#it’s literally half five in the morning why the fuck am I still awake

[d-lanx]

Saw someone post this on Twitter in response to the whole situation with mcintyre and lost my fucking mind. Everything comes back to punk

[mockerycrow]

Undercover V (Soap x GN!Reader)

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Summary: Your stress is staying at it’s peak for the time being as you come to terms that you’re staying under a secure watch until you’re properly evaluated, under the wise eyes of John “Soap” MacTavish. Chapter five, otherwise known as “babysitting duty”.

A/N: I’m so sorry for taking literally a month for this chapter. I’m so glad you guys are still loving this series. This a bit of a humorous filler, so I apologize. Next chapter will have more story!! <3

[WARNINGS: Mentions of genocide and human trafficking, inaccurate medical stuff.]

“Truth has many shades; it is not a matter of black and white, but grey.” -Morgan Freeman.

AFTER MY WHOLE failed evaluation, they allowed me to rest again, which I’m half thankful for, half not. I got a few hours of sleep in, but not enough to feel good about. The ache of sitting in a bed for a couple days is finally beginning to kick in so much so that I can’t sleep. I woke up really early in the morning, around 3 AM. I wasn’t surprised to see the lights in my room to be off, but I was surprised to vaguely see a figure in my room which at first freaked me the fuck out, but I quickly realized was Soap. I can’t make his features out enough to see if he’s awake or not, but I don’t care.

I need to get out of this damn bed.

I move my handcuffed hand a bit to grasp onto the hospital bed railing and I begin to slowly pull myself from my bed, hissing as new aches bloom across my healing wounds. Especially my damn stomach area, fuck. I ignore the pain blooming underneath my skin and I manage to get myself into a sitting position, and I can already feel some relief hitting me once I’m not laying back against a surface. I slowly curl one of my legs up, a soft noise leaving my lips as I feel my muscles in my leg thank me for bending my leg. I hear Soap stir, but I don’t pay him any mind. He makes a “hmm?” sound as I take a slow deep breath, allowing the aches in my wounds to subside.

“What’re you doin’?” Soap grumbles out, voice thick and heavy with sleep, making him a bit hard to understand when combined with his accent. He inhales loudly as he stretches and I glance at my handcuffs. “Sitting up.” I reply curtly. Can he not fucking see??

..I forgot it’s dark in here. Anyway..

“Ya need to lay back down and rest—“ I groan. “All I’ve been doing is laying down! My back fuckin’ hurts, man! I’m tired of sitting here like a wet noodle.” Soap gets up from his seat and walks closer to me—which isn’t that far of a distance, honestly, since Soap’s chair is considerably close to my bed. I notice his gloves are still on as he puts a hand on my shoulder, which he must’ve chosen the sore shoulder because I since and shy away from his touch. “Ow.”

Soap quickly retracts his hand, wincing himself in sympathy. “Look, it’s late, aye? Why don’t ya lay down fer now, have tha’ doctors help you in the mornin’?” His eyes glance up at the clock up on the wall, squinting his eyes to look as it’s dark in here. I groan and bite my lip, silently licking and choosing my battles. He is right, it’s much better for me to wait until the doctors or nurses come and help me. I sigh and make a motion with my free hand. “Alright.”

I manage to get myself laid back onto the bed, and I keep looking at my handcuffs. I move my cuffed hand around as I look at Mohawk, gesturing to my cuffed wrist now. “Okay, tell me how truly necessary this is. It’s getting a bit tiring.” My tone is a bit.. curt, and I don’t mean it, but I’m getting antsy in this room and I fucking hate just laying here. I’m uses to being out on the field, so sitting in one place doesn’t do me much good. Soap snorts as he sits himself back in his chair and without looking, grabs his sketchbook notebook thing from where he stuffed it between my mattress and the frame of the hospital type bed. “I dinnae ken how i can say this in a nicer way but, you’re.. considered a risk of some sort by the dafties overseein’ ya.”

I blink at him for a moment and he has a sheepish look on his face, his free hand coming up behind his head and scratching it. I pretend that I know one hundred of what he said—look, sometimes Scottish accents are hard to understand. “You’re one of the ‘dafties’ overseeing me.”

“You know what I mean!” Soap grumbles. I pause for a moment and keep my eyes on him, my fingers absentmindedly drawing patterns into the fabric of my blanket. “Do you think I’m a risk, Soap?”

Soap takes a moment to look back at me, and I mean really look back at me. His eyes pierce through mine again, taking in every detail of my face—and that causes me to look away again, because it makes me feel weird. “I mean.. Maybe. If I had ta’make the final decision, I’d let ya roam, but with someone to watch over ya.” His voice is serious as he seemingly tells me the truth about what he thinks. In a way, I find comfort in his words but I also.. don’t.

It hurts to know that they consider me so unstable.

“You should go back ta’sleep.”

I don’t answer and I look down at my fingers as my index finger scratches at the corner of my thumbnail. It feels like my damn nerves are on fire. “Can’t.” I mutter, and I curse myself when my voice is barely audible. Soap seems to catch what I said, though, because his eyebrow raises in an questioning manner. “Ya haven’t even tried,” He retorts, nearly snorting. Soap wipes his eyes as I huff—he’s right, I haven’t, but I know I won’t be able to. I look over at the clock on the wall, as if I could will time to go by faster. I let out a quiet noise as I shift myself a bit, a subtle painful ache settling back into my jaw and my abdomen. Oh yeah—I’m injured. It’s not like I forgot but, I’ve been so pumped of drugs this entire time, so I haven’t felt much since waking up the first time in this bed. I try to cross my arms, but my damn hand is still handcuffed!

Oh, god fucking dammit, I wanna get out of this bed!

“Stop actin’ like a wee bairn.” Soap snorts as he glances over at me again, then back down at his sketchbook notebook thing. I should probably ask what it is. “I don’t even know what the fuck that means.” I hiss with as much venom as I can muster, which isn’t much because I’m… cuffed to a bed. God. I hate this.

“Oh, lemme translate for ya.. Stop actin’ like a baby. Better?” He questions, pencil in hand. “Sure.” I mutter. I eye the pencil. “What is that?” I ask, pointing over to his general direction. “What is what?” Soap murmurs before holding up the notebook sketchbook thing. “This? It’s a sketchbook.” Ah, okay. I don’t have to call it that super long name now. Sketchbook, it is. I nod quietly as I glance around the room, trying to find something to focus on. It’s not like they could give me my phone. I wouldn’t be surprised if Makarov took it, destroyed it maybe.

….

Makarov.

I feel my heart suddenly drop into my gut and dig deep to stay there. Makarov.. He’s one hell of a man, that’s for sure. Can I even call him a man? He’s not a human being by my standards, anyway. The things I’ve seen him do, the things I’ve seen him order others to do—me to do.. He’s the worlds single largest threat and he’s in the wind. My fingers grasp at my blanket. He is not loyal to any country, he’s not loyal to any creed—he slaughters for his own gain, he doesn’t flinch at anything. Not human trafficking, genocide, fucking hell, what am I saying?? He’s the one doing the genocide! Just the simple thought of him makes my hair stand up and I hate that. I’m going to have to expose myself to these people, what I did to seem loyal—no, I’m not going to excuse it. Yeah, sure, I did it under the guise of loyalty, but I hurt a lot of fucking people. Any regular civilian would call for my death, but what they don’t understand is that when you’re fighting a war and trying to prevent a bigger one, one that will end in M.A.D? You do what you have to do. You turn your brain off, you pull the trigger.

I don’t know what to think anymore.

Something nudges my leg which snaps me out of my daze—it’s Soap’s boot. He puts his foot back on the ground when he has my attention. His eyebrow is slightly pulled in, the outer edge of his lip is pulled tight for a moment. “Get out of yer head there, mm? Look, let’s play a little game, shall we?”

I groan and I look up at the ceiling. “I feel like I’m being babysat when you say that.” Soap grins. “Ya are. Anyway—give me a, uh.. give me a thing to draw.” I blink at his words and I decide to not point out what he just said. I grumble and shrug. “I don’t know,” I began, glancing around the room at the different medical posters plastered on the walls—one of them on a program offered to help others to quit smoking. Bet that hasn’t helped too many. “A dog.”

Soap shakes his head as I began to say those words. “No, pick somethin’ else.” I raise an eyebrow at how quick he denied my request. “No, I want you to draw a dog.” I challenge, watching the way he twirls the pencil between his fingers. “Choose somethin’ else, I’m not drawin’ a dog.” My heart monitor begins to beep faster and Soap puts his hands up defensively. “Steamin’ Jesus, gettin’ worked up over the drawing? I’ll draw ya a cat instead, calm ya tits.”

I try to cover my snort of amusement because that wasn’t even on purpose. Soap is hunched over his sketchbook and I watch his pencil wisp across the paper, and I notice an indent on Soap’s cheek, almost like he bites the inside of it or sucks on the inside as he focuses. Huh. Makes me wonder if he does that on missions, too. I turn my head again and read the clock—it’s 3:30ish, maybe 3:40 AM. I only glanced at it before looking back at Soap.

I think I’ll actually break these handcuffs and end my life by breaking off pieces of the drywall and consuming it if this is how the next few hours will be spent.

“Y’know, my L.T. told me a joke concernin’ a dog.”

L.T.? Lieutenant, I’m assuming. I don’t say anything, but I look at him. Soap looks up from his sketchbook with a grin on his face again. “Wha’has two legs and bleeds?”

“A dog,” I respond.

“Half a dog.” He corrects me.

I blink at him slowly before trying to subdue the smile appearing on my face. I’m smiling because it’s stupid. “That’s dumb.” Soap inhales through his teeth as his pencil strokes across the paper. “Oooh, don’t let my L.T. hear that, yeah? The man loves his jokes.” My eyes watch his hand holding the pencil as I speak. “So,” I begin. “Your team is.. who exactly, again? You, Price, who else?” Soap hums. “Well, there’s me—I’m a sergeant. There’s Gaz, who’s also a sergeant. You’ve met Price, he’s my cap’n, and then there’s ‘The Ghost’.” He chuckles, glancing at me for a moment. “He’s my L.T.”

“‘The Ghost’?” I question, raising an eyebrow. Sounds like a name a middle schooler puts down for their kahoot game. Soap looks back at his sketchbook. “Well, it’s just Ghost. That’s just what he goes by.”

Edgy, damn…

“Hm. That’s the 141, then?” I bite back saying something about how they waterboarded me, because I know deep down that won’t help anyone. I’m trying to not think about all the damn torture I’ve endured this year because I find it quite annoying when my chest tightens so harshly—to the point where I can’t fucking breathe. Damn panic attacks.

Soap clears his throat and grins, erasing something before swiping the eraser shavings to the side. “All done. Wanna see?” He looks at me expectantly and I motion for him to show me. Soap turns his sketchbook towards me and he’s sketched out a messy, yet well put together drawing of a cat. He drew it in just a few minutes so it isn’t the most detailed, but it’s quite amazing for the time span he drew it in. “Oh, damn,” I say in quiet awe. “I thought you were just going to.. draw a little fella, I dunno.” I wince as my jaw pulses sharp pain through my nerves and my hand instinctively shoot’s up to cup my jaw. Soap’s sharp gaze lingers where my hand is for a moment before he shuts his sketchbook and stuffs it back between the mattress and the hospital bed frame. He grunts as he stands up and leans over me, his finger pressing the red call button on the remote near my pillow. He probably noticed my pain. “Thanks,” I mumble, my hand remaining on my cheek. My eyes flutter shut as the pain begins to intensify, so much so that I don’t notice another presence beside me until they utter my name. I eyes shoot open quickly, my body tense, but I quickly relax when I see it’s a nurse. “The Sergeant here told me you’re feeling some pain. Do you mind rating it on a scale of one to ten?” The nurse murmurs. The nurse is a man with long brown hair that’s tied up neatly into a bun. He has a darker colored beard with red hairs around his mustache and lower lip, dawning square-ish glasses.

“It’s at a four right now,” I respond, glancing at my IV lines before looking at the nurse’s gloves. “It’s climbing, though.”

The nurse hums and writes down my symptoms on a sticky note. “I’m going to go get you a small dose of a narcotic for you, alright? Usually I would give you some tylenol, but you’ve had some extensive medical care.”

I blink. Oh wow. A narcotic?

Soap grins and pokes me with the eraser of his pencil. “Looks like I’ll be babysittin’ ya fer a while more, yeah?”

Fuck.

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[atotalpitch]

Bechloe week 2024 day 2: "you're up early"

read on ao3 here Fandom(s): Pitch Perfect (movies) Relationship(s): implied Beca/Chloe, can be seen as either pre- or during relationship! Word count: 666 Warning(s): none Other tag(s): mild hurt/comfort, fluff Summary: they have a conversation. literally that's it. i'm terrible at summaries. A/N: ooffff this is short, but i'm still happy with it!! my best friend, the only person i run these through, thought it's adorable and i trust her. any criticism or thoughts are always welcome!

