have something for you, too, but I haven’t wrapped it.”
Kauri blinks, pouring peppermint mocha creamer into the coffee cup and topping it off with plain milk. He turns and leans back against the counter, sipping, and the way he smiles a little at the taste of the coffee makes Jake’s chest twist in an anxiety he can name but can’t afford to linger on. “You got me a present?”
Kauri sounds so fucking surprised that it hurts.
Do you really think so little of yourself?
“Of course I did. So did Chris, and Nat, and Antoni.”
Kauri lets out his breath, disbelieving, shaking his head with a half-grin. “I don’t know why. I can’t have anything that doesn’t fit in my backpack.”
“I mean, you could stay-”
“No.” Kauri cuts him off. “No. I can’t.”
“Fair. But I think everyone got you stuff that you can carry with you easy. Plus I think Nat got Keira something, but don’t ask me what. What you buy for a fucking Roomba is beyond me.” Jake watches the way Kauri relaxes back into the easy joking, the more sensitive minefield of simply being cared for avoided for now. “I’ll be right back, then we can exchange, yeah? Just us, first.”
“Yeah.” Kauri gives him that cockeyed grin again, turns to look out the window. The sky is a riot of purples and pinks as the sun slowly rises on a California December. The only change is that it’ll start raining soon, and Kauri wears a sweater sometimes.
Jake pushes himself to his feet, ducking his head as usual to avoid knocking it on the top of the doorframe, heading up the stairs with the solid creaks from the old steps that are as much a part of the house as the pictures Nat keeps on the wall. Chris meets him coming out of the shower, towel-drying his longish hair - he’s growing it out, he says, and it has the slightest curl against the back of his neck and under his ears - and wearing all his clothes already.
With some of the rescues, it’s a sign they still didn’t feel safe, when they took all their clothes into the bathroom and never let their skin be seen. With Chris, as with most Romantics, it’s the opposite. He feels safe enough to know he can make himself comfortable any way he wants. Not feeling like he needs to show skin is a sign of security for him.
“Hey, hey Jake,” Chris says, one green eye covered by the pastel purple towel. “Did, did I hear you, um, you talking to, to-... is, is breakfast-”
“Can you chill up here for a sec?” Jake interrupts him, voice pitched low. At Chris’s confusion, he says softly, “I just… want to do something. Give me ten minutes, yeah? Then I’ll start on breakfast and you can come down.”
“Um, oh-okay,” Chris says, frowning, but he slips into the room he shares with Antoni, and Jake heads for his own room, digging out Kauri’s gift from underneath a carefully arranged pile of basically trash papers in his desk drawer. Hidden, like Kauri was a kid who still believed in Santa.
Hidden, like Jake didn’t want to explain what he did to anyone but Kauri, and definitely didn’t want to explain why.
He heads back downstairs with the gift carefully slipped into his back pocket, unseen until he wants Kauri to know. Ducks his head again - and Jake has been ducking to avoid doorframes since he was sixteen, he thinks, or eighteen maybe - and finds Kauri right where he left him, still sipping his coffee, lost in thought.
Warm gold light edges his mussed-up black curls, sets off the blue of his eyes when he turns to look at Jake. Lights his smile a little, too. Jake’s eyes catch the barest hint of a flash of bare skin at his stomach, where shirt hem and low-slung jeans meet. 
“Want to do yours first?” Jake asks, and his voice sounds airy to him, but Kauri doesn’t seem to notice.
“Nah. You open yours, then I’ll do mine.” Kauri gives a smooth shrug, effortlessly graceful. Or maybe it hadn’t been effortless, before it’d been beaten into him until he couldn’t be anything else. 
Jake nods, slowly, and sits down, carefully shifting his weight not to put any on the phone, and takes the box in hand. He rips open a seam very slowly and shifts the box out, then folds the wrapping paper and sets it to the side. 
He catches Kauri watching him, eyebrows furrowed again and glances up. 
“Why-... why didn’t you just tear it?” Kauri points at the folded square, as neat as origami. “Why did you do that? It’s like 15 cents of paper.”
Jake shrugs, running his fingers over the smooth, plain brown box the size of his palm, mostly flat. “We always saved wrapping paper to use the next year, when I was a kid. It’s just a habit, guess I never lost it. What’s in here?”
“Open the box and see.” Kauri holds his mug in both hands, giving him a pleased little smile, and not for the first time, Jake thinks, if I’d met you any other way…
He opens the box. Inside, there’s three gift cards, slightly shiny, and Jake looks each one over, blinking, before he looks up. “This is… the Mitchells Center downtown, the Blue Martini, and… Holden’s Harbor… Kauri, this is-... what is this?”
“A date.” Kauri bites down on his lower lip, looking at Jake over his mug, and his eyes are sparkling bright. Jake almost opens his mouth to say, I’m so sorry, we can’t do that, we just can’t, when Kauri quickly adds, “For you and Addie.”
Jake’s protest dies, unspoken. “For… for Addie?”
“Yeah. You’ve been talking for months about saving up for a big anniversary thing, and then, you know, I heard you say you were giving Nat a bunch of your money when the pipe burst and the basement flooded, so…” He shrug, again. “I didn’t want you to miss out on your date. And I remembered you said she likes that bar, the Blue Martini, I know the bartender there-”
You know everyone, everywhere.
“-so he’s gonna give you drinks half-price, just tell me the night and I’ll let him know. Then Holden’s Harbor, that’s the big one, but I’m friends with a waiter and the hostess is going to give you a table that looks over the Bay, she’s fun, I partied with her a few week ago. And then… the Mitchells Center is doing Hadestown, and you said that’s Addie’s big thing right now. So. Happy anniversary.” 
Jake is, for a moment, utterly speechless. “Kauri this is like-... three hundred dollars of-... you can’t possibly-”
“Four. But don’t worry about it. I had a bunch of really good weeks a couple months ago and I don’t spend much money, anyway. Is it good? Do you think?”
Jake just stares at the gift cards for a second, swallowing around a lump in his throat, a tightening threatening to take his voice. “It’s, um.” His voice cracks a little and he has to clear his throat to recover it. “It’s amazing, Kaur. Thank you. Um… like I said, I didn’t have time to wrap it, but…” He pulls the gift out of his back pocket and lays it out on the table between them.
Kauri steps forward, setting his mug down. “What-... a new phone? Thanks, I-”
“Yeah, but, um, that’s not what’s important. Just…” Jake picks the phone up, and it feels like such a dumb thing, now, what he did, but he powers through it. The phone isn’t locked yet, and it’s easy to pull up the apps and folders, select one, and open it up. He slides the phone closer. “Pick one of those, and click it.”
Kauri looks down, and Jake looks with him. It’s a file folder open to a bunch of sound files, each one labeled with an emoji rather than words. A heart, a broken heart, a smile, a sad face. A gravestone. A tree. A cat.
His finger hovers, and then taps deliberately over the heart. A line of options pops up, each one punctuated with new emojis. The one Kauri picks is marked with a face that has blue eyes and black hair, a leaf, and a flower.
“I swear,” A voice - Jake’s voice - comes out of the phone’s speaker, “since seeing Your face, the whole world is fraud and fantasy. The garden is bewildered as to what is leaf or blossom. The distracted birds can’t distinguish the birdseed from the snare.”
“What is this?” Kauri’s voice is hushed, and uncertain. He almost sounds scared. But he doesn’t stop the recording. 
“A house of love with no limits,” The voice continues, “A presence more beautiful than Venus or the moon. A beauty whose image fills the mirror of the heart. The Divani Shamsi Tabriz XV.”
Jake clears his throat again. “That’s, um, Rumi.”
Kauri’s breath catches in his throat, and he looks for a second like he’ll pick another choice, then pulls his hand back, looking up at Jake wide-eyed. “You… recorded poetry? For my Christmas present?”
“Yeah.” Jake licks at his lips, his heart pounding for reasons he can’t really explain to himself, or maybe just doesn’t want to. “You, um, you quote-... you quote shit all the time, so I started looking it up, and it’s almost always… poetry. So I figured, maybe, um, maybe-... you liked that shit, you know? And you shouldn’t have to… not get it, just because you can’t read yet. So I recorded, um, like… two hundred poems or something?”
Kauri opens his mouth to speak, closes it again. 
“Oh my God,” is all he says. His voice cracks.
Jake’s chest twists, nervous, he finds himself tapping his foot on the floor, twisting fingers into his pajama pants. 
Kauri leans over and pushes another poem, in a sudden burst of movement like he wants to stop himself and can’t. “Sometimes, I think you get the worst of me.” Jake’s voice is softer on this poem, and it’s uncomfortable listening to himself read this. Why did Kauri choose the love poems? “The much-loved loose forest-green sweatpants, the long bra-less days, hair knotted and uncivilized, a shadowed brow where the devilish thoughts do their hoofed dance on the brain.”
“This is Ada Limon,” Kauri whispers.
“I’d like to say this means I love you, the stained white cotton T-shirt, the tears, pistachio shells, the mess of orange peels on my desk, but it’s different than that. I move in this house with you, the way I move in my mind, unencumbered by beauty’s cage.”
“You, uh, mentioned her one day when Nat was listening to NPR-”
“Ssshhhh,” Kauri says, holding up a hand, as Jake’s recorded voice keeps reading.
“I do like I do in the tall grass, more animal-me than much else. I’m wrong, it is that I love you, but it’s more that when you say it back, lights out, a cold wind through curtains, for maybe the first time in my life, I believe it. Ada Limon, Love Poem With Apologies for My Appearance.”
There’s a long silence broken only by Kauri’s harsh breathing, and Jake watches tears build in his wide blue eyes. He’s done something wrong, somehow. It had seemed like a good gift but he’s ruined it, somehow it wasn’t right at all, it wasn’t-
“Thank you, this is-... this is amazing,” Kauri says. Barely words. More just a breath.
Some part of Jake had been tense and coiled to turn in on himself in anger. That part, at the words, relaxes. “You’re welcome. Is it-... is it good, or…”
“You, um-... you fucking heard, some shit I said, and you-... got me something, I just...” Kauri’s hands move nervously, over himself and over the back of the chair, to the phone, back up to his hair. He meets Jake’s eyes, and his brim with tears and Jake feels his own heating up in response. “You just… I, I don’t-... no one’s ever done anything like this for me.”
“Really?”
“I m-mean, not that I know of anyway.” The joke falls flat, Kauri’s voice is too full of tears. Kauri picks up the phone like it’s a precious object that might shatter or disappear, holds it with reverent hands. Swallows and looks at Jake like he’s seeing him for the first time. “I didn’t-... know you listened to me so much.”
“‘Course I do. Merry Christmas,” Jake says, voice maybe a little thick, buried in the things they don’t say to each other. “Merry Christmas, Kauri.”
Kauri pours himself another cup of coffee, and Jake lets out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding at the sign that Kauri will stay a little longer. 
With his back to Jake and the phone still clutched in one hand, Kauri says, “Merry Christmas, Jake.”
They both pretend that Kauri’s voice isn’t shaking.
---
Tagging: @burtlederp , @finder-of-rings , @endless-whump , @whumpfigure , @slaintetowhump , @astrobly @newandfiguringitout , @doveotions , @pretty-face-breaker , @boxboysandotherwhump , @oops-its-whump @moose-teeth , @cubeswhump , @cupcakes-and-pain @whump-tr0pes @whumpiary
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be-the-spark-flyboy · 4 years
Text
Invisible String (1/3)
A/n: This was supposed to be a drabble requested by @spider-starry​ for the cliche prompts list. But then my hand slipped, so damn fking hard, so ya oops.
Pairing: Poe x Reader (modern au)
Warnings: Swearing, angst, nightmares, brief mention of dead parents
Prompts: There's only one bed and we sleep as far away as possible from each other but wake up cuddling + We dated in high school but then you moved away but now you’re back in town
Word count: 4k~
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---
So I talked to the manager. We have a slight issue,” Rey grimaced, wringing her hands. “We’re short of one room, and they said that they’re fully booked. No spares.” She sighed, throwing herself back onto the couch.
“What? How did that happen?” You asked her, taking a seat beside her.
“I may have miscounted the number of rooms we had to book,” Rey winced, “I mean, planning a wedding is so stressful, why is it so stressful?”
“Okay, okay. So what do we do now?” Guests were just slowly starting to arrive. You hoped Rey already had a solution to the problem.
“Um, Finn suggested, since you have a room to yourself, maybe you wouldn’t mind sharing with someone?” Then she quickly added, “No pressure, only if you’re comfortable, or I can find some other solution.”
You had been helping Finn and Rey plan their wedding for months. The beach resort you had booked for the wedding had been a popular one. Of course, they were fully booked. There was no other solution.
“Fine, I guess, if the other person is okay with it?” you shrugged.
“Oh, that’s great! You’re a true lifesaver,” Rey exclaimed.
“Who is it?” You asked.
“Um, about that,” she hesitated.
“Rey?” You narrowed your eyes at her. Who could it be that she’s so reluctant to tell you?
“It’s Poe,” No.
“Rey,” This was not happening. Share a fucking room? With Poe motherfriggin Dameron? Your fucking ex-boyfriend? Was Rey out of her goddamn mind?
“You can still back out! I’m not forcing you to do anything. It's just that, you know my grandfather. He’s going to make a big deal out of this if he finds out we have problems with the lodgings.” Rey launched into a full-on rant which you knew could last for several minutes if you didn’t stop her. ”Oh god, why did I even send Palpatine an invitation? I don’t even like him!”
“Rey, it's okay,” You sighed, interrupting her ramble. “I’ll do it,” Of course you’d do it. It was your best friend's wedding. You’d do just about anything to keep her happy.
This time she threw herself on top of you, tackling you with a hug. You had worked way too hard on this wedding for someone like Palpatine to spoil the event nitpicking at everything. If the price for that was to spend two nights in the same bed as your ex, you’d do it, for Finn and Rey.
“Great! Finn said Poe should be reaching in an hour or two,” Oh gods, that was fast. But it's better to get it over with right?
“Have you told him yet?” you asked her.
