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eyayah-oya · 3 years

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A Bit of Hope to Keep You Safe

Clone Ship Week | Day 7 | Armor - @cloneshipweek

Bacara/Rex

Rating: G

Warnings: none

Ao3 link

Rex walked through camp with two cups of caf in his hand, looking for Commander Bacara. They had time to relax before the next big push of the campaign, and Rex wanted to spend at least a few minutes with Bacara before they had to be a Captain and a Commander again. It was so rare that they even got to see each other, let alone outside of a professional setting, that Rex was willing to take whatever they could scrounge together.

Eventually, he found his way to the edge of the camp, overlooking a vast violet sea. The boulders of ancient ruins littered the ground, and Rex found Bacara leaning back against the boulder on the seaward side. Rex kicked a pebble to let the Commander know that he was there, and Bacara looked up.

For the first time in a long time, Rex got a good look at his boyfriend. Bacara looked exhausted. The eyes that held so much warmth during ARC training now were shattered with grief and the burden of forever remaining strong for his men. Bacara was the bulwark holding back the tide of the entire Separatist army from his men and the rest of the Republic. When Bacara realized it was just Rex, the line of his shoulders slumped just slightly, and the man behind The Marine peaked through the cracks in his armor.

“Rex,” Bacara breathed.

With a small smile, Rex sat down next to Bacara and handed him one of the cups of caf. “How are you?"

"I’m holding up, tat’ka,” Bacara said. He took a long sip of the caf and wrinkled his nose adorably much to Rex’s delight. “Did you put any sugar in this?”

“I gave you the allotment of sugar, same as every other damn cup of caf in the Republic,” Rex said, holding back a snicker.

Bacara hummed and drained the caf as fast as he could before setting his cup down on the ground next to him. With a languid stretch, Bacara leaned his head back against the boulder and closed his eyes, drinking in the rays of the sun. His skin was paler than other brothers, a testament to how rarely he took his bucket off. Rex scooted a bit closer to Bacara and pressed against his shoulder. A shudder ran through his body before Bacara leaned into the touch.

Rex wanted to weep at how touch-starved and lonely he was. How many nights did Bacara spend alone while his men sought comfort amongst themselves? How many times did he stand guard while the Marines shook apart and put themselves back together just to fight and die in another battle on a planet the Republic had all but forgotten? There was not a single clone ever created that did well with being isolated. From the time they were decanted, they spent every second of their day with brothers. But the Marines were isolated and Bacara even more so.

There were few things in life that Rex wanted more in that moment, than to take Bacara and his men far away from the war and keep them safe and loved. He wanted to hold Bacara every night, and tell him how loved he was until he stopped flinching at every touch. Rex wanted to have the freedom to be there for Bacara since he refused to allow anyone else close enough to take care of The Marine.

In the middle of a galactic-wide war, however, there wasn’t much Rex could do for any of those desires. He could care for Bacara for however long this campaign lasted, and then they’d be separated once again with little to no contact.

As Rex ran his fingers over the gouges in his thigh plate from an exploding tank, an idea struck him.

“Bacara—” Rex began, then stopped. How did someone even ask something like this? Maybe he should have paid more attention to Kix and Jesse’s courtship.

“Hmm?”

For several seconds, Rex tried to figure out what exactly he wanted to say. There were just so many different ways it could be taken, and Rex wasn’t even sure if the Marines were isolated enough from their brothers that this custom hadn’t reached them yet. Giving a piece of himself to a brother, especially one from a different battalion, had certain meanings. Rex fell in love quickly and loved deeply. Bacara loved just as deeply, but he was also slower to trust and slower to love. It felt awful to even think it, but Rex really wasn’t sure how his suggestion would be taken.

“Rex, whatever it is, I’m sure it will be fine,” Bacara sighed. “Talk to me, tat’ka.”

With a deep breath, Rex undid the clasps of his left vambrace, the only piece of his armor that he thought might be able to fit Bacara. Without a word, he turned and offered the piece of armor to his boyfriend and held his breath.

Bacara didn’t say anything. He stared at the vambrace, face carefully blank, and Rex was terrified that he’d pushed too hard too soon. The shattered look in his warm brown eyes seemed to clear, some of the cracks healing, just a little bit. They were silent, only the distant waves crashing against the base of the cliff and the calls of local seabirds could be heard. Not even the camp was close enough to hear the everyday chatter of soldiers reconnecting. After a minute, just long enough for Rex to get anxious, Bacara reached out and took his vambrace, his fingers trembling slightly.

Rex let out his breath in relief. Bacara understood what Rex hadn’t managed to find the words to express what was in his heart. This was important, for both of them. Vod’e traded pieces of armor with only their closest brothers. It was a promise to return. A promise that they had someone watching their back. A promise to always be there for them. Some, like Echo and Fives, it was a gift between siblings. Fives still cherished the piece of armor Echo had given him before the disastrous mission to the Citadel. Others, like Jesse and Kix, treated it as a courting gift. In either situation, the two who shared armor formed a connection that was unbreakable.

“Rex—” Bacara whispered, his voice rough and broken. “Rex, are you sure—”

But he refused to let Bacara finish that sentence. Rex surged forward and pulled his wonderful, kind, gentle boyfriend into a deep and passionate kiss, though he kept every movement gentle and loving. Everything he felt for Bacara was poured from his heart and into the kiss. Every time Rex only managed to keep going because he knew he needed to come back to Bacara. Every time he thought about his boyfriend fighting alone on far-off planets, surrounded by enemies. He gave Bacara everything, his whole soul. And Bacara welcomed every touch, every lick, every bite with the desperation of a man dying of loneliness. A man dying for the love of his cyare.

Bacara eventually took control of the kiss, pulling Rex into his lap and cradling his face in his large, warm palms. The callouses scratched over his skin, sending tingles down his spine and curling his toes in his boots. Rex sighed into the kiss. He wrapped his arms around Bacara’s shoulders and let him find what he needed with every shared breath and every suck and nip. Rex could only hold tight and refuse to let go.

Since the first time they kissed, Rex had always fallen apart when Bacara kissed him. There was a depth and a passion, building up heat until Rex was panting and hazy-eyed in his arms. With every kiss, Bacara told Rex how much he loved him. How much he meant to Bacara. How desperately he needed Rex. And this time was no different.

Rex had no idea how long they’d spent trading kisses with him straddling his boyfriend’s lap, caf cups and vambrace left forgotten in the dirt next to them. When they finally broke apart to simply rest their foreheads against each other, the sun was starting to dip below the horizon, turning the pink sky a gorgeous red and purple.

“Rex?” Bacara murmured.

“Hmm?” He couldn’t gather up the scattered cells of his brain to come up with a more intelligent response than that.

“You really want to exchange armor?”

Rex idly slipped his fingers into Bacara’s curls, playing with the longer hair on top and scratching through his beard. “Of course, Cara. I love you. I can’t do much to be there for you while we’re still fighting this war, but I can promise to always come back. It’s not much—”

“No, it’s perfect,” Bacara interrupted. “I would love to exchange armor with you.”

“Good. I’m really glad.” Rex nudged Bacara’s nose while his hand scrabbled to find his forgotten vambrace.

Bacara huffed, amused, and grabbed the vambrace from where it had fallen on the opposite side of where Rex was searching. “Is this what you were looking for, tat’ka?”

Rex gave his best Tubie scowl he could, the one that never failed to make Ponds melt into a puddle, and nuzzled Bacara’s face. “Not my fault you hid it,” he grumbled.

“Of course. It’s perfectly reasonable to start losing your mind when dealing with the Jedi. No one would blame you for forgetting the little things.”

“I can and will bite you,” Rex threatened.

Of course, that had a slightly different effect on Bacara than Rex had been expecting. His dark eyes turned black with desire, and he leaned forward to leave a sharp bite on Rex’s swollen bottom lip. Rex gasped and his heart skipped several beats.

“Cara,” he gasped. “That’s not playing fair.”

“Who said anything about fair?” Bacara ran his hand along Rex’s arm, until he reached the empty space that his vambrace normally occupied. “Can’t have you going into battle without a full set of armor. That would be unprofessional.”

“Yeah? Are you going to do anything about it?”

Bacara hummed in response. With deft fingers, he quickly undid the clasps of his own left vambrace and pushed Rex back far enough that he could easily access both of their arms. They were all clones, so the vambraces looked to be the same size. It wasn’t cost-efficient, after all, to provide custom sizes of armor for the entire GAR. But the padding inside might be different for Bacara and Rex, since the Commander was built a bit bigger than Rex.

“Rex of Torrent,” Bacara started, his voice rumbling thick and low. “I give you my armor with the promise that I will always watch your back. I will always support you in everything you do. I will always love you. And I swear I will return to you as best as I can. Do you accept?”

Blinking away sudden tears, Rex leaned forward and captured Bacara’s lips in a soft kiss. “I accept your armor and your promise. Bacara of Nova, I give you my armor with the promise that I will stand by your side. I will treat your men as my own, and I will support Nova in every way I can. I will be your rock and your anchor. I will love you as long as I have breath and I will always do my best to return to you. Do you accept my armor and my promise?”

“Yes,” Bacara breathed. He shuddered and gripped Rex’s bare arm as tight as he dared. Rex wrapped his other arm around him and brought their foreheads together again, their lips brushing with every breath. He held Bacara until he was steady once again.

“Can I put my vambrace on you?” Rex asked once the shudders had faded to only the occasional tremor.

Bacara nodded and with sure fingers, Rex slid the vambrace into place and clicked the clasps closed. They both sighed when the armor settled into place and then Bacara was reaching for his vambrace. He returned the favor and soon, they were both fully armored again, minus their buckets.

“Thank you for letting me do this,” Rex murmured softly.

“No need for that. I’m glad you thought of it. I wasn’t sure—” Bacara trailed off. There were a number of things that he could say, but neither one chose to acknowledge any of them out loud. He wasn’t sure if Rex would want to wear his armor. He wasn’t sure when they’d be able to see each other for the exchange to even be possible. He wasn’t sure if either of them would live long enough to talk about exchanging armor.

None of those concerns ended up being founded, and Bacara relaxed as much as he could against Rex. Rex easily accepted his weight and held onto him as tight as he could. It wasn’t the same as being on board a ship, where they felt a bit more comfortable removing their armor, but it was good enough for now. Now was all they had, with the war pulling them across the galaxy from each other, and Rex intended to make the most of it.

(Later, his men would send Rex knowing smirks and pointed observations, carefully out of hearing range of Commander Bacara. While they teased and prodded at him, Rex knew that every single one of them were happy for him. They all needed a little bit of love and comfort with the war weighing down on them. Especially Captain Rex and The Marine.)

This is inspired by Soft Wars by @thefoundationproject . You should all go read it because it’s amazing!

#clone/clone #clone shipping #rexcara #rex/bacara #captain rex #commander bacara #soft and fluffy #i love them a lot #cloneshipweek2021 #day 7 | armor #armor swap #inspired by soft wars

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ironmandeficiency · 4 years

Text

refreshing

pairing: hardcase / jedi!reader

word count: 4122

summary: you’re able to convince (read: blackmail) anakin into letting the troops take a pit stop on your home planet of naboo for a couple days of morale boost.

request: hi i’d like to order a hardcase combo with a side of smooching (u write him so well i’m a mess!!!)

warnings: unprotected sex, outdoor sex, slight exhibitionist kink?

a/n: my first time writing a full-length fic with smut!! always remember, wrap it before you tap it.

