i was ready to write the head and the heart off because i really don't like lost in my mind that much

alienslovetea  asked:

Klance 14? :)

14.  “just sit down and let me take care of you.”

Okay uhhhh… there were a few different ways this fic could have gone, but how could I resist some classic hurt/comfort? (I legit teared up this got so heckin fluffy I love it.)

Yeah this really got away from me.

Learn to Love You

Pairing: Keith/Lance
Rating: Teen
Word Count: 1459
Content Warning: injury

Find it on AO3! Or keep reading =)

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Making Sense

A SnowBaz fic for the Carry On Countdown

There was flour fucking everywhere.

“Did any of the flour get into the bowl?” Baz mused as Simon dumped another cup of the powder on the countertop, dropping a ball of dough on top and sending a cloud of flour drifting across the kitchen.

“Shut up,” Simon grinned, gingerly biting the leftover dough off of his fingers.  “Do you think we put in enough cherries?”

“We already did double what the recipe called for.”

“I know, but I want there to be cherries -”

“In every bite,” Baz finished, smiling fondly at Simon concentrating on the dough, his brow furrowing involuntarily.  Baz loved that furrow.  That furrow was only one of countless things Baz loved about Simon.

Simon turned to meet his eye, and Baz quickly dropped his gaze to the flour-covered counter.  Baz loved Simon’s eyes too much to even be able to look at them.  It was like trying to stare at the sun; he had to look away after a second, but the image was still there, stuck behind his own eyes, burnt onto his retinas.

Oblivious little fuck.

“Should I roll it thinner?” Simon asked, snapping Baz out of his thoughts.  Not that it mattered, the thoughts would carry on, like subtitles in his brain, impossible to ignore.

“It looks fine,” Baz shook his head.  “I wonder though, should we add something to them?  Like peppermint extract or something?”

“Why would we do that?”

“They are meant to be for a Christmas party…”

“So we’ll make Christmas cookies next,” Simon shrugged, “I’m not going to change the scones, they’re perfect as they are.”

Baz got an idea.  “How about we cut them with Christmas cutters?”

Simon laughed.  “The scones?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright.”

They dipped their cookie cutters in the inch-thick layer of flour that covered the counter and cut their scones into Christmas trees and gingerbread men.  They worked in silence, side by side, Baz trying to hide the bristling that occurred whenever he was close to Simon.  He still found it hard to believe that after all these years of being friends and spending time together, Simon had still never seemed to notice the effect he had on Baz.

They both reached into the flour bowl at the same time, their hands brushing.  It shouldn’t have made Baz blush, it wasn’t like they never touched each other, but Baz couldn’t help the fact that every touch felt like an electric shock, like it made his neck crawl.

The second their hands brushed, Baz fought the urge to snatch his back.  He wasn’t expecting Simon to do the snatching.

Baz peeked at Simon’s face.  The boy was staring down at the dough, but his eyes were wide and his cheeks were…

Don’t overthink it, he told himself. You mean nothing to him, not like that.

But there was that tiny voice inside somewhere that kept him hoping.  What if you do?

“Ready for the oven then?” Simon broke the silence, a little loudly for such a simple question, especially with Baz right beside him.

“Sure,” Baz replied, trying to sound light, and they transferred the dough onto the pan, sliding it into the oven and setting the timer. Baz brushed the flour dust off his hands and turned back to Simon.  “Now we wait.”

Simon had an odd expression on his face.  He stared sort of… past Baz, like he was so lost in thought that he was seeing the things he was thinking, and they were happening right behind Baz.  “What shall we do in the meantime?” Simon murmured.

“Well,” Baz watched Simon’s face, puzzled.  “We could start to clean up, I guess.”

Simon’s eyes narrowed.  “We could, yeah.”

“Did you have something else in mind?”

Suddenly Simon’s eyes met Baz’s, too quickly for Baz to look away.  He returned the gaze as coolly as he could, feeling more and more exposed with every second that dragged by.  “Something wrong?” he managed, his mouth dry.

“No,” Simon murmured, not looking away.  “Nothing’s wrong.  In fact, something’s right.  Everything’s right.”  He took a deep breath.  “Everything is… making sense.”

“R-really?”

Simon took a step towards Baz, then another.  His gaze was so intense that Baz instinctively backed up, finding that he had nowhere to go, he was already backed against the counter. “Simon,” he stammered, “what are you doing?”