“Oh, not yet. I wanted to get your approval first,”
“What if he isn’t okay with it?”
“Nah, I don’t think that would be a problem,” She assured you.
—-
Poe hesitated before your door. Would it be too late to turn around and run? He was absolutely terrified of facing you. You agreed to share a room with him, so you didn’t hate him right?
Three short raps to the door then Poe waited for you to open it. He raked a hand through his hair, shorn to a length that would be considered neat. So unlike the unruly curls flopping onto his forehead and the full beard he was sporting just last week, dangerously toeing the line between sexy bed hair and caveman. It didn’t feel right to show up to a wedding like that. Especially since he was the best man.
Poe felt his chest tighten like a rope was tied around him, twisting tighter with each passing second until he felt like he couldn’t breathe anymore. The door swung open and the remaining air emptied from his lungs. There you stood, looking at him. It was you, really you.
Those eyes he hadn’t seen in more than a decade. It really shouldn’t have affected him that badly after so long but he had no control over the way his heart threw itself against his ribs over and over again. No control over his hands as he white-knuckled the backpack slung across one shoulder, trying to stop the shaking. He definitely shouldn’t have felt lightheaded just looking at you.
If he wasn’t so lost in his own emotions, he would’ve noticed that you weren’t doing so well yourself. You were pretty sure you were hearing the dial tone playing somewhere. Or was it just in your head? Your mouth worked but not a single word came out. What could you possibly say to him? It was Poe, but at the same time, he looked nothing like the boy you knew more than a decade ago.
The teenager who had so carelessly shrugged off the love you offered him, leaving everything behind in search of something better. But that was more than a decade ago and the man who stood before you had changed. Just like you were no more the eighteen-year-old too heartbroken to leave your room for weeks. No, you weren’t the same people anymore.
“I um, need to go check on the catering. M-make yourself comfortable,” You threw a forced smile at him, pushing past him before he can react.
No, you didn’t have to check on the catering, it wasn’t arriving until next morning, but you just threw the first excuse that popped up in your head before you were forced to make small talk with the last person you ever wanted to talk to.
Poe watched you almost sprint to the elevator, too dumbfounded to act. Your first words to him in years was you brushing him off. Good start.
He could’ve just asked Finn about you, but Poe felt like that would be prying. If you wanted him to know you would’ve told him, right? If you wanted him, you would’ve spoken to him. Poe sighed, walk into the room sitting on the edge of the bed, yanking off his boots and socks.
A lot had happened over the last decade, from joining the air force against his father’s wishes to watching his best friend get shot out of the sky and being honourably discharged, a broken man returning home with the horrors of battle and loss etched into his being. But Kes was there with open arms, ready to put his son back together, no matter how long it took. If he ever had the chance to raise a child of his own, Poe wanted to be exactly like his father.
There was once when Poe had thought too little of the simple routine of a normal life. How could anyone settle for doing the same thing over and over again for decades? But now he yearned for any type of normalcy in his own life.
He wondered if you had it. A normal life, going to work in the morning, returning to loving boyfriend at night. Date nights in the weekends, planning vacations to get away from it all. You came here alone, that was saying something, right? Or did you have someone waiting for you back home?
Poe should really be paying more attention to his surroundings, because he had been sitting on the edge of the bed, thinking, for five whole minutes before he realized it. He really should’ve seen this coming. The room was supposed to be for one person. So there was one queen-sized bed in the middle of the room, staring back at him, mocking him.
Why did he agree to this? Why did you agree to this? It wasn’t that he had any problems keeping his hands to himself. He’d more sooner bite his own fingers off than laying one on you without your consent.
There weren’t any other options for him. The only other furniture in the room was a table and a chair, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to let you sleep anywhere except the bed. He’d slept in worse places, a chair wasn’t that bad. Or perhaps he would forgo sleep for the night. He needed a shower, and maybe just a few minutes of sleep. Then he would get out of your way.
---
It was late when you decided to return to your room. It had been hours since the sun had set and your feet hurt from all the standing. You were more than ready to go back to your room and crash in that bed that looked so damn inviting.
There was only one problem. One that you couldn’t just ignore so easily, because you had to share a bed with said problem. In all honesty, you had no idea how you felt about Poe. Surely seeing him after all these years felt a tiny bit weird and very nerve-wracking, especially since the last words you had exchanged with him weren’t very kind. You didn’t hate Poe Dameron. That was for sure. But you had absolutely no idea how he felt about you.
You found an empty bench, facing the midnight sea, watching the waves crashing into the sand. A calm settled in your bones, the kind that made you wish you could be in that moment forever. No wonder people were willing to pay so much for a few nights here.
You could hear the soft strumming of a guitar from a distance and that caused your thoughts to propel straight towards the one person you were trying not to think of. The goofy little songs he would sing to you, strumming his guitar with deft fingers like he was born to make music.
Poe Dameron was born to do a lot of things. Apparently, loving you was not one of them.
You sighed heavily into the crisp night air. It was getting late. And as much as you loved it there, you still had to go to sleep soon if you wanted to be up in time the next morning.
You were surprised to see that the lights were still on in your room, but when you stepped inside you saw Poe curled up in a fetal position, fast asleep on one side of the bed. His curls looked a little damp and the smell of soap lingered in the air from the shower he took. A small mercy, at least you didn’t have to make small talk until the next morning.
Poe looked so calm and at peace when he was sleeping. You definitely didn’t share Poe’s sentiments about prying into your personal life. You were aware of everything that happened in his life since he left. Finn had told you about the state he was in when he returned after being discharged from the air force almost two years ago. You will never admit it but you still cared about him after all these years, you never stopped caring about him.
Silently, you padded around the room, careful not to wake him as you changed into your soft t-shirt and sleep shorts and slid into the bed beside him.
---
Poe jolted awake, shirt soaked in sweat, gasping for air as the image of a blazing cockpit remained seared into the back of his eyes. The disorienting darkness wasn’t helping in the least as his vision blurred with tears. The only thing he could feel was a warm hand on his chest and another on his face. All he could hear was the ringing in his ears and a voice calling out his name in the distance like he was miles away.
The only light was coming from the glass balcony doors. It took Poe a few long seconds to recognize where he was. He flattened his palms on top of the sheets, the soft cotton cool and smooth beneath his palms, as he forced air into his burning lungs.
He wasn’t there anymore, he was safe.
“Poe?” your voice came clearer as you smoothed the tears off his face. Your face came into view above him in the dark, eyebrows pulled together in worry. Poe felt your fingers in his hair, running through the damp strands fingernails lightly scraping his scalp. You didn’t realize it, but that helped more than anything to ground him as the panic finally released its hold on him.
“I'm okay,” Poe croaked out when he felt like he could breathe again, but his whole body still felt tense. He wasn’t okay by any means, his hands still shook when you handed him a water bottle from your side table, but at least the worst was over. Poe pulled himself up by his wobbling arms, sitting against the headboard.
“Nightmare?” your voice cut through the heavy silence in the room as you joined him. He nodded, head downcast, staring at the bottle in his hands. “Wanna talk about it?” Poe looks at you like that was the last thing he ever expected you to say to him. You were offering to help him? After what he did to you? Sure, that was years ago, he was young and dumb, but you two never really had the chance to talk about it. He was under the impression that you hated him, he surely deserved it.
But you didn’t look like you hated him and he couldn’t help but notice how adorable you looked with your hair all mused up, swaddled in an oversize t-shirt. The urge to wrap his arms around you, lay his head on your chest and never let go threatened to swallow him whole. How could he have been so stupid to ever let you go?
You tilted your head to the side in question as the silence stretched between you. Oh god, he had been staring the whole time. He looked away from you, clearing his throat.
“No, not really,” he replied. He’d done enough talking, he just wanted to forget about it. Going back to sleep was definitely not an option and he didn’t want to keep you awake any longer. “Sorry I woke you up, you should go back to sleep,” his voice was barely a whisper by the end of the sentence. He was just so tired.
“It's okay,” you settled back into your side of the bed but Poe made no move like he had any intention to go back to sleep. “You’re not going back to sleep?” you ask.
“No, I don’t think so,” He answered truthfully. He didn’t want to risk getting pulled into another nightmare. The room fell silent again, the only sound the barely audible distant crashing of waves. Suddenly the thought of you going back to sleep and leaving him alone with his thoughts didn’t seem so ideal. Poe felt his chest constrict in barely contained panic when you spoke.
“How have you been, Poe?” You quietly asked in the dark, almost like you didn’t expect a response from him. Poe swallowed the lump in his throat and burrowed deeper into the covers until the two of you laid facing each other.
“Not too bad,” he shrugged, his voice barely holding as he spoke, but he carried on nevertheless. “What about you?”
“Same, I guess,” you replied. Poe could make out your eyes glinting in the dark, suddenly thrown back into his childhood bedroom when you would sneak in late at night. When you were best friends, you’d spend the night in each other’s company chatting and laughing in hushed tones, careful not to wake up his father. Then you grew older and talking turned to other activities. If Kes knew, he never spoke of it.
“How is Kes doing?” you asked as if you were thinking the same thing. An admittedly large part of him hoped you were. Those memories got him through so many nights when he was bunking with his squadmates but never felt more alone. They weren’t easy to forget. You weren’t easy to forget.
“He’s doing fine. Great, actually,” The thought of his father made him smile. Maybe that was your ploy. “You know, he actually managed to finish that motorcycle restoration he was working on. A few years ago, but he wouldn’t let me touch it,” That made you chuckle, and oh how he missed that sound.
“He still doesn’t trust you after you broke the taillight,” you recounted.
“It was an accident, for goodness sake,”
Silence slowly took hold again as your laughter died down, and it hit you more heavily than ever. You missed Poe so much. Sure, he hurt you when he up and left so easily as if you meant next to nothing to him, but he meant everything to you. You shouldn’t have let the bitterness and resentment get the best of you. You missed so much of his life.
“Mom’s sickness got worse after I graduated,” you spoke again. “I couldn’t stay in the house after she died so I sold it. And college wasn’t great either, I almost dropped out,”
You shrugged as though it wasn’t a big deal. It couldn’t have been easy moving to a different state all on your own, with no one to lean on, no one to go to for help. At least you had Finn and Rey.
“But things worked out, and everything is okay now,” you smiled at him. Poe reached out and took your hand in his, shuffling closer to you.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. The words felt too heavy, too shameful to even say out loud.
“For what?” You asked.
“I should’ve been there,”
“Poe,” you sighed. “You know, I was so upset after you left, I refused to even talk about you for like almost a year after that,” He looked like he was going to interrupt with another apology but you stopped him. “Senior year was hell after you graduated, even with Finn and Rey right there. But you know what? I understood why you wanted to leave so desperately.” Oh? This wasn’t where he expected this to go but he let you continue anyways.
“I mean, it was a great place to grow up and all but there really wasn’t any future there. I saw it when I finally graduated the year after. I’m not saying I supported your decision to just throw away everything and leave so suddenly like that. It’s just that, neither of us was mature enough to handle that decision properly,” Poe nodded slowly. Looking back, there were so many things he would change if he could. You were right, you were both so young and dumb.
“You know how sometimes you feel like if you don’t do take an opportunity when its right there, you’ll never see it again? That’s what it felt like,” He sighed. “I just really wanted to follow mom’s footsteps so badly. Dad wasn’t too thrilled either. He said I should take more time to think about something so life-altering,”
Did he regret it? The question hung heavily in the air between the two of you, lying on the tip of your tongue, rattling around his head and not for the first time. Some part of him didn’t want to answer.
He didn’t want to regret it. Didn’t want to voice out that the biggest ambition of his life was the reason he laid there a broken shell of a man in many ways. But one thing he knew was that if he hadn’t chased after that desire, if he had let himself take the ‘safe’ option, he would’ve hated himself.
I missed you. Those three words he held back. What right did he have to say it when he was the one that left when he was the one to cause you so much hurt?
“Can we just-” You hesitated. Was it too much to ask for? “Can we just be friends again?” You asked meekly.
Just a few hours ago, he was under the impression that you wanted nothing to do with him. He was still reeling from the fact that you even considered talking to him. You wanted to be friends again? There was nothing more he wanted.
“Yeah, okay,” he replied, very eloquently.
---
Poe woke up to the soft scent of flowers. And then he realized that it was because his face was buried in your hair and he was smelling your shampoo. Poe rubbed the remaining dregs of sleep from his eyes as he fully awoke to you laying almost completely on top of him.
Your form gently rose and fell with every breath you took. Poe considered shifting away from you before you woke up but your arms were tightly wound around him and your weight was settled over him, so warm and soft. He didn’t want to move.
Shit, how did you two end up like this? The last thing he remembered was talking to you, catching up on the decade he had left you behind for. Did you fall asleep like this? How were you going to react to it? He sure as hell didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable. But the way your face was buried in the crook of his neck gave him the impression that you weren’t exactly uncomfortable.
He was probably thinking too much about it. He was just thinking that he should go back to sleep and deal with it when you wake up when you slowly stirred awake. Poe froze as you lifted your head and blinked at him blearily.
“Mornin’” you rasped before you realize the position you were in. You were so close to him, you could feel his breath fanning against your cheek and your face heated.
“Good morning, sweetheart,” The pet name earned a soft, sleepy smile from you which sent his heart violently thundering in his chest. Hopefully, you didn’t hear it.
You planted a palm on the mattress beside his head, trying to lift yourself off him, but the only thing you managed to do was position yourself right above him as if your previous position wasn’t awkward enough.
You felt Poe’s hands on your hips steadying you on top of him as your elbow came down on the other side of his head, unintentionally caging him under you. Your mind was too sluggish to let you move, you decided, because you stayed there hovering above him unable to move.
Or maybe it was because he was looking at you like that. The heat in eyes robbed the oxygen from your lungs and you watched his throat bob as his grip on your waist became just a fraction harder. You should have moved but you felt frozen in place. He was so close. So close that you could kiss him if you tilted your head just a little-
The shrill sound of your alarm popped the small bubble the two of you found yourselves in. You jolted away from him, pawing at the side table as you reached to grab your phone.