“we are not stopping there, y/n. there’s no time.”

“just like there wasn’t time for you to make a ‘very important call’ to someone that wasn’t even a jedi right before our last battle.”

“how did you-“

“i have more than two brain cells, anakin. now next time you speak to the senator, make sure you tell her i said hi.”

silence. then he tersely orders the pilot to set the coordinates to naboo, silently beginning to contemplate a way to get payback.

you entered the clones’ barracks by anakin’s side, a wild grin still crossing your face at the success of your plan. heads turned to the sudden entrance of two generals and several shinies abruptly stood at attention before being relaxed by older brothers. neither you nor anakin enjoyed the idea of your men dropping everything for something as time-consuming as a salute.

“good news men,” anakin begins while barely stifling a groan. “before we return to coruscant, we’ll be making a brief pit stop.”

that was a poor way to explain it. several groans filled the air, thinking that there was yet another mission to be completed. the men hadn’t been on leave for several long and testing weeks and the idea of such overworking was rather repulsive.

“boys, don’t look so glum! we’re going on vacation!” your giddy shout shocks several of them and confounds many others. why the kriff would they go on vacation? they were soldiers fighting a war, there was no time for something so trivial. even if there were, they were clones. clones weren’t given vacations.

anakin takes a moment to enjoy the bafflement before clarifying your statement. “on paper we’re touching base with the local government to ensure friendly republic relations. once we’re there, however, we will have two days of pre-leave leave. a vacation, if you will.”

rex was dubious. “are you sure this is allowed, sir?”

oh rex, always dependable when it came to the book. his sense of duty was unrivaled, and moments like this made it clear. “anakin and i have both done far worse things without the council’s approval. surely an impromptu morale boost wouldn’t even hit the top ten.” your grin disarmed several troopers, them finally beginning to accept that they were indeed getting a small vacation.

“as long as you’re sure, general,” a small smile graced the captain’s face as he turned to speak to his brothers. “men, we’re going on vacation.”

“but sir,” dogma spoke up. you turned to him and took in the way his eyebrows and tattoo were twisted in concern, finding it very fitting for the trooper. “what planet are we going to?”

“good question, dogma. we’re going to naboo.”

after a few hours spent at the palace, you and anakin were free to join your men. you had to at least make your twist of the truth convincing by actually visiting the naboo palace, even though queen jamillia wasn’t expecting any sort of jedi visit. didn’t need anyone finding loopholes in your future cover story in case they went to looking.

the five-oh-first was currently stationed in a wooded meadow dotted by several tiny ponds and vibrant wildflowers. some were swimming, others were wrestling in the daisy patches, and there were a few napping on moss-covered rocks or logs. everyone was smiling and/or laughing, though, and that was the best part.

the speeder anakin drove you back in skirted to a stop at the edge of the clearing. he offered you a hand to help you off, his driving being the kind that would quite easily disorient someone not used to his methods, and you took it with a smile. there was no way you would be letting him drive again, that was for certain.

it took seconds before your arrival was noticed. “hey everyone, the generals are back!” fives shouted to his brothers that were in one of the small ponds with him. the information spread like wildfire and soon you were both surrounded by men competing for yours and anakin’s company.

“come swim with us, general!”

“no, come join us for sabacc!”

“we’re wrestling in the flowers over there and need an unbiased ref!”

“our pond has a better view!”

“no it doesn’t!”

anakin laughed before bringing about a compromise. “we have two days, guys. we’ll both try to spend as much time with you all as we can, but i’m going to start by judging a few fights. y/n, you know where to find me.”

jesse and spears were excited to have won general skywalker’s attention, neither containing the whoops as they pulled anakin toward the match continuing on without them. from the looks of it appo was winning against jude, which was an interesting turn of events.

now you were left with a choice. you could go play sabacc with kix or go swimming in either hardcase’s pond or tup’s, both of which had spectacular views of the countryside. the decision was a bit biased (which you would tell no one) but you had to put effort into making it look like you spent more than two seconds making a choice.

hardcase was shirtless in front of you, clad only in his soaked briefs that left very little of his body to your vivid imagination. geometric lines decorated his chest, beads of water sliding down or beginning to dry against him in the sun pulling you in. it was hypnotic and quickly becoming a fuel source to your less jedi-like dreams.

you already had plenty of sources to draw from but it never hurt to add more. there was the wild gleam in his eye when taking down clankers with his z-6 and the way he’d comfort his younger brothers when they struggled with anything from night terrors to painting their armor. this wasn’t even mentioning the time you’d gotten a nasty blaster wound to the thigh and he had to carry you to kix and coric, the strong arms a cocoon of safety (kix told you later that you had called hardcase honey in your blood loss delirium and he flushed redder than a tatooine sunset).

he hollered in victory when you slung an arm around his shoulder, letting him guide you to the pond that he was sharing with queen and daze.

hardcase had to be frank with himself when he examined his motives behind wanting you to join him. it did have a lot to do with how he enjoyed you as a person, but he selfishly wanted to bear witness to the way you’d look with the pond water clinging to your skin and underclothes.

but that isn’t to say he only wanted you for your body, maker that couldn’t be farther from the truth. to hardcase, you were more than a general or jedi, and far more than a beautiful body. there was a selflessness he got to see when you interacted with civilians and compassion you showed to him and his brothers that endeared you to him. you were fun and wild and adventurous, and he couldn’t get enough of you, he wanted more.

you spent a few hours playing games in the pond, chicken and marco polo being the favorites. the guys banned you from being it during marco polo, realizing early on that the force was the reason you were finding them so easily and it was most definitely not hardcase splashing you like a child every chance he got. nope, that was not it at all.

the company rotated throughout the time you spent in the pond, the only constant being hardcase. it was pleasant being able to spend so much time with the heavy gunner without having to worry about protocols or codes. you got to just be yourself and spend time with hardcase while doing it, the recipe for a perfect day.

the sun was setting and campfires were built around nearly every pond, both flames and night stars reflecting off the water beautifully. ration bars seemed to taste better on naboo, and dinner was spent singing drinking songs and telling stories of brotherly shenanigans.

you were recounting one of the occasions anakin reprogrammed temple mouse droids to hit people in the ankles on purpose when you noticed it. hardcase’s eyes hadn’t left you for a while, and right now they felt as if they were dissecting you on a laboratory table with their intensity. you wanted to know why but that wasn’t your information to know right then. if he felt comfortable telling you then he would do so in his own time.

nearly everyone was tuckered out by the excessive fun of the day, quickly falling into a peaceful slumber in their bedrolls the likes of which they hadn’t had in a long time. but hardcase, he was far from tired. he was far more awake now than he had been when you were on his shoulders during games of chicken played with fives and tup.

you were enjoying the crackling of the fire paired with the occasional snoring from troopers on all sides when hardcase stood and moved next to you. he had set his roll down on the opposite side of the fire, a decision he now was regretting as he had to maneuver himself carefully around the bodies of sleeping vode.

he eventually made it to your side without waking anyone and let out a sigh of relief as he plopped down next to you. his shoulder lightly bumped yours as he scooted closer and you couldn’t help but be glad he hadn’t put a shirt back on after getting out of the pond for ration dinner.

peaceful silence was achieved (outside of snoring) as you enjoyed each other’s company. you weren’t expecting him to break the silence so soon, but you especially couldn’t predict the way he broke it. “i had a good time today,” he spoke quietly (a true feat for the man) and moved a hand to rest on your knee. “thank you for convincing general skywalker to let us stay here for a couple days.”

the crackling fire illuminated his face just enough for you to see the patches of red on his cheeks and tips of his ears as he continued. his eyes held your captive with their sincerity, emotions swirling wildly just below the surface. “i really enjoyed spending time with you, gen-“

“call me y/n, hardcase. please, it makes everything so much easier.” you had come to a decision a couple hours earlier about how you felt about the man next to you and what you would do about it. there was nothing in you that could maintain the semi-distance you had with him prior to today, not with the way his laughter quickened your pulse and sent waves of joy over you. even his force signature was intoxicating under the nubian sky, you couldn’t get enough.

perplexion overtook his features. he had no idea what you were talking about, silently hoping that you hadn’t lost your mind to fun. “makes what easier-mmm-“

you cut him off with your lips, silencing his question before he could finish. he responded in kind, hands pulling you into his lap without breaking the kiss. it started all tongue and teeth, the adrenaline and arousal beginning to flow through your veins as steady as your blood.

“gen- y/n,” he broke the kiss to catch his breath, quick to correct himself to using your first name instead of rank. his chocolate eyes were blown out with desire, his hands had ventured toward your ass, cradling it with the utmost care. “i-is this what you want? do you really want me?”

your answer was first given with legs wrapped around his waist, mouth meeting his for another breath-stealing kiss. but then you sensed hesitation as his hands gripped your waist and slowly began to detach you from him. he was worried and you had to reassure him, make sure he knew how you cared about him. “more than anything in the galaxy, my dear.”

your eyes conveyed this truth to him the very same way your words did, and the answer given satisfied him. he returned his hands to your backside and gripped the flesh hard before continuing the kiss. you opened your mouth to invite him in and he obliged, his tongue swirling around yours and maker did he taste good.

kissing hardcase was euphoria unlike anything you’ve ever encountered. there wasn’t a single part of you that wasn’t aflame where your body met with his, the burn being one you’d relish in for as long as you lived.

one hand left you for a moment before coming back with a loud smack! that produced a whine from your throat. hardcase would do anything to hear that sound again, so he brought his hand down harder and groaned when his ears caught the mewl he ripped from you.

you slid a hand between your bodies and palmed his cock, giving it sweet resistance when his hips thrust into your hand. he felt thick and hot even through his blacks and you could only imagine how he’d feel inside you.

then a grumble from nearby harshly reminded you both that if you weren’t quiet, there would be an audience. hardcase grinned like a loth-cat before rising to his knees, arms holding you up and against him. “let’s take this somewhere a lil’ quieter, sweetheart.”

with the change in position you could feel his member press deliciously against where you wanted him, grinning in triumph when you wiggled your hips against him and wrestled a groan from the back of his throat. he was standing in seconds and barely bothering to avoid stepping on sleeping vode in his haste to get you as alone as he could.

he walked you both to the edge of the meadow, one of the tiniest ponds being only mere feet away from where he set you down on the ground. you pulled him down to you by his hips, not wanting any space between you as he nipped at your neck and jaw. he sucked hard at a sweet spot just above your collarbone and he nearly ascended to the stars at how beautiful his name sounded from your parted lips.

you tugged at your tunics desperately, wanting hardcase to take the hint and rip them off you. he was smarter than some gave him credit for because it took seconds for him to work them off you, tossing the fabric to the side with abandon. callused hands ran across your chest like the flowing rivers this planet was known for, learning the terrain of your breasts and stomach like battle plans.

his mouth descends lower and latches onto your nipple, tongue swirling around the bud before biting it gently. you’d never felt anything like it before and it drove you wild, his name stumbling through your lips.

“you say my name so pretty, y/n,” he smiles against your breast, lustful chocolate eyes looking at yours under long lashes. you reached your arms around his back and let your hands wander the waistband of his blacks, trying to tell him he was wearing too much but most of the words left you. the resulting sentence was fragmented and flooded with desperation that you didn’t bother trying to hide.