--- Beca drops her headphones around her neck as she walks into the kitchen. It’s oddly quiet for the Bellas house, but it is five in the morning. She figures she’s the only one awake at the ass crack of dawn. That is until her heart jumps all the way up to her throat at the sight of a familiar redhead. “Jesus fucking Christ you scared me,” Beca mumbles under her breath, not knowing whether Chloe heard her or not. “Sorry,” Chloe half-whispers with a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. Opening the fridge and picking up a can of redbull, Beca does a mental double take on the time. “You’re up early,” she states matter-of-factly. “I’m always up early. You’re up early,” Chloe shoots back, raising an eyebrow challengingly. “Your first alarm is at 6.15, it’s 5.42,” Beca ignores the accusation and sits down on one of the kitchen aisle stools. She opens the cold can and takes a sip. “Spill. What’s keeping you up?” Chloe sighs. She knows there is no logical way out of this anymore. “I, uh… it’s dumb. My brother’s getting married. I mean, don’t get me wrong I’m happy for him! I love his fiancée too. It just made me think… I’m only a year younger than him and I’m still stuck in college, while he’s out there living his life and experiencing all these things I thought I would by this age,” Chloe looks out the kitchen window, twirling a spoon in her now cold mug of tea. Beca gathers she must’ve been there for quite a while now, because normally Chloe would never let her tea get cold. “Chlo, you are living your life. Just because you aren’t completing the guidebook of a stereotypical straight woman doesn’t mean your life isn’t good,” she manages to make Chloe at least smile with her insight. “I know I… I just thought my life would be different, I guess,” she shrugs, turning her gaze to meet Beca’s. There is an edge of something in her eyes that Beca hasn’t seen before. Sadness doesn’t suit Chloe, and neither does the tornado of emotions currently whirling in her stare, Beca is sure of it. “Are you happy now? With the Bellas, I mean;” what Beca wants to ask is if Chloe’s happy with her, but she decides against going too deep too early. “I am, yeah,” the answer comes out quickly and it seems to click something back to place inside Chloe’s mind. She still seems unsure, though. “Well there’s your answer. Look, dude, I know I’m not the best with all this emotional shit but what matters is that you’re happy and feel content with your own life. You still have life left to live and there’s no rush to get married or whatever it is that you want,” Beca shrugs, taking another long chug of her drink. “Who knew Beca Mitchell could give actually sensible life advice before six in the morning,” Chloe seems to get a part of herself back as she teases. Beca rolls her eyes, finishing the redbull in her hand with one last swig. (The normal cans are small, you can’t blame her.) She drops the can on the aisle and slides off the stool. “Remember to turn off your alarm so you don’t wake the others up,” she says in a form of goodbye. “Wait, can we go back to why you’re up at this time?” Chloe narrows her eyes and Beca can feel the intensity of the stare on her back. She turns her head and flashes a smile oddly similar to a toddler getting caught doing mischief. “Beca! What did I say about staying up the whole night?” the disappointed exclamation goes to deaf ears as Beca is already halfway up the stairs with her headphones firmly back in place. Chloe sighs and shakes her head, but a small smile forms on her lips. She really is in love with an idiot.

[your-mommy-ems]

6

 Maximilien 

That weekend, I find myself in the main atelier, looking over at the collection again. That’s when I realize the patterns on the model, assumingly supposed to be Amaryllis’s, don’t look right. There’s a bunch of them drawn out on the table too, and as I examine them, I frown. I have no idea who’s fucking measurements they’re using, but I know for a fact it’s not hers. And my suspicion is confirmed when I see a sticky note on the table, with measurements that definitely aren’t hers. 

I sigh. Don’t tell me they’ve been wasting their time tracing these out. We need it done as soon as possible, we still have to run test shoots in two weeks for now and we’ve barely got three months to finish everything before the next season begins. 

Begrudgingly, I pick up my phone and tap the number my dad sent to me just in case. Amaryllis picks up after a multitude of rings. “Hello?”

She still sounds sleepy. I smile to myself, knowing I’ve caught her when she’s still half awake, despite it being ten in the morning. “Good morning. Are you-”

“Oh my god,” she groans. “What do you want? It’s literally ten in the morning. Disrespectfully, fuck off.”

“Noted with thanks. What are you doing right now?”

“Thinking if I’m capable of murdering you.”

“You’re not. Are you free today?”

“I don’t wanna go in,” she complains. “Why?”

“I need to retake your measurements, they messed it up with someone else’s. Send me your address, I’ll go over.”

“Send me your address. Take it off. You have too many opinions,” she mocks, dropping her voice in a weak attempt to mimic mine. “You’re so bossy. Can we switch to FaceTime so you can see me giving you my middle finger?” 

“No, we cannot. Don’t be difficult, Miss Anderson,” I say, knowing the name pisses her off. 

“I’ll be even more difficult if you keep calling me that.” She hangs up, and I think that’s it, until a notification appears at the top of my screen, an address followed by an insult. 

I pocket my phone, shaking my head and smirking. 

Amaryllis

The doorbell rings. From my room on the second floor of the penthouse, I groan. Still in my pajamas, I drag myself down to open the door. 

Dammit. He’s in his stupid suit, tie straightened and pinned. I didn’t even know people still did that. Meanwhile, my hair is tamed down with only my fingers, and I’m wearing fluffy house slippers and a vintage Victoria’s Secret nightgown. I scowl before stepping aside to let him in. 

“Good morning,” he greets politely, the mockery in his tone evident. 

“Wrong,” I correct, “Bad morning.” 

“I’m glad I can make your day worse.” He produces a measuring tape from the inner pocket of his blazer jacket. 

I groan, sprawling myself out lazily on the sofa. 

“Come on. I can finish this in less than half an hour if you cooperate,” he says like someone would to an irritating child. Although I’m pretty sure he sees me as one. How old is this guy, even? 

“How old are you?”

“Why does that matter? Do you only date guys above a certain age?”

I pull a face at him. A small furrow forms between his brows. That little crease seems to be present whenever I am. “‘M just curious. Answer my question.”

“Twenty five.” 

I nod. I close my eyes, leaning back on the sofa. He sighs. “You’re wasting my time.”

“You woke me up. Deal with it.”

“Are you trying to find reasons to spend time with me?”

“In case you hadn’t noticed,” I point out, “we’ve only been alone in the same room twice. And both of those times were initiated by you.”

“Well, you did agree.”

“Do I really have a choice?”

“No, I suppose you don’t. Now am I just going to stand here while you nap even though you’ve just woken up or can I actually leave by eleven?”

“If dragging it out means I’m annoying you, then the first. Even if it’s annoying me too. You know-” I open my eyes, “you’re so bossy. It’s obnoxious.”

“Oh?” He raises an eyebrow. “I’m obnoxious? You’re the one picking fights like a stubborn, dramatic, five year old. If either of us are obnoxious, it’s not me.”

“See, the fact that you think so highly of yourself not to see it-“

“I do not- oh, you’re impossible. Now hurry up and stand up so I can get this done.”

“You’re not sneezy today,” I note, closing my eyes again. 

“I didn’t notice you spent so much effort counting the number of times I sneeze.”

“I don’t. It’s just that your nose always does this thing,” I wrinkle my nose to mirror him, “and it’s not doing it today.”

“Enough sneeze-talk. Stand up, Amaryllis.”

My eyes shoot open, and I look up at him with a smile. I tilt my head. “What did you call me?”

He looks away and sighs. “If I called you Miss Anderson your immature self would pick a petty fight again, and I’m not going to entertain that.”

“I am not immature. I can be mature when I feel like it, and if I was right now, then the both of us would just be snobby and stuck up and that’ll be no fun.” I extend my arm. “Pull me up.”

He shakes his head, grabbing my wrist and pulling me up. “Have you had breakfast yet?”

“I don’t eat breakfast.”

“Fine.” 

I stand, arms out, as he drags the tape—and his fingertips—over me. Down the lengths of my arm, around my bicep, lightly over my wrist. 

I flinch. “That’s ticklish.”

“Stand still.” 

He notes the measurements down in his phone. Then he stands up, drawing the measuring tape around my chest without warning. I blink up at him, flustered as he pinches the tape between his two fingers to take a look at the exact reading. Suddenly, I’m all too aware of the shallow rise and fall of my chest, my breasts pushing against the tape through the thin silk material of my nightgown with each movement. 

Then he drops the tape. My sigh is inaudible.  

“Your face is pink,” he comments, circling the tape around my waist after getting my bust measurements down into his phone. 

I scowl. “Okay, and?” 

“Nothing.” A hint of a smile plays on his lips. “Just an observation.” 

“I didn’t ask for your observations,” I flick his shoulder. 

“And neither do I ever ask for yours.” 

I roll my eyes. If I was told I’d have to see this guy almost every day for the next three months, I would’ve considered before accepting the job. I mean, I would say yes either way, but I wouldn’t have accepted immediately. 

I raise my eyes to his. He’s looking down at his phone, but I can still see his eyes. A ring of amber that blends into green, like the colors melted into the other. 

Maximilien

I feel Amaryllis’s eyes on me, but I pretend not to notice—or not to care. Tucking my phone in my pocket, I kneel down. 

“What are you doing?” 

“I need your thigh measurements too, you know,” I state. 

“Do you though? I mean-”

I shut her up by circling the tape around her thigh, just where her tiny nightdress ends. Her muscles tense and I grin to myself. “Why’re you clenching your thighs?” 

“Shut the fuck up. It’s a sensitive area, okay?” 

“Sure, whatever you say.” I go back to taking measurements as normal, and go back to measuring as normal. 

Without the overpowering scent of her perfume, she actually smells nice. Still the same vanilla scent, but only if I’m close enough to her—which I am right now. But she’s a lot more bearable without that stupid perfume. In fact, I’d hang around her if she always smelled like this. 

Amaryllis must feel awkward, because out of nowhere, she rambles, “So, can I call you, like, Max or something? Maximilien is such a mouthful. Also, who even spells Maximilian with an E? That’s so weird.” 

“It’s French. You’re welcome to call me Adrien if it means you’ll stop making fun of my name. No Max.” 

“Why not Max?” 

“I just don’t like it.”

“Adrien,” she says once, then repeats it again to test the word out. “Adrien? Maximilien. Yeah, no, Adrien is way better. But Maximilien is still kinda a shit name. I hate the name Max too, but I might just call you that since it annoys you.” 

“It does not annoy me,” I sigh. “It’s just not my preferred name.” 

“Whatever, Max. You know, you don’t seem to get annoyed easily. Matter of fact, you don’t seem to feel anything easily at all, except for- I dunno, stuck-up-ness.”

“Firstly, the word is arrogance,” I correct, standing up again. “And secondly, I do have emotions, whether you believe it or not. It’s just easier to not display everything I feel on my face, unlike some people.” I glance pointedly at her pouty lips. 

“Well, now that you’re done, are you gonna get out of my house?” 

“You’re a terrible hostess, you know that?” I tuck the measuring tape back into my pocket, shaking my head. 

“To be fair, I didn’t even invite you.”

“Still. Aren’t you going to offer me a drink?” I egg her on. One feeling that will always register on my face? The little smirk I can’t hold back when it comes to teasing her. 

“No. I hope you die of dehydration and crash your car on the way home.” She rolls her eyes, but I can see her smile. 

“I feel like you’re the physical equivalent of ‘I woke up and chose violence’.” 

“Me? Violent? Only verbally, but then you are too.” She places her hands on her hips. Her nipples peak through the silky pink material of her dress, and I’ve been trying my best to be respectful. 

Honestly, nothing about her wants me to be respectful. In all the ways. From her bitchy behavior and oozing confidence to her suggestive movements. 

If I could, I’d-

I shove the thought out of my head. Change of plans, I don’t want to stick around to annoy her anymore. I have to go before my thoughts become…anything other than professional. “Fine. I’ll see you Monday.”

She pouts at me, then laughs. “Sadly.” 

-💋

OOOH OOOH I LOVE LOVE LOVE..

And finally we find about the adrien part!! I kinda wanna know why he likes being called adrien now hehe. But this was SOOO good!!

ps: sorry this took me a while to respond to.

[alwaysahiccupandastrid]

It would happen to me that I spend a month and a half job hunting only to then get two jobs in the same week, both of them full time and highly demanding.