The previous tension melted into an awkward silence as you set your phone back onto the side table. Did you almost kiss him? Christ, what were you thinking? Poe slowly sat up beside you.
“Um, sorry I kept you up for so long last night,” he gave you a small sheepish smile.
“No, it’s not a problem. I’ll be fine,” you assured him. “I um, I should go get ready,” you awkwardly gestured before getting out of the bed.
You had a long day ahead of you.
---
The Dameron taglist (open): @writefightandflightclub @arkofblake @yougottakeeponkeepinon @multifandomlife22 @skymerons @smol-peter-parker @rae-rae-patcha @demigod-dragonrider-schoolidol @hkmultifandom @cloud-leader @elmoakepoke @staringmoony @valhallavalkyrie9 @the-cry-of-youth @liadamerondjarin @m1rkw00dpr1ncess @takemepedropascal @xremember-me-notx @softly-sad @loserbelle
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sushinoyuhh · 3 years
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Tw: mention is s*icide on Q for quit.
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Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?
Hinata is definitely the type to be pretty intense when it comes to affection. He constantly wants to be held by you or touch you, so usually he’s constantly hugging you, kissing you, or holding onto you where ever he goes. He’d never had a partner before so he’d definitely wants to show affection
Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?
At first, Hinata was completely grossed out with the thought of blood on his hands. He couldn’t even hurt a fly but ever since he got with you, he couldn’t even keep his hands off another person who try’s to either talk you or even touch you. Now-a-days blood doesn’t even phase him. It’s just a normal thing part of his everyday life now.
Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?
Oh he wouldn’t ever hurt you...physically. Just because he wouldn’t hurt you physically, doesn’t mean he wouldn’t hurt you mentally or emotionally! Overtime he’ll break you down mentally to the point that you’ll basically do whatever he wants. Plus he’ll condition you into staying with him forever :p .
Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?
Nothing, mostly. He wouldn’t hurt physically you or do anything to upset you. Although they will be times when he’d fuck you against your will.
Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?
Pretty secretive actually. Of course he says “I love you” every second of the day, but he’d never tell you about the people he’s hurt or his obsession with you.
Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?
Oh, he’d be so upset! He would start to cry and try to emotionally manipulate you into feeling bad for fighting back. If you haven’t got the memo yet, Hinata is very manipulative.
Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?
My friend, this is not a game. Don’t even think a bout leaving him unless you like being emotionally and mentally tormented.
Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?
One time he’d made a big scene in front of the the whole cafeteria. He’d started crying very loudly about you leaving him. Poor thing made everyone look at you with pure disgust and resentment.
Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?
He wants you to be with him forever and potentially start a family.
Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?
Of course he gets jealous! Anyone who dare converses with you just better expect to be dead in the next few hours. The luckiest anyone had gotten off the hook was a broken arm. Better yet, blackmail.
Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?
Very, very touchy—
Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?
He’d be so blushy at first! He’d stutter and fidget with his fingers. You thought it was kinda cute.
Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?
Mostly, yes. He’d act pretty different in front of people until you guys got together. People noticed how touchy he was.
Naughty: How would they punish their darling?
Nope.
Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?
Phone privacy/privilege, freedom to wear what you want, privacy in general
Patience: How patient are they with their darling?
Pretty patient for the most part
Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?
To be honest, if you died, successfully left him, or moved very far away he’d kill himself. He would deem himself of a failure and having no purpose to him.
Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?
Nah bro. Yet he feels a little bad when you’re crying.
Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?
Him being lonely most of his childhood
Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?
He doesn’t feel bad until you’re crying.
Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?
Nope.
Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?
Pointing out his lonely childhood, bribes, or crying.
Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?
Nope in terms of physically.
Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?
He’s obsessed but he doesn’t see you as a god or some deity.
Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?
A month or two.
Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?
Mentally and emotionally, yes.
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request page is open btw! hope you enjoyed
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superbadassnatural · 4 years
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Happy for you
Summary: Sam has been in love with the only woman he’d never have. After many years of keeping it to himself, Sam lets it all out. Square filled: Drunken confessions Pairing: Dean x reader, Sam  x reader (platonic) Word count: 3.2k Warnings: angst, unrequited love, (if you consider a small peck on the lips out of pity cheating, then) cheating A/N: This was written for @samwinchesterbingo. Also, this is my entry for the amazing @katymacsupernatural “Katy’s Make me Feel Challenge”. The prompt is bolded. Please, enjoy!
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(x)
Sam had been nursing his beer for quite a while now. The hunter didn’t know whether to drown himself in a bottle - or as many as he needed to get himself drunk - of Jack Daniels or just have a couple of beers and call it a night. He sat on the stool bar, fidgeting his fingers and trying to keep his mind busy with the constant flirtation from the gorgeous blonde bartender named Olivia. The woman had been throwing herself at him since when he, his brother and his brother’s girl walked in after another successful hunt.
“Alright. I give up,” she sighed, throwing her hands in the air.
“Give up on what?” Sam asked even though he wasn’t a bit interested in what she was talking about. His mind was somewhere else. Still trying to reason what was best for him: comatose or few beers and another sleepless night. Maybe comatose was better, right? That way his mind would settle down for a little. Or not. Perhaps he’d dream and that terrifies him more than not being able to shut his eyes.
“On you, you idiot,” Olivia smacked the back of his head. “So tell me, Sam, who is she? Or he. I don’t judge.” she shrugged.
“What made you assume there’s a she?”
“So it is a she,” she licked her lips. “Well, Sam, let’s just say that after a while working as a bartender I can identify a man longing for someone he wants but can’t have only by the look in their eyes,” Olivia offered a sympathetic smile as she picked two shot glasses, filling with what Sam assumed to be whiskey. Both of them downed the liquid before she continued. “And yours are goddamn pretty and they keep drifting to someone from time to time. So I might even have an idea of who she is, but I really hope I’m wrong. ‘Cause if I’m right, my friend, then you’re so screwed.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right,” he took a gulp of his beer, finishing it. “And I’m definitely screwed.”
As if it was an ultimatum, the bartender offered him a bottle of Jack. Comatose it is then.
“In case you wanna talk, I’m all ears,” she smiled, resting her small hand on top of his giant one. “Or in case you wanna forget, my shift ends in coupla hours.” with a cocky wink, Olivia returned to attend other customers.
An asymmetric smile appeared on his lips as he shook his head. Occupy someone’s bed is the last thing Sam needs tonight.
Sam took a large gulp of his whiskey and realized that was what he needed to numb the pain. Or at least a part of it.
“Sammy,” Y/N approached him, taking a seat at the barstool next to him. “I’ve just beaten Dean’s ass at pool,” she smiled, her eyes held a flash of excitement. “Don’t you wanna join us? Pretty please.”
Sam offered her a kind smile. “Nah, Y/N/N, I’m fine here.” He did his best not to sound rude.
“Aw, Sammy,” she sighed, wrapping her arm around his shoulders. “You seem so upset tonight. I hate to see my best friend like this,” Sam chuckled. Best friend. That was all he’s ever gonna be. “Care to tell me what has gotten you this upset?”
“Just having an off night,” he lied. He would never tell anyone, let alone her, the real reason he was like this. “You don’t have to worry, promise.”
“You sure?” he nodded. “Dean’s in the restroom and once he’s back I can ask him to sit here with you for a little while. This way you can talk it out.”
“No need to, Y/N/N, I swear,” his lips curled into a smile that didn’t dare to reach his eyes.
“Sammy,” Dean called. “You okay, man?” his eyes darting from the bottle of whiskey Sam had in his hand to his brother’s eyes.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” Sam lied. Again. “No need to worry about me. Just having an off night. That’s all.”
“Gimme that,” Dean’s hand reached for the bottle. Taking a swig. “You're not finishing this alone. Or you gonna get wasted,” he pointed out. “Want some?” the eldest hunter extended the bottle towards his girlfriend.
“Definitely,” she smiled, taking the pitcher to her mouth.
Both men didn’t dare to blink as her lips enveloped the ring of the bottle as her eyes closed. Her throat moving as she swallowed. Once Sam noticed something was waking up in his pants, he drew his eyes away and shifted in his place.
“Damn, babe,” Dean chuckled. 
“Alrighty, Sam,” Y/N said. “Get your ass up and let’s see if I can beat you at pool,” she commanded, yearning a grunt from him.
“See, told ya I could beat him too,” Y/N cheered once she managed to shoot the eight-ball into the left corner pocket, defeating Sam in the process. “Please, boys, bow to your superior.” she chuckled as both brothers rolled their eyes.
“I want a rematch!” Dean exclaimed.
“As you wish, sir,” Y/N mocked. “But I warn ya, it’s gonna really hurt this big ego of yours.”
A half smile made its way to Sam’s lips at her silliness. He grabbed his bottle of Jack – which he had barely drank half of – and made his way to the bar.
Sam took another large gulp and his head felt a little fuzzy this time. From his seat, he was still able to see his brother and Y/N at the pool hall. As a wide smile appeared on her gorgeous and so damn kissable lips, Sam could’ve sworn he heard her laughter even though he was a few feet away from them.
Truth is the sweet, caring hunter has his heart wrapped around her delicate finger for almost six years now. Sam still remembers when he first met her. He and Dean were hunting down a Wendigo and she happened to be on the same case. She saved his and Dean’s bacon that day. And from the time her beautiful, wide eyes had first connect with his hazel ones, he knew it was a lost cause. He wanted to get to know her. To spend hours on end hearing her stories and sharing his own. He wanted her with every fiber of his body. Only Sam didn’t expect his brother to want this girl as much as he did.
Sam is shy. He’s a broken man who lost so many people he loved. He fears getting close to anyone and get them hurt or dead. Sam keeps his feelings to himself. He struggles to get words past his lips. He tries not to feel. He tries and he fails every time. His heart is pure and kind. As much as he tries to build walls upon walls to keep himself from getting hurt, they all crumble down at mere endeavor.
While Sam is a shy, sensitive man, Dean is bold. He’s confident and he never fears to talk to women. He trusts himself even if his heart is beating a thousand miles a minute. Dean confides his brother his feelings with ease. Dean would say everything that stuck in his head rather than stay all night awake because said woman can’t leave his mind. Dean is a good man. His heart is genuine. He’d never hurt anyone he loves. He’d protect them at all costs.
That night after they’d met Y/N, Dean wouldn’t stop talking about her. Sam only listened to his brother rambling about her features he had already memorized. Dean said he’d ask her out before they’d to leave town. Do you think there’s a chance she might say yes? Dean asked with a wide smile across his face. I think she might, Sam mumbled, but in his heart, he hoped she doesn’t.
She did. Dean took her to a nice restaurant and they had a great time. They exchanged their numbers and kept talking to each other. Every now and then they’d find a way to meet during a case or when things were quieter. With Y/N being more present in their lives, Sam got to know her better. It didn’t take long for him to fall deeply in love with his brother’s now girlfriend. He wanted what he couldn’t have. For the first time, Sam wanted someone he was certain he’d never have. And he wouldn’t allow himself to either.
Sam had known Y/N for seven years now. He has been in love with her for at least six. And Dean… Dean has been dating her for six years. Throughout all this time Sam has kept his feelings to himself. Every February 2nd — the day his brother and Y/N had announced they were officially dating — Sam’s heart breaks a little more.
Glancing at the other side of the room, Sam saw Y/N shooting a ball and sinking it in one of the pockets. Her gorgeous smile appeared on her lips, reaching her bright eyes. His brother shook his head. Sam’s eyes lingered on her beautiful, curvy body. She leaned and her faded blue jeans only tightened around her perfect ass. What Sam wouldn’t give for just a slight squeeze… But he couldn’t. She wasn’t his. She’d never be his. Before she could strike, Dean approached her as if he was teaching her. A sly grin appeared on her lips as she rolled her eyes. Dean’s body pressed around hers. His hands were now on top of hers, holding her cue. He leaned into her ear, whispered something Sam could not point. But by the look on her face, it was something cheesy. And by the way, her hips slightly rocked against her boyfriend’s body, it was something alluring. Sam dreamed of getting a reaction like that from her. Of feeling her body pressed against his.
Sam turned his attention to his Jack Daniels, chugging it down until the bottle was empty. He wasn’t satisfied. He was still feeling everything. All the pain, all the love. They were still there, hammering his heart. After many years of loving Y/N, it was only getting harder. The realization he could never have her setting in his mind. It took a toll on him. He ordered a few more shots. Downing it quickly so regret wouldn’t catch up. He could regret tomorrow morning when he’d wake up with a killer headache and would have to skip his morning run. Tonight he just doesn’t wanna feel.
~*~
“Oh, man, you really stretched your limits tonight, huh?” Dean patted his brother’s back. Just by getting a look at Sam’s face, he already knew he had gotten hammered. “Let’s get you home, Sammy,” the younger Winchester tried to stand up but his feet faltered. “Woah, easy tiger. Not so fast or you gonna pass out.”
Sam only mumbled something Dean couldn’t understand. He wrapped his arm around Sam’s waist to keep him steady, drawing him out of the bar and getting him in the backseat of Baby.
“Sam never does this,” Y/N shook her head, incredulous. “Do you have any idea where this comes from?”
“Not really,” Dean started the car. “I’m gonna talk to him tomorrow once he sober up.”
Once all three hunters arrived at the bunker, Y/N helped Dean carrying his brother inside. They put Sam on his bed. The man barely responding. He only stared blankly.
“Go do what you gotta do,” Dean pointed out to Y/N. “I got him, sweetheart.”
“Okay,” she nodded. “I’m gonna grab a quick shower. Call me if you need anything,” she half smiled. “Please, don’t go too hard on him.” Dean only nodded.
Y/N headed to the shower while Dean helped Sam out of his shoes and handed him his sweatpants and a dark blue t-shirt. Dean had never seen his brother drink this much. He had seen Sam drunk, but it wasn’t just that... He looked broken. Devastated. As if he had given up. But on what? Dean questioned himself. Guess he’d figure it out in the morning if Sam was willing to talk. Right now Dean could only make sure Sam wouldn’t choke on his own vomit if he pukes while in bed.