“‘case,” you breathed, “g’t ‘em off, please,” the offending fabric was hiding him from you and you weren’t going to put up with it any longer. he chuckled against your skin before moving back to remove his blacks. his boxers had long since dried from swimming and through the light grey fabric you could see spots of precome.

the boxers were peeled off seconds later and once they were low enough on his legs, he kicked them off to leave him completely exposed to you. his naked body rivaled those of marble sculptures kept in the elite coruscanti museums of art, and exceeded the expectations of the artists that had never been blessed to see such beauty in a man before. the tip of his cock was littered with pearlescent droplets you wanted to both taste and have inside you at that very second; you weren’t picky, either one would have you reaching nirvana in record time.

you sat up and brought him into a bruising kiss. he slithered a hand into your underwear and slid it between your folds, eyebrows raised when he felt how wet you were for him. his hand left soon after and, after breaking the kiss, let your lips wrap around the slick-soaked digit. you swirl your tongue around it and sucked lightly, hardcase loving the way you eagerly tasted yourself around him.

pushing him backward into his back, you straddle his lap and slide yourself across his length. hardcase growls at the contact and his fingers move to grip your hips and move you faster. but you wanted more, you wanted him to split you open and fill you up the way only he could. so you raised your hips up slightly and took his cock in one hand, steadily lowering yourself onto it with a moan.

once he was fully sheathed inside of you, your walls clenched around him and for a millisecond you thought you’d killed the heavy gunner with the way his eyes rolled back at the sensation. it was almost painful for hardcase to keep his hips from fucking up into you but he wanted you comfortable; not to brag but he was thicker and longer than average, and he didn’t want to hurt you by going too fast.

the stillness was sending you up a creek. you wanted him to move, to take what you were offering to him, yet he was resting while buried inside you. you were impatient and decided to take initiative, rising halfway off him before sinking back down. it was divine, the way he stretched you out as you went back down on him, and you could tell he was thinking the same when your name was emitted from hardcase with a primal grunt.

it took only a couple more movements on your part before he had you in a bruising grip, holding you up and pistoning his hips into yours recklessly. it was rough and wild and feral, the only goals being release and staking a claim into the other.

your head was thrown back, neck bared to him as he pounded you. in a moment you didn’t expect, he had you on your back and his head buried in the juncture between your neck and shoulder, continuing to bite and suck at the skin in a way you were positive would leave delicious evidence of the night’s activities.

the new angle aided him in finding your g spot, which you were both immensely grateful for. you were seeing stars that weren’t the ones above you when he found it, a choked whine indicating to hardcase the specific way to thrust to continue hitting it with precision only a soldier could have. his forehead pressed against yours as he fucked you, maintaining eye contact no matter how fast he went.

“fuck, hardcase!” his balls were slapping your ass as he went harder and faster, the man holding nothing back. he pressed a finger against your mouth before panting, “gotta be quiet for me, sugar,” he paused to give you a particularly hard thrust that threw you closer to the brink. “don’t want anyone findin’ us, do we?” the rasp and growl of his voice was unreal but he kept talking, and you buried your head into his neck to ground you.

he smelled of a smoky battlefield and fertile earth and honey sweeter than you’d ever tasted. a delicate lick at the sweaty sheen coating his skin had your tastebuds in paralysis and hardcase grunting mando’a curses as his pace grew erratic. he was close.

your walls began to flutter around him, you telling him that you were close with a moan.

“that’s it mesh’la, i want ya to come for me, you can do it beautiful,” he gripped your thigh and pulled it up his waist, spreading you further open for him and oh force it was unbelievable.

“come with me, please!”

“i’m about to, i’m gonna- where do you want it?” images ran through your head of him unloading onto your tongue or your chest and it nearly made you one with the force, but there was plenty of time in the future to experiment with that. you wanted him in you, to fill you up in every sense of the word.

“cum inside me, hardcase!” suffice to say, hardcase was not expecting that reply, shuddering in ecstasy at the thought of his seed leaking out of you.

“sugar, you’re killin’ me, i- holy kriff!” he thrusted a few more times before slamming into you balls deep, making sure that not a drop of him spilled out of you in that moment. you flexed around his cock and milked him for everything he had as the sensation brought you over the edge with him, his name repeated like a prayer.

he braced himself as much as he could before collapsing partly on top of you, sweaty skin mingling against sweaty skin. he was still inside you and the slightest movement ran the risk of overstimulation, but you didn’t want him to leave you empty yet. so you wrapped your arms around him and rolled you both on your sides, facing each other while still keeping him inside you.

you brought your hand to cup his cheek, running your fingers feather light across the lines and dots that decorated his face. he hummed in pleasure, eyes shutting in bliss. his hand not supporting his side was gently stroking the crook of your hip. neither of you spoke for several minutes, just letting yourselves bask in the afterglow.

then hardcase has an idea.

“hey sweetheart,” he begins softly, still hesitant to speak but just as badly wanting you to hear what he has to say. your hum of acknowledgement spurs him on. “wanna go for a swim?”

this man was sent by the gods.

that’s what you told yourself as he slowly slid out of you and helped guide you to the edge of the closest pond. you slid in and he was right behind you, immediately pulling you as close as he could. he didn’t try to continue the prior activities, just simply leaned against the edge of the pond and held you close.

you couldn’t remember the last time you were held for a reason outside of warmth and self-preservation. it was bliss, so comforting and peaceful and safe. you floated and let hardcase anchor you to him, fully trusting him to keep you above the surface as he held you and talked about anything and everything.

the conversation was easy and the touches soft as you talked away the night. you eventually wrapped your arms around his neck and used his chest as a pillow, taking comfort from the way his hands smoothed over the bruises he made in your skin a few hours earlier. his heartbeat was steady against your, the thumping strong and true.

“hey sugar,” he whispered into your hair before slowly unwrapping your arms from his neck. you let him and the water move your body, your back pressed against his chest and his arms holding you in place once again. “look over here.” he pointed to the sky where the sun was beginning to rise, the sky painted in pastel pink and lavender and marigold.

it’s been too long since you’ve gotten to watch the sun rise on your home planet. sharing the moment with hardcase made it all the more a beautiful. “hardcase, it’s gorgeous.”

he smiled and kissed your crown. “it doesn’t compare to a certain jedi i know, don’t even come close.”

“i didn’t know you had a thing for anakin, dear. i’ll be sure to let him know.”

he sputtered in indignation, laughing at the insinuation but taking it as a challenge as well. “you know that’s not who i’m talking about, beautiful.” one hand slides down through the water and comes to rest between your thighs, his index and middle fingers teasing your clit. you push your ass against his dick in retaliation and reeling as you feel him stiffen against you.

you spent the sunrise w in ith hardcase slowly thrusting into you, lips locked together and hands caressing your bodies gently. your legs were wrapped around his waist as he pressed you against the pond’s edge, taking his time with you as the stars faded from view.

#hardcase #clone trooper hardcase #hardcase is precious #hardcase x reader #clone trooper hardcase x reader #star wars reader insert #star wars fanfic #star wars imagines #star wars the clone wars #star wars #jj writes things

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lady-daydream · 4 years

Text

My Weird/Amazing Experience while playing Fallout New Vegas

Falling in love with Victor the robot's accent - and then showing my boyfriend who agreed he loves Victor.

pressed up against a mountain walls moving sideways while in stealth as I successfully sneak past quarry junction all while humming the mission impossible song (idk how I survived)

Me and Boone killing everyone in the legion camp, due to the fact I wanted the dog brain for rex’s mission, however when I was at the camp I said fuck it and killed them all anyway.

My chaotic ass’s reaction to picking up a chainsaw while doing this ^. (my melee was super low so I literally only was enjoying it for the chaotic energy)

My brother and I argued for 25 minutes over whether or not I should kill Benny after finding him tied up in Caesars fort. This included arguments such as “I shouldn't kill him, I'm trying to do a good karma run - my character is literally called Zadkiel, which means angel of mercy” “ soooooo….. Benny is a little bitch, kill him- you got the chainsaw, use it ” - please note I did let him go much to my brothers disappointment.

Running through the boomers defences without reading the note, just taking a shit ton of medicine every five seconds because I have one brain cell that I share with my companions

Being jump scared by a burnt Mormon mummy reading psalm 137, and being overwhelmed by suddenly being read scripture that I recoiled physically and didn't listen to it. When he asked did I know what he was trying to say the option “ I'm guessing you're pretty pissed” seemed very fitting. I had to go back to a previous save cause I did wanna understand what he was actually saying. Just the suddenness caught me very much off guard.

Realising that my trend of companions and loved characters consisted of - snipers, sad angsty boi’s, guns for hire and a tunnel snake.

Returning to the quarry with Boone and Rex armed with 5 stimpack and a rocket launcher at three at night in real life because I thought I could handle it before I went to bed.

Having to save very frequently while doing this ^

Being jumpscared by the deathclaw mother who had attacked Boone while I took out the Alpha deathclaw. I saw the notification that Boone was unconscious, turned around to have a deathclaw jump from behind a big piece of .machinery and rush me I had a rocket launcher equipped at the time…. And an itchy trigger finger. I survived on 10 hp.

Sniping ‘Pacer’ the King's right hand man while crouched in the corner of a crowded room because I wanted to complete a mission and it said I was hidden, only to snipe his head clean off and have it fall on his lap. And then somehow have the king killed in the progress. Without me shooting another shot?

Going to cottonwood cove with Boone, while I had the mark of Caesar, however I was also vilified after getting it. When I got there my dumb ass thought it was because Boone had attacked someone as he was leaving. So I redid this a few times without Boone only to discover I couldn't go speech to Caesar anymore…..so I killed all the legions there with Boone. Just cause I was annoyed.

I love Ulysses, I truly do, and I love dialogue heavy anything within games (I have played Vampyr, The wolf among us , life is strange eg). So I don't mind being info dumped and I would definitely say I'm a pretty patient person. However, when Ulysses stole Ed-e from me, I have never got to an objective as fast as I did, as well as skipped map markers and dialogue. And what makes it even better is that I hadn't had Ed-e as a companion before until the dlc just cause I never focused on repair or science skills. But in that moment I became a protective mother hen I swear, and was ready to kick Ulysses ass I swear.

I call Ulysses melee weapon Karma just cause I enjoy the thought of my character hitting people with it, while saying “karma hurts like a bitch”

I saved up for ages with the limited time I can play in order to get a sniper rifle. And then doing it again to get one for Boone. Who then lost it when we went into one of the casinos. However after the lonesome road dlc. I'm pretty sure Ed-e was carrying 10 sniper rifles that I had hoarded

My greedy ass refused to accept that I couldn't steal all 37 bars of gold and trap Elijah in the vault. So me and my bf spent an hour, repeating it until we did it.

Killing Cassidy for the birds of a feather quest only to have my bf judge me for happily taking the 350 caps. (he prefers Skyrim however refuses to kill any companion ever). In my defence, I didn't really get to know her character. And in my next playthrough I will learn more about her but honestly at the time I really didn't mind.

Just for a little context. I started playing Fallout 3 years ago starting with Fallout 4. I enjoyed it a lot however comparing the graphics, I was hesitant to play any other fallout game. I had tried to pick up fallout 3 once or twice but never got past the vault. However a year later (and after watching callmekevin play fallout 3 - which was the most hilarious shit I had watched in a while) I picked it up and enjoyed. However I didn't enjoy it as much as fallout 4. Then I got recommended fallout New Vegas. And I only picked it up cause a few people knew gave it extremely high praise. And ow boy. where they right. I became my favourite. This game is a chaotic dream and I love it.