So basically I interviewed for a bakery retail assistant role and an unqualified nursery position, and after trial shifts for both I got them both, which I was shocked by. The timing of it all is so unfortunate; the nursery interviewed me last Friday and then invited me to a trial on Tuesday afternoon; the bakery then wanted me to come in for an interview and trial shift on Monday morning and so I agreed in case the nursery one fell through. The bakery offered me the position first on Monday, literally five minutes after my trial ended (god knows why since I felt awkward and didn’t know shit), and so I - rather stupidly - accepted it over the phone and started on Wednesday so I could still do the trial; I thought that I would get an answer about the nursery on Tuesday so I could have the chance to take it while still having the back up choice. Lo and behold, the nursery has accepted me and wants me to start next week, meanwhile the bakery has already put me on the rota for the next week and a half.

And now I’m stuck.

The nursery was my first choice, to be honest, and while I had been hoping to step away from childcare after working in schools and at daycare camp for the past few years, it would be with babies through to pre-school, which is a group I’ve not worked that much with (though I am good with babies it turns out). I have experience in this field already which helps.

The bakery job is selling bread/cakes/coffee as well as prepping sandwiches, cleaning etc. As I’ve discovered over my last two shifts there, I’m fucking abysmal at making sandwiches, keep forgetting things etc., but because it’s only my second shift I figured it’s just a matter of learning.

Hours wise, the bakery is 40 hours over five days, the nursery is 38 hours over five days (3 10 hour days + 2 half days of four hours); the bakery job means doing 6am-2:30pm/6:30am-3pm or 7:30-4pm, and while Sundays are off it means working Saturday with a day off during the week, which is a problem because in November I have a Saturday filled with pantomime performances (three of them!). Meanwhile the nursery is Monday-Friday, and the hours would for a full day would probably be something like 8-6:30 or something(?), meaning if I have a rehearsal at either 7:30-9:30 or 8-10 (evenings), I’ll have very little to no time to prepare or get my stuff ready etc, let alone eat anything, plus it doesn’t fit with performance days where I have to be in by 6pm.

I’m having to get up at 4:45am to every morning, so doing that and then having to stay awake until 10-11pm on days with rehearsals is AWFUL.

The benefits at the nursery (free gym membership, 40% off food/drink, discount at the salon/spa facilities on site) outweighs those at the bakery (free coffee/lunch), and the nursery pays 40p more per hour than the bakery.

The bakery at the staff are just, to my knowledge, so fucking nice most of the time despite me being useless and older than them, the manager is nice, and if I leave them it leaves them in the lurch and understaffed, which is so unfair on them. I don’t really know the staff at the nursery that well but I don’t think they’re horrible tbh, though they seemed absolutely exhausted and done by the time I went in for my trial shift on Tuesday afternoon.

The nursery wants me to start next Monday, but the bakery has a two week notice period so I would have to talk to both places and apologise profusely to work something out. If I don’t work the notice period then I could end up not being paid for the 34 hours I’ll have worked by Saturday evening.

I don’t want to go into childcare for the rest of my life, quite frankly, but the nursery has offered to pay for me to earn a qualification in childcare so long as I work a year afterwards (if I left before a year I’d have to pay them, which I suppose is reasonable), which would then mean I could be paid more in the future as I’d be a qualified childcare worker and not just an unqualified glorified babysitter.

They have a ball pit, a bunny and two Guinea pigs at the nursery - which I know aren’t for ME necessarily but I would get to go in the ball pit with the kids and see the bunny/animals so that’s a bonus

Travel to either isn’t really an issue as they’re both close, though the bakery DOES mean walking 40 minutes at 5am to get there while it’s dark in the winter

So… yeah. I’m feeling quite torn and lost right now, and I have no idea what to do.

[diaryofanaverageunicorn]

Sometimes, just give up.

Day 16

I successfully fell asleep around 4am. Sweet, sweet slumber... until about 8 when the sun decided to show up. Nevermind, nevermind... go back to speep... dreaming, dreaming, dreaming, drilling, drilling... WAIT WHAT? Drilling, drilling, fuck, fuck, fuck, what time is it??? oh fuck you and your fucking drill how do you even have a house... noo, I don't want to wake up I was supposed to sleep in, I am working today till 1 again, noooooo, shut up, stahp, I hate you and your endless DIYs... UGH. Fine. Cold. cofFEE, WHERE IS THE COFFEE?? Fuck it's Saturday. I put on the closest t-shirt, great, it's the cafe's merch, ah carp I hate it here... oh there goes the sudden burst of tears, great, great, perfect, my coffee isn't done but I ALREADY AM. What do you mean I've been awake for two and a half hours and have to leave in an hour?? I can't handle this... how sick do I have to be to skip today's shift?? No, no, I am working it, remember how low your last salary was?? And I had to work today cuz I messed up my counting so I moved my shift that coincided with the wedding I can't skip it. Gods, I'm going to get fired... No, no, I do a great job and they need staff, it'll be fine. Why doesn't mental health count as a sick day... well it does count as a sick day if you ask for it but I literally can't afford it I would be homeless... Ah great, we're back at dwelling on the capitalistic nightmare prison that we live in, great. Perfect. ARGH. I have to get my medication, so I have to leave half an hour earlier, *cries internally*, alright it's going to be fine, just breathe, there's sun out today! Fuck, it's -1 degrees. Never mind, still, sun, WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN CLOSED ARE YOU CRAZY I NEED MY MEDICATION??? Ah crap I'll have to get up early tomorrow, great I'll start the semester just right -- sleep deprived and on the edge of a mental breakdown... FIne whatever, I'll get it tomorrow morning it'll be fine. Oh okay I guess I'll be early for work. Ah nice, Selroti is here, nice, they're super sweet. Nice five minute catch up. The whole cafe is on fire jeezus christ why don't you people have homes?? my entire body is screaming at me in pain after TWO HOURS WHAT DO YOU MEAN ONLY TWO HOURS HAVE PASSED????? I can't, nope, I shan't, I refuse, I will cry and scream get me OUT OF HERE I CAN"T HANDLE THIS WHY DID YOU STICK ME IN THE KITCHEN I HATE THIS I WANT TO BE HOME I AM IN SO MUCH PAIN... wait, wait, wait -- how much pain am I supposed to endure while at work? do I have to be absolutely fucking incapacitated? Injured beyond a bandaid?? Throw up in front of everyone, or faint???? ARE THEY PAYING ME ENOUGH FOR ME TO STICK AROUND WHILE I'M IN SO MUCH PAIN????? FUCK NO THEY ARE NOT!

"I DON'T FEEL GOOD, I WANT TO LEAVE". Two hours later I was out. Instead of doing an 8 hour shift I did 6. Barely. A coworker tried to guilt trip/shame/pressure me into staying. Ah, how about no. I came home around midnight and here I am writing my blog about the day I had. Horrible. Did not enjoy it. Remember, no job is worth causing yourself pain. More than you have to. Any kind of pain. Especially if you're a burnt-out neurodivergent potato. Fuck 'em.

Goodnight,

M.

[heavyhitterheaux]

I'd Rather Be Sleeping

First Lady of Private Garden Fic

AN: these two have always been a hot ass mess 😭

Synopsis: First Lady can never get up on time for school, so her boyfriend helps her in any way that he can

Pairing: Baby!Jack Harlow x Baby!Reader

Requested by the gorgeous @softtcurse love ya bby!! 😘

Read Asking For It first

Jack rolled his eyes as your phone went straight to voice-mail once again.

This was the fifth time in a row.

It was Friday morning and the two of you were supposed to be on your way to school within the next 45 minutes.

But, this was the usual.

You would always shut your alarm off because you hated loud noises and went back to sleep.

Instead of hitting snooze so that it would go off in another five minutes, you turned it completely off.

So, your alarm clock quickly became your boyfriend who just so happened to live across the street.

Jack grabbed his backpack along with his keys and began to make his way across the street to your house hoping that you were awake and was getting ready so that the two of you could leave.

He reached under the mat for the spare key and quickly made his way inside.

Your parents as well as your older sister would always leave the house before 6 am so there was nobody to wake you up so that you could get ready on time.

After taking the steps two at a time, he softly knocked on your pink bedroom door at the end of the hallway in the hopes of you being awake.

Of course he was met with silence.

He opened the door to see you still sleeping soundly with the teddy bear he had gotten for you this past Valentines Day.

He took a minute to admire how cute you looked before breaking you out of your slumber.

"Baby!"

"Mmm.”

“Get up.”

“Go away." You mumbled while hugging the bear closer to you.

"Baby, get up and get ready! We're going to be late!"

"No."

"Y/N!"

"Can't you just come and lay down next to me? We can skip today."

"Not when we have an exam third period."

"Oh fuck, is that today?"

"Baby! I've been reminding you all week!"

"What time is it?"

"6:45! Get your ass up!"

"Oh shit!"

"Did you turn your alarm off again?"

"Ehh, probably." You replied while shrugging and swinging your legs out of the bed.

You basically ripped off your pajamas before hopping in the shower as Jack sat on your bed and scrolling through his phone to keep him occupied.

At this rate, he knew that he was going to be here for awhile.

"Babe! You wanna join me?"

"Stink, we CANNOT be late! You're about to get detention for a week if you keep playin."

"Boo, you're no fun."

You walked back into your room with a towel wrapped around you and proceeded to make your way to your closet in order to find something to wear.

“Baby please don’t take forever picking out something to wear. Besides, I thought you picked out your outfit last night?”

“Hmm, I don’t want to wear that anymore.”

“Y/N!! We do NOT have the time.”

“Relax, it won’t take me long.” You reply while kissing him.

Once you finally decided on your outfit which took another ten minutes with Jack eyeing you and the time on his phone, you dropped your towel right in front of Jack and he couldn’t do anything but groan.

“Seriously?”

“What? You want me to get dressed don’t you? And you are in MY room the last time I checked. I definitely asked you if you wanted to join me in the shower and you said no. So deal with it.”

“Not fair, babe. We have somewhere to be.”

“If you say so, Jackman.”

“We literally have a month and a half until we graduate.”

“So?”

“Y/N!!”

“It’s not like either of us are actually going to college anyway, so why am I putting in so much effort?”

“So that your parents don’t kill you.”

“Hmm, good point.”

Once you had gotten dressed it was then time for you to do your hair. You sat down at your vanity and proceeded to take it down out of the bonnet. 

You decided on a slicked back ponytail since that was one of the easier styles that you tend to do and it didn’t take very long.

However, this morning it was taking a little while longer because you couldn’t get the right side of your hair to lay down how you wanted it to with the edge control.

And your boyfriend was getting antsy.

“Baby, that style literally only takes you five minutes, what’s the hold up?”

“My baby hairs won’t lay right this morning! I don’t know what the problem is.”

“Y/N, come onnnnn.”

“Hush it Jackman and let me focus. You having a fit is not helping me in the slightest.”

Once you were finally satisfied, you started to get up from your vanity and put on your shoes, but then you had a realization.

“Oh, I need to do my makeup too. Almost forgot.”

“BABE!”

“Now should I do a smoky eye or use the pink eyeshadow?”

All Jack did was groan in response and you poked him so that he would answer you.

“Smoky eye matches better with your outfit, now come on!”

“You sure are being more bossy than usual this morning.”

---

"Smush, can we get food? I'm hungry." You asked as the two of you were finally settled in Jack’s car.

He didn’t care if there was anything else that you forgot to do at this point, he was going to get you out of the house one way or another.

"No stink, we're already 20 minutes late."

"Please? My treat and besides I need you to eat something to be able to focus in class. It’s a thank you for coming to get me and waiting for me this morning." You replied as you kissed his cheek.

"Babe..."

"It's already on the way!"

"If you didn't take so long doing your hair and makeup we might have been able to."

"Whaa? You said you liked when I did my hair like this and that it was pretty!"

"Yes, it is. But now we're late. I woke you up in enough time to be there before the first bell rang."

“Please, please, please.”

Jack eased the car to a red light before looking over at you and sighing.

He literally could never tell you no.

Especially when you started to pout and gave him puppy eyes which you were currently doing.

“You want your usual smush?” You asked and he simply nodded his head.

It was now 7:57 and the two of you strolled into first period holding hands with the big bag of McDonald’s in Jack’s hand that wasn’t occupied by yours. Class had started at 7:25.

This was the one class that all of PG had together, which involved all of you cracking jokes and not really paying attention but it was an elective and therefore an easy A.

The two of you made your way to the back corner where everyone else was already seated and they all had looks of disbelief on their faces. 

“Y/N, are you ever going to get here on time?” Urban piped up and asked. 

On a good day, Jack had time to get you AND Urban, but that hadn’t been the case at least for the last month.

“Leave me alone, Urb. Too fucking early.”

“And wait one got damn minute, yall were already late AND stopped for food?” Nemo asked taking in the sight of the McDonald’s bag in front of him.

“Y/N made me.”

“But ain’t it your ass who is driving?” 2fo asked as he rolled his eyes.

“Did yall even bother to get us something?”

You and Jack shared a look before the both of you started to unwrap your food.

You simply winked at him before stabbing a straw into his orange juice and handing it to him.