“You good?” Dean asked.
“P-peachy.” Sam chuckled as he slurred.
“C’mon, man let’s get some sleep.”
“I- uh,” Sam stopped, closing his eyes as he tried to focus. “I good. You go.”
“You sure?” Dean only got a nod in response. “If you need anything, call me,” Sam nodded again. His eyes never meeting his brother’s. Always glued on the floor. Dean noticed a few tears rolling down Sam’s cheeks before he left. He didn’t say anything. It was better this way.
Dean strolled to his shared bedroom with Y/N. The girl had already gotten out of the shower and was now only wearing Dean’s flannel.
“How is he?” she asked, folding her clothes.
“He says he’s good but he isn’t.”
“I’ve never seen him like this.” She turned to him. Wide eyes meeting tired green ones.
“Me neither,” he sighed. “But he’ll be fine, right?” Although she wasn’t sure, she nodded. “I’m gonna head to shower. It won’t be long then we can go to sleep. It was a long day today.” Y/N nodded as he headed to the bathroom.
The girl’s mind was racing with thoughts. She was worried about Sam. Worried that maybe there’s nothing she can do to help him. Worried for Dean for having his brother feeling this bad. As a way to try to calm down, Y/N headed to the kitchen to make some camomile tea.
“Sam,” she gasped, once she entered and found him there. He was sitting by the table. “I didn’t expect to find you here,” she started on her tea.
“Can’t sleep,” his voice only above a whisper. “Not sure if I should.”
“Why is that?” her brows furrowed. Sam thinks she looks beautiful when she’s confused.
“I… I… uh can’t stop thinking ‘bout you,” he confessed.
“Me?” Y/N was even more confused now.
“Yeah, you,” his bloodshot eyes met hers. “And… I c-can’t keep this to myself any longer.” His voice was trembling. Not only because he was drunk but the tiny bit of him that was sober was nervous.
“Sammy, what are you talking about?” Y/N approached him.  
His eyes lingered on her body. She was only wearing a blue flannel of Dean’s. Her bare legs causing his hands to itch to touch her.
“It’s you, Y/N/N,” he sighed, standing up. “It has always been you. Since day one.”
“Sam, please don’t say it,” she shook her head. Her pleading eyes finding his wet hazel ones. “Don’t do it, please.”
“I- I can’t keep this to myself anymore. And it hurts me,” he stammered. “It hurts me every time I see you with him. Every time you run into his arms, looking for safety,” he swallowed the lump in his throat. “It kills me every time you say you love him. And every time you kiss him.”
“I can’t…” Y/N trailed off, her eyes drifting to anything but him.
“I know it’s selfish and that I shouldn’t feel this way,” he shook his head. “I was supposed to support my brother and be happy for him, but it’s so, so hard. I want him to be happy. And I’m happy for him. But I can’t be happy for you,” Sam rambled. “I just can’t,” an uncomfortable silence fell between them. Y/N felt her heart aches for him. “I- I love you. And I think a part of me has always been in love with you. I can’t help it. If people have their- uh- soulmates, I think you’re mine. Even if I’m not yours,” he confessed. His hazel eyes carried so much pain and love at the same time it amused Y/N. “I’m sorry. I- I really am.”
Tears started to roll down her cheeks. She dropped her chin so he wouldn’t see her crying and feel worse than he already was.
“Please, look at me,” he pleaded. Thumb lifting her chin as he caressed her delicate skin. “Don’t hate me. That’s all I ask. I won’t be able to live with myself if you did. That would be too much for me to handle.”
“Sammy, I could never hate you. I love you,” Y/N said, cupping his cheeks. A flash of hope appearing in his drunk eyes. “Of course I do. But not in the way you want me to. I’m sorry.”
“I know I don’t deserve you and what I’m about to do is wrong for so many reasons, but I can’t help myself,” he leaned, his breath hitting her cheeks. “I need to taste. Just one little taste.”
Sam kissed her. His lips found their way to hers and Sam believed he had never felt something this good. It was like he had found his way home. A tear fell between their lips. Neither of them knew whose it was.
Y/N felt so bad for him, she just stood still and let him kiss her. She wasn’t mad at him or anything else, she just felt really sorry for him. Besides he wouldn’t remember it tomorrow anyway.
They parted. Both of them with their cheeks stained from tears. His thumb wiped a tear away from her delicate face.
“I’m sorry,” he apologized. Hands still holding her face. “I should probably go to bed.”
Y/N watched as he turned, staggering unsteadily on his own crumbled feet. He headed to his bedroom and she stood there. Paralyzed. She didn’t know how to react now she knew the truth. Her tea was long forgotten.
She wiped her tears, recomposed herself, and made her away to her room, finding Dean laid on his back in nothing but his sweatpants on his side of the bed. His wet hair spiking in different ways.
“You okay?” he asked. A flash of concern crossing his jade eyes.
“Mmhmm,” she nodded. “Just tired,” she laid beside him, laying her head on his chest. “Just hold me. Please?” she pleaded. Dean’s arms enveloping her in his embrace. His fingers playing with her hair.
It took quite some time for Y/N to drift off. Eventually, she fell asleep in the warmth of her boyfriend’s arms. The body of the love of her life pressed against hers. She was at home.
Sam fell asleep the second his face touched his pillow. He passed out on his cold bed. All alone — with no one to hold him and tell him everything would be okay —, sprawled, stinking of whiskey.
Tomorrow he wouldn’t remember a thing he said to Y/N. Not even finding her in the kitchen. Y/N, on the other hand, would never forget everything he said to her. She could now only hope that one day he’d fall out of love and meet someone new that could make him feel special and loved. That could give him everything she couldn’t.
~*~
Please consider leaving me some feedback! I’d love to know what you liked (and what you didn’t hahaha). You can tell via reblog/ask. ;)
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grandadmiralprawn · 3 years
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BARC at the Moon, Chapter 7
Note: Hi all, shorter chapter for now but I do plan on releasing chapter 8 soon too - originally they were one single draft but it was far too long haha. 
I also just wanted to quickly mention that I might not be updating as frequently soon. I definitely won’t abandon this fic as it’s the only thing keeping me sane at the moment but I started writing as an exercise to help with my mental health. I was at my lowest for quite a long time and after a sabbatical ended up quitting my job. But my friends and family have been amazing and it was my fiancé that suggested I start to write and I’m so happy to be starting a new career on Monday. I’m so so excited as it’s a move towards my dream job but it will mean I have less time to write so to anyone enjoying this fic please be patient with me. 
P.S I’ve joined AO3 now too :) 
Warnings: Swearing as ever, death, slight anxiety, crude sexual references.
Word count: 2976
Chapter 7 Point of No Return
Month 2, 20 BBY
WAC and Astrid had both only been gone for three days when Neyo came to the disgusting realisation that he missed them both. In all honesty, he knew he would; WAC was his almost constant companion and Astrid, shit. That was a mess.
The past few times Astrid had been on leave it was easier to forget she existed but so much had happened now. He’d left so much unsaid between them, they hadn’t parted on bad terms – not at all but, he still walked away before he could show her just how much she means to him. The distance from her caused a newly developed anxiety over seeing her again - a plethora of terrible scenarios playing out in his mind. He hates himself for his weakness too; his lack of rationalisation, hates her for doing this to him.
No.
He doesn’t hate her, he cares for her so much that it’s agonising but he could never hate her for it. A horrible, dark part of him hoped that she was in as much pain as him; yearning for him and getting conflicted over her own feelings. He wished he knew how to make sense of it all, everything was just so foreign.
He should be better than this; CC-8826 – fucking Marshal Commander of the Recon Corps, should not be losing his head over something as trivial as desire. Astrid was destroying every fibre of his being. But at least she was out of harm’s way he mused. His little droid on the other hand could be lying in a pile of scrap and bolts for all he knew. Neyo’s head was spinning between them both and it was crippling him.
Though, despite his inner turmoil, Neyo still maintained textbook level decorum and his ability to execute his duties with razor sharp precision never waived. If anyone noticed a difference in his demeanour, they were smart enough not to voice it. Well, except Bacara. He was always the exception.
Earlier today, he’d commed Neyo and the first thing the miniaturised, blue tinted version of his oldest friend had remarked was that Neyo seemed “off.” He’d dismissed it immediately, but unlike Wolffe, Bacara would pry.
“You’re acting far away.” Bacara had spoken matter-of-factly.
This is why I kriffing hate hologram calls.
“I am, we’re stationed on opposite sides of the Galaxy Bac.” Neyo had grumbled.
The tiny projection of Bacara simply stared back, thoroughly unamused and huffed impatiently. Neyo, still maintaining his signature blank expression had sternly upheld. “It’s nothing.”
“It’s something.”
Neyo knew he wouldn’t win this, Bacara might let it go eventually but he couldn’t fool his brother. The small bubble of people who could read Neyo was confined to Bacara, Wolffe and WAC – sometimes Chaos. Jedi didn’t count because they had an unfair advantage and Astrid wasn’t quite there yet, she was close but he could still see the apprehension in her eyes when she was trying to gage his mood.  
“I can’t tat.” Neyo murmured, barely audible and he cringed internally at how broken he sounded. Bacara was all harshness and brutality – a perfect contrast to Neyo’s emptiness and, he really did not like his brother seeing him this way. He knew he could trust Bacara with anything, everything, but this – Astrid – he just wasn’t ready. He had barely accepted his own feelings, let alone the ability to convey them. He almost felt guilty too, knowing that Wolffe knew more than Bacara.
“Is it that shit-head droid of yours?” Bacara spoke, mirthful distaste clouding his tone. It was no secret that Bacara was less than found of WAC and Neyo could tell his friend was trying to ease the sombreness of the conversation.
Neyo had huffed what could be called a laugh at that, Bacara was close to the mark but Neyo respected his friend too much to lie anymore. “Only partially.”
Bacara had raised a brow at that and rubbed at his beard. “It must be bad then, he’s always what gets your panties in a twist.” Wheezing slightly at his own poor joke, he followed up with “He’ll be alright, you know that. As for the other thing…?”
He had trailed with a questioning tone and Neyo sighed out a defeated answer. “It could be something, it could be nothing.”
Bacara must have realised that was all he was going to get out of Neyo because he simply nodded an understanding.
It was an odd exchange. The two brothers weren’t adverse to comforting each other but, always indirect with their feelings and emotions; it did not happen very often. Both were still reluctant to appear vulnerable in front of each other. At an absolute maximum their comforting techniques involved some contraband alcohol and a clap on the shoulder, not patient words of reassurance. When Bacara eventually switched to a more light-hearted topic, Neyo had to avoid breathing a sigh of relief.
“You all prepped for your strategy conference in two days?” Bacara had asked an innocent enough question though, the intent was anything but and he snickered at the clenching of Neyo’s jaw. 
Conferences were a drag, they lasted an entire day – time that could be spent on the front lines, GAR strategists were some of the most boring people he’d ever met and even worse the follow up report had to be submitted with an evaluation questionnaire. Apparently, responding “No” and “No” to the questions: Did you learn anything new today? And Was this conference beneficial? Was not constructive and wouldn’t be considered in project analysis. 
Frankly, all commanders hated them. Except for Gree. Fucking nerd-brain Gree loved a good conference.
“At least you’ll have Bitey and Kote with you.” Bacara offered with a grin, he almost looked jealous actually. The Nova Corps rarely spent time off campaign and normally Bacara relished in the constant fighting - still, Neyo could tell he missed seeing his brother’s in person.
“I might convince them to join me in suggesting the Nova’s play a more direct role in future conferences as part of my evaluation.” Neyo teased, a hint of genuine understanding, portraying his sympathy through jest as brothers often did.
“Nah, they need my glorious ass on the field at all times. Keeps the boy’s morale up.” Bacara boasted.
“We have the same ass, so thanks.”
“Mine’s firmer.”
Neyo snorted at that.
[Break]
The next two days were a blur, Gascon was due to report in at any time and Neyo had to force himself to stop checking his messages every thirty seconds for any sign of his little droid. The apprehension he felt was getting worse and while radio silence from a covert ops squad was the norm, the lack of WAC’s innate chatter in his ear left him in a state of unease. Astrid would have returned to work by now but he hadn’t had a spare moment to greet her, that’s if he could bring himself to face her again. He was already on route to The Valor when the rotation shuttle would have boarded The Perseverance.
The Valor is an impressive space station, located in the Carida system, and able to host conferences of remarkable sizes – and attendance was always high due to their mandatory nature. Neyo could already feel his migraine building when he roughly slammed himself onto a metal bench facing the holotable. Bacara may very well end up with a more impressive ass by the time this fucking conference ended, having his pressed against the insolently frigid and uncomfortable seat all day would probably flatten Neyo’s till it resembled old beer. He could just see the top of The Perseverance from the vantage point and it brought him a small source of comfort to see his escape route from this shit-show at the ready.
It was the appearance of Wolffe’s crotch to the left of his peripheral that snapped Neyo’s attention from the viewing window and back to the present. The one-o-fourth commander had cocked one leg on the bench next to him and rested his corresponding foot on the seat below.
“Mornin’.” He grunted at Neyo, clearly just as displeased as he was at being here.
“Wolffe, get your scratched, plastoid cupped dick out of my face.” Neyo snarled straight back, Wolffe realising that his groin was indeed level with his superior officers face stepped down by one step to resume the same position – though not without adding a crude pelvic thrust first.
Face now at Neyo’s eye level, Wolffe laughed out an insincere apology. “You should keep your voice down, everyone will be asking for it.”
“You’re a disgrace.” Neyo huffed, though not without humour.
“How’s your squeeze?” Wolffe asked quietly, no hint of malice but a risky move nonetheless.
“Fine. How’s your dad?” Neyo fired back, a touch of warning in his tone to drop the topic.
“Well.” Wolffe answered, oddly amusingly though it soon morphed into his signature annoyance. “I really can’t be kriffing arsed with this.”
Neyo agreed with a grunt, abandoning his rigid posture to lean forwards and rest his elbows on his knees. Cody strolled up to them then, muttering a greeting.