Please Share your amazing/weird experiences play this game cause honestly I cant get enough.Hope you have an amazing day. Love you all xxxx <3

#fallout nv #Fallout #fallout new vegas #fallout boone #fallout ed-e #fnv #fallout lonesome road #honest hearts fnv #fnv dead money #fnv honest hearts #fallout ulysses #callmekevin #fallout cassidy

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rewrite-canon · 4 years

Text

Fifteen Minutes

Monster Prom // No Pairings // 2609 Words // Lyrics by Mike Krol

“What if I told you that the world was gonna end? And you had fifteen minutes to spend with me or your friends?” Vicky sings, bobbing her head to the tune that seemed to be playing in her head.

“What lame shit are you singing now?” Damien demanded, flicking a finger at her.

“None of your business,” Vicky bristled. “Why do you care anyway?”

I sucked in a breath. Vicky was really pushing it now. I think she is the only one with balls low enough to question Damien. Besides me, obviously. Well, Vera and Brian were plenty badass for it too. But only because Vera had enough brain cells to manipulate the way she said it that it looked like she wasn’t confronting him, and also because Brian gave no fucks whatsoever about Damien’s chaotic behaviour. Even now, I shudder to think of some of the arguments Damien and Brian had had.

And speaking of the devil and his green mates, they were huddled together in a manner that only meant no good. Now, Damien had swivelled around to face Vicky, a sneer on his face. I was sure his eyes would flare in rage at her question (they were always somewhat flared with rage), but instead they narrowed and Damien just frowned.

“Because you're distracting me, Brian and Vera from devising a plan to ransack the new substitute’s office with horny epileptics from hell for when he starts looking at our attendance records,” Damien said, gesturing to Brian, who had looked up blankly, and Vera, who was wearing her trademark scowl.

I should've known. Damien had always had a weird soft spot for Vicky (and Oz and Scott, but everybody had a soft spot for Oz and Scott).

“And steal his things,” Vera added. “I heard ghouls were filthy rich.”

“Great,” Brian rolled his eyes sarcastically at her. “So you're just going to waltz into Mr Devido’s office whilst he's being assaulted by epileptic demons and take your time picking and choosing what's valuable enough for your standards, unaware? Great plan, Vera. I thought you were supposed to be a grand schemer.”

Meanwhile, Vicky went back to humming her little tune. Miranda, who was in the middle of braiding Liam’s hair as he was browsing his phone (a seemingly pure act, if you ignored the fact that he was reading erotic gay smut and she kept rambling on her father’s new murderous conquests), looked up at her and smiled warmly. She soon picked up the few words Vicky sang, and began to sing it too, Liam then unconsciously murmuring them too after a while.

“I am, you ungrateful toad,” Vera snapped in the meantime. “Would you be paying attention to anything else around you if you were being grinded on by demons having seizures?”

Brian seemed to mull it over, then he said, “You’ve got a point.”

Polly, who had her head laid in Oz’s lap (poor Oz was trying to do homework, and ignore the heinous acts his friends were planning to commit) and her feet were resting in Scott’s lap (Scott was just chewing on a football, only to stop, look up, and smile adorably at everybody) and was complaining loudly at how bored and sober she was, and how she hadn't got completely wasted in seven hours.

“Seven hours!” She cried out, either to Oz or Scott, but it might as well of been no one, because no one was really listening. “That's the longest I've ever been without drugs and adrenaline coursing through my undead body! Can you imagine? And it's because I'm hanging out with you borings fuckheads. I mean, I'm literally in the lap of somebody doing fucking homework. I haven't even said the word ‘homework’ in centuries. And I'm not even on Oz’s lap in a sexual way so what even is the fucking point–?”

“–And you had fifteen minutes to spend with me or your friends?”

<!— more —>

“What the fuck are you singing?!” Damien roared at Liam, who jerked in alarm, Miranda, who just grinned evilly, and Vicky, who just rolled her eyes at his drama. “It’s going to make me go insane!”

“More insane than you already are?” I prompted, not being able to help myself.

Damien’s scorching eyes turned to me, and I snickered. He’s so easy to piss off.

“Amira,” he growled at me, “tell Vicky and company to shut the fuck up. They respect you for some reason.”

“It’s because she has really fucking good music taste,” Polly answered for Damien. “Like, it’s seriously good.”

Everyone collectively nodded, and I blushed.

“Wow guys,” I said, feeling this was a good time to talk about Rex Orange County’s new album, “it’s not that–”

“What would you guys do if you had fifteen minutes left in life?” Scott blurted, a troubled (yet absolutely adorable) expression on his face.

“I'd probably try to fuck up the world even more,” Polly said immediately, grinning at the thought. “I think I'd try to burn down everything, spray some secret concoction to get people incredibly horny, watch them get at it as they're burning to death, and I plan to do this all while riding a donkey casually.”

“To be honest, I'd probably try to finish this first and foremost,” Liam said, holding up his phone. Then he smiled goofily. “This shit is good.”

“Would you spend it with me and friends?” Scott said, wide-eyed.

Polly and Liam looked at him, at his vulnerable face, and I knew what they were going to say before they said it.

“Of course!” Polly said enthusiastically. “Yeah, doing all that with you guys would make it even more rad!”

“Yeah,” Liam added, but then blushed in that cute, shy way. “But I don’t know how much you guys would love reading this with me.”

“I’d love doing everything with you both,” Scott grinned, his mood instantly picking up, as Polly choked at the statement. He then turned to look at Damien and Oz.

“How about you two?” Scott queried, and I laughed a bit about how Damien’s face scrunched up as he started to think about. No doubt he was using his maximum brain power.

“To be honest, I’m probably the one who is ending the world,” Damien remarked, and everyone started to nod their heads in agreement. “So, sorry about that in advance.”

“I’d probably have to finish this Monsters' History homework first,” Oz said, gesturing awkwardly at his essay he was writing out, “and then I’d probably straighten up all my debts and then–”

“Oh my Satan, Oz, shut it,” Damien said, massaging his temples, as if Oz’s statement caused him physical harm. “It makes me sad, that you would say that. And it also makes me impeccably annoyed with you. And now I feel hostile.”

“When do you not feel hostile, though?” Vicky and I said at the same time, and then we grin at each other and high five.

Damien glared at us, whilst Oz is quick to defuse the fire.

“Well, sorry Damien, but I'm just being honest,” he said quickly, drawing Damien’s attention to him (which is kinda ballsy, if I do say so myself). “But what I do know,” Oz continued bravely, under Damien's smouldering gaze, “is that I wouldn't mind ending the world with you, Damien.”

It's hilarious, seeing Damien’s naturally red face get even redder, and to see Oz realise what he just said and sputter innocently. Vera, however, is not pleased.

“Oh,” she said, sniffing in jealous offence (that takes me all the willpower I possessed not to burst into giggling fits, and I could see I wasn't the only one struggling there, because Polly was just barely keeping it down), “I see how it is. You would destroy the world with Damien, but not with me, Oz?”

“What? No! Of course I would want to do everything with you–” and then Oz’s voice died and Polly finally lost it, which made me burst as well, and the next thing you know Vicky was also giggling along with us. Even Brian seemed to be smirking.

Vera glared at us, which made Vicky and me shut up, and Brian just lost his amused expression naturally, but Polly was undeterred.

“For the record,” Damien said in a weird, insecure, shy tone that made him sound like an entirely different person. “I don't, you know, mind doing homework or whatever nerdy stuff with you, Oz.”

And now Brian was the one sputtering.

“Oh you fucking snot,” he spat, and both Damien and Oz flinched before they could get any more flustered (watching those two try to interact and connect was the funniest shit ever, everyone agreed). “So when I asked for you to hang out with me when I was doing my homework, do you remember what you told me? You told me to get fucked!”

Was it just me, or did Brian genuinely sound hurt? It must've not only been me, because Scott started to pout and put a gentle (albeit big and hairy) hand on Brian’s shoulder, which at least made Brian relax at his touch a bit (if anyone had the power of friendship at their fingertips, it was Scott). Even Liam looked up, vaguely distraught.

“That was only because you had Liam and Miranda over,” Damien, sniffing indignantly. “And if I went, I knew you wouldn't stop making heart eyes at Miranda, so I blew it off to commit tax fraud with Amira. But if you really wanted me to come, then you should've just, you should've just–”

Damien looked at a loss.

“Told him how you really felt?” Vicky prompted, and Damien snapped his fingers.

“Yes!” He exclaimed. “That.”

“What would you do then, Brian and Vera? If you had fifteen minutes?” Miranda asked this time, her eyes shining with curiosity.

“Spend all the millions I’ve earned to hire a gang and assassinate anyone who had ever crossed me,” Vera said without hesitating. “Then, I shall have them skinned and made into fabulous purses. And then I will sell those purses to earn me even more money, and use that to buy us all really expensive, furnished mansions, with servants and multicultural cuisines and everything, so we can live the rest of our lives in absolute luxury.”

Awww. That was actually quite adorable. Vera cares about our lifestyles too!

“And you plan to do this all in fifteen minutes?” Liam asked, deadpan.

“You'd be surprised at how efficient I am,” Vera sniffed, but I didn't think I'd actually be that surprised.

“Definitely not hang out with Damien,” Brian sniffed sourly after Vera had shared. “I guess try to finish off ransacking the new substitute’s office with horny epileptics with Vera. And then, I don't know. Relax and await my death.”

“Well, that's fucking depressing,” Polly murmured to me. “And I didn't know I was capable of getting depressed.”

I snorted. Was she still astounded about how somber Brian was?

“Wouldn't you still have to hang out with Damien to continue your plan with the horny epileptics, though?” Liam asked.

“Well, yeah, fine,” Brian said, not making eye contact with his demon friend (who was trying to make eye contact with him, and honestly, it was shocking how much Brian and Damien got into their own squabbles). “But I don't have to talk to him. That can be Vera’s job.”

“I'm not being your owl!” Vera hissed at him, and she actually hissed. Her small green snakes on her head did too, showing how much she detested the idea.

“What if you were paid?” Miranda queried, probably just out of curiosity, but Vera’s hissing ceased immediately.

Before Vera could discuss any specifics, Vicky butted in.

“I’ve thought about this one,” she said smugly, and no one was surprised. Number one, Vicky had thought about scenarios for everything. And number two, she probably would've thought of this before if she knew the song beforehand. “I would make it my life's goal to find the tastiest flavour of ice cream in all the dimensions! And once I find that ice cream, I will use a device that I would have Calculester make me, that clones the ice cream! And then I will bring all the ice cream back to this dimension and invite all of you guys over and we can eat the ice cream together!”

Everyone seemed to enjoy that idea, except one frowning ghost.

“Um, hello?” Polly asked, raising a hand and gesturing to herself. “Did you forget about me?”

“Of course not!” Vicky exclaimed emotionally. “Caculester is now working on a device that makes food into incorporeal substance that you can digest, Polly. Because, seriously, it breaks my heart that you can't eat. It really does.”

Polly seemed satisfied enough with that answer.

“How did you get Calculester to do that for you?” I ask.

Vicky winked. “Let's just say I turned on my unwavering charm to that library computer. And he didn't stand a chance.”