“No. Yall not my boyfriend.” You replied while taking a bite of your hash brown.

“But, we’re your best friends.”

“And? At least he makes sure that I’m awake and comes to get me every morning. What the hell yall be doing?”

“We actually can get here on time by ourselves that’s what we be doing.”

“All yall can kiss my ass.” You replied while handing Jack a packet of strawberry jam to put on his sandwich.

Jack calmly and quietly sat in the corner and finished his food as you were going back and forth with the rest of PG on the topic of the both of you not bringing them any food.

“And Jack over there not saying a got damn thing while we up here hungry as hell.”

“Inhaling that shit like it’s his last meal.”

“What am I supposed to say?!”

“You ain’t even try to look out for your boys?! You didn’t think we wouldn’t want anything?!”

“Are you surprised? Y/N is involved and what she says goes.”

“Yeah, she definitely wears the pants in the relationship.”

“Hey! She does not!”

Everyone exchanged a look before looking back over at Jack and busting out laughing including you.

Once the laughter died down, Urban had suddenly looked over at him to see Jack was rolling his eyes.

“Oh, wait. You were serious?”

“Fuck yall.”

“Hmm that’s what I was trying to do this morning, but noooo we had to come to school.” You replied while taking a sip of your orange juice.

“Yall nasty. Yall stay fuckin each other’s brains out. Like Y/N how you that horny at 6 am?”

“Do yall not see how fuckin fine my boyfriend is?” 

Jack instantly turned red.

“Nah, I don’t swing that way, but still. You need help.”

“Shut the fuck up, 2fo.”

“Does the offer still stand at 2 PM?” Jack asked you and you could nothing but smirk.

“Shit, the offer will always be there. Matter of fact, I think I need to go home during lunch because I forgot something that I’ll need for fourth period.”

“What the actual hell? Yall are terrible. It’s Friday and yall have the whole weekend to fuck my goodness.”

“And? I want to get started early.”

“Oh, babe. You want to try that new food spot for lunch we passed earlier?”

“Ooh yeah, I heard they have good lemonade too. I hope they have lemon pepper wings.”

“Are yall actually going to bring us something back this time?”

“If your name isn’t Jack and you aren’t my boyfriend I’m not getting yall a got damn thing.”

“See that’s why your ass is not about to graduate. Shit like that.”

“You take that back Urban Henry!”

“Yall know it’s every man for himself when it comes to those two.”

“Nah, correction. It’s Jack and Y/N for themselves and they don’t give a flying fuck about anybody else.”

“And don’t you fuckin forget it. Oh, baby, I have an extra blueberry muffin. You want that for a snack later?”

“SERIOUSLY Y/N?”

Taglist:

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@jharlowsangels

[hikarimiyanaga]

how would the Dimitrescus(and Donna) react after finding out that their S/O is actually a God(maybe Thor and Loki's youngest sister) when both of them visit/scold us because they're worried after not hearing from us for so long #protectivebrothersmode

I didn't put any ship on my previous one since I had this on stand-by.

Am I getting faster writing on my phone? Maybe.

Do I still prefer physical keyboards? ALWAYS.

I still love writing this requests and crossovers.

1st Part

Alcina Dimitrescu / Lady Dimitrescu

You arrived at the Castle a year ago. Meaning it's been five years since you left your old world. You've been dating Alcina for over 6 months now. She just captured your attention when you arrived at the Castle and she attacked you. You weren't fazed, after all you were a Goddess.

Today was the day Hela was going to check in on you. You whip your phone out and go outside the castle. Hela answers and you could tell from her tone that she was nervous.

"Hela, why are you-? Did something happen?" You didn't want to go back but if there was an emergency situation then you would go. Gladly.

"No... Just both Thor and Loki are looking for you." You let that sink in for a few moments then you groan.

"Just tell them where I am. I'll wait for them." Hela agrees then you hang up. You look up at the sky and yawn as thunder can be heard from it.

"Miss Y/N. Are you going inside? I think there will be a storm." You shake your head at the Grand Chambermaid.

"There's no storm. That's just my brother." She tilts her head at your statement.

"Wha-" Just then a bolt of lightning strikes in the middle of the courtyard and Thor's figure emerges. You sigh.

"Hey, big brot-" You don't finish your greeting as you get attacked by Stormbreaker. You stop it with your hand. You grit your teeth. "Thor! What is-" Just then he strikes you with lightning. You shield yourself then hear the door behind you open. You knew that Alcina and her daughters have come out of the Castle.

"Y/N!? Who-" You lunge at Thor before he could even lay his eyes on Alcina. You notice for a split second that Loki is just watching on the sidelines and you growl. What is the meaning of this!?

"What is your problem!?" Thor holds out his hand and Stormbreaker comes to him.

"You! You are my problem!" He takes a step forward. "Why did you leave, Y/N? And why didn't you tell either me or Loki?" Now that pisses you off. They were both gone. Both you and Hela knew that they were alive, yes but shit their whereabouts? You absolutely had no idea. Were you worried? Of course, they were your brothers.

"Shut up!" The Earth rumbles as you shout. You hold out your hand and a sword forms. "You were both gone! You went to space! Loki travelled through time! So don't be a hypocrite!"

Thor stops at that but it was too late. You were already beginning your onslaught. He desperately defends himself from your vicious attacks.

You weren't the Goddess of War for no reason.

After wearing him out, you kick him over the edge. You hear his scream but knew that he was okay. You kick Stormbreaker in front of Loki who just smiles at you.

"Are you next?" He shakes his head and just goes to Alcina. You see Stormbreaker levitate so you hold out your hand as well. You knew Thor was trying to call it so you were trying to get him to you. The Stormbreaker stays in mid-air as Thor lands on the courtyard again. You stop your hold on the Stormbreaker so the ax hit Thor and he flew towards the gate.

Loki chuckles at your display. "You're really showing him, Y/N. Nice work." You glare at Loki who shrugs. You roll your eyes as you wait for Thor. "She really likes toying with him."

"And who exactly are you?" Alcina asks and Loki bows to her.

"I am Loki. God of Mischief and older brother of Y/N. The one she is fighting right now is also a brother of ours. The God of Thunder himself, Thor."

"I am Alcina Dimitrescu. One of the Four Lords of this Village." Loki nods then smiles at her.

"I am glad Y/N has found you, Lady Dimitrescu. It seems that she would do anything to protect you."

"What?"

"Earlier, if Thor had seen you, I would imagine he would strike you with lightning so Y/N lunged at him."

"Why would he strike me?" He chuckles.

"Because you are the only reason why my sister would stay here, no?"

Just then Thor lands in front of them and you were cracking your neck as you wield Stormbreaker.

"Thor, just stop this. We both know you can't win against Y/N." Thor scoffs at Loki then stands.

"I am her older brother! I can win!"

"Are you sure? Because she's kicking your ass right now and wielding your weapon." Thor splutters as you hold your fist out to Loki who bumps it with his own. You throw Stormbreaker in front of him.

"You're not even the King of Asgard anymore, brother. Give. It. Up." Thor sighs then nods. You roll your eyes then raise an eyebrow at him. "Now what in Father's name was that!? You see me then just attack me!? The fuck is wrong with you!?" He smiles then pats your head.

"I wanted to make sure you were okay." That should have calmed you down. But instead it pissed you off even more. Your eye twitch then you use Stormbreaker to strike him with lightning. It doesn't affect him but it did make you feel better.

After that, you introduce the both of them to Alcina who is shocked but is pushing it down because she needs to look composed in front of your family. They leave for the day, but remind you that they'll check in too. You remind them to do it yearly, not monthly.

When they leave, Bela, Cassandra, and Daniela immediately flock to you and ask you questions. You answer them.

At night, when you and Alcina were alone, you were nervous.

You never told her because you wanted to be treated as a normal human, not a Goddess that can either make or destroy stuff... which you can do but still.

"I'm really sorry." You say before she can even open her mouth. "I know I never told you, and I'm really sorry for that." You sigh. "I'm just so sick of being treated like I'm above others when... I just wanted to be treated like a normal person, that-" She doesn't let you finish as she kisses you. You blush as she smiles at you.

"So you're literally a Goddess." She purrs and you gulp. "I knew you were beautiful inside and out." She whispers and you shiver.

Did you let her sleep at all that night? No.

Donna Beneviento

You were with Donna when Hela had called. She even greeted Donna. It's been a year since you started dating her after all.

You and Donna were having tea when you heard a familiar sound. Thunder. You excuse yourself from Donna and she raises an eyebrow as you go outside. Angie follows you.

"Y/N! Why are you going outside?? Is it gonna rain??" You groan as you look back at Angie.

"No. But someone is coming." She tilts her head at you.

"Who??" You sigh as Thor and Loki land in front of you.

"My brothers." Angie looks at them with shock as you walk up to them.

"Y/N! Long time no see!" Thor hugs you and you free yourself from his grip.

"Got it, Thor! No need to squeeze! Damn it!"

"Y/N." Loki hugs you briefly and you smile at him. Donna opens the door and you three look at her.

"Y/N?" Thor pulls you behind him and you can't help but groan. Their overprotectiveness is showing again. "Who is this?" You quickly get in front of Donna and stop your brothers from doing anything.

"She's Donna Beneviento. She's my girlfriend." They look at each other then relax. You let them meet her.

When they both leave, both Donna and Angie look at you. You grin at them.

"Surprise?" Angie smacks you while Donna just holds your hand.

"TELL US NEXT TIME!" You agree then laugh as you get inside the house.

Bela Dimitrescu

You were just walking around the village with Bela when you hear the familiar sound of Thunder. You look up then groan.

"How the heck did they find me?" You hadn't even told Hela where you were. You pull Bela behind you as Thor and Loki lands in front of you.

"Y/N!" Thor tackles you so you push Bela out of the way. You land with a thud since your brother's strength is no joke. Loki looks at Bela and tilts his head.

"My, my Y/N." You look at Loki who is now helping Bela stand. "Control your powers, will you?" You blast Thor with said powers and fuss over Bela. She assures you that she's fine then you apologize profusely.

"Y/N?" You ignore Thor's call as he dusts himself off. "Who is that?" You sigh then turn to him at that. Right. Not even Hela knows who Bela is yet. Your relationship with her is new, after all.

"She's Bela Dimitrescu... I am currently courting her." You try to break it to them softly as the two can get very protective of you.

"Courting! Ah! Congratulations!" Thor pats your back and you endure through it while Loki just nods with a knowing smile.

You promise the both of them to check in once in a while and they both leave with a promise to get to know Bela better.

When they left, you feel Bela pinch you and you explain what you are... you know, a Goddess.

She squeals then drags you back to the Castle so you could tell her more.

Cassandra Dimitrescu

You were sleeping with Cassandra outside on the courtyard so you don't even notice the sound of thunder from the sky.

Thor and Loki lands and you were still sound asleep... with another girl besides you.

Their voices were loud though so you rub your eyes open then see them still half-asleep. You smile as you sit and even Cassandra stirs awake.

"Thor! Loki! Morning." They both chuckle at you.

"I think it's already afternoon, Y/N." You shrug.

"What are you both doing here? Am I dreaming?" Thor laughs as Loki chuckles at you.

"We heard from Hela where you were... And since we haven't seen you in a long time.."

"You came to visit!? Nice!" You stand just as Cassandra sits on the spot you were both sleeping on.

"Y/N?" She asks and you turn to her with a smile.

"Cass. Morning." You kiss her and she smiles. "These two are my brothers." You gesture to Thor and Loki.

"I am Thor! God of Thunder." Cassandra stops at that then looks at you.

"And I am Loki. God of Mischief." Loki bows and she glares at you.

"Uhhh. Surprise??" She rolls her eyes then stands to introduce herself to them.

You all talked before your two brothers left.

Cassandra ignored you for the rest of the day. She doesn't like secrets and she would rather you tell her everything.

You spend the next few weeks, making it up to her. You just really hope she forgives you.

She does and you tell her everything about who you really are.

Daniela Dimitrescu

You were at the library with Daniela. She was telling you all about her favorite novels while you take notes in your mind so you would know what book you should get her.

When all of a sudden you hear a loud thunder. You tried to ignore it but your gut says otherwise. You excuse yourself then go outside and sure enough Thor and Loki were there. They were ready to attack Lady Alcina who was the first one to hear them, you guess.

You quickly go in front of her by jumping from the second floor. Thor stops at the sight of you and he hugs you. Daniela gets curious and looks from the second floor. She quickly gets down when she sees Thor hugging you.

You push him back and sigh.

"What are you both doing here?" They look at each other and was about to answer when a swarm of flies tackles you. You don't fall down but Daniela materializes behind you.

You look at her and she was glaring at Thor. She must be jealous. So you introduce them to her and Lady Alcina. They look at each other. You have brothers??