They all wore their helmets but Cody’s exhaustion rolled off of him in waves as he marched to sit near Neyo and Wolffe’s feet. “I swear I spend so much time around Skywalker that I legally have joint custody at this point. Rex deserves a medal.” He grumbled.
“I could say the same with Commander Tano, Plo adores her but every time Skywalker drops his kid off all hell breaks loose.” Wolffe sympathised. “It doesn’t help that Boost, Warthog and Comet encourage it either.”
“I’m surprised your dad hasn’t requested a padawan actually, not fancy a little brother or sister Wolffey?” Cody snarked, somehow finding the energy to mock his vod.
Wolffe ignored the bait, though Neyo could tell his glare was probably burning a hole through his visor at Cody. “He’s trying, they say he’s currently got too many responsibilities but to be honest – they probably know he’ll just spoil them.” Wolffe conceded.
Neyo exhaled in what might be considered amusement while Cody did laugh before groaning and dragging himself to his feet – both Wolffe and Neyo wincing at the noise his back made as he stretched. “Well, looks as though we’re starting soon.” He grunted out through the strain, then took up a position of ease at the War table, half raising a hand in goodbye as he turned his back.
“Someone needs to hide his caf.” Wolffe uttered.
Cody, still in earshot, turned to raise two of his fingers before folding his arms and facing the holotable again. Suddenly, Cody was whipping his head to the side as he noticed Skywalker gesturing for Kenobi to look out the window. Neyo and Wolffe only spared each other one glance as they hastily stood to face the view; the last cruiser to join them was approaching – fast, really fast.
Without realising, Neyo’s feet were striding purposefully to the bridge – his brothers beside him. Neyo barked at one of his men to check the incoming cruiser’s ID while Admiral Tarkin ordered several deck officers to communicate directly with the incoming ship’s Captain.
When all channels came up unresponsive, Neyo had to squash the frustration building in his chest. They were helpless like this. It’s not as though they could move the space station and they certainly couldn’t deploy a shuttle in time to dock with the approaching cruiser. He was about to shout to Wolffe for suggestions when Tarkin’s panicked voice franticly announced that they had detected a large amounts of rhydonium on the vessel.
Fuck.
“It’s a bomb!” Skywalker ground out.
They were completely fucked now, they had no way of disabling that thing. They and everyone docked below: His crew, his troops, his general, his vode would be obliterated if the cruiser exploded.
Neyo never thought he’d die like this. He’d rather he’d have gone in a blaze of blaster-fire back when Grievous attacked his ship, how a clone was supposed to go. Instead, he’d perish in a ridiculous assassination scheme like some pampered politician.
Then he thought of The Perseverance below them.
Astrid.
Not again, he couldn’t do this again, even though he’d be dead too – the thought of her precious face leaving this galaxy...He couldn’t do this again.
It seemed everyone around him had resigned themselves to their fate too, silently staring out the window at the approaching cruiser as it raced towards The Valor.
“It’s been a pleasure Neyo.” Wolffe spoke beside him, he didn’t turn to face him, perfectly prepared to stare his impending demise in its face.
Neyo mirrored Wolffe, facing his end and offered a “likewise brother” in sincere response.
Then, the cruiser exploded.
The first jet of blue energy charging out of the hull and causing the whole space station to jerk with the blast. It’s funny, Neyo mused, the things you notice in death, the things you cling to. The last time Neyo thought he was going to die the adrenalin pushed him to impossible capabilities and he survived. Now, he was in denial. The ship seemed far enough away that hope clutched at his windpipe as he thought there was a chance the shock waves, due to ripple any moment, might not reach them.
“I don’t think it was supposed to blow that early.” Wolffe muttered beside him.
Neyo barely registered his words when blinding white light burned his vision and sonic waves reverberated through his eardrums. The Valor quaked with such force from the impact of the now invisible explosion that men went flying around him – Neyo felt himself soaring backwards through mid-air, his back colliding harshly with the railing behind him. Wolffe skidded on his side, stopping a few inches in front. Neyo dragged himself to his feet, ears ringing and still dazed as he held his hand out to Wolffe. Their palms hadn’t yet touched when the second blast sent them crashing again, butting heads on the way down.
Over the shouts and grunts of the men around him, Neyo could hear the echoing of debris thundering against the space-station. It was louder than the rains of Kamino, louder than the blood coursing through his veins.
Then it was over.
The noise was dying down now, only the occasional ping of a loose piece of junk or shrapnel hitting the side of the station at a much reduced velocity. The men around him still grumbled in pain as they righted themselves, but all injuries were superficial. There was no blood, no gashes, no breaks. Neyo hauled himself to his feet again, dragging his body up and holding the rail for support. Wolffe was standing again too, helmet moving agitatedly side to side at the confused chaos around him.
“Mayday! Mayday!” Gascon’s voice screeched from an unidentified comm channel on the war table behind them.
Not fucking Gascon…Wait! WAC! Is he okay?!
For the first time, Neyo found himself hanging on to every word Gascon emitted as he shouted through the comm. “Space station Valor, this is Colonel Meebur Gascon. Can anyone hear me?”
Skywalker was responding immediately, demanding an explanation for what had just happened: D squad were on the vessel. R2 detonated the bomb early, saved them. If Gascon had escaped surely WAC had? He was the kriffing pilot, of course he had!
He had to.
And Astrid.
He could see The Perseverance clearer now – no massive amounts of damage as far as he could see but the jolt of the explosion could have knocked her off her feet. She could have a head wound, it could be fatal. And WAC. Anyone could pilot a shuttle, they didn’t have to get him out of there.
It was Wolffe’s voice that broke him from his inner turmoil. “She’ll be fine.”
Neyo didn’t respond.
[Break]
The conference hadn’t been abandoned and Neyo had to stop himself from jumping up to his feet and start pacing while he waited for Skywalker to retrieve D-Squad. When they finally strolled through the door, WAC among their group, Neyo did jump to his feet. He marched straight over, Gascon already beginning his over-exaggerated, puffed up re-telling of their mission. Neyo paid him no heed, he picked up WAC, marched back to his seat, deposited him on the bench beside him and patted his head twice with a whispered “good boy.”
He ignored Wolffe and Cody’s chuckles.
The conference lasted forever, once all the excitement had died down, Tarkin and Windu both insisted that they should plan new protocol as a result but also resume the original agenda for the day. Neyo was especially irked to hear that Gascon would be assigned to him for the foreseeable future but with his little buddy by his side, Neyo didn’t bother dwelling on it. By the time he had docked with his own cruiser it was evening and the hanger was long deserted. There had been no casualties here either. Everyone was safe.
WAC’s reciting of the past week was as hyped up and energised as expected but Neyo didn’t care. He listened patiently and when it was over he made sure tell his tiny droid what a good job he had done. Neyo also couldn’t help practically tucking WAC in for the night, letting him trot all the way to his own quarters beside him and allowing him to deactivate himself and charge his power cells under Neyo’s desk.
However, glancing at WAC now, all bundled into his “resting” position – Neyo still felt uneasy. He was jittery and wound-up. He knew Astrid was fine; if there were any deaths or injuries, no matter how few – Gallia would have briefed him immediately. But, he had to be sure. He had to see her. Now.
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breathinginthevapor · 4 years
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Teenage fantasy
Summary: You used to be a fan of Calum, and now you’re his friend with benefits.
A/N: Well, it seems that no one really reads my 5sos writing anymore, but I quite like it, so I hope you will give it a chance! 
Word count: 1300+
T/W: mentions of sex
My masterlist
It’s fun to think about how much you fawned over him when you were younger. How you laid in your bed at night, dreaming of meeting him and falling in love, so sure that he would be irresistible to you. How you felt sparks of jealousy when stupid magazines wrote something about a new flirt of his, when now, just a couple years later, you don’t even care which bed he’s slept in last when he visits yours.
You used to listen to his voice in songs and interviews, thinking that it would make your heart swell if you ever became lucky enough to hear it in person.
Now, his voice might often make you come, but it’s never made you fall in love, not even close.
He’s zipping up his pants when you tell him, “I always dreamt of this, you know?”
He looks back at you with a puzzled expression, raising his eyebrows as a way of asking you to elaborate. He truly is a man of few words. 
You get up on your elbow, admiring his exposed torso that never ceases to get you in the mood.
“I was a fan of you when I was younger.”
Running a hand through those thick, black locks of his, he looks surprised for a moment before shooting you a smug heartbreaker-smile that would have had your teenage heart crumbling into pieces.
“And you, of course, was my favorite,” you tell him, his smile increasing. “Until Luke started wearing glitter, because, honestly, that was a look.”
He walks back to the bed, popping down.
“I could wear glitter, too, you know. If you’re into it.”
You shrug him off, “Nah, don’t think it would fit your aesthetic.”
He laughs quietly. Outside the bed, it seems like he is that all the time. Quiet, that is.
“It probably wouldn’t. But I’d do it if you asked.”
You don’t notice the fragile spark of hope in his voice or the way he seems reluctant to leave your room, conversing with you instead of getting the hell out of your apartment like he used to do, back when this arrangement was new.
“No need. But I wouldn’t mind if you slipped Luke my number. I’d definitely let him fuck my brains out,” you say, and because you’re gone into your own dirty imagination for a few seconds, letting the image of Luke Hemmings in your bed wash over you, you don’t notice the way his jawline clenches and eyebrows furrow at your words.
Shaking yourself out of your impure thoughts, you smile at him, “Well, I’ll see you Monday, Cal. And don’t forget it’s your turn to buy condoms!”
“I won’t,” he promises, throwing his shirt on hastily before leaving your already half-asleep figure alone in your apartment.
 The next time you see him, he’s soaking wet from the hurricane-like rain outside, and you can’t believe he went outside in this weather just to get laid.
You fuck him in the shower, reasoning that he’s already wet so it doesn’t really matter, and then again, when you’ve both dried off, in your bed.
However, just as he has caught his breath and begins to get up and leave, a lightning strikes through the sky.
“You can’t go outside in this weather, Calum.”
He shrugs, continuing to lace up his boots. You place your hand on his shoulder, and he jolts, but you still tell him calmly, “It could be dangerous. Stay here tonight.”
“Thanks. I’ll just sleep on the couch,” he mutters, but you laugh and shake your head.
“No way. Your back will kill you if you do. Think we’re past the awkwardness of sharing a bed.”
He grins, too, pearly whites on display and contrasting to the warm color of his skin.
He trails behind you as you reenter your bedroom, a small smile apparent on those gorgeous features of his, and when you lay down, he looks like he wants to say something but can’t find the words.
“Goodnight, Cal.”
“Goodnight, Y/N,” he whispers after you’ve turned off the night lamp, leaving you in darkness. When you are seconds away from falling asleep, you feel his hand fumble over your body before draping itself to rest across your waist, and you can hear him take in and hold a breath until you scoot backwards to his chest and let him cuddle you. 
You wake up the next morning to an almost-naked Calum in your kitchen making scrambled eggs, and you smile to yourself and think that this friends-with-benefits arrangement just got another couple of benefits. That if everyone had friends like this, no one would feel the need to enter a relationship that would, sooner or later, make them feel trapped anyway.
 It becomes a reoccurring thing, Calum staying over and the two of you eating breakfast together in the morning, getting to know each other over pancakes and orange juice.  
And after that, he suddenly isn’t so quit anymore. He hums melodies you don’t recognize when he makes coffee in the morning, sings songs in the shower, tells you about his childhood while he traces your bare back in all your post-sex glory, shares small anecdotes from his day when taking off his shoes in your hallway and compliments you so much in bed that you sometimes just tell him to shut up and fuck you.
But there’s a nagging feeling in your chest that you’ve let it go too far, that you’ve let him open himself up to you, and that you just might have broken something that never should have been yours to break.
So, when you open your eyes one early morning to find him already looking at you like you hung the moon in the sky, you know what’s about to happen.
And you don’t want him to say it, but he still does. Of course, the man who used to say so little has to tell you the only thing you don’t want to hear.
“I’m in love with you.”
You don’t know what to respond, but you can’t not answer, not when he’s looking at you like at lost puppy with those big brown eyes.
“I know. I’m sorry.”
You yearn to look away, but still, your eyes are still glued to his face, watching his expression turn puzzled for a second before the realization washes over him and sadness and disappointment dominate his features.
He gets up, and although you can see his pace slows as he wants you to follow him, to beg him to stay, to tell him that you do reciprocate those feelings of his, you don’t. You won’t lie to him, not even to soften the blow. And you don’t tell him that it hurts you, too, that hurting him is hurting you because you actually see him as a friend, and you like him, but not like he wants you to like him. Because you don’t think it would make it easier for him.
When he’s fully dressed and about to leave your room, he turns around, just for a moment, tears streaming down his cheeks but no sobs leaving him. Once again, he’s gone quiet.
 He disappears out of your life even quicker than he entered, and if not for the old blink shirt you’ve now deemed your own and the coffee stain on your carpet that he made once, you would think this to be another teenage fantasy of yours.
But you don’t miss him like you feared you would. You sometimes wake up and, only for a few seconds, think that the person lying next to you is Calum, but when realizing it’s just another stranger, the only emotion you feel is relief. His heart isn’t yours to break anymore, not another thing giving you bad conscience.
He’s simply gone, vanished like smoke along with the rest of the dreams you had when you were younger.
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leahdarkspear · 3 years
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Paranormal Picnic
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As promised, a short story detailing Ja’mez’s appearance from beyond the grave!
It felt odd, putting on her old commander’s armor, her Darkspear tabard. She looked at herself in the mirror - Leah, daughter of Zin’Taj and Ayi’da, huntress of the Darkspear Tribe, Spear of Vol’jin, Commander of the Horde - all of those titles seemed miles away from her and the life she had lived in Zuldazar over the past year. 
Her uniform fit a little less snugly than it had in the past. Even though she had been trying to do better about taking care of herself and having regular meals than she was after Ja’mez’s death, she still found she didn’t have much of an appetite and occasionally still forgot to eat. Leah smoothed out her Darkspear tabard as she inspected herself. She really should get a new one made, this one had faded a bit over the years. Still, it would do for now.