“If I had fifteen minutes left, I would want to be coronated,” Miaranda said, poshly. “I would invite you all to my coronation, of course. And then once I am mermaid queen I will throw an amazing national party for all of us to enjoy, whilst forcing my endless numbers of slaves to fight each other to the death for our entertainment! Oh, I can see it all coming together!”

Miranda’s expression turned dreamy, which was cute but also quite disturbing since she was thinking about bloodshed. Damien started to nod in approval, though. He seemed to like the idea. Bloody royals.

“I would want to take all of you to the park, where we can have a picnic, and hold hands, and give each other gifts to show how much we care for one another!” Scott said, his tail wagging happily. “And then we can sing songs and die happy with each other, knowing that we love us!”

Scott was so adorable, everyone looked misty-eyed. Vicky leapt up to wrap her arms around Scott, her affection for him seeming to be too overwhelming for her (Scott didn't complain, though). Brian was smiling, and seemed to forget about his brief argument with Damien, because now they were both grinning at each other. Liam was even beaming.

“Ew,” Vera finally said. “I can't believe you all liked that.” She pointed a finger at Scott. “Say that again and you will give me diabetes. I just hope you know that.”

But we all knew she secretly liked the sodding friendship story Scott came up with.

“What's diabetes?” Scott said, bushy eyebrows creasing.

“How about you, Amira?” Oz piped up, and all eyes were suddenly on me. “You haven't said what you would do.”

I mulled it over for a bit, but then spoke up without there being much mental contest.

“Probably make you all listen to the new Rex Orange County playlist,” I said, and Vicky and Damien sniggered.

“You're so predictable,” Vicky giggled.

“What can I say?” I shrug, breaking into a smile too. “My reputation precedes me.”

We all sit there in contented silence for a bit, just enjoying and treasuring one another.

“There's just one problem,” I said, drawing everyone's attention again. “How would we plan to do all of what we all want to do in fifteen minutes? Seems impossible.”

Brian started to smirk, and then Miranda started to smile, and soon Polly was also grinning.

“We’d figure it out,” Brian said. “I bet we would. We've already done so many impossible things in our weirdass lifetimes.”

I shared a smile with him.

“Yeah,” I said finally. “Fifteen minutes is nothing for us.”

#monster prom #mike krol #fifteen minutes #just a lil somthing i whipped up #oneshot #damien lavey #miranda vanderbilt #polly geist #scott howl #oz #oz monster prom #liam de lioncourt #vera oberlin #brian yu #vicky schmdit #amira rashid #calculester hewlett packard #second term

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pumpkin-spice-whump-latte · 5 years

Text

Whumptober #13: Adrenaline

I didn’t think I was going to write this till I wrote it, and I think that’s pretty neato. Ben and Carlos just bein’ bros.

Just bros being bros.

I gave Carlos my anxiety disorder but today Ben gets to have a taste because I love my sons. Content includes: panic attacks, caretaker being whumped (because let’s face it, Ben’s the caretaker, he’s always been the caretaker), and everyone’s favorite racehorse: medical torture.

--------------------------

Ben was still shaking when he was finally allowed back into his cell. Shaking and sweating, his chest too tight and never enough air to fill it, he tried to calm himself down by counting his blessings.

One: He could still walk on both legs. Two: He was not glowing with radiation or covered in temporary lizard scales or whatever mutated effect the scientist’s whim was to inflict upon him that day. And three (and this he thought was most important) he was sharing a cell now with Carlos.

They hadn’t asked for it in particular, it had just sort of seemed to happen. When Dr. Tillman was done with his “lab rat” for the day he shoved him in with his other pet experiment. Ben was just fine with that. Not sure why it was being allowed or if this was simply another experiment--just of the psychological kind--but he wasn’t the type to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Carlos pushed off the floor and was by his side in a moment, arms trying to support him when Ben’s knees felt too much like jelly to support themselves. Everything felt like he was on the edge of a very steep cliff and he might fall down to his death if he wasn’t careful. But he wasn’t on a cliff, he was leaning against his only friend in the world right now, and he had no idea how to convince his body of that fact.

“Fuck, dude. What he do this time?” Sometimes Ben didn’t answer. Sometimes he couldn’t answer, the memory of needles and wires and leather straps still like a raw, open wound. But this time he could. Even if his voice shook as much as his hands did.

“Th-there was– Inj-jected me with– Adrenaline.” Ben hated saying it out loud. It was such a little thing, compared to the horrors they’d faced before. Just a little chemical, unworthy of all this fuss. His skin hadn’t even peeled off this time. Eyes hadn’t grown in his palms. No big deal.

Carlos apparently disagreed. “What? Just straight adrenaline??? Jesus, no wonder you’re freaking out. Fuck!” There was no missing the concern in his voice, however futile it was. There was nothing they could do to stop the drug still rampaging it’s way through Ben’s nervous system like a T-Rex at a tea party. But there was outrage there too, and at least that made him feel less foolish about it all. It was a little easier to let himself be emotional and vulnerable when the person beside him was a literal powder keg of emotions at all times.

Then again it wasn’t like he had much choice.

“God… Feel like my heart’s gonna…” He gave up trying to talk at that point, curling up against Carlos’ shoulder and focusing on his breathing. He’d listened to at least two or three books on tape about meditation in other life, his life before all this, in the car on the way to work. Even tried it a few times. He tried it again now, breathing in (one, two, three, four, five) and out (one, two, three–)

Another involuntary wave of holyshiteverything’swrongi’mgoingtodie rocked it’s way up his spine, making that breath stutter along with the next one, and the next one after that. Carlos’ hands were framing his face then, trying to get him to look up at him, but his vision was blurry. “Hey. Hey, easy. Easy dude. You gotta try to calm down or you’re heart’s gonna start dancin’ like a bird on a live wire.”

Ben could only groan in response. It wasn’t that easy. If it was only the physical symptoms it might not be that bad but a normal side effect of epinephrine–the main component of adrenaline–was anxiety. The scientist had given him no less than five injections over the course of two long, agonizing hours so he was experiencing some decidedly ACUTE anxiety.

He couldn’t catch his breath, his chest felt like there were iron bands wrapped around it, his arms and face and head all felt too hot, everything was too warm and Carlos was too warm and too close–Ben needed SPACE but he also didn’t want to let go because Carlos was the only GOOD thing in the room, the only thing that didn’t HURT, and for a few terrible moments he just pressed his face into the ground, hands curled into fists in his hair, and thought about how nice it would be to die.

But then Carlos was lifting him up again. Arms guiding him to lean against his friend’s chest, and then wide, flat palms pressing against his shoulder blades. “You gotta breathe, man. You gotta breathe with me. Just follow me, okay? Feel how my chest moves.”

Ben was confused (it might have been the lack of oxygen to his brain but it might have been the fact that it was usually him guiding Carlos through a panic attack that threw him for a loop) but he tried to do as he was asked. When the other man breathed in, slow and deep and deliberate, the arms around him loosened a bit, allowing space for Carlos’ chest to expand against his without it feeling too constricting. When the other man breathed out Ben could feel the chest against his deflate like a balloon. The hands pressed against his shoulders held him tighter then, urging him to follow along with the strange full body breathing. He could feel blessedly cool air rushing out over the back of his neck, soothing against his anxiety prickled skin.

At first his racing brain and jack rabbit heart weren’t able to comply. At first he just twitched and shivered in Carlos’ arms, feeling sick and scared and like the hurricane inside him would never end. He was on fire. He would always be on fire. This was the only way he’d ever feel until his entire body burst at it’s seams and his brain leaked out from his skull.

But slowly, gradually, he started to match Carlos’ breathing. In as the arms around him got softer, out as the hands pressed steady and strong against his back. Holding him close and reminding him of the times Carlos got like this. Reminding him that the feeling eventually stopped. Didn’t it? Yeah. Yeah, he remembered now.

In: one, two, three, four, five.

Out: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven.

His arms came up and around Carlos like he wasn’t sure if he could trust this. Like he was waiting for some other shoe to drop. For anxiety to come through the walls of his brain again, Kool Aid Man style, yelling ohhh yeahhhhh and then his heart would yell oh yeah and he would explode.

But it didn’t happen. He just…

Kept breathing.

That’s all he could do for a very long while. All the while Carlos kept him in that state of limbo, unable to bring him back completely but able to keep him from falling over the edge of his mind into that deep dark place that yawned before them both some nights.

“Is… Is it always like this? For you?” Ben whispered when he could speak again.

Carlos shrugged against him. “It’s different for everyone. From what I hear. It feels really bad though, man. If that’s what you mean.”

“Yeah.” Ben let his head rest against Carlos’ shoulder. Thinking he should probably pull away now but not really wanting to. “Really bad.”

“…You okay?” Carlos thought that maybe he should pull away now too, give the man some space. But he didn’t really want to either. He felt Ben nod against his shoulder.

Well if Ben was cool with sitting on the floor in each other’s arms then Carlos was certainly cool with it. Absolutely cool.

No big deal.

#whumptober2019 #no.13 #adrenaline #panic attacks #comfort #drugs

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charity-angel · 7 years

Text

On Buns and Ovens (10/?)

[Part 1] [Part 9]

[Read on AO3] because formatting and cuts and Mando'a translations

Rex was hovering in mid-air over him, a blur of face and torso surrounded by bright light. Why was he doing that? And, more importantly, how?

“Hey, sleepy,” he said. His voice was light, but it didn’t follow through to the grave expression on his face. “How are you feeling?”

“My head hurts,” Kix mumbled. “Did I hit it?”

“Kix.” That was another vod, off to his right. Kix turned, and blinked. It looked like...

“Ryll?”

“What’s the last thing you remember?” he asked, and Kix felt a swell of pride - his boy had stepped up, and was coping well. He wasn’t even shaking. As long as he had someone to watch out for him (to make him rest when the tremors inevitably did start), he was going to thrive when he was finally allowed to take his exams.

“We were at Senator Amidala’s, with Ahsoka,” he said slowly, retaining the presence of mind not to mention a certain someone else. “General Kenobi was there, and… we were talking about this thing with Tup and the virus.”

Ryll shook his head, smiling. “Well, you remember enough to not say certain things. I know about Fives.”

“Oh.” Kix sat up slowly, thinking. “Oh! My chip’s out?”

“Knew you’d get there. So, how do you feel?”

Kix shrugged. “Apart from the hole in my head, pretty much… they took my lines out, didn’t they?”

Ryll smirked. “Try looking at it more as ‘you match Jesse’.”

Kix laughed, and ran a hand over his shorn scalp. “Yeah, true. I’m not feeling homicidal, if that’s what you mean.”

“And how do you feel about our jetiise?”

“Skywalker’s a pain in the ass, but at least he’s ours,” Kix said without hesitation. “Kenobi –“ he glanced over at Rex, who was studying his reaction with interest: “he’s insane in the field, but we can trust him with anything.”

Rex grinned, which was more than a little bit in relief.

Ryll made a couple of notes on his pad. “You feel like killing either of them?”

Kix wanted to glare, but he knew that was something they desperately needed to check. “Not currently. We’ll see how I feel next time they next do something idiotic. Why? Oh, you think…”

He sighed and buried his head in his hands. “You think Tup’s actually did what it’s supposed to, without whatever the trigger is supposed to be.”