Thor laughs loudly as he roughly pats your back, singing praises of your 'adventures' as the Goddess of Water.

Adventures he exaggerated that's for sure.

You groan and promise to talk to them if they leave now. They both nod and remind that they'll check in as well.

You nod in defeat and sigh in relief when they left. You look back and see Daniela glaring at you while Alcina just smiles and gets inside.

You tell Daniela why and what you didn't tell her.

After that, you spend days and days, recalling everything from your adventures.

And spend every day right by her side.

A/N:

I- Can you guys guess who is my favorite?

Is it hard?

I am loving this ex-avenger/Goddess scenario. I think I'm going to write more on this.

Comments and thoughts are always welcome!

Thank you for reading!

If you can, please buy me a coffee.

[dysfunctionalcrab]

babysitter

pairing: georgenotfound x reader

pronouns: gender neutral

description: george is left to babysit your niece

warnings: mentions of a future family? just in case that makes you uncomfortable.

[y/n/n] - your nieces name

[y/s/n] - your siblings name (gender neutral too)

note: i’m not too sure about this imagine, please a like or reply if you actually enjoyed! - niss

you woke up to the sound of your alarm blasting your ear off, if you hadn’t turned it off right there you probably would have gone deaf.

george was sleeping like a baby beside you, you could hear his quiet snores. you were surprised he didn’t wake up to the sound of your ear-piercing alarm.

turning on your phone, you glanced at the time that read 12:30. you sighed in annoyance as you registered that you only had half an hour before you had to be on your way to university. so you got up and began your normal morning routine, brush your teeth, shower, have breakfast and finally get dressed. however, as you were packing your bag, almost ready to go, you received a notification from your [sibling]

[y/s/n]: we’re 5 minutes away!!!

[y/s/n]: thank you so much for agreeing to do this :)

fuck.

it completely slipped your mind. you had promised to take care of [y/n/n] for today, your 7 year old niece, while your [sibling] was at their job interview. regardless, you texted them a quick ‘no problem’ before rushing upstairs to wake up george.

he was still sleeping, but now he was completely hiding under the covers with one arm sticking out. you hated to interrupt his beauty sleep but this was more important. you began to shake him awake.

“babe,” you shook him

“wake up,”

“george,” you removed the covers off his face

“wake the fuck up!” you started poking his sides. usually, you would be a little less... harsh, but you were panicking.

finally the boy rose from his slumber, groaning and stretching all his limbs. he blinked a couple times before meeting your eyes

“good morning,” he said softly, as if he completely just disregarded your tone of desperation and worry.

you pulled him by his arm and he sat upright,

“you need to get up right now,” you told him

“what’s going on?” he questioned, clearly confused as you weren’t giving him any context

“you need to take care of [y/n/n] for today, i have classes today, and i need to leave in 5 minutes and [y/s/n] has a job interview and there’s nobody else to take care of her,” you rushed out all in once sentence.

“are you serious?” he narrowed his eyes at you. “you know how bad i am with kids, especially [y/n/n] , she hates me,”

that was partly true. unfortunately, your niece wasn’t exactly fond of george. ever since you even started dating,m, [y/n/n] acted cold towards your boyfriend, it only got worse when you moved in with him. she always refused to play a game if george was going to participate, or never accepted any high fives or hellos from him. you felt sympathy for george. this child despised him and now you were asking him to look after her.

“please, i’m begging you,” you looked at him with pleading eyes. his eyes softened up after recognising the urgency of the situation.

“fine,” he agreed. you sighed out of satisfaction that you didn’t have to stress out [y/s/n] over finding a new baby sitter.

“thank you so much,” you pressed a small kiss to his lips appreciatively.

right at that moment, you two heard the doorbell ring. you urged george to get ready as fast as he could while you went down stairs and greeted your [sibling] and your niece.

“auntie/uncle [y/n]!” [y/n/n] yelled as you opened the door, immediately rushing into your arms. she looked a lot taller than the last time you saw her

“how’s my favourite girl?” you picked her up and swung her, before placing a little kiss on her head

you gave your [sibling] a quick hug. they handed you a bag full of toys, teddies and colouring pens, along with a spare set of clothing just in case [y/n/n] got a little messy throughout the day. and some quick reminders about her favourite foods or how to get her stop crying. you’d looked after her before, so all of it was pretty familiar to you

“again, thank you so, so much, you have no idea how much you’re helping me.” they told you. your [sibling] gave [y/n/n] a kiss on the cheek and told her to be a ‘good and kind little girl’ before finally exiting the household.

george, at last, made his way down. wearing a decent pair of jeans and a hoodie, giving an awkward wave to [y/n/n]

you checked the time and knew you had to get going. you had to explain to her that uncle george was going to be the one looking after her today. and after one whole tantrum, you managed to convince her to be a good girl by promising to give her a big reward afterward.

finally, you kissed [y/n/n] and george a goodbye , then shut the front door behind you.

george and [y/n/n] stood opposite each other. there was an uncomfortable silence in the air. george felt so...he didn’t even know. what do you say to a child who hates you? [y/n/n] tightly clutched her bag of toys.

“so, [y/n/n],” george cleared his throat, he bent down to her level. “i hear you like toy story?”

[y/n/n] pouted “i don’t like you” she said, and stomped away.

george sighed. this was going to be a long day.

and it was.

-

it started off with [y/n/n] innocently using her colouring pens and drawing random things, you know, as children do. but when she ran out of paper, she made her way to your office, where all your uni work was. she grabbed the closest piece of paper that was sitting on your desk, deciding it was going to be the next canvas for her art. this paper just happened to be a very important assignment.

when george caught her in the act, he had to physically tear her away from your office, in defiance of all her kicking and screaming.

-

then, when george accidently left the door to your shared bedroom open. [y/n/n] waddled in without him noticing, she started playing with all of his devices. his computer, his microphone, and somehow she got a hold of his headphones, and took out the battery. george didn’t realise until he noticed the cover missing. he tried to ask her nicely where she threw the battery. but she insisted that she wasn’t going to give it back unless he stopped being ‘mean’

-

when lunch time rolled around, george put a pizza in the oven, he remembered clearly that [y/n/n] loved pizza, specifically pepperoni. nothing could go wrong here.

but when he called her to the kitchen so she could receive her lunch. she just stared blankly at the pizza, and then at him. she crossed her arms

“[y/n] usually makes a smiley face with the pepperoni”

george just felt all his will to live just disappear

-

coloured pens and toys were spread out all across the living room floor, [y/n/n] was sitting in front of the tv, george put on one of her favourite shows which thankfully distracted her for a bit, allowing him to relax. he pulled out his phone and texted you

to [y/n] <3 : help me please

to [y/n] <3: i cant take this anymore, i’m literally dying rn

to [y/n] <3: come home quick

he exhaled heavily, throwing his phone to the side. he was so exhausted.

[y/n/n] was roleplaying with her toys, making them move around and doing squeaky little voices. george smiled at the innocence

“purple bear doesn’t play with us anymore. princess giraffe, mr. george took her away from us,” she spoke in a high pitched voice

george’s ears perked up. how funny that she had a teddy named ‘mr. george’. curiously, he watched the little girl.

“koala george, is a meanie, he stole purple bear and now they don’t want to hang out with us!”

it didn’t take a genius to find out what [y/n/n] was displaying through her role playing teddies.

that was why she didn’t like george. before they got together, [y/n] mentioned they almost spent every weekend with [y/n/n], playing with her and having fun with her.

she felt abandoned by [y/n] and felt as if george had taken them away from her .

george felt at fault as he noticed the girls eyes started to water.

“does purple bear love us any more?” she continued to play.

george decided it was enough and he switched off the television. he joined [y/n/n] on the floor and grabbed the teddy that was supposedly ‘koala george’

“[y/n/n]” he spoke softly. the little girl looked up at him expectantly. he held up the teddy.

“is this supposed to be me?” he questioned her.

“that’s a koala bear,” she answered

“no-, [y/n/n],” he said. he thought about how to ask her, and just chose it was best to be flat out with the child,”

“did i steal auntie/uncle [y/n] away from you?”

the question took her by surprise. she gazed at him with big wide eyes. she thought about her answer and grabbed the purple bear, which was supposed to be you.

“they don’t play with me as much anymore, they’re always with you, because of you, they don’t love me anymore,” she pulled a face, it wasn’t angry, it wasn’t annoyed.

it was a genuinely sad face.

george was sure he physically felt a pang of guilt in his stomach. he never even comprehended the fact that a child could feel so rejected.

“listen... [y/n/n],” he said gently. he thought about his words. comforting someone wasn’t exactly his strongest point, particularly not a child who detested him “[y/n] will never stop loving you, okay? they love you very much, and i’m sorry you feel like i stole them ”

[y/n/n] continued to listen.

“but don’t forget that [y/n] has so much love to go around! look, they love you, and they love me, they love grandma and grandpa too! they will always love one another even if they can’t see each other often,”

[y/n/n] stayed silent. she fiddled with the purple teddy, folding its ears and patting its head. she loved that bear. it was actually gifted to her by you, when she was first born. she brought it to her chest and hugged it. george tried a different approach.

“listen, how about- this weekend, we can all go to the park together, and have a picnic. you, me, [y/n], and your parents too,”

she continued to just stay silent. george didn’t know what to expect, she was unpredictable, was she going to throw another hissy fit? or start to cry? he wasn’t sure

“can we also get ice cream?” she asked

george smiled and felt himself relax. thank god. “all the ice cream you want,” he told her

[y/n/n] stood up and giggled. like her whole entire mood did a whole fucking 180. “okay! let’s go play dress up now!”

———

7:45 pm. you finally arrived home. you were tired out of your mind. [y/s/n]’s interview was delayed by two hours and was currently half way back home, meaning you had enough time to spend with [y/n/n]

you unlocked the door, expecting to see a giant tsunami of toys and colouring pencils and pens, but what you saw was the most heart warming thing ever.

george was sleeping on the couch, his head resting on the armrest. he had a couple pink bows in his hair, his lips were painted a hot pink, he was wearing a couple sparky bracelets and a purple floral necklace.

in his lap, [y/n/n] rested her head, she was wearing a fairy costume with matching pink bows and sparkly bracelets.

you quickly snapped a photo of this wholesome moment. because, who wouldn’t? you spent a few minutes just watching the two sleep, they were probably just as tired as you.

moments like these made you really appreciate the people you had in your life. the people you love so dearly much.

you didn’t want to disrupt the ambience but you felt it was better for your [sibling] to collect your niece when she wasn’t covered in glitter and an overload of pink accessories.

you quietly woke george up,

“baby, wake up.” you shook him awake, gently. in a very different way than you did this morning. he opened his eyes. and immediately smiled upon seeing your face. you ran your thumb across his cheek

“it looks like you two had a lot of fun,” you teased.

he quietly chuckled. “she’s okay,” he told you. looking down at the little girl sleeping in his lap.

you slowly and carefully picked her up, removing any accessories you thought may seem uncomfortable to sleep in. she was a heavy sleeper.

you carried her upstairs, tucking her into you and george’s bed and placing a kiss upon her forehead. you turned back to george and rushed in for a bear hug

“thank you so much for doing that,” you said. “i love you so much, i know it probably wasn’t easy, she can be quite the handful,”

george chuckled. “handful is an understatement,”

“you’d better be willing to dress up like that with our own kids one day.” you stated, hugging him tighter.

his face broke out into a small smile, having thought of an image of you two playing with you future kids. he kissed top of your head and then your nose

“maybe one day”

———

masterlist

[delimeful]

(dont) take this the wrong way (5)

warnings: injury, blood mentions, past psychological&emotional&physical abuse, ptsd, sickness

-

Virgil woke up, which was only unsurprising for the few moments it took him to 1. realize that his head was pounding and 2. remember the two very large reasons why.

His eyes flew open, and he found himself half-submerged in a shallow pool of cool water, surrounded by flat ledges of dry rock. The sound of ocean waves lapping against the cliffside echoed around the cavern, which was dimly lit by overhead cracks in the ceiling.

In one of these beams of paltry light, Logan was slumped over on his side, glasses askew. Virgil’s relief at seeing him was instantly overshadowed by terror at what could have happened to the human after Virgil had gone and gotten his skull knocked against rock.

His headache worsened, and he lifted a hand to press against the sore spot, pausing when he found more of those stiff bandage strips wrapped around his head.

The soft sloshing of water seemed to be enough to startle Logan into wakefulness, and the human brightened slightly at the sight of him. “Virgil. It’s good to see you awake. Are you feeling any pain or nausea?”

“What happened?” Virgil replied in lieu of the real answer, which was ‘everything hurts’. “Where are we, I thought we were dead for sure—!”

“Take a few deep breaths,” Logan advised, shuffling closer to the pool and offering a hand. Virgil took it gratefully. “We’re not currently in any danger. I believe we’re at the home of the seal-hybrid mer, if—“

“We’re what?!” Virgil’s voice dropped to a horrified double pitch, his grip on Logan’s hand instantly turning crushing.