“There’s…” Simon cocked his head up at Baz, now only inches away.  “There’s flour on your face.”  He reached a hand up to brush his thumb across Baz’s cheek, so softly that it felt like a butterfly’s touch.  Baz could hear his heart pounding in his ears, louder and louder and…

And then Simon reached up…

And Baz’s heart went silent.

Because Simon was kissing him.  Shyly.  On the mouth.

Baz’s eyes scrunched shut, and he went so tense that his stomach almost felt sick.

Simon dropped away from Baz’s mouth.  When Baz opened his eyes, Simon’s face was red, and his brow was furrowed again.  “I’m sorry,” he muttered.

Baz had to take a couple of breaths before he found his voice. “W-what for?”

Simon’s eyes were blurring up.  “I thought I’d figured it out,” he said, his voice cracking slightly. “I thought that you wanted… that. I guess not.”

“Did… did you want that?”

Simon squeezed his eyes shut, and a tear dripped from one of them.  “It doesn’t matter.”

“Simon,” Baz rushed to dry the tear from Simon’s cheek, not even thinking about the gesture.  “I need to know.”

For once, it was Simon who couldn’t meet Baz’s eyes.  “Yes, alright?  I wanted it, but clearly you didn’t, so let’s just forget it happened and carry on.”  His voice was hitching as he fought back tears, his breath becoming ragged.

Baz didn’t know it was possible for a heart to be broken and mended at the exact same time, but while Simon’s tears tore him apart, he felt light as air, practically giddy.  Without letting himself think about it, he leaned down and kissed the tear off of Simon’s face, letting his lips linger a second longer than they needed to.  He felt Simon’s shuddering stop in surprise.  When he met Simon’s eyes, neither of them looked away.  “Wait,” Simon breathed, “did you want that?”

Baz could barely whisper the words “God, yes” before he was crashing into Simon’s mouth again.  This time there was no hesitation, no stiffness, just a lifetime of wanting coming to a head.  

Simon’s mouth tasted of cherries and the salty sweetness of the dough he’d been sneaking the entire time.  Baz’s hands went from Simon’s face to his hair, one hand exploring the back of Simon’s neck.  Simon gave Baz’s chest a push, and before either of them knew what was happening, Baz was sitting on the countertop, Simon straddling his lap and kissing him so deeply that Baz thought he might faint.  Simon’s hands cupped Baz’s face, still pushing him back until Baz was leaning his head against the cupboards, the cold wood the only thing giving him any sense of direction.  His world was nothing but Simon, and he couldn’t hold back a moan as Simon angled his head and opened Baz’s mouth with his own.  

It wasn’t until much later, when they finally broke apart, dizzy and gasping for breath, that they realized they’d sat in the flour.

Coping - Rexobi week day 3

Here is my contribution to rexobi week! Also on ao3

Warning for depression.

It started after Echo died.

Obi-wan began noticing the little things. Each time the 212th and 501st were brought back together Obi-wan noticed something new. First was the darkness under Rex’s eyes like he wasn’t getting enough sleep. Then he let his hair grow out from its strict short buzz, not a lot, but enough to know that the usual care wasn’t there. Then there was the weight loss. It wasn’t very noticeable due to all the armor, but Obi-wan could see it. It was heartbreaking to notice.

Over the months through all of these changes Rex’s performance never flagged. He still took care of his brothers and never had any problems in the field. He just stopped caring about himself.

Obi-wan was trying to find a way to broach the topic when the next time the two battalions were together on the way to an outer rim planet for a rescue mission and an opportunity presented itself. Turned out, Obi-wan wasn’t the only one to notice the changes in Rex.

“Hello General, may I have a word?” Kix asked as he stepped in line with Obi-wan.

“Of course Kix, one should always make time for a medic,” Obi-wan smirked.

Kix huffed a laugh, “Thank you sir.” He took a short breath through his nose, “There is no easy way to say this, so I am going to just say it. Is that alright?”

“Please, continue.”

Kix took a deep breath, “I’m worried about Captain Rex, sir.” He kept his eyes on the General trying to gauge his reaction. “I have noticed his lack of sleep, self-care, and his eating has declined dramatically. I worry about him, sir, I don’t think the rest of us could handle losing Rex, he watches over us all. The situation hasn’t affected his duty so far, I’m afraid it will, and soon. He is running himself into the ground and I don’t think he knows how to stop. I briefly thought about going to General Skywalker or Commander Tano, but I don’t think he would actually tell them anything substantial. Skywalker is too heavy handed and Rex wouldn’t want to burden Ahsoka.”