Rex gave him a haunted look. “I can’t think too hard about it, but you know what it is.”

He did? Kix couldn’t think what it could possibly be that would make them betray their jetiise.

“Can I see what you took out?”

“Sure,” Ryll said. “Come through to our secret lab.”

Kix eyed him carefully. “If you can make jokes like that, I’m not working you hard enough.”

“Ignore him,” Rex said to Ryll. “He gets extra cranky when he’s a patient. Come on, vod’ika.”

“I’m older than you!” Kix said indignantly.

Rex led them out of the recovery room Kix had woken up in and along a corridor to… well, as it turned out, Ryll hadn’t been joking that much: it was a medical lab. In there was Jesse and Fives, along with Ahsoka and General Kenobi, and a couple of the jetiise healers Kix had worked with before.

Ahsoka wrapped herself around him in an attack-hug, and he couldn’t help but relax into her familiar embrace.

Fives looked alert, if not somewhat pissed. Kix could appreciate that: he was getting there himself.

“My turn,” Rex said, steering Kix towards a stool between Fives and Jesse. “We’ve got three positive results – I think I’m risking more by keeping this karking thing in my head.”

“Agreed, Captain Rex,” Healer Awaraven said. “Even if we can’t work out for certain what this does, we can verify that it doesn’t do what the Kaminoans say they do.”

“Sirs, I appreciate why no-one has said about mine,” Ryll said, “and if you really think it’ll do more harm to remove it then I’ll not say anything else, but I’d rather have it out, if it’s all the same.”

“If I might,” Healer Tayla said, turning on her stool so that she faced Ryll, “the triggering of this chip might be highly detrimental to your unique neuropathology; more so than for the rest of your brothers.”

Awaraven nodded. “Quite so. We’ll remove yours as soon as Captain Rex’s surgery has been complete although, as you know, the anaesthetic is more difficult for you. Fortunately, Captain Kix has kept copious notes, and I trust his judgement.”

Rex and Ryll turned to head out with the two Jedi healers.

“K’oyacyi,” Kix said. It wasn’t a ‘goodbye’, the standard interpretation of the phrase. Kix genuinely meant it as an instruction to them both.

“Ven’narir, vod,” Rex replied. He still looked tense, and Kix knew that wouldn’t ease now until this had been resolved.

.oOo.

Once they were gone, Kix turned his attention to Fives.

“How are you?”

Fives shrugged. “Well, I’m not tripping any more,” he said. “That’s a bright side. But, I’m freezing, I’m a fugitive, and I’m being set up.”

Kix rested a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “You’re not alone, though,” he pointed out. “We all believed you enough to go under the knife.”

“And I will continue to attempt to persuade the rest of the Council,” Kenobi added.

“I’m not sure there’s much point, sir,” Kix said. “Not if the Sith can mess with their heads like I think he can.”

Kenobi met his eyes. “I hate to have to agree, but it does seem like the only reasonable explanation.”

“It makes perfect sense,” Ahsoka growled. “It’s scary that someone could be that powerful, but…”

Kenobi’s gaze was on Kix, but it wasn’t uncomfortable.

“You want to know where I was going with my thoughts when I blacked out?”

Kenobi nodded. “I do. I have a suspicion: I want to see whether you have reached the same conclusion.”

“Someone in the Senate, with enough power to pull strings with the army? Someone high enough up to feed intelligence to the Seppies? There’s really only two people powerful enough to even consider and, well, the Chancellor could be a puppet, but if Dooku and Ventress are anything to go by, the Sith are an egotistic, megalomaniacal lot. The head bad guy isn’t going to hide behind someone else. He’d just hide in plain sight instead, gathering enough power to take over everything.”

Kenobi was nodding, and Ahsoka looked horrified. Fives didn’t appear surprised (and no wonder – he was lucky to be alive!). Jesse – for once, Kix was struggling to read him.

“But… Skyguy’s friends with him.”

“That’s why he isn’t here, isn’t it?” Jesse asked, his voice lacking any inflection. “Because you suspected, and his head’s probably been messed up more than ours.”

Kenobi nodded sadly. “The pieces do seem to fit, don’t they? But it’s taken this unfortunate event to allow those pieces to slot into place, for some reason. I suspect that this was not part of the Chancellor’s – Lord Sidious’ – plan. Whatever spell he has cast over us to stop us from seeing has come apart slightly.

“And yes, Jesse, you are absolutely correct: I have kept this from Anakin on purpose, precisely because he is close to… to Sidious. I think Ahsoka suspects why Sidious wants Anakin – there is a reason, and I’ll share it when Rex and Ryll return. I’ll have to start getting some of my troops here too, but that would look too suspicious at the moment. For the time being, Anakin is being kept busy with the search, and we will fill him in when we are certain he is not a danger to himself or others.”

Ahsoka’s lekku were bunched unhappily and Kix had absolutely no idea what to say to help her process this. That their boss, the head of the army, was the Sith Lord they had been searching for all this time – that their general was friends with him – was a bit too much to take.

“Come on, show me what this is all about,” he said, in a blatant attempt to change the subject.

Kenobi reached over and picked a slide off the workbench. He handed it over wordlessly. Kix held it up to the light: it didn’t look like much, just any old sample that the healers here could have been examining: a couple of cells deep and smaller than his thumb.

“The healers can tell you the specifics,” Jesse said when Kix lowered it, baffled, “because there were words that went over my head, but best they’ve been able to describe it to us is that this disrupts the part of our brains that makes us us, and turns us into flesh droids. We’d follow orders, and eat, sleep and shit, but nothing else.”

“One order, specifically,” Fives added darkly. “Contingency Order Sixty-Six.”

Kix had to think that one over because, while he had learned the contingency orders, he had had more important things to fill his brain with instead, like how to make his brothers not die. And he had a Jesse for that kind of thing.

“They’re the ridiculous, worst case scenario orders, aren’t they? The ones that cover things like who takes command if the Chancellor is unfit for duty, or eliminating an asshole via mass-execution, or handling a bio-attack, or…”

“Or if that waste of oxygen decides that the Jedi are ‘acting against the Republic’,” Jesse concluded. “Yeah, that’s the one.”

“But, one the plus side, if we can get someone to initiate one of the Orders to remove him from office, he can’t give Order Sixty-Six,” Fives added.

“I’m all for Order Sixty-Five myself,” Jesse said bitterly. At Kenobi’s questioning expression, he quoted: “‘In the event of either (i) a majority in the Senate declaring the Supreme Commander (Chancellor) to be unfit to issue orders, or (ii) the Security Council declaring him or her to be unfit to issue orders, and an authenticated order being received by the GAR, commanders shall be authorised to detain the Supreme Commander, with lethal force if necessary, and command of the GAR shall fall to the acting Chancellor until a successor is appointed or alternative authority identified as outlined in Section 6 (iv).’”

Their jetii looked faintly horrified.

“Order Sixty-Six is pretty much the same, only it’s less vague about lethal force,” Kix said. “I get why they’re so angry. Give me some time and I’ll probably get there too.”

“There are a few contingencies that can be used to remove the Chancellor from power,” Fives said. “Order Sixty-Five is the most extreme, but it’s probably also the best one, because ‘acting Chancellor’ is a vague idea at best. Order Four throws command to the vice chair, and he’s probably a puppet, and you’d have to ‘incapacitate’ the bastard; Order Five goes to the Chief of the Defence Staff, and xe’s probably no better.”

Kenobi blinked. “Sidious gave you three different ways he could be removed from control of the army, just to hide an order about the Jedi?”

“Fives is right, though,” Kix pointed out. “Given how manipulative the Sith are, even if we removed him from power somehow, his replacements are likely to just be proxies. At least an acting Chancellor has to be nominated diplomatically and, good as he is, I don’t think he could get to everyone in the Senate. If someone like Senator Amidala or Senator Organa was nominated, we’d be absolutely fine.”

“Until they get assassinated by a Sith,” Jesse pointed out. Well, wasn’t he just a total ray of sunshine today?

“Well,” Kenobi said, decisively, “we shall just have to make sure that doesn’t happen. Now, failing an overall majority in the Senate, did you say it was the Security Council we have to convince?”

[Part 11]

#star wars #clone wars #swtcw #tcw #kix #jesse #rex #ryll #ahsoka tano #attack hug #fives #obi wan kenobi #order 66 arc #padmé's pregnant #and all is not fluff and sunshine #on buns and ovens

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nickywaynewood-blog · 6 years

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‘One of my housemates travels through time - it’s weird’

He doesn’t seem to think much of it though - but then again, he also didn’t think much of it when Pope Urban II called the Fifth Crusade in our kitchen.

One of my other housemates is two men in a cow costume (but Justin (my time travelling housemate (Actually he’s not my housemate, I technically own a different flat, I don’t pay rent here)) insists that it’s a real cow), another is my Dad (who died 10 years ago (At least, he says he’s my dad but he’s trapped in the body of a baby)), and the last is just a really chill dude (his name’s Nick, by coincidence (my name’s Nicola)).

Those parenthese weren’t strictly necessary, but I’m starting to feel like everything that happens to me is embedded in some larger clause that I’ve lost track of somewhere along the way.

It started when I moved in with Justin. At first, it was pretty normal, but after about 20 minutes, a shoe cupboard filled with island natives burst into the living room and started trying to hack me into pieces. The strangest part was, I had put my shoes in there when I got in, and hadn’t seen them. I really don’t remember how I got out of that one.

My first encounter with Daisy the Two Men in a Cow Costume was when Justin was explaining how alternate timelines work and describing the highly, highly varied repercussions of the butterfly effect while he gave me a tour of the house. We walked in on her trying to use the bathroom; I say her as opposed to them in this context because the way she was positioned seemed very much like how I’d expect a real cow would attempt to use a toilet (Not that I would go into a situation like that with many expectations). I ended up getting quite attached to her - which was a shame, because I was the one with the shotgun when she contracted foot and mouth a couple of years back.

When I arrived last October I was fresh out of Uni with a Masters in Biomed from Oxford, and a week so full of job interviews I barely had time to think. When I finally got to the first one (six months later), toxicology didn’t seem all that important to me any more. Fortunately the voice of my father in the back of my head, which had pushed me to work as hard as I did, was now coming out of a baby, and as such, had lost a little of its gravitas.

Since then, I’ve spent the majority of my time hosting the things Justin brings back from the ruins of alternate timelines, trying to stop them destroying the house, or the world. It probably sounds like I spend all my time galavanting through the past and future, but honestly the majority of it is disease control. It’s kind of boring, but as it turns out, if you go dragging people over from a world ravaged by no-legs plague, you risk an outbreak of no legs. I’ve had to stem the tide of purple-ear-lobe-delight, pointy-finger-surprise, instant-death, cactus-for-eyes, can’t-stop-barfing-oh-god-why-can’t-I-stop-barfing and a handful of ones where people burst. Oh and sorry about swine flu, that’s on me.

That said I do get more than my fair share of interesting surprises, like take earlier today for example (I’m fairly sure it was today), when we were at breakfast. I opened the fridge to find a human head nested between a bag of frozen peas and the fish fingers. I queried it with Justin, who was perched at our kitchen counter with some cheerios. He tilted his head over to get a proper look and informed me, “Oh, that’s Walt Disney.” before returning to his cereal.

“Yeah, surprisingly that isn’t actually an answer to my question.” He gave a little shrug and didn’t finish his mouthful to let me know, “Well I don’t know, it’s probably there for a good reason though, just leave it.”