“Ow,” Logan said in a pointed monotone. Virgil eased up before his claws could turn the human’s palm into bloody ribbons. “Let me finish, please. I’ve managed to work out a rudimentary method of communication, and as far as I know, we’re not currently at risk.”

“From the giant mer-eating monsters that literally kidnapped us, you mean?”

“Yes, that was the potential risk I was referring to.” Logan pulled Virgil further upright, reaching out with his free hand. “More importantly, you’ve been out for some time. Will you allow me to take a look at your injury?”

Virgil shuffled a little closer, allowing the hand to make contact with him. He had traversed currents of all temperatures, but in chilled still waters like this, Logan’s warmth was more than welcome. “I dunno how that’s more important than our inevitable, rapidly-approaching deaths, but sure, fine. Knock yourself out.”

“I will not? You are already dealing with a likely concussion, I see no reason to double that number.” Logan squinted at him like he was concerned that the head wound had taken a worse toll than he’d thought.

“No, it’s-- it’s just an expression. Don’t actually pass out, or I’ll freak out.”

“Ah,” Logan acknowledged, his hand twitching like he wanted to grab something before returning to carefully peeling the bandages away. “My apologies. Colloquialisms are not my strong suit.”

Virgil blinked back at him, because five syllable words were a little much even when he wasn’t concussed. “No worries?”

Logan continued to gently probe the back of his head. A sharp pang made him jerk away with a muted hiss, his vision blurring with pain as the sharp motion only agitated all his other cuts. He waved off Logan’s apology before it was fully formed. “S’fine. What’s the damage?”

“The bleeding has stopped, which is a good sign. It’s swelled significantly, but the cool water is hopefully helping reduce that as well. The best course of action now is for you to rest and recover in a dark, quiet place, ideally for at least two full days.”

“Yeah, but that’s not happening unless we get away first,” Virgil shot back, irritably twitching his fins down as Logan rewrapped the injury. The human let out a slow breath.

“Virgil. I believe the situation isn’t as dire as you think.” He settled back on his heels, back stiff as he spoke. “Our captors have shown no signs of aggression or hunger, even with the significant bleeding from your head wound. It’s possible--”

“It’s not possible!” Virgil cut him off, scowling fiercely. “That doesn’t mean anything. They’re playing some kind of sick game the way they always do, and if you let them trick you, you’re going to lose!”

Logan looked back at him inquisitively, still not getting it. “What evidence are you basing this off of? I was under the impression that you’ve spent only marginally more time in their company than me. Have they attempted to trick you in the past?”

“Yes, no, I mean--,” Virgil groaned, pulling at his bangs. “They don’t have to say it. That’s just how giants like them operate. We’re smaller, they can do what they want to us, we don’t get a say in it. You escape or you die.”

“Yet, we’ve been in their admittedly less-than-ideal care for over 24 hours, and they haven’t hurt us or made any indications they intend to hurt us.” Logan gestured expansively, his hand a bit wobbly. “That’s a rather long time to pretend, and for what purpose? If it was what they desired, we have been easy targets for a meal from the moment they relocated us.”

A rather long time to pretend. Virgil swallowed down a hysterical laugh, feeling dizzy. If a day of false niceties was all it took to buy his trust, he’d have never gotten away from his first encounter with a giant mer. “You’re— you’re human. You don’t know anything about this.”

Logan frowned. “I may be human, but that does not make me an idiot. Even with a language barrier, body language and expression are invaluable tools for communication, and I’ve been doing very little but observe them while you were unconscious. Virgil, if you just tried talking to them—“

“No!” he snapped, curling in even as his fins flared wide and threatening. He wouldn’t do this again, wouldn’t be subjected to the world’s most torturous game of catch and release, wouldn’t be lured back into too-tight hands by false promises and meaningless apologies. He couldn’t do that again.

Measured, rhythmic tapping on the back of his hand slowly brought him back to the present, cool air and Logan’s steady voice by his side. His throat was closed-up-too-tight, his gills too far out of the water to switch lungs— but the rhythm was counted out over and over, breathe in, hold, and out.

“There you go,” Logan said as Virgil took in another long, shuddering drag of air. “Well done.”

The air smelled like iron. He realized that somewhere in the past few minutes, he’d dug his claws into the soft sides of the human’s hand, drawing blood. He pulled away as though he’d been burned.

Logan didn’t even twitch, still searching his gaze intently. “Are you with me?”

Virgil nodded stiffly. “Yeah, I— fuck, I’m sorry.”

“No, I shouldn’t have pushed you. I didn’t realize— but I should have.” A deep, resolved breath. “It’s okay. I’ll find you a way out that doesn’t involve interacting with them.” Logan’s gaze went distant and hazy with thought, and Virgil hesitantly drew closer, pulling a bandage free to wrap around his bleeding hand.

… He was really warm. Clammy, too, and he’d been sitting in a cold, wet cave for hours, hadn’t he? Had been completely drenched for even longer.

“You’re sick,” Virgil said, and Logan took a moment too long to refocus on him. How had it taken him so long to notice? “That’s why you need me to talk to them. You need to get home.”

“My illness is no more severe than your injuries,” he deflected, adjusting his glasses clumsily. “Right now, the priority is getting you away from triggering circumstances. If my suspicions are correct, I will be fine regardless.”

Right. His suspicions, based on his willingness to trust his own abductors. He’d trusted Virgil, too, back in those tunnels. He’d known that he might be abandoned and he’d freed Virgil anyways, taken his hand anyways. Gotten hurt for his trouble.

He’d get hurt worse if Virgil left him here.

“... Yeah,” Virgil said, tucking the edge of the bandage in carefully. “But you should sleep for now. We both should. You said they haven’t done anything yet, right?”

“Yes, but…,” Logan’s brow was furrowed slightly, as though he knew something was off, but wasn’t quite sure what. “I mean, you do need rest. If… If you’re sure.”

“I am,” Virgil replied, curling against the edge of the pool and pillowing his head on his arms to hide their shaking. “Get some sleep, Specs.”

—

It was early morning when Patton woke to the splash of something small dropping into the water from his air room.

The room wasn’t overly large, being designed only for occasional use when he needed some extra oxygen in his system. It was also quite a few caves up above his sleeping den, but with two delicate little guests staying over, his senses were on high alert. He disentangled from Roman, who had been clinging to him for extra warmth, waking the shark mer in the process.

“Mwha’huh?” he asked groggily, and Patton chuckled at the way one side of his hair had been pressed into a tangled bundle.

“I think they may be awake!” he reported quietly, and Roman perked right up. They had originally hovered in the room over the two of them, only leaving after the human-- busy tending to the tiny mer’s wounds-- had gotten too fed up and used charades to shoo them away, leaving them with nothing to do but sit around and think about how badly they’d messed up. As such, they were both more than eager to start fixing things.

Upon popping up into the air room, however, they found only the human, lying completely still apart from the slow rise and fall of his chest. Deep in sleep, with an empty pool at his side.

Roman and Patton exchanged a panicked look, and ducked back underwater to search through his home and see where, exactly, the injured mer had gone.

It didn’t take long to spot him. The mer had practically every fin and frill puffed out, even the ones that were still injured. The threat display as eye-catching as they got.

He was hovering in the opening of a vent crevice, one that helped circulate seawater through the caves. It was small enough that if he vanished through it, they wouldn’t be able to stop him or see where he was headed. He knew it, too, staring them down with sharp defiance rather than absolute terror.

“Don’t move,” he said, as though they hadn’t both frozen at the sight of him. “I’m going to-- to make a deal with you.”

“A deal?” Roman asked, and received a sharp, wild-eyed glare for his troubles.

“Yeah, a deal. The other one is sick,” a slight jerk of the head toward the air room, “so he won’t last long here. Probably already too far gone to even play a single game.”

Patton was torn between concern (the human was sick?) and confusion. Game?

“But I’m fine. I’ve had much worse than this.” The mer drifted back slightly, closer to the crevice. “If I leave now, you’ll never find me, and then Lo-- the human will die, and you won’t have anything to play with.”

A creeping sense of dread overcame Patton. He still didn’t know what was going on, but it was sounding more and more like something was seriously wrong here.

“So, a deal. You take the human back to where you found him, and I’ll stay-- I’ll stay here,” his voice cracked painfully, but he ignored it, staring at them with a desperate sort of intensity. “With you. I won’t try to get away or anything. I-- I swear.”

“Get away?” Roman asked, his voice going high with the same sort of horror that currently swamping Patton. The mer ducked back at the sound, gaze flitting between them, some of that terror returning.

“I will! I’ll leave, if you-- you can either have one or none, that’s the deal, I’m not kidding. I’m not!” His fins flared wider, blood beginning to leak from some of them. “He’s human anyways, he can barely even swim, you don’t want him--”

“Kiddo,” Patton cut in urgently, raising his hands peacefully and trying not to wince when the mer flinched, “if he’s sick, of course we’ll take him back to where he can get help. No deals necessary, okay?”

The little guy didn’t look reassured at all. “I want to watch. I have to see you put him back, where other humans will find him, or else the deal’s off.”

He didn't believe them. Patton exchanged a helpless look with Roman, who finally nodded.

“Of course,” the shark mer said, “You are more than welcome to accompany us back to the mainland where Patton found him, provided that you’re not exacerbating your injuries.”

The mer hissed at him, a tiny, reedy sound. “And whose fault is that?”

“Irresponsible human fishing vessels?” Roman tried, and then wilted under both Patton and the mer’s looks when the joke fell flat. He cleared his throat. “It is, of course, mine. I wanted to apologize for the way I manhandled you before. Regardless of my intentions, it was unbefitting behavior, and it hurt you. I am truly sorry.”

He bowed with a little flourish, moving slower than normal. The mer stared at his bowed head apprehensively, and then covered the look up with a distrustful scowl.

“If you’re sorry, get Logan out of this place before he gets any worse,” he finally replied, and Patton nodded and went to retrieve the human-- Logan, presumably.

Glancing over his shoulder as he left, he could see the way the tiny mer’s fins had settled just slightly, not quite as frantically overextended as before.

It was a start.

[liquid-luck-00]