The huntress moved from her bedroom down the long, winding staircase of her treehouse. In Leah’s mind, the living house seemed less vibrant than it had when Ja’mez was there, and she wasn’t sure if it would ever seem quite as alive again.
Down in the kitchen, Leah prepared a picnic basket with a few slices of raptor haunch, some fruit, a loaf of bread, and some cheese. After packing the plates and utensils, she set out toward the eastern outskirts of Dazar’alor, to the burial shrine where Ja’mez’s remains lay.
As she had many times before, she sat before the shrine. “Hey, love,” she said, speaking to a mate who could no longer hear her. “I, uh, was just comin’ by ta tell ya dat I might not be around for a while. De scourge be back… somehow.” 
Leah shook her head. She had thought, like many had, that when Arthas was defeated, the threat had been eliminated, and yet here the Scourge was again, attacking outposts like the Crossroads and Razor Hill. And like many others, she was growing weary of the constant calamities that plagued Azeroth. The huntress sat in quiet contemplation of the situation before slowly beginning to put out two place settings from the picnic basket. “It’s just one thing aftah anothah,” Leah sighed.
“What be in de basket?”
“What de?!” Leah’s ear twitched in the direction of the sound. Immediately, she snapped her head around to look. Though it had only been a whisper, it was a voice she could never mistake. Her brow furrowed as she scanned the nearby area. Finding nothing, she shook her head as if to shake away the confusion, then resumed setting out her picnic. “Anyway, I'm not sure how long I'll be away. I'm leavin' de critters at de Kraal just in case…”
From out of nowhere, something whirled around Leah. She looked up to find Sun, the tiny celestial cloud serpent, her mate’s boon companion, who hadn’t been seen since Ja’mez’s death. Before she could address the little serpent, she noticed the hazy outline of her beloved druid reaching out to pet his friend. The ghostly silhouette looked her way and waved.
Leah squinted hard. The look on her face wasn’t one of fright or shock; instead she looked rather perturbed. This was it. She had finally cracked. She heaved a weary sigh. “Ya know...I kinda always assumed my grief would eventually drive me crazy, but I figured it would take longah…”
“I be ‘ere, Leah.” Great. Now her hallucination was trying to speak to her. She leaned back and folded her arms across her chest. “Oh really?” Her voice dripped with skepticism. “Dis ain’t my imagination?”
Ja’mez broke into a wide grin. “Nope!” he chuckled.
Leah’s face twisted into a scowl. “YOU LEFT ME!!” She screamed as she grabbed the plate in front of her and stood to chuck it at Ja’mez’s head. Then she turned away and folded her arms over her chest to pout.
Ja’mez didn’t try to dodge or even flinch as the plate flew through his body and crashed on the urns behind him. He seemed perfectly accepting of Leah’s anger. The druid tried to smile as he stepped toward her. “I thought ya’d be happy to see meh.”
Leah turned back to face her ghostly mate. The pain on her face was evident. “Well, I'd have preferred seein' ya alive, I gotta be honest. Ya broke my heart, love.” She flopped back down on the ground next to the picnic basket and sighed. “Sorry I threw stuff at ya.”
“It’s okay,” Ja’mez smiled. “I deserve it, I think. Though,” he said as he looked around, “I’m not sure exactly how ta handle dis.” 
Leah cast him a sympathetic glance and gently shook her head. "I'm not mad at ya. Not really. It's just been hard. I miss ya so much. You been okay?"
The question seemed to catch Ja’mez off guard. He looked down and tapped his chin as he gave it thought. “I suppose I'm as good as a dead guy can be.  It's just too good ta see ya, love."
Sun seemed determined not to be left out of this reunion. He whirled around the couple and came to a stop at Ja’mez’s side. The druid reached out to pet him again. Whether Sun could feel it or not, he seemed appreciative of the gesture, giving a few loop-de-loops in the air.
“Haven’t seen him in a while,” Leah gestured to the serpent, “he didn’t stick around aftah. ‘Course, he was always your baby, not mine.” 
Leah wanted badly to reach out for Ja’mez, to have him hold her. However, if the plate was any indication, it would be a futile effort. Also, his spirit was cold, and Leah could feel the chill radiating off him like an early morning fog in autumn. It would hardly be the warm embrace that she had yearned for the many nights since his death. She knew this, and so she refrained. 
Ja’mez also sat silent. Just like in life, it was imperceptible what might be going through his mind. Somehow Leah took comfort in the familiarity. And yet, there was something that gnawed at her.
“I got somethin' dat's botherin me. It's kinda a long story, but I suppose you got time." Leah cracked a smile at her own joke.
Ja’mez was glad to see his mate smile finally. He had never been one to handle sadness well. “Apparently I do. I don't even know what's goin' on fully though yet.”
Leah arched her eyebrow at Ja’mez. She wasn’t sure what exactly he meant by that. “Ah well, maybe ya can answer me dis, even so.”
Ja’mez shrugged. He would certainly give it his best. “Ya.”
“So a while back, before... ya know... I started havin' dese dreams. Like, I knew ya were in trouble, or ya were gonna be. What I didn't know at de time was N'zoth had gotten to me, I just knew I needed ta find you. Den aftah ya died, it got so much worse. He almost got me. My friends, dey stopped my heart ta get de corruption outta me. I was only out for maybe a couple minutes, but when it happened, I saw dis place.”
“What did ya see?” Ja’mez leaned forward with interest.
Leah pursed her lips. She didn’t like recalling her vision, but she had to know what it was, if Ja’mez could answer. “It was dark, and I knew it was somewhere I didn't wanna be. But I couldn't get away, it was pullin' me down. And I could feel so much agony. Like, dere be people down dere and dey all be sufferin'. What is dat? Dat's not where you be, is it?”
“Nah.” Ja’mez shook his head. “I wouldn’t be ‘ere if dat be de case.”
Leah felt a weight lift from her shoulders. Ever since she’d had the vision, she’d been worried for Ja’mez. “Do ya know what it be, though?”
Again, Ja’mez shook his head. “Nah. But I know it’s definitely a place ya don’t wanna be.”
Now it was Leah’s turn to lean forward. “You’ve seen it?”
“For a bit I did,” Ja’mez nodded.
“But it tried ta pull me so strong. How’d ya escape?”
“Bwonsamdi. He be out dere doin’ somethin.”
Leah clutched her chest and exhaled with relief. “Oh, praise dat creepy ol’ loa! I knew he got de offerin’ I made for ya.” A smile spread across the huntress’s face. There would definitely be more offerings to be made in thanks. “So you be on de Othah Side den. Dat’s good, I be glad. Well, actually, I’m not. I prefer ya be here… Wait, so can I ask ya somethin’ else?”
“Of course, love.”
This question had burned at Leah since even before she learned of Ja’mez’s death. “Why didn’t ya take me with you? When ya went ta fight N’zoth? I mean, we made a good team, didn’t we? Maybe… maybe things woulda turned out different.”
“Ny'alotha is like de Nightmare,” Ja’mez explained. “I wouldn’t dare ask anybody I care about ta go dere.”
Leah glowered. “So what, ya think I be some frail human wife, sittin’ around frettin’ while my mon goes off ta fight de big bad?” She sucked her teeth. “Ya know dat ain’t me.” 
“Would ya let me go if we switched?”
The huntress had to stop herself from blurting out a yes. Would she really let Ja’mez go if she had the chance to keep him home, to keep him safe? However, after giving the question consideration, she found her opinion unchanged. “Yes.” Her tone was calm and resolute. “Because ya be de one I want ta have my back when things get rough. I mean, I kinda figured if we didn't grow old togethah, we'd die side by side on top de corpses of our enemies.”
Firm in his resolve, Ja’mez refused to relent. “It wasn’t pretty in dere, Leah. People lost their minds, turned on each other, even. I wasn’t gonna let somethin make me hurt ya.”
Leah cast her mon a reassuring glance. “You be strongah dan dat.” The look on Ja’mez’s face said that he wasn’t so sure. Leah sighed. “Eithah way, I would have rathah died with ya dan have ta live without ya. You were my everything, love. But I keep on goin’ because what de hell else am I s’posed ta do?”
Ja’mez didn’t speak. What he was thinking, Leah couldn’t say. Ultimately, she supposed, none of it mattered. None of the questions, none of the regret could change what happened.
A change of subject was in order. “So how come I just be seein’ ya now? Loas know I been comin’ here for months.”
Ja’mez shrugged. “I really got no idea. But it was much easier to show, now dat the veil be broken.”
“De veil be broken?” Leah parroted. “Like, between here an’ de Othah Side?
Ja’mez nodded. “Somethin be terribly wrong.  Bwonsamdi be doin all he can to save souls from da darkness.”
“Ah, shit…” The realization hit Leah. “I wondah if dis got anything ta do with de Scourge comin’ back…” 
“Wouldn’t surprise me,” Ja’mez replied. “But somethin’ gotta be done. De question is, what?”
Leah nodded in agreement. “Okay, well, I be goin’ ta Icecrown ta help handle dat situation, so maybe we can figure somethin’ out.”
“We gonna have to, ‘cause none a dis be right.”
The huntress held up a finger as a sudden thought occurred to her. She then motioned to Ja’mez’s remains. “So, dis is gonna sound dumb. Should I take you with me?”
Ja’mez looked at his body. “Dat… is a good question.”
“Well, I mean, can ya come back anywhere, or did ya only come back here because dis where ya body be?” Leah clarified.
“I ain't been dead long, so I don' know all da rules yet,” the druid chuckled.
Leah was already putting way too much thought into this. “I s’pose I can fold ya up real tight, stuff ya in my bag somewhere…dis gonna be so weird,” she muttered to herself.
“I would leave dem here,” Ja’mez stated. “Dey safe, yeah?”
“Of course.” Leah pointed to the large voodoo constructs patrolling just yards away.
The druid looked at his huntress. The problem was probably much bigger than either of them knew, he realized. “Ya know, whatever work needs done, it probably be on de Othah Side.”
He was right, of course, but that wouldn’t deter Leah. “I’ll see what I can do.”
Leah let her eyes linger over Ja’mez for a moment. “I’m guessin’ ya can’t stay?”
“I don’...” Ja’mez wasn’t given the chance to finish. His spectre flickered out briefly. He looked down at himself.
Sensing this was her last chance, Leah called out to him. “Hey.” Ja’mez looked at her. “I love you.”
His spirit was already fainter, but Leah could see him smile. “Love you too, Lee.”
3 notes · View notes
lysitheaioandeuropa · 6 years
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All the vday questions ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️
happy vday sis!!!!!
1: Do you have a crush at the moment?- eh, kind of. lmao
2: Have you ever been deeply in love?- 50005% yes. god that can do shit to your heart bro
3: Longest relationship you’ve ever been in?- 2 years seems to be my typical expiration date
4: Have you ever changed for someone?- i have changed something for someone, yes
5: How is your relationship with your ex?- nonexistent lmfao
6: Have you ever been cheated on?- not that i know of
7: Have you ever cheated?- unfortunately
8: Would you date someone who’s well known for cheating?- probably not
9: What’s the most important part of a relationship?- everything that comes to mind are all equally important
10: Do you like to be in serious relationships or just flings?- oh it rly depends if the mood strikes or what. i’m usually not into relationships at all and when i get into them they come at me so fucking left field and next thing i know i’m planning a future and shit. it’s literally only happened a couple of times
11: When you are dating someone do you believe in going on “breaks”?- i believe in needing space and if someone says they need it then maybe they should be warranted that much.
12: How many people have you ever hooked up with?- it’s 2k18 and you’re really still asking for a body count
13: What’s one thing you regret saying/doing in a previous relationship?- i regret not being completely honest about my wants/needs
14: What age do you think is appropriate for kids to start having sex?- “kids” shouldn’t be having sex, lol. but idk, whatever floats their boat. 16?
15: Do you believe in the phrase “age is just a number”?- if it’s likelegal and within reason, yes. and rly does depend on the dynamic considering that a lot of the time it isn’t genuine and is a power move.
16: Do you believe in “love at first sight”?- maybe not love, but the way my heart did summersaults when she first smiled at me? incredible.
17: Do you believe it’s possible to fall in love on the internet?- been there done that, yes. it works out
18: What do you consider a deal breaker?- idk, i’m pretty open minded. but snooping is definitely one lmao
19: How do you know it’s time to end a relationship?- i don’t.
20: Are you currently in a relationship?- is that what they call it nowadays?
21: Do you think people who have dated can stay friends?- i think there is room for attempt. but it is difficult to work out
22: Do you think people should date their friends?- if they grow genuine feelings for one another, of course
23: How many relationships have you had?- 4?