“Justin, it’s on the ice tray.”

“Just wash it.”

And then there’s whatever is going on in the basement. If you were to pull open the old door beneath the stairs you’d be welcomed with a chorus of throaty singing, and a woman's anguished cries while someone chants, “He hath returned for us! Now get the balloons!” At this point Justin or I would drag you out and slam the door on a chorus of “aww” from the depths below. We should probably get a lock for it, or have the place fumigated. Plus whenever someone sleeps on the couch they spot hooded figures sneaking into the kitchen for snacks. Whether they’re related, I don’t know.

So what questions are people bound to ask? Furthest back I've ever been with Justin? That's probably the time we had to go dinosaur hunting. At one point in time Justin really thought it was a good idea to hire a warehouse downtown to keep Fred in (A T-rex which some future or past version of himself had thought would be a good idea to keep as a pet). When it came to feeding Fred, the best plan Justin had was to hunt and kill a handful of triceratops and anatosaurus from 70 Ma. So inevitably, despite my own great disapproval I might add, we sauntered back to the cretaceous period with a high powered rifle, and started trying to bag us a meal. As you might expect, Fred only stuck around for a day. As it turns out T-rex’ aren't of the disposition to hang around quietly in cramped warehouses, preferring people-eating rampages. If only we'd known he'd eat people before, we wouldn't have had a problem.

Furthest forward in time? Honestly not all that far; it seems to be inevitable, regardless of what the pair of us do, that if you go more than about thirty years into the future humanity has been conquered by the Xit’Greb. Unfortunately the only technology they’ve worked on is for the express purpose of aiding the removal and consumption of human brains. This is assuming, of course, that when they arrive humanity hasn't already been wiped out by the machines (It usually doesn’t happen unless the love affair between Larry Page and Tim Cook makes front page news. Don’t ask me why).

Since last October, I’ve seen a drastic increase in a few of things; occasions on which someone else very nearly (or in fact did) die, occasions on which I very almost (or in fact did, according to Justin) die, and the weird insects that won't stop making nests anywhere they get the opportunity. It wouldn't be so bad, but they've evolved to look like tiny toy cars (I’ve been trying to think what evolutionary advantage ‘looking like a toy car’ could have for an early insect; I’ve so far got a fairly solid hypothesis. It revolves around Justin (who has yet to start on this operation), pheromones, the CEO of Hasbro, and a Toyota Corolla. Though why he would carry it out, I’ve no idea.) I've got spray for the bugs, but they always seem to come back. I'm also beginning to get nervous that one of my Dad's collectibles is an imposter.

I’ll try to explain how all the time jumping happens without altering the history of the world into some dystopian nightmare. I’m still fuzzy on the details, but I’m pretty sure Justin never bothered to understand how it works himself (I’m still toying with the idea that I lost my mind over my final exams, and am currently sitting in the corner of a padded cell). Every time Justin goes back in time, a new timeline is created, and when he leaves he goes back to the one he came from. This way he abandons one reality, leaving them with whatever situation he brought about, and the future he goes back to is completely free of his influence. This leaves him completely unaccountable for his actions (I did a Philosophy module at Uni, and I’m pretty sure that’s not how ethics works).

It becomes hard to pick out individual stories after a point. They all end up blending into one five year period of utter lunacy, half of them still haven’t happened, but the results are evident in the state of the flat and the memories of those who inhabit it. My most coherent memory is the time I spent three months in the ranks of Attila the Hun’s army because Justin forgot where he left me. I have to say they were pretty alright guys, I could have done without the heart eating, but hey, when in Rome. I wonder if Ernac missed me? Perhaps that's a romance better lost to history.

Three men smelling overly cologned just came in and asked me to direct them to the newborn babe, so I think I'd better go get that sorted before they find my father and lose their minds. In the meantime if anyone has any questions, please fire away.

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pen-masta · 7 years

Text

Peace and Coffee Part 4

Aaaaaaaaand complete!

1 2 3 4(Complete)

The tension and awkwardness leaves after that; things go back to the way they were. Joy flies back to the Philippines shortly after New Years and it stings to watch her leave again. But he counts down the months until her return. Martha moves in with him shortly after he moves out his parents’ house, but because the house is so big she claims her own room instead of sharing his.

Castel is happy and the more time he spends with Martha the more he starts to love her. The more he loves her the more dreams he has about her rather than Joy—to his relief. Even though he’s moved he still goes to the Curtis house for his weekly video chat with Joy. She tells him about the kids she gets to work with, the projects they are doing, she even shows him a short video one of her Peace Corp friends took of a celebration the village was having. It was a big feast and some of the locals were playing music and everyone was dancing, including Joy. She really looked like she was enjoying herself.

He tells her about new inventions he’s creating, new products he’s marketing. He bounces ideas off of her—something he can’t do with Martha—and he even attempts to show her his latest invention after he finished it after working on it for forty-eight hours straight. But something locks up and it ends up blowing up in his face, causing her the shriek before laughing. Her laughter is shortly followed by a good nature scowl on his part before he starts laughing at himself.

He really misses her, it’s really difficult not having her around. Martha just wasn’t into the same things as Joy was. So the frog hunts end permanently, cloud racing stops, weekly movie nights comes to a halt, and using Walmart as a playground is nearly forbidden. “You have a reputation now sweetheart,” she had said to him. “Can’t have people thinking you’re a little kid.”

He didn’t mind too much all that stuff was replaced with something else. Like big dinner parties, fun raves, picnics by the lake, and movie premiers at theaters. Martha was always getting invited to parties and she’d always take him saying it’d be good publicity if he was seen out having ‘adult’ fun. Things are really different with Martha…but a good different, a different he’s starting to grow fond of.

It’s weird when his birthday passes and Joy isn’t there. Martha convinces him to throw a big birthday bash and she invites so many people he can’t even remember all their names. His family comes and he spends more time with his brothers than the strangers he knows as Martha’s friends. He misses Joy. He misses having a frosting fight once he’s blown out his candles…but it’s okay. It gets easier though, especially since Joy had asked him to watch the Bachelor and take notes for her. Doing something for Joy felt good, it felt like she wasn’t so far away—no matter how mind numbingly senseless the show was, he’s positive he lost twelve brain cells.

“I can’t believe you made me watch that show,” he moans and rubs his eyes. “It’s so obnoxiously scripted I can’t stand it. I’m pretty sure my IQ dropped five levels just from watching it.”

She laughs, “I don’t care I need to the scoop so spill!” She sticks her tongue out at him.

He smirks and opens his notepad flipping to the notes he took for her from last night’s show. Watching her favorite television shows and taking notes on what happens, taking pictures of the sunset over the lake, playing some new songs from her favorite artists, anything she asks he does—it makes her feel less far away. One time during one of the songs they both start dancing, sharing a dance together like they had always done since they were kids—only at a distance of eight thousand two hundred and seven miles.

He sends her letters with pictures he’s taken of family reunions, camping trips with his brothers, carnival outings with her sisters and his brothers, the family of ducks she used to draw every spring when they flew back from the winter.

“They have six ducklings now,” he tells her smiling as he watches her coo over the picture.

“Awwww,” she squeals smiling as wide as a crocodile. “Mama Maggie and Papa Vinny have little babies!” She looks up at him, “Have you named them yet?”

“Nope,” he chuckles. “Wanted to wait for you.”

“Daw ain’t cha just a sweetie!” She says with an awful country accent making both of them laugh.

After a rather bad fight with Martha he decides he needs some time away from home. He’s been spending the last few days at his parents’ house and because it’s almost the holidays again his brothers, sister-in-laws, nieces, and nephews flood the house. He’s back in his old room—which he has turned into a complete mess in the few short days he’s been there.

Angry and hurt by the vicious words Martha threw at him during their fight, he’s been drowning himself in his work. He’s been staying up working on a new project for the past few nights and ended up crashing sometime around six in the morning.

“Mail call for Cassie Cubs,” his dad smiles and tosses a box onto his stomach.

Castel murmurs and squints up at his dad, trying to come out of his sleepy stupor. He sits up slowly and moans a little when his head starts to pound—five and a half days of no sleep is not good.

“Mail? For me?” He asks groggily, his voice still sounds a little horse from the yelling he had done during their fight.

“Martha dropped off your mail kiddo,” his dad says and rubs the back of his neck. “She still seemed pretty heated, but she said and I quote ‘it’s his stuff so it’s your problem’.” He shakes his head a little, “I’m sorry you two are having one heck of a tiff.”

He shrugs, “It’s no big deal Pop. It happens, we’ll get over it.” He says and closes his eyes, man did his head hurt.

“I know you’ll work it out,” his dad smiles and pats his shoulder. “It’s almost four in the evening probably a good time to get up and start your day.” He chuckles a little before ruffling Castel’s hair. Castel whines and pushes his dad’s hand away, but smiles good naturally up at the older man. His dad smiles back and clears his throat.

“Dinner is in two hours,” he says before disappearing.

Castel smiles and looks down at the package again. He rubs his tired eyes and tries to focus on reading the return address. A huge smile break onto his face and the exhaustion is drained when he sees it’s from the Philippines. He nearly shreds the box trying to get it open and pulls out some fluffy blue fabric.

He opens it up more, getting hit with the scent of coconuts and orchids. He hums a little at the scent and smiles at the handmade blue sweater that he holds in his hands, with a winking snowman on it. He laughs and notices the little yellow note pinned to the sweater. Careful to not ruin the material he detaches the paper form the sweater and opens it.

Stay warm, Frosty! Be home soon! Merry Christmas Dork-asourus-rex!

-Jo-Jo

He smiles more and chuckles at the note. Joy would be soon…not for the holidays due to all the time she spent here last Christmas. But near the end of May she’d be home. Home for good! She’s be back permanently and never leaving the country again! He smiles and lies back, letting the sweater drape over his torso. He closes his eyes, grinning at the comforting scent the yarn she’s knitted for him holds. He yawns and curls up holding the sweater in his arms—a few more minutes of sleep won’t be so detrimental.

His nails look awful. They actually can’t be considered nails anymore in his opinion, they’re stubs. He’s been pacing so much he’s practically worn a groove into the floor. He doesn’t realize it, but ever ten seconds he checks his watch.

Mikey sits on the couch watching his little brother go through his unconscious nervous routine. Castel would sigh, cross his arms, chew at his nails for a moment before he’d uncross his arms, shove his hands in pockets, take them out again, run his hands up and down his jeans before pacing.

One, two, three, four, five, six times, he would stop push the sleeve of his sweater up and check his watch. With an exasperated expression he’d mutter inaudibly before looking at the kitchen clock to make sure his watch was right.

Seeing that it was correct, he’d tap his foot on the floor. One, two, three taps before he would start the cycle all over again. He’s been doing this same routine for the past hour—and Mikey is about to go insane.

“Dude!” Mikey articulates getting his little brother’s attention. “Can you stop?”

“Huh?” The genius asks stupidly.

“You’ve been pacing, and gnawing, and sighing for the last hour.” Mikey chuckles, “You’re wearing a groove into the floor. Can you just chill out?”

“Seriously,” Zack laughs from the kitchen. “You’re not going to make her come any faster.”

“I’m sorry,” Castel groans and runs his hands through his hair. “It’s just…she said she’s be back by three.”

“And?” Zack chuckles.