My Life is One Complication After Another 3

Cursing Ahead 🤬

Ao3 *** First *** Previous *** Next

~~~~~~~~~~

Ever since Mari's classmates stopped talking with her, they also stopped asking her for favors. Along with a blocked and rotating schedule for patrols meant that she actually had a sleep schedule. Sure she didn't get nearly enough but that was what coffee is for.

That was how she found herself down in the bakery with her papa. Roy had called her and the four of them talked and it was comfortable. Mari was the one who opened and was watching the front. She was still talking with Roy, but now it was on a headset, as he was out patrolling In Starling City.

"So as I was saying before we were oh so rudely interrupted." came Roy's voice in her ear. "So Ice cream and movies?"

A soft laughter escaped her and a smile on her lips.

"Sounds gre..." the bell at the door chimed. "Hey guys come in," she greeted the Waynes.

"Let me guess the bats?" Roy supplied as Dick bounced towards the counter.

"Good morning Marinette!" Dick practically sang loud enough for even Roy to hear.

"God how the hell is he so chipper so early." she heard Roy grumble.

"God damn morning people," she grumbled. That elicited laughter from both Roy and Jason.

"Amen to that!" Tim seconded in a monotone lifting a coffee cup. "Maman I'm going to take the Waynes up." she called poking her head into the kitchen. Her Maman nodded so she picked up her phone and walked towards them.

"I'll Let you go," Roy was about to hang up.

"Wait how about we give the Bats a heart attack." she smirked changing to the ancient language of miracles.

"I like the way you think, I'll catch you later." he responded in the same tongue.

"See ya then." she smiled, switching back the language. Ending the call and removing the ear piece. “Are you guys coming or do I have to drag you guys?" she turned back already at the door. Granted most of them showed confused faces and side eyes, but she smiled. They followed her without saying a word.

Once they were in the apartment she excused herself to change into more appropriate gear. She activated Kaalki’s miraculous, who then silently portaled out.

That being said she changed into a pair of black skinny cargo pants with red combat boots. A black long sleeve shirt under a cropped red sleeveless hoodie. Her hair was half down with red and pink streaks and a mini white gold backpack with three patches in the same white gold finished her outfit. She grabbed four parcels and went down.

"So we can either do the boring ground tour or," she held up the bundles. "we can turn up the speed."

"I like the way you think Pixie Pop." Jason stood and she handed him his.

"Roy sent me you guy's sizes, so I altered and customized a few things." she smiled. "bathroom is over there and the guest room is next to it." Dick looked torn between excited and horrified when handed his stack.

Tim seemed awake, but she knew better, "go change and I'll have a fresh pot of coffee ready." He nodded robotically as he got up.

She set the last bunch next to Damian, who was looking like an angry kitten. She sat down next to him and leaned in.

"What are you.." he started but Mari whispered in his ear.

"The jacket has a hidden sling for a katana, which will be practically invisible when on." His eyes widened slightly and there was a bit of slack in his jaw now. Before turning into an amused smirk. "Use my room up the stairs and through the hatch." she finished as he headed up the stairs.

"I'm impressed he let you close without struggling," Bruce broke his silence, as she finished prepping the coffee maker.

"Well he would have if," she began as Damian practically crashed down the stairs and all but tackled Bruce before rushing out the door. The closest she had ever seen her baby brother smile, which effectively made her smile.

"Holy crap! What are you?!" Dick made himself known.

"More importantly what the fuck did you do with Demon spawn!" Jason shouted from next to Tim, who was being propped up by both Jason and Dick.

"Tt. I am right here Todd." The scowl reappearing on his features. "It is adequate Dupain-Cheng."

"I'll take it as a compliment on one condition."

"And that is?" he rose a brow.

"You call me Marinette not Dupain-Cheng. I'm your sister aren't I?"

He seemed to war with himself for a moment before stating. "That is acceptable, Marinette."

At this point all the bats in the room were playing a game of ping-pong between Marinette and Damian. They were trying to figure out what magic spell Marinette must have used, when in reality she just seemed to fall into Damian’s good graces automatically. OK so maybe Marinette being the holder of the ladybug miraculous as well as being the great guardian of the order has that affect on most people, a sense of respect and trust that seems to permeate her aura.

She was handing Tim a huge mug as the front door swung open to reveal her Maman.

"Hello Bruce," Sabine greeted.

"It is good to see you Sabine," was his response.

“Maman," Mari pulled her mother's attention from her biological father. "These are Bruce's boys and my brothers. Tim, Jason, Dick, and Damian." she motioned to each one respectively.

"It's nice to meet all of you." Sabine smiled, "why don't all of you get something from the bakery before you go."

After finishing their small breakfast in the park Mari pulled out a map and a marker.

"So what do you guys want to see?" They listed off places that she marked down. She added a few to the list to fill it out, marked the route and took a picture and sent it to Roy. "Okay so this will work." she glanced at her phone. A quick look on social media showed no one has found Andre yet. She pulled out a case of comms and added, "Also keep your eyes out for Andre."

"Who is that?" Dick asked taking the earpiece.

"Andre's Ice cream cart, the best ice cream in Paris." Marinette answered.

"Then why must we look for him?" Damian added.

"Well he changes locations daily and turns it into a game of tag of sorts."

"Alright, lead the way Pixie." with a smirk she dashed off her brothers close on her heels.

Yes this is the best way to get to see the city, but this was also a test to see how the bats did without their toys.

Getting to Notre Dame was uneventful. Dick kept up a steady conversation with her, just a step behind with Damian, Jason brought up the rear but would constantly toss in quips and questions. Damian and Tim were mostly quiet, unless they were trying to get one of their brothers to stop a particularly embarrassing story.

Getting to the Louve was even more entertaining. Now that Dick had a feel for the Parisian roofs he would do flips and vaults to make her laugh. In the Louve is another story.

They had accidentally ran into some of her classmates, quite literally. She and her brothers were taking goofy 'walk like an Egyptian' group photos on the second floor of the Egyptian exhibit, the mini Ladybug camera was reattaching to her phone charm when Tim began asking her questions about it.

"Well my best friend loves anime, and we kinda sorta binged the entire Dragon Ball series and when we saw the ladybug camera. He said it would be impossible to create and maintain the quality of the image. So I kinda sorta made it out of spite." she mumbled the end.

"Hell if you weren't my sister I would beg Bruce to adopt you," Tim stated. "Do you have the files I would love to look through them. Maybe send them to Babs or Cy!"

"Sure I think I have it on a flash drive." That was when a tall body, walking backwards slammed into her, pushing her into Jason. "oof."

"You okay." Dick was in full mama hen mode fretting over her.

"I wasn't watching where I was going." the figure spoke as he turned around. "I'm sor." the words died on his tongue, Kim.

Max, Alix, Nino, Alya, and oh kwami no Lila, who were now all snickering.

"I'm fine Dick," she smiled to reassure him. However her classmates were shocked.

Lila of course was the one who broke the silence, by beginning to cry. "I'm so sorry about her. I know she hates me but to be so rude to a complete stranger!" her sobs breaking the sentence while her lackeys went to console her, glaring daggers at Marinette.

"Seriously girl," Alya began to scold her. "Your little out burst not only made Lila cry. Your insulting someone who is just trying to be nice."

She and her brothers were now standing awkwardly being scolded by a teenager. After three minutes of trying to figure out what they were being scolded for and why the guys hadn't apparently left.

"What the fuck did she do that your yelling at her for?" Jason finally broke Alya's rant. Now it was the five Parisians and the Italian to stand there confused.

"She called him a dick," Alya sighed exasperated.

"Yes." Dick answered confusing them further.

"Dick."Tim now called.

"What?!"

"Dick!!" Damian, Marinette, Tim, and Jason all called, and immediately began laughing.

"What? Oh, oh," a sheepish smile now on his face. “Names Richard but I go by Dick,” he explained to those who weren’t laughing, smiling at them.

"Tt. this is why I call you Grayson." Damian rolled his eyes. "Besides this one still has not apologized." he jabbed a finger to Kim.

"It's not worth it Damian,” Marinette shook her head. "We should head back to the bakery anyways. Maman has probably finished scolding Bruce." she smirked.

"Damn I wish I was a fly on the wall for that conversation" Jason lamented.

"Well..." she held up the ladybug charm and flipped it over showing an empty space.

"Two!" Tim shouted.

"Anyone who beats me back gets a copy," she smiled.

"Your on." Jason nodded as he vaulted over the safety wall from the second floor. Damian and Dick sprinted in opposite directions.

"Sorry Mars your gonna loose." Tim shouted as the last to leave.

"We'll see," she shot back. "Bye," She turned to her classmates as she grabbed the railing above and flipped up and over to the third floor, running to one of the secret zip lines the miraculous team set up.

"What the fuck" was faintly heard behind her, all but Lila and Max shouted by the sounds of it, as she jumped from the window.

She made up quite a bit of distance and seemed to be on Damian's heel. She had passed Tim and Dick was a few steps behind. Jason was just out of arm reach. So with a burst of speed both she and Damian were shoulder to shoulder with Jason.

The three of them simultaneously practically crashed into the side door of the bakery.

"I won."

"In your dreams Todd."

"I beat both you and Pixie"

"Check your eyes, or do you need the camera installed in your helmet." Jason's gaze hardened at Damian's words.

"How about we call it a three way tie and you both get a copy." Mari interrupted. "We should head up." Laughing Marinette opened the door and went up.

Lunch was rambunctious, but she was coming to expect that with her brothers.

“Too bad we couldn’t find that ice cream guy Mari,” Tim spoke up once everyone had finished eating.

“Oh let’s see if anyone has posted where he’s at today!” She went to check her phone but a message ended up distracting her.

Andres in your favorite spot I’ll meet you there at 7 your time.

"Cool he’ s in my favorite spot in all of Paris which just happens to be the last spot on our list today," she announced, sending off a text, setting her phone down, screen up.

Can't wait Katniss

"Why don’t you all go and Mari can get to know Bruce," Sabine offered.

OK granted it’s a good idea, maybe I should get to know my biological father but am I ready to? Do I want to? Am I yes, yes I want to get to know my biological father, yes I want my family to grow, my brothers are such protective goofballs and I love them already.

"Sounds good," she smiled.

That was when her phone lit up from a message. She went to pick it up, but she was to slow.

Jason was the one who snacked her phone. "Message from Katniss says see ya then Peeta. So who's Katniss Pixie."

"Well..." she started but she began to blush furiously.

"That would be her boyfriend," her Maman decided to add before heading back down to the bakery with Papa.

Dick pounced asking a million and one questions, Bruce physically froze but she could tell his mind was racing because that look was much the same as hers. Jason was pensive, while Tim and Damian just seemed bored or tired.

So that was how she found herself talking about Roy, blushing furiously. While simultaneously avoiding his name and details that would tip any of them off. After about a half hour of her answering questions did Dick start telling her about his fiancée. How they were planning on setting a date for the wedding.

After that the next few hows was spent sharing stories and tidbits of themselves.

However, thanks to Dick a design was swimming in her mind. so she did the only logical thing and ran up to her room. Grabbed three drives, her tablet and pen and ran back down. She tossed the red drive to Tim, and Jason and Damian each a black drive. Plopped down and began stretching out an Italian suit with a nock lapel. A rough coloration of a midnight blue offset by a sapphire. Accents of golden thread, emerald buttons and an Osiria rose in the lapel. She signed the design 'Mira Luck' and handed Dick the tablet.

"So I couldn't help myself," she begun to fidget. "But in my defense you told a designer about a wedding and my brain wouldn't stop screaming at me until this was on something. So what do you think? I know its rough but."

"Holy Shit your Mira Luck as in M, Jagged Stones personal designer. You are M as in the designer for the Lucky Spot!!" Tim screamed lunging to take the tablet from Dick.

"That's me," a blindingly bright smile lit up her features.

"So what do you think?" she asked again.

"It's amazing we were actually hoping to talk to you about Kori’s dress." Dick smiled. "I could call her it's not too late there."

"Perhaps it would be best to discuss it in person when Marinette next goes, that way she can get to know Gotham." Bruce interjected.

"That actually might be sooner than you think," she responded.

"I was actually accepted to be an exchange student for the next semester at Gotham Academy."

"Wait you’re willing we going to Gotham to study! You ’re going to Gotham willingly. Bruce I think your daughter might be a little crazy." Jason surprisingly brought up.

"I might be but but it’s no crazier than Paris and it’s a Akumas. Besides I would love to design your fiancée’s dress and we should head over to Andre’s ice cream before the sunsets that way we can watch the lighting of the Eiffel tower." She got up and called out. "Hey Jason mind passing me my backpack."

"Yeah sure," he went around he couch to grab it and toss it to her but before he did he finally seemed to notice the patches. "Wait are these The Outlaws."

"Yeah Red Hood, Arsenal, Star Fire, and Bizarro." she was smiling.

"Why choose The Outlaws?" Tim brought up.

"Honestly it was because Roy mentioned something about Arsenal and Red Hood and I ended up liking of the logos, so I made them into the backpack," she shrugged. "Besides unless you’re looking at it close enough you can’t tell which is always fun to see if people pay attention to it, let’s go."

At that the six of them walked out of the apartment, away from the bakery towards the Palais de Chaillot.

"So what's so special about Andre's Ice cream?" B asked.

"Personally I think he is a meta. But what he does is he can either see your true reflection or that of the person best suited to you."

"So he sees souls?" Tim added.

"Not quite, more like he sees the main qualities of you or your go." she tapped her chin.

"But he is meta,” Tim tried to figure.

"That's the only explanation I can come up with but I have no idea." Marinette shrugged.

"So how does he do it." Tim was now fully invested in this.

"Well you either ask for love or self and he usually does three to four ice cream flavors and gives a short reason."

They were now at the top of the stairs at the Palais de Chaillot looking out at the Eiffel Tower. They stood there as the last of the light faded from the sky. The city was dark for a moment as the Eiffel Tower lit up and slowly the lamps lit up.

"So that's why this is your favorite spot Minnie." A voice behind her chuckled. She turned around and nearly tackled him.

"Hey speedy." she pecked his cheek.

Not a second later did Jason scream, "Roy!"

"Ready for that movie?” Roy asked her an arm around her shoulders.

"Of course," she smiled. "See you guys around."

"What the fuck are you doing in Paris Roy!?" Jason screamed.

"Um... Date night," he answered. The Waynes were now practically surrounding the couple.

"What?" Apparently it was Dick's turn to yell.

"Seriously. I thought you said the bats and birds were detectives." she spoke just loud enough for them to hear. "It's kinda hard to believe with the big bat having a heart attack over there." Sure enough Bruce was seriously hyperventilating.

"Oh mind giving this to LB?" He handed her a small nondescript red box.

"Sure," Marinette took the box, "Au Revoir."

From there they left and oh kwamii did she wish she could replay that again, oh wait I can.

Next

~~~~~~~~~~

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[no-droids]

The Sun on Both Sides

Summary: Cassian Andor is your very close companion.  He says best friend, you say pain in your ass—neither one of you are entirely wrong.  But then one night you smoke some unfamiliar spice with him, and everything you once thought you knew goes sideways.