24: Do you think love can last forever?- i do not fucking know bro, i doubt that shit daily like i wonder how people rly be out here in love for 50 years
25: Do you believe love can conquer all things?- nah fam, wtf
26: Would you break up with someone your parents didn’t approve of?- nope
27: If you could go back in time and give yourself one piece of advice about dating what would it be?- stop forcing shit, don’t date boys you just are not that into, and when you are into one really sit down and think about that bc it’s not normal to think they’d be perfect if only they were a woman
28: Do you think long distance relationships can work?- yes
29: What do you notice first about another person?- physical appearance usually. first think i noticed about her was her height, then her face, then her smile
30: Are you straight, bi, gay or pansexual?- i think pan is most accurate; i can be physically attracted to just about anyone, and not just “two genders” as bi entails. i do have a muuuch stronger leaning toward women though, so i just say i’m gay it rly covers all bases
31: Would it bother you if your partner suffered from any mental illness?- i don’t think it would and i think/know i could be understanding and supportive. however, i can see how it can take a toll on someone normal, so i can’t imagine on myself, with everything i already have as well. we’d both need to have very healthy coping skills and be getting help and working/communicating with one another, especially if i’m already doing all of the above, they certainly should as well
32: Have you ever been in an abusive relationship?- yes and it sucked. thank GOD it was a bit short lived. he is hands down my worst, slimiest ex and just no i would never again
33: Do you want to get married one day?- i don’t fucking know
34: What do you think about getting your partner’s name tattooed?- fuck no
35: Could you be in a relationship without sex?- most likely cannot, but it depends on me, my sex drive is all over the place but has been more steady recently
36: Are you still a virgin?- nah
37: What’s more important: Looks or personality?- both are, but i might go with personality
38: Do you enjoy love films?- no i don’t lol horror all the way
39: Have you ever given anyone/received roses?- not roses, but other flowers yes
40: Have you ever had a valentine?- this year i had two lmao (one of them was my roommate before y'all wanna assume i’m hoein’ since that’s how y'all are)
41: What’s your imagination of a “perfect date”?- we’re sitting in a blanket, on a rooftop, with the view of the space needle and mountains and cityscape in front of us. fleetwood mac is playing in the background and we’re singing along. i’m laying in her lap, she’s playing with my hair and we’re holding hands. we’re alone, and talking about our future, and our dream house, and things to do together when we’re back home. maybe sandy is with us, considering she’s so well behaved. we’re telling each other stories we haven’t shared with one another yet, and every now and again we share deep and lingering kisses. she’s looking at me like i am literally the only person on earth and there is so much love in her eyes and it is 1000% mutual. her smile and her laughter alone bring me joy. i tell her how much i love her, how she means the entire world to me, and she tells me the same. we stay on the rooftop and watch the sunset over the city and my heart is just so, so, so full. i know she’s right next to me, and we can’t get any closer, but something inside still makes me miss her and yearn for her. we share one last kiss before we leave the seclusion of the rooftop, and walk our way back to our room, taking in more of the sights. we have a glass of wine together, or coffee (since that’s our thing), and we’re together freely, without side glances or judgement on either of us. she’s the light of my life; we’re happy.
42: Have you ever read “Romeo & Juliet”?- more than once
43: What’s more important: Your partner or your friends?- depends really, i think you need balance
44: Would you consider yourself “romantic”?- idk about romantic but i can be nice? lol
45: Could you imagine to date one of your current friends?- i would date this one girl in a heartbeat LMAO, but just bc she is dead ass a 10/10. besides that fuck no all my friends are way too fucking emotional and just not my type and just no. the guys aren’t much of a step up
46: Have you ever been “friendzoned”?- lmao, in middle school but i wasn’t too hurt by it, they were cool to be friends with. (if i were a nigga i feel like this answer would be far from this)
47: Which “famous couple” is your favorite?- i used to stan johnny and winona. besides that i really don’t care enough
48: What’s your favorite love song?- 505. lmao idk if that even counts. dreams by fleetwood mac (even tho it is kinda a break up song but i love it)
49: Have you ever broken someone’s heart?- so i have been told
50: If you’re single, why do you think you are?51: Would you rather date someone who’s rich but a douchebag or someone who’s poor but a nice guy?- there are levels to this shit, how much of a douche bag is he really? does he just neglect me but i have access to all the money? bc i would do that.
52: Are you good at giving other people advices regarding dating/ relationships?- no considering my advice is always “dump him. drop them. leave her” lmao. it has gotten me into trouble a number of times
53: Are you jealous of couples when you’re single?- my niggaaaaa, FAR from it lmao. i really fucking THRIVE when i’m alone, but even relationship me looks at other couples like “tsk tsk”
54: How important is it to make a relationship official (p.e. on facebook)?- on social media, not really. though i would be skeptical of someone who goes out of their way to deliberately not post their partner
55: Would you consider yourself “clingy”, “overly attached” or “jealous”?- i can be, but i do chose to hardly ever act on it. shit will irk me and i will know it is irrational or dumb or makes no sense so i’ll try to dismiss it myself, mostly for fear of being called crazy for having and displaying the emotions i’m going through but it is what it is
56: Have you ever “destroyed” a relationship?- i have. not malintentionally
57: Do you think it’s silly to consider suicide because of a broken heart?- no, not at all. all things considered if someone already has mental health issues a bad breakup can trigger a relapse in depression - etc. is it rational and a good thing? fuck no. but i wouldn’t take it as lightly as to call it silly and dismiss it. get yourself or the other person help.
58: Are you the “dominant” or the “submissive” part in a relationship?- independent as fuck but not tryna step on my partner’s toes either. i think we both have to be dominant. maybe me a bit more. (also, i am soooo talking in regards to personalities and not sex for you weirdos out there).
59: Have you ever forgotten important dates like your partner’s birthday or your anniversary?- i have not, i can still give you exact dates from years ago
60: What’s your opinion on open relationships?- none of my business if it floats your boat
61: Who’s more important: Your partner or your family?- i am by far the least family oriented person in existence so, my partner.
62: How do you define “cheating”?- anything your partner doesn’t want you doing;any boundaries you wouldn’t want crossed
63: Is watching porn while being in a relationship inappropriate?- no. maybe i bit unexpected if anything if you guys live together and can have sex/try new things on a daily basis
64: Do you think Valentine’s Day is overrated?- it’s whatever. i always do something but i’m not wild about it like some other people
65: Would you consider yourself a “cuddler”?- big time. i cuddle sandy 25/8
6 notes · View notes
treason-and-plot · 7 years
Text
BIG FAT REPLY POST TO SONIA AT THE SWIMMING POOL
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@wannabecatwriter
Claudia likes to move things fast, I see. 
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@karnzter
Let's hope this 2.0 finally works, then. Either of you three better not be pulling a Violet at the last minute
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@parystrange
Oh.. she is moving fast. I wonder if it will scare Sonia off.
Sonia was a little bit taken aback but Claudia managed to get things back on track just by being genuine. A bit of honesty can work wonders:D
@justanothersimsblog
Oh my! ...who was giving out popcorn earlier?
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@ktarsims
xD LOL Oh dear....
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@blythelyre
Well played Roy. Well. Played.
@twinsimskeletons
Well played
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@drudragonrose
I am popcorn for everyone! This is going to be good one way or another.
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@holleyberry
This is so manipulative.
@holleyberry
Seriously...if she is not fully informed her consent is bullshit.
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@phyresimblr
I am secretly rather impressed Roy managed to turn his temper tantrum into a stroke of genius. These two are so ready to turn a new leaf. Total honesty is overrated, a few little lies keep any relationship from exploding (emphasis on little Roy - not Pony lies). Please tell me this will turn out nicely for them once!!
I couldn’t agree with you more! Total honesty is often very self-serving, too. And yes, I have a good feeling about where things are headed! ;=)
@sweetnovember77
like taking candy from a baby. *fist pump*
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@kscriba
IM GIGGLING CLAUDIA IS HEAVEN-SENT (as are you treason oh my)
oh my gosh!!! Thank you!! xxxx
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@gelnarablog
Pardon my frankness - I like her ass! : XD
Wait...this is so bizarre. You make a comment about how you liked her ass, and you liked the post too, yet you saw fit to make derogatory comments about the f/f sex scenes a few posts later? Pardon my frankness but I’m sitting here scratching my head right now!! 
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@sims3hasstoppedworking
Well that escalated quickly
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@heavensims
And the academy award goes to...!
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@declarations-of-drama
O_O BRING IT!
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@tyrellsimsoficeandfire
Ok I take everything back! Roy looks as hot as Joel :)
Joël will always be my favourite Sim ever but it is a very close contest between he and Roy, that’s for sure ;=)
@samikattsims
hahaha :) you are awesome!!! <3 it XD
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@icy-spicy-scalpel
Yeah "Spontaneous"...lol!
@sims3hasstoppedworking
Spontaneous lmfao
@ktarsims
LMAO
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@sims3hasstoppedworking
I expected some bitch fight and bitch slap between Sonia and Claudia and I'll get it. Just in a different way ;D
@sims3hasstoppedworking
Also full Brazilian won't waste 😁
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@monets-pixels
That lucky little shit xD I can't believe it didn't blow up in his face
I could make a really crude joke right now but I’m too much of a lady ;=)
@hyperkaos
Classic xxxxxx
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@parystrange
I'm surprised it didn't blow up in his face as well, especially after Claudia seemed to just...surge forward so fast !
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@sweetnovember77​
LMFAO!!! @ doing a one-legged duck swim in a circle. Roy is one lucky mother effer.
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@phyresimblr
That reaction would've ruined it, Roy. Quit while you're ahead and show just a little humility for once, it makes you so much more likeable.
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@karnzter
*cheese popcorn intensifies* Hopefully Claudie here doesn't have a still-yearning officially broken-up but in-denial ex like Mia has to deal with Natalie on David (though they're still together as what Nat always strongly defends). And she better be as brave as what she's been saying instead of them being just words
Nah, Claudia’s a straight-shooter!
@willky12
I'm sure Dom has nothing on tonight, they should give him a ring as well perhaps? ;D
I know I already replied to you in the comments, but I have been thinking about this quite seriously and about how Roy would react! Roy would definitely draw the line at anything involving Dom, as he finds Dom’s state of mind (and dress!) lately quite disturbing. Roy thinks Dom is displaying a lot of weakness, and that’s something that has made Roy lose a lot of respect for him. So no, definitely no group sex invites for Dom, lulz!
@kscriba
I have a special place in my heart for Claudia now... and I have to say, I'm very eager to see how this turns out
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@declarations-of-drama
I really like Sonia :D And I really like where this is going. . .
I don’t think anyone’s ever said they like Sonia before!!!
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@willky12
...and a smile ;D
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@igglemouse
I love Claudia's outlook on her life XD
I like her a lot too, except for her complete lack of scruples when it comes to married men...
@roseoakmoonsims
But then... what happens when she finds out it was all a con and that Roy and Claudia both knew one another all along and planned this together?
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32 notes · View notes
rorykillmore · 7 years
Text
sooo it’s time to get to the rest of my (now belated) christmas fics! this one is for @sonofkaden who didn’t have a specific request and just wanted me to write something i thought she’d like. well i... gave it some thought, and while we’ve written a ton of wonderful and important stuff together over the years, there’s one important rp dynamic that i thought could benefit from a bit of cathartic and well-earned closure.
this is, in essence, a sort of sequel to  this fic which she wrote awhile back. writing from the perspective of a character i don’t rp as or otherwise write regularly for is always vaguely intimidating for me, buuut the last gift fic i wrote was from kara’s perspective and i thought this piece would work better (and mean more to fate) from ratchet’s perspective anyways. so uh. hopefully i pulled it off!
fate, to get sappy for a moment, this year has been a particularly important one in our friendship. we finally got to meet irl and we also built an rp dynamic in the superfriends that has become so significant and definitive. it seemed only right to write a tribute to them in their entirety, so i hope you enjoy this. thank you for consistently being kind and supportive and funny, for never failing to make me smile with your distinctive brand of humor even on my lowest days -- you really are an invaluable presence in my life. <3
privately, he hopes he’s not in the process of creating some kind of dimension-crumbling paradox. clank would kill him.
There’s an image of another world shimmering on the other side of the portal. Ratchet wants to reach out and touch it; he flexes one gloved hand, stirred by its familiarity. 
“What is it?” Clank asks, his voice careful and quiet.
He can’t construct a response that’s seamless or immediate, and he knows Clank must feel his silence like a chasm between them -- but after a moment he murmurs, “It’s been awhile.”
Five years, by his estimate -- at least on this side of the rifts. The passage of time between dimensions is a tricky thing, and the awareness that it could have been much less or much more in the other world feels like a weight bearing down on him.
He’s afraid. He can’t articulate it, but he’s afraid. He can feel it in the hammering of his heart, the subtle prickling of his fur. He stands there, staring, yearning and reluctant.
“It took longer than expected to rework the schematics of the Dimensionator into something stable,” Clank begins hesitantly. “I would understand if your feelings on this matter have... changed.”
A test run, he had called it only weeks ago. Ratchet wants to laugh at himself now for that feigned flippancy. They finally have a reliable way of traveling through dimensions, and he could have used it to find the other Lombaxes --
-- He would have been lying if he’d said that hadn’t been his first thought, despite how many strides he’s taken towards making peace with it --
But that’s an entire journey, and one that doesn’t have a clear end in sight. His proposal for today is something different -- a test in essence, sure, but also a goodbye.
A proper goodbye. One he’d almost started to assume he would never get.
He doesn’t know what to do with it now. Improbable as it once might have seemed, the prospect of it has always been there, hanging in the undefined future. If he goes through with this now, it’ll be gone -- and maybe he’ll be able to let go of what he’s been holding on to since he got back.
He’s not sure he wants to.
“Nah,” he says decisively in spite of that -- and in spite of the fact that what he’s looking for might not even be there any more, which would hurt all the worse. “Can’t turn back now that we’ve come this far. Wish me luck, huh buddy?”
A part of him aches to ask Clank to come with him - the comfort of his oldest friend’s presence is easy to fall back on, even after their separation - but this is his first time deliberately dimension-hopping with this thing, and if something goes wrong... better one of them than both of them.
Besides, this is something he should probably do alone.
He feels Clank’s hand hover over his arm briefly before settling there. “Good luck, Ratchet,” the little robot echoes, and when Ratchet turns to meet his eyes, he feels the weight of the emotion behind the words.
He greets them with a nod, because he knows his own response would fail him, and then turns and takes the plunge.
“Holy shit, he’s alive.”
It’s a grating, painstakingly familiar voice that he’s first greeted with on the other side -- though in spite of that, it takes him a moment to place it. He sits up slowly, slightly dizzy with the effect of the jump, and tries to focus on the two figures looming over him. Mostly because they’re there, and easy to focus on.
He regrets it a second later.
“How did you survive Belsnickel?” demands Chanel #3, leaning in closer than Ratchet would like to get a better look at him. “Did he restore you to life once you’d learned your lesson and acknowledged the true meaning of Christmas?”
“Don’t be an idiot, Number Three,” Chanel cuts in abrasively. “Everyone knows that’s Krampus’ deal.”
Chanel #3′s expression goes blanker than usual.  “I thought he trapped people in snowglobes.”
Quickly and without much internal debate, Ratchet decides to leave them to their argument. It’s only another moment before he’s reasonably sure that his legs aren’t going to give out underneath him, so he springs abruptly to his feet -- and dashes out of the building without a backwards glance.