“And it’s three o’ five!” Castel says, voice cracking with an acute squeak.

Both of his brothers burst into laughter, causing Castel to blush.

“Cassie you need to relax,” Mikey smiles at his baby brother. “Just sit down, she’ll get here when she gets here alight?”

Castel sighs and nods, “Alright.”

He sits next to his brother on the couch. He crosses his arms and bounces his right leg, alternating between looking at his watch and the kitchen clock. Mikey snorts and shakes his head.

“I don’t know if you know this or not, but this is not relaxing.” Mikey smiles at Castel. “And dude it’s almost June aren’t you hot?” He asks pinching the sleeve of Castel’s sweater.

“Moman keeps the thermostat set to Antarctica,” Castel laughs. “How are you not cold?”

Mikey shrugs and Zack laughs walking over to his brothers. He plops down on the couch, sandwiching Castel between his brothers.

“You’re only wearing that because Joy made it for you,” Zack chuckles and pokes Castel’s side, earning a boyish squeak out his kid brother.

Castel narrows his eyes at his brother, “I’m wearing it because it’s cold.”

“And because Joy is coming home today,” Mikey grins and pokes Castel’s other side. He chuckles when Castel jumps and covers his sides with his arms. “And you want her to see how much you love her gift.”

“She worked really hard on this,” Castel says and looks down at the winking snowman.

He starts to contemplate changing, maybe wearing it today would give her the wrong idea. The idea that he hasn’t been able to erase the kiss from his mind—which he still hasn’t. Something that was so little and occurred so long ago still haunts him, just the thought of it still stirs up urges and feelings that cause him to blush. Thoughts that seem to grow more dark and more frequent with ever fight he has with Martha—he’s ashamed of himself. How can he continuously think inappropriately about his best friend while in a two-year relationship with another girl?

His thoughts are brought to an immediate halt when he hears a car door shut. He scrambles over Mikey to the window. Mikey yells in protest as Castel climbs over top of him, leaps off the arm of the couch, and slams into the window.

“Geez Cassie!” Mikey laughs and rubs his spot on his stomach where his brother kneed him in his hurry to get to the window.

Ignoring his brother, Castel fumbles with the blinds, yanking the strings at all angles trying to open the blinds. He growls in frustration, grabs the blinds and rips them off the window, tossing them to the floor.

“You just broke the blinds!” Zack yelps with a laugh.

“Silence!” Castel shrills and presses his face to the glass.

The window fogs up as his hot breath beats against the cool glass. A face splitting grin breaks onto his face and he leaps over the blinds, tripping over his own feet. He runs to the door, rips open the door, and runs out onto the street.

He smiles and stands on the sidewalk. She stands on the sidewalk next to her family and the taxi. She hugs her mom and sisters while her dad gets her bags out of the trunk. He breaths a sigh of relief seeing she’s alright. She’s back. She’s back! She’s back, safe and sound! He puts his hand in his pockets and watches as she hugs each member of her family. She turns and her eyes lock on him. Her eyes light up, her smile grows large and she turns to her family.

Her mouth moves and her parents both nod. She tosses her backpack down to the ground before charging towards him.

“Cassie!!” She yells before leaping into his arms.

He laughs and catches her. He smiles into her hair, feeling her legs wrap around his waist. She buries her head into his neck and hugs him tight, he holds her in his arms as if she were the only thing keeping him grounded.

“I’m sorry I think you’ve mixed me up with the wrong person,” he chuckles teasingly.

She giggles and pulls back to look at him, “Best friend.” She says and points to herself.

“Oh yes!” He grins, “I remember now!”

She giggles and hugs him again, “I’ve missed you Casanova!”

“I’ve missed you too Joy,” he smiles as his eyes well with tears.

She’s home. She’s home, finally! He smiles and sets her down back on the ground. She smiles and looks back at her family. They wave for her to go and she looks back at Castel.

“So you gonna invite me in?” She smiles.

“Of course,” he grins and walks back into his house.

She smiles and wraps her arm around his, lacing her fingers with his. When they walk inside Mikey and Zack are no longer in the living room. Castel figures they had gone upstairs to get their parents.

“You’re late,” he smirks with a teasing tone.

Joy snorts, “By like five minutes Cassie.”

“Still late,” he chuckles and she sticks her tongue out at him. As they walk into the kitchen he smiles at her, “I waited up all night you know.”

Joy smiles at him, “Well it is a long flight from the Philippians.”

He chuckles and nods. Joy giggles before stopping in her tracks. She takes a deep inhale and hums in satisfaction.

“Oh my gosh coffee!” She smiles jubilantly, “How I’ve missed coffee!”

He chuckles, “Since when do you drink coffee Jo-Jo?”

She giggles, “I don’t but I love the smell.” She smiles softly, closing her eyes, “It’s a warm comforting smell. It smells like home.”

He smiles and lets go of her hand. She opens her eyes and hops up onto the counter next to the coffee maker. He smiles and leans in front of her, with his hands on either side of her thighs. He looks her over taking in her oversized sky blue long sleeve shirt with grey sleeve, which hangs loosely to reveal the peach straps of her tank top. Underneath of the shirt are cut off jean shorts that run down her legs stopping just above her knees.

A few bug bites and cuts sprinkle her shines and calves, and mud stained tie died sneakers clade her feet that swing ever so slightly—brushing against his knees. A blue headband to match her shirt sits amongst her chocolate tresses that pull back into a high ponytail. Her caramel eyes sparkle and grin at him just as brightly as her lips do.

She looks stunningly beautiful. His stomach swirls and his heart leaps in his chest. He manages to hold his smile and hide the butterflies that beat in his gut, the sudden urge to be closer to her is overwhelming. Gosh he loves her! More than he’s willing to admit aloud…or even to himself. His heart pounds viciously in his chest and thoughts of his dreams float through his thoughts.

Those thoughts bring a smile to his face, and a single phrase rings in his head ‘he could make it real’. There’s a slight twitch between his legs at that thought, and in that moment he forgets all about Martha all he can think about is Joy. His body starts moving and despite the signals his brain is sounding off his head moves ever so slightly towards hers.

But Joy is leaning back…she’s leaning away from him. Shoot! He’s messed up! Curse him and his hormones! Oh man, he’s made her uncomfortable. He promised himself he wouldn’t do that, but he did! Gosh he’s stupid! He shouldn’t have worn he sweater, it gave her the wrong idea about his feelings for her…his still very really feelings. He needs to apologize; he need to stop all these thoughts.

He opens his mouth to start spewing an apology, when a peanut butter cookie is being shoved into his mouth. He blinks before taking the cookie out of his mouth, Joy giggles and bites into her sugar cookie. She had leaned back to reach into the cookie jar, not away from him.

He smiles, “Not even five minutes back and you’re already eating my food.”

“Not your food anymore,” she sticks her tongue out at him and he chuckles.

“Touché,” he grins. They are both quiet for a moment before he smiles at her lovingly and says softly, “I really missed you Joy.”

Her eyes soften and she grins back, “I missed you too Cassie.”

He nods and smiles, “Hey I got you a gift!” He says excitedly and bounces a little on his feet.

She laughs, “Well don’t just stand there! Go and get it boi!”

He laughs and opens the cabinet under the sink—the only safe hiding place from anyone in the house. He really kind of hide it there out of habit, and because every time he looked it he would so anxious for her to arrive home again.

He smiles at the little box in his hands wrapped in an exotic paper—black with white diamond chains, complete with a bright red bow stamped on top. He holds it out to her, “I didn’t get to see you for your birthday so I never got to give you anything.” He smiles, “So here’s a belated birthday gift.”

She grins and takes the box, “Aw Cassie you didn’t have to get me anything.”

He blushes and rubs the back of his neck, “I know but I wanted to.”

She smiles sweetly before snickering, “Never seen this wrapping paper before.” She teases, “What did you spend most of your time trying to pick out the paper alone?”

“No,” he chuckles even though she’s right. He had spent nearly an hour just standing in the wrapping paper aisle, trying to debate between the shiny paper, the plain paper, the colorful paper and so on.

She giggles and smiles down at the little box in her hands, “You’re sweet Cassie.”

He shrugs and takes down a mug from the cabinet. He knows he’s already had about four cups of coffee today trying to stay awake for her arrival, but he really just wants something to hold in his hands. He pours some coffee into his mug and smiles at Joy.

“Are you going to open it?” He smiles at her.

She stares down at the box, twirling it around in her hands looking it over. She looks up at him and smiles softly before she takes the bow off of the box and sticks it on his shoulder.

He chuckles and looks at her confused, “What cha doing J-bird?”

She sets the box down on the counter next to her and puts her hands on her knees, “You’re my present this year Castel.”

He feels his cheeks heat up and he smiles kindly at her. He chuckles and nudges her with his elbow, “I don’t think you can call me a dork after that cheesy line!”

She giggles, “But it was a gouda line!”

“I’m about feta with you,” he sticks his tongue out at her.

She laughs loudly and snorts a little which causes Castel to join in her mirth. How he missed hearing her laugh. After a moment of laughter, they both fall silent, but it’s a comfortable silence. He smiles at her lovingly so overjoyed to have her back, and she smiles at him tenderly having missed him more than she even realized.

He sips his coffee for a moment before he looks at the stairs hearing his brothers’ voices. He chuckles and turns back to Joy to speak but he’s cut off by her lips. She presses her lips firmly against his for a second or two before she pulls back smiling.

“I love you dork-a-doo,” she says softly with a sparkle in her eyes.

His brain is short circuiting trying to understand what just happened. He wants to ask her what does she mean? He wants to ask her why she kissed him? Even though it was a short sweet little peck, it’s still a kiss. He wants to ask her if this means she has feelings for him to, or if she’s just so happy to be home and with him again. He wants to ask if he should really read into this kiss, or if it was just a small innocent gesture.

But he doesn’t get the chance to, because his family comes running down the stairs wrapping Joy in an enormous group hug. His dad saying how happy he is to see she’s home safe and sound. His mom chatters on about wanting to hear all her stories and how both families were having a huge dinner together in the backyard tonight. Joy exclaims that she didn’t expect to see Mikey and Zach upon her arrival, and they both laugh saying she’s practically their little sister and they wouldn’t miss welcoming her home for the world.

Castel stands there with a stiff smile, while he screams internally. His mind races with questions and mixed emotions. He doesn’t know what to make of this and by the time the dinner is over and everyone has gone home he’s still left wondering why Joy kissed him again.

He lies in his old bed staring at the ceiling just as he did two years ago the night Joy left. He’s analyzed the situation over and over again, trying to make sense of it all. Sighing loudly and rolling over attempting to fall asleep he decides to make up his mind.

He’s with Martha now…that’s it nothing to it. He’s with Martha and nothing will change that…of course he still loves Joy. He always will, until the day he dies he will always love her as his best friend. All these feelings and thoughts he’s having for her are wrong and he needs to cast them from Joy and onto Martha. Who knows maybe he’ll marry her, can’t marry a girl while having feelings for your best friend…it’s just wrong.

He curls up more and closes his eyes as his thoughts of Joy shift to Martha. He smiles a little at the thought of marrying Martha. He crushed on her for years and now here he is dating her for two years. The girl of his dreams, his girlfriend, his love. That’s who he’s in love with, he will always be in love with her…and Joy? Joy will always be there as his best, closest, and dearest friend.

And nothing will ever change that.

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