Kix only saw compassion in the Jedi’s expression, “So I am coming to you; I know you two work together well. I think he might talk to you and maybe even listen.”

Obi-wan placed his hand on Kix’s shoulder, “You are a good medic and a good brother. I will have a talk with the Captain. If you could see that he is sent to my quarters later I would appreciate it.”

The medic sighed with relief, “Of course General. Thank you.”

————-

Obi-wan was pacing when the door chimed. He took a deep breath and opened the door to be faced with an armorless Captain Rex. He looked even thinner in just his under armor blacks. Obi-wan had to work harder than usual to keep his face neutral. He was glad he remembered to take off his shoulder pauldrons and gauntlets earlier.

Rex nodded, “General, you wanted to see me?”

“Yes, Captain, I did. Please, take a seat.” Obi-wan gestured into the room. “And please Rex, call me Obi-wan.”

The corner of Rex’s mouth lifted just a little and he nodded his thanks to Obi-wan. Rex paused when he realized the layout of the room. He had never been to Obi-wan’s rooms on the Negotiator before: they were much smaller than expected. There was the bed, and a single chair, and Obi-wan, who had managed to sneak by during his pause to sit in the chair.

Rex sighed and sat down across from Obi-wan, the space was so small their knees were almost touching.

Obi-wan caught Rex’s eyes,“How are you doing, Rex?”

“I’m fine, sir, really,” Rex held the contact but Obi-wan noticed the slight tremor in Rex’s hand before he clasped them together.

There was no easy way for Obi-wan to do this, so he figured he’d go straight to the heart of the matter.

“I was just thinking about Echo today and I realized how little I actually got to interact with him. I was curious if you wouldn’t mind helping me remember him better.” Obi-wan heard the tight whimper escape Rex at the mention of Echo, and tried his best to not immediately reach out and soothe the poor captain. Obi-wan didn’t need to worry the aborted movement of his hand, it went unnoticed. When he glanced up, Rex looked about ready to break into a thousand shards.

Forgetting all protocols and propriety, Obi-wan moved quickly to Rex’s side and wrapped him up in his arms. Obi-wan knew this had gone on for way too long because Rex didn’t even fight it, he just sunk into his arms, his hands gripping the front of his tunic.

Words just started tumbling out of Rex, but he had to take shuddering breaths between every other word like they were being ripped out of his chest one by one.

“I couldn’t save him, I gave him that hand print, I marked him, he was doomed then. I couldn’t save any of them. So many brothers gone because of me. Because I couldn’t keep them alive. I try so hard, but more and more of them are taken from me every day.”

Obi-wan just held him as the words subsided into quiet sobbing. Obi-wan rubbed Rex’s back in reassuring circles. He hadn’t felt this much distress radiating in the force from a single person in quite some time. He tried to even it out by sending out as much soothing calm as he could and ran his hand through Rex’s too long hair.

When Rex finally started to calm down, Obi-wan figured he should try and get Rex out of his own head. He placed his hand on Rex’s cheek and made him look Obi-wan in the eye.

“Rex, they didn’t die because of you. You did all you could for them. There is nothing more you could have done.”

Rex looked down his voice hoarse, “I- I know. I just can’t stop thinking about how I have failed so many of my brothers.”

“No. Rex, if there is anything I know about you, it’s that you are not a failure. You need to mourn your lost brothers, but you also need to take care of yourself, so you can continue to take care of all the ones you have left. If you keep going the way you are, it’s you that we are going to lose,” he brought Rex’s amber eyes in line with his own, “I can’t just stand by and let that happen. We all need you.”

Rex looked slightly confused, “We?”

Obi-wan just smiled and settled Rex’s head to his chest whispered, “Yes, Rex, we.”

Rex fell asleep quickly after that, with his head on Obi-wan’s chest holding on like it was the only thing keeping him afloat in a sea of doubt. Obi-wan remained awake for some time, just holding on. Making sure Rex knew he was still there.

Things start to get better from there. Nothing instantaneous, but Obi-wan noticed that his hair stayed at it’s regimented, shorn length from then on. If Rex didn’t exactly put on weight, he certainly stopped losing it.