“Hey!” he hears one of the girls exclaim, but he doesn’t falter, his mind racing. That building is still there, and it looks the same as it ever did. And if even those two creeps are still around, then there’s a chance --
He cuts himself off before the thought is fully formed, but allows himself a tiny sliver of hope. There’s a chance.
When he reaches their old apartment, he’s out of breath, and he’s almost grateful for the moment’s pause it excuses.
Except then the moment goes on a little too long, and he’s just staring at the door, reevaluating everything. Again.
Sometimes he hates that he thinks too much.
It’s sentiment, ultimately, that quells his doubt. The thought of seeing his friends’ faces again, the knowledge that they could be right there on the other side. So he lifts his hand and manages it to keep from shaking as he knocks. Twice. A third time.
And then he waits a short span of seconds that feel like a lifetime before door opens.
It’s Kara on the other side, and Ratchet feels his heart swell with relief -- and then stutter. She looks so much like he remembers her (but then he remembers that thing about Kryptonian aging, and realizes that probably shouldn’t tell him anything). The way the smile on her face freezes tells him that at least some time has passed, for her. Enough for her to notice his absence.
Probably, he guesses as he looks at her now, enough for her to mourn it. He hates the idea of everything they’d built together - everything he’s left behind- having splintered and broken.
“Hey,” he decides to break the silence, inevitably awkward.  “I, uh -- I know this is probably weirding you out. I can explain.”
“Ratchet,” she murmurs faintly in response, and the sound of it wrenches at his heart.  She looks as though she’s seen a ghost, and while he rationally knows he has no control over the rifts, he can’t help feeling guilty.
He hesitates, feeling his ears droop. He’s almost afraid to ask, but he can’t see anything to do except push ahead.  “...How long’s it been?”
She doesn’t answer, almost staring through him in a way he can’t remember ever seeing her do before. He wishes reaching out to her felt as easy as it once did, but whether it’s the time that’s passed or the way she’s reacting,he suddenly feels helpless.
And then a shadow moves behind her -- and Ratchet instantly recognizes Sasuke. He’s visibly changed. He’s not dramatically older, but maybe a year or two, and his hair’s grown out a little to lesson some of that inexplicable spikiness.
Too bad. Ratchet always liked teasing him about that.
For a moment, Sasuke’s expression is nearly as vulnerable as Kara’s, and that’s even more disconcerting -- but he recovers more quickly, finds his voice before Ratchet has to stumble again for something to say.
“You came back.”
“...I can’t stay.”  Telling them this suddenly feels agonizing  -- dropping in to say goodbye felt comparatively easy, in his own world. Now it feels like the first thing he needs to tell them, and the one thing he doesn’t want to -- if they’re reacting like this, how will losing him again feel?  “I just -- wanted to see you both. One more time.  I thought... you deserved that.”
His voice sounds uncertain to his own ears, and he deflates a little further. Weren’t they happy to see him? He doesn’t like that thought. It feels... selfish, somehow. But it’s been hard for him too. He’s missed them too.
A fleeting look passes between his two old friends, gone almost before he notes it -- and then something seems to give way. Kara’s the first to step forward, and suddenly her arms are around him, her voice close to his ear as she murmurs “We missed you so much.”
In spite of the whirlwind of emotion still raging between the three of them, it’s instinct to hug her back. This feels familiar, this is how things click back into place -- he remembers a time when the two of them were practically attached at the hip, when hugs like this were commonplace.
Well, he thinks as he holds onto her a little more tightly, maybe not hugs like this.
It’s only a moment before his gaze drifts past her and over to Sasuke, who’s still standing in the doorway. He’s a little startled by what he sees: in some unexpected sense, Sasuke looks almost lost, his hand flitting up to brush his hair away from his eyes in a gesture that’s strangely apprehensive. The look that passes between them is silent and loaded, and after a couple of heartbeats, Ratchet finds himself wordlessly disentangling an arm and holding it out to him.
It’s a minuscule reaction, and he might have missed it if he hadn’t been trained to watch so closely -- but Sasuke almost seems to draw away from him. But this is so much the way Ratchet remembers it being: reaching out to Sasuke sometimes means being patient until he decides to reach back. And slowly, almost painstakingly, he finally does. His grip is tight as it closes around Ratchet’s, and the three of them stand together in silence for a moment, bound by memory as well as touch.
“I’m... sorry we greeted you like that.” After what seems at once like lifetimes and seconds too short, Kara pulls away, and Ratchet gets the feeling she’s not talking about the hug. The three of them simultaneously disentwine as if they’re one mind, and he straightens, glancing between them inquisitively. “It’s just -- a lot has happened, since you left.”
He can’t help but smile faintly. “Yeah. For me, too.”
“I guess we have some catching up to do,” Sasuke remarks, though Ratchet’s almost sure he doesn’t imagine the look he shoots Kara -- or the way Kara glances behind her, in the direction of the clock on the wall.
Even so, no one has to say anything else. When they let him inside, Ratchet remembers the day Kara asked him to be her roommate and marvels at how much and how little has changed since then.
In some small, odd way, it almost feels like coming home.
The things they tell each other aren’t easy. Sure, catching up involves a lot of laughs - they share anecdotes and reminisce, and there are moments when it feels like no time has passed at all - but Ratchet also tells them how he had to sacrifice his then-only hope of finding the Lombaxes (he sees it hit Kara particularly hard). He listens as they tell him how Kara lost herself thanks to some drug concocted by Mason Verger, and how Sasuke’s newfound power entailed him hidings his meetings with Orochimaru for months -- a wound that still seems to be healing, because Kara goes tightlipped when it comes up.
It hurts him, to know they’ve been hurting, but it also makes him fiercely proud. They’ve stayed together, through everything. Their team has survived. And -- there’s something telling, he thinks, about how now none of them thing twice about telling each other everything.
Except, it turns out, there is one thing they haven’t told him.
One... kind of big thing.
“You -- met another Ratchet?”  he can’t keep himself from blurting out when they finally confess. “Another me?”
His mind flits back to the memory of meeting the other Kara, and how it prompted a discussion about another Sasuke, and he has to take a moment to wrap his head around it. Wryly, he reflects that he’s somehow managed to forget how much of a headache this can be.
“...He’s part of our team, now,” Sasuke says, watching him closely, and Ratchet feels a small jolt at the realization.
This isn’t just a one or two time anomaly. The... Other Ratchet has been with them the whole time. He’s painfully aware of how frozen he must look, and struggles to work out how to feel.
“But it’s not that simple,” Kara’s quick to put in, reading his expression. “It took a... long time for us to work things out. It wasn’t like we just replaced you.”
Ratchet flexes his hands, taking momentary comfort in the familiar feel of his glove, and wonders. Replace him?  He doesn’t think his friends would ever try. Still, this is a jarring shock,  and he can’t help but reel -- and somewhere buried beneath the startled confusion, he feels the seeds of envy beginning to burrow.
Never in a million years would he have imagined being almost jealous of his younger self.
They seem to be taking his silence as a bad sign, because it’s Sasuke who continues, “When he got here... we were still grieving you. He noticed pretty quickly. It was a mess, for awhile.”
“That’s -- around the time I got hit with the Red Kryptonite.” Kara shifts, her jaw tightening.
His eyes widen at the implication, and he hesitates for a moment, forcing himself to sort through his thoughts before he finally speaks.  “I... wow. So that’s why you guys... kind of freaked out back there.”
He can think of about a hundred questions he wants to ask, and wonders whether it would be better if he didn’t.
“Not because we didn’t want to see you.” Kara reaches out to rest a hand over his -- she’s hardly broken contact, since he stepped inside. “Just -- we thought things might get... complicated, if he realized you were here before we had a chance to talk to him.”
Ratchet doesn’t pull away from her, but for the first time, he lowers his gaze. “...Well. Like I said -- I can’t stay.”
This time, the silence that falls between them is heavy. In spite of how much all of this is, he doesn’t want this to be his last member of them - doesn’t want to leave with all of this baggage between them - so he tries to think of something else to say.
It’s Sasuke, actually, who beats him to it -- Ratchet can’t help but be reminded of the evening he surprised them all by being the one to uplift them. Funny, the details he can still remember.
“You helped build this team, you know.” His voice is level and direct, and Ratchet finally looks over at him. “Without you, none of this would have this. We’re not about to forget that.”
Kara nods, giving his hand a light squeeze.  “You know, younger Ratchet -- we’re close with him now because of everything we’ve been through together. Not because of who he is.  But you -- you were my first friend here. I still feel like I... owe you so much, in some ways.”
He glances between them, silent but pensive, feeling a strange kind of sadness even as something in him lightens.
“And -- that night on the rooftop, after the Christmas party? We promised each other we’d always be friends,” Kara finishes, sounding softer and a little firmer all at once. “I haven’t forgotten that, either.”
Her words hang in the air for a beat, and then --
“...You’re still a sap, you know that?”  Ratchet murmurs with teasing fondness, but he remembers it, too. His comment earns him a smile, and he can’t help but smile back at her. Even Sasuke’s expression looks lighter, and these are the little things Ratchet missed: Kara’s open warmth, Sasuke’s rare softness.
He knows - whatever else he might feel, looking at them now he knows - that when he has to leave them again, they’ll be okay -- and that he will be, too. He recognizes it as the peace he came here to find.
“So... I still have a little while, before I’ve gotta take off,” he ventures, his smile turning just a touch more sly. “What do you guys say to one more patrol -- for old time’s sake?”
They make for - of all things - the quarantine zone. It’s half a joke, half for nostalgia’s sake, and either way Ratchet finds it strangely peaceful for the former site of a zombie apocalypse. Sitting on the wall, facing the ocean with his friends -- it’s a little easier to put things into perspective. And even if he realizes that some part of him will always be a little sad for the things he missed, the knowledge he bears now makes up for it.
That instead of drifting apart, Kara and Sasuke have become almost seamlessly close. That Sasuke seems more comfortable and less alone now than he ever did in all the time Ratchet has known him. That Kara herself seems to... fit into her place in this world in a way she once yearned to.
Ratchet remembers his promise to her, when he vowed to help her chase after normalcy. In those quiet last moments with his friends, he thinks he might owe the fulfillment of at least part of that promise to someone else -- someone who isn’t even sitting on this wall.
And with only a hint of trepidation, he decides he has one last stop to make before he goes home.
Looking down at your younger self, it turns out, is kind of a trip.
“Now I see why Clank’s so fussy about time travel,” Ratchet murmurs, reveling for a moment in the silliness of making idle comments to himself. From his calculated position on a nearby rooftop, he blinks at the other Ratchet, marveling at the reality that this is so clearly him -- but not. He can’t fully put his finger on it, but there’s something about the kid that looks a little... softer than he remembers being, at that age.
And -- is he walking home from school?
That realization prompts a pang of mingled amusement and envy, and Ratchet’s careful to tuck it away before he swingshots down and lands effortlessly on the street.
“Hey,” he greets the other him with what he hopes is a casual enough grin. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
The other Ratchet jolts as if struck by lightning, and whirls around to face him -- he cringes inwardly, feeling a little bad for startling him. ...Himself? Whatever.
The look on his younger self’s face doesn’t exactly manage to reassure him. It’s blank with shock, at first, and then raw with anger - and wow, does Ratchet remember feeling like that - before it finally settles into something a little more conflicted. A little more cautious.
“...You’re him,” his younger self says, and it’s almost a whisper.
“Uh -- yeah.” Ratchet makes every effort not to think about how weird this objectively is. “Look, I know you’re probably not... thrilled to see me. But I thought I should swing by and say something. I’m sorry about... you know, how rough things’ve been for you.”
The other Ratchet’s ears droop in a way that’s all too familiar, even as his tail lashes indecisively. “I...”
Ratchet waits for him to finish. It takes him a moment.
“...It’s not your fault,” the kid manages at last, though his expression is guarded and unsure.
“It’s not yours, either,” Ratchet responds simply.
They stare at each other for a long moment, and Ratchet himself can’t help but feel some of the disbelief he still sees written across his mirror image’s face. Privately, he hopes he’s not in the process of creating some kind of dimension-crumbling paradox. Clank would kill him.
“So -- so the rifts... ?” The other Ratchet begins, and he shakes his head.
“Nah, I came here on my own.”
“You -- on your -- ?”  There’s something weirdly endearing about how the younger him fumbles for words. “You found a way to travel through dimensions -- on your own?”
Ratchet rubs behind his neck. “Well... I had a little help. Don’t worry, I’m not hanging around -- I just owed Sasuke and Kara a goodbye.”
The other Ratchet’s expression falters for a moment, and he looks as though he’s not sure how to respond to that. Ratchet suddenly finds that there’s so much he wants to say - the whole ‘if you could tell your younger self one thing’ deal really shouldn’t be treated as such a hypothetical - that he pauses, too.
In the end, what he settles for is:  “You know, I took a look at some of the designs you reworked -- at the tech center?”
“-- Oh! Yeah.” The younger Lombax hesitates. “I, uh... kinda didn’t think anyone would be back. For them. I mean, I know they were yours --”
“I’m impressed.” Ratchet interrupts his uneasy rambling with a calm smile. You improved them. Seriously.”
He has to fight not to broaden his smile as the other Ratchet gapes at him, his ears starting to lift. Taking a step forward, he decides to risk it, and rests a hand briefly on his shoulder.
No paradox. No sudden crumbling of reality. Always a good sign.
“Something tells me you’ve got quite a future ahead of you,” he says quietly, despite -- despite everything. “And it doesn’t have to be mine.”
They hold each other’s gazes, strange emotion brimming between them, and he recognizes that nothing else needs to be said.
When he steps away again and swings off, he doesn’t look back -- in spite of all the warnings he could have given, the advice he could have bestowed. He’s said everything he needed to, and he realizes - has long since realized - that there are a lot of things that shouldn’t be molded or shaped.
He doesn’t need to look back anymore, anyway.
He knows now that the important things are the ones he will carry with him always.
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