Rex didn’t want to let anyone get to the depths that he had reached, so he started talking with Kix, and they contrived of a way to help the clones cope with their losses inspired by the night spent with Obi-wan. If any of them felt alone, or needed someone, everyone’s bed was open to each other. From that point on almost no clone in the 501st slept alone. This spread to the 212th and then the Wolf Pack. General Koon had the trooper’s sleeping quarters modified so the clones could all sleep together. Plo was rumored to spend most of his free time there with them.

Anytime the 501st and 212th worked together, the clones always intermingled. The battalions were already so close they were practically one unit. And during those times Rex would always go to Obi-wan. It was always the best sleep either of them got.

anonymous asked:

Deeeamus "Are you really going to leave without asking me the question you've been dying to ask me?"

70. “Are you really going to leave without asking me the question you’ve been dying to ask me?”

They were sitting in Dean’s appartment, watching 300 when Dean made the comment.

“I should grow a beard,” he said, looking at King Leonidas’ jealously. Seamus turned to look at him.

“Yeh’d look rubbish with a beard,” he remarked. Dean made a face.

“I don’t think so. I think it’d make me look distinguished.”

“Neville’s growing a beard,” Seamus commented. “Ran into him down at the pub. He definitely didn’t look distinguished.”

“Well, I’d rock it better then Neville.”

“That’s assuming yeh can even grow one. Yeh’re no Dumbledore.”

“Dumbledore,” said Dean fondly. “Now there was a man who could rock a beard. Maybe I should grow mine out like his.”

“Yeah, I’m sure Jean would love that,” Seamus said sarcastically. His friend fell silent and for a second Seamus thought that maybe he had overstepped by bringing up Dean’s boyfriend. But after a moment, Dean made the real reason for his silence clear.

“Actually, Jean and I broke up,” he said. Seamus could tell he was trying to sound casual but he didn’t quite manage it.

“Oh,” said Seamus, unsure what else he should say. “Sorry, mate.” That seemed like a safe bet, right?

Dean shrugged. “It was better for both of us.”

“Right.” 

Seamus tried to refocus on the movie, but he didn’t quite manage.

*****

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you just know.

Spoilers for 5x20 ~ Just a little (super) angsty tidbit I had stuck in my head.

It felt like drowning, rising away from the depths of the underworld. Rising away from Killian Jones.

It felt like every ocean with their bottomless depths was weighing on her chest and crushing her heart beneath immeasurable weight. Emma had lost people before, but not like this. Never like this.

As the elevator rose, the pressure suffocating her grew. Her fingers trembled with the need to somehow make the elevator turn back and bring her to him again. He was still down there. Alone, waiting, completely devastated. 

Emma felt like if she didn’t expel the agony from her body it would consume her whole. She felt like sobbing, the kind that shake your lungs and cause your eyes to ache with the tears shed. 

But she knew if she let herself breakdown, he would hear it. He would just know. 

But she couldn’t help it. She’d gotten so close. Maybe if things had been different. Maybe if they found out they were true love earlier…

It flashed before her eyes, what she could’ve had. What she had already lived through with him. Every touch of their hands, every passionate press of their lips. 

What would she do? 

The moment her mind took over her body, she was collapsing on the floor of the elevator. Her hands shot to her lips in an attempt to muffle her cry, but it had already begun to leave her lips. 

Finally, Emma Swan broke again, completely shattered. And as much as she didn’t want him to know how demolished she was, Emma could tell.

He just knew.

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anonymous asked:

Prompt time: Cosima travels to Frankfurt to find Delphine

Cal had been a legitimate godsend.

They’d worked for months, trying to find a cure, and then trying to find Delphine once they’d found the cure and Cosima was healthy enough to walk around. They’d been frustratingly unsuccessful in finding the blonde scientist, regardless of the fact that she should have been attached to one of the most prestigious international scientific corporations, and despite the fact that they knew where Delphine was.

It wasn’t until Sarah had let Cal come back with Kira, after the mess had been resolved and they’d all felt somewhat safe, that they’d made any progress. Cal had been able to electronically trace what Rachel had done. Within a week, he’d had her home and work address, and Cosima could have kissed him. Well, she would have if Sarah hadn’t given her a death glare.

Her sister could be such a party pooper sometimes.

So she’d bought a plane ticket, because the thought of knocking on the door and showing up unannounced like in all of those romantic movies appealed to Cosima, and this might be a once in a lifetime chance. I mean really, a telephone call was so mundane

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