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Cassian Andor/fem!Reader

Word Count: 11.2K

Warnings: SMUT, sex pollen (therefore DUB-CON by default), recreational drug use, best friends to lovers, mutual pining, dirty talk, oral sex (both male and female receiving), penetrative sex, me just making so much shit up honestly

A/N: All phrases in Festan are taken from other Star Wars conlangs.  I don’t even know if that’s the name of the language people from Fest speak tbh.  Probably not.  None of this is real.  Anyways this is Cassian as a young rebel pilot long before the events of Rogue One.  This oneshot will likely be deemed obsolete by Cassian’s new Disney+ show but whoooooooops~

—knock knock knock knock knock—

You know that knock.  It’s too quick, too rapid and annoying to be anyone else.

“I’m sleeping,” you huff with your mouth full, sitting on top of your mattress in a hoodie and sweatpants, legs crossed.

“I have gifts,” Cassian’s muffled voice asserts from the other side of the door.

“I don’t care,” you return, swallowing and shoveling more slop together with your tiny little biodegradable spork.  “S’the middle of the night.”

—knock knock knock knock knock—

“Stop it.”

“Knock knock,” he beckons vocally, as if you didn’t hear it the first ten times.  “Come, open the door.  Please—I will get into trouble.”

It’s exhausting being Cassian’s friend.  Truly exhausting.  It doesn’t matter what Maker-forsaken time it is, as soon as he comes back to base from patrols, he’s at your door.  You don’t know why he chose you as his sole victim to personally inflict this torture upon, but regardless of reason, he’s called you his close friend ever since you first offered to help the lanky, dark-haired six year old with his Basic and his best friend ever since your junior year of flight training.  Apparently with the promotion came the lingering, severe misfortune of his present company, almost always.

“Can I put in for a transfer?”  He also technically outranks you.

“Open the door and we will talk,” Cassian bargains.  Bantha shit, you and him both know it.  He’ll rip the papers in half before you can even finish filling them out.

You let out a dramatic groan just loud enough for him to hear, dragging yourself off the bed and padding over to the door.  “If I accept your gift, will you leave?”

“Maybe.”  No.

“If I accept your gift and trade it for the rest of this, uh,” you look at the MRE packet in your hands, “rice and shredded tauntaun meat in glockaw sauce, will you leave?”

“Maybe.”  No.

“Good call, not as great as it sounds.  What if I—”

He says your name impatiently, accented and sharp.  You roll your eyes as his knuckles rap on the door once more.  “Quickly, quickly—before someone sees.”

“It’s the residential quarters and it’s two in the fucking morning, Cass, nobody’s going t—”

He cuts you off once more.  “Open the door and I will submit for your transfer work, yes?”

You throw your spork prong-down into the beige pouch in your hands and pop your hip, narrowing your eyebrows at the thick slab of metal separating the two of you skeptically.  “No, you won’t.”

“No, I will not,” the voice behind it concedes immediately.  “But for you, I will pretend.”

As soon as you the door slides open and disappears up into the ceiling with a quiet shhhft sound, his dark silhouette quickly slips past you and sneaks into your room, immediately bouncing his bony little butt down on top of your sizable but thin box-spring mattress without a word.  You press the button to close the door behind him with a long, drawn out sigh, turning around and resting your back against the wall panel.

Cassian meets your tired, expectant gaze head-on and wide awake, perched on your bed and huddled around something hidden in his thick jacket.  “First.  You cannot tell anyone.  Understand?”

You raise an eyebrow at him, unimpressed.  “Are we children, Cass?”

“Secondly.”  He blinks up at you.  Maker, his eyes are so… wide.  Dark and warm and bright, framed with thick, long lashes.  “If you do not want it, just say.  Okay?”

Your expression suddenly narrows.  This is new.  It’s… still bantha shit, but it’s… new.  New bantha shit.

“Because the word ‘no’ holds so much meaning for you,” you tilt your head to gesture at the door to your right, “clearly.”

“Come.  Sit here,” he ignores you, patting the space next to him as if that isn’t your own fucking bed he’s inviting you to join him on.  “We will look together.”

“I will literally murder you,” you tell him genuinely, though you push off the wall to move toward him all the same.  “If that’s not a cute little mini-lothcat in your arms you got me for my birthday, Andor, I will literally murder you.”

“Today is your birthday?”  He glances up at you in surprise just as you’re lowering yourself down onto the mattress next to him.

“Two weeks ago, but you were off-base.”  You dig around inside the pouch for your handy little spork, not looking at him.  “Quit avoiding the subject, my death threat still stands.  Where’s my cat, asshole?  Who do I have to tolerate in my bed this late at night to push that kind of paperwor—oof—”

The second you catch the hard little end piece of it between your fingers is the second he reaches around you and pulls you into a tight, one-armed hug.  You fumble with the packet of food as you’re abruptly jerked forward, trying not to let it get squished it between you.

Stars, he smells good.  His parka smells just like him, the fur lining its hood so warm and fluffy and soft as it tickles your nose.  It’s still slightly damp from the wet sleet outside, but it smells so good.  The smallest undercurrent of clove and spice hidden beneath the sharp, clean scent of fresh snow.

“Happy Year-Over, caraya,” Cassian says next to your ear, quiet and fond.  “I know it is late, but I have your gift now.”

“‘Caraya’ better be Festan for ‘here’s your cute little lothcat, birthday girl’,” you warn him, moving to rest your chin on top of his padded shoulder and trying not to sound as breathless or affected by his sweet talking as you feel.  He’s never called you that before.  Caraya.  What does it mean?

It’s… it’s bantha shit, you remind yourself, trying not to close your eyes or lean into his half-embrace.  It’s all bantha shit.

“No,” Cassian acknowledges with a small head tilt, pulling his shoulder back but still keeping his long arm wrapped tight around you.  “No.  Not a… a cat, but…”  He slowly opens his other hand between the two of you, finally showing you.

You blink down at the thing in his palm, cradled carefully in thick gloves from the sub-zero temperatures outside.  It’s.  No, he’s right, it’s not a cat.  It’s a… a stick.  Reddish-pink, ground up plant matter wrapped in a semi-transparent binding.  Rolled up in a nice, even cylinder, a filter secured around one of its ends.

Spice.  Hand-rolled.  Expensive.  Probably swiped off a supply raid, whether by Cassian himself or another rebel fighter he bought it off of.  Ludicrous he got his hands on it, much less brought it on base.  Here, to your fucking quarters.

“I was wrong,” you eventually say, taking the joint from his open palm and holding it up to examine its strange color in the dim light.  “You don’t think we’re children.  You think we’re teenagers.”

“I think we are adults,” he corrects, swiping the MRE from your other hand, “with a reason to celebrate.”  He releases you and takes his arm back, sitting on your bed and digging two fingers around in your half-finished packet for your spork.

“You’re a bold pilot, Cass,” you tell him, studying the spice.  You’ve never seen any strain even similar to this before.  “It was one thing to do this during flight training, but now?  What happens if we have a piss test tomorrow?  Or, well—today, actually?”

“Different kind from before.”  He doesn’t sound bothered by the thought, though his mouth is currently full of tauntaun and rice in glockaw sauce.  “Only five hours high, not detectable after.  Piss tests are expensive, the rebellion has no money.”

“X-wings are expensive, too,” you counter, turning to look at him.  “You crash one of ‘em ‘cause you smoked this shit and your ass will be dead before you can even survive.”

“You hurt me.”  He uses the utensil to dig around the bottom corners of the packet for more slop, not looking hurt in the least.  “Also—you were right.  This one is… horrible.”

“Not to mention I have a oh-nine-hundred call.”  You both watch each other with matching looks of distaste as he continues to eat your food, clearly neither one of you enjoying it.  “You’re giving me barely two hours to come down before I got orange jumpsuits crawling all over me.”

“You did not hear?”  Cassian swallows.  “Reassigned Dreis during debriefing.  I will be leading red squadron tomorrow.  Or, today.”

You blink at him.  “You’re kidding.”

“No,” he shakes his head exactly once, throwing the spork into the empty packet and flattening it.  “No, I would not do that to you.”

“Course not,” you agree diplomatically.  “You’d just barge into my room at two in the morning, eat my food, offer me drugs, and then tell me I’ll be taking orders from you tomorrow.”

”Today,” he corrects.  “But I could not get our call changed, and for that I am sorry.”  He lifts an eyebrow at you, quirking the side of his mouth up and pushing the empty MRE pouch into your hands to throw away.  “But only for that.  Happy birthday?”

“We’re going to lose this war,” you tell him honestly, sliding off your mattress with a sigh to trash it.  “We’re all going to die horribly, and painfully.  The Rebellion is fucking doomed.  You and I will be but a mere footnote in the Empire’s endless reign of terror, you realize.  A footnote.  Our names at the very, very bottom of the page, in tiny little six point font, and it’ll link to a one sentence obituary for the both of us.  Died horribly and in pain.  Did you bring a lighter?”

“Here,” Cassian shifts to one buttcheek and pulls an arc lighter from his back pocket, offering it to you when you come back.  “Okay?  You will start it then?  Birthday girl.”

“You said five hours for one person, right?  So that’s two and a half each if we split it,” you reason with a shrug, putting the filter to your lips and talking through the side of your mouth.  “Two o’clock right now, nine-hundred call.  At least four hours to come down, and thirty minutes to shower if we’re both lucky.”

“We will be fine.”  He waves your careful calculations away with his hand as you flick the lighter.  “Because we are lucky feetnotes, yes?”

***

You’re not fine.

It’s fucking boiling in here.  Maker, you’re on fucking Hoth; why the fuck are you boiling?  It’s never even been warm in your quarters before, much less this hot.  You feel like you’re sweating buckets through your hoodie, your hair sticking to your neck in thin little curls.

And… and Cassian.

He’s sitting so unbelievably straight on the bed across from you, parka and gloves long abandoned on the floor.  His dark eyes flick over to you occasionally, though it looks like he’s trying really hard not to move a single muscle other than that.  His hands are clamped tightly between his thighs and he just… holds there.  A compact, rigid statue perched upright on the mattress, looking far too still and tense to fit the comfort of his surroundings.

“Are you okay?”  You ask him, blinking at how hoarse your voice comes out sounding.  Holy fuck, your mouth feels like a desert.  

Cassian stares at you, and for some reason, his large, expressive eyes seem even wider now.  They’re glassy and a bit red, but also so big and lovely and framed with long, dark lashes.

“This is not.”  His accent sounds thicker, words coming out deeper in his throat.  It settles down inside you just right and you feel a spark of heat at the base of your spine.  He blinks twice.  “This is not how it usually feels.”

“Should we stop?”  You look down at the half-finished joint in your hand, tilting your head thoughtfully as you consider the drug pulsing through your veins.  “It’s… it’s different, but I think it feels good.”

“Yes—I…”  He closes his eyes.  “Th-that is the problem, I think.”

He shifts a bit on the mattress and bites down on his bottom lip, and you must look so fucking dumb as you stare at him with your jaw slack, watching his lithe body stretch and handle the spice.  He’s fucking gorgeous.  Stars, you always thought he was gorgeous, but this is something else.  He flutters his eyes open to look at you through his lashes, and—

—oh.  Oh.  You see now.  You see what he meant.  Warmth pools deep down in your tummy as he looks at you with impossibly dark eyes, slowly drags his glassy gaze down your body.  Fuck, you’re getting turned on.  You go red and blink softly at him while he stares at you, trying to control your breathing.

“You need to—” your voice jumps, trying to remember the right cadence.  How do you speak to him normally?  “You can… take—take my pillow, if you want.  Lay down.  You’re too tall, your eyes are too big.  Look like a… like a Kaminoan.  Heal any—heal any clones recently?”

Bad joke.  Maker, he’s so beautiful.  Rich, dark features taking you in, blinking slowly at you and clearly not hearing a single word you said.

You shift your weight and throw him the cushion you’re partially sitting on without waiting for an answer.  You both need to calm the fuck down.  Hopefully the pillow will help.  Even if it’s squished and warm from your butt.  “It’s warm ‘cause I was sitting on it, m’sorry.  Fuck, it’s warm in here.  Do you think it’s warm in here?”

It’s like he still doesn’t hear you.  Cassian just takes your flattened pillow in his lap and looks at it for way too long, slowly rubs the fabric on the corner between his fingers and examines it, like if he tries hard enough he’ll be able to see through it.

“Cass,” you eventually call his name in reminder.  “Lay down, put that under your head—”

“Do you feel turned on?”  He asks quite suddenly, whipping his head to the side to look at you.  You almost drop the spice.

“No,” you say immediately, acting on impulse alone and trying to rearrange your face into something… something negative.  Something just generally negative, because you can’t even think of a negative emotion specific enough with the way your heart is pounding at the thought of something like this actually happening right now.  Holy fuck, you’re sweating.  What the fuck is in this shit?  “No, of course not.”

“Of course not,” he nods, turning back to look at your pillow.  “Me too.  Not.”  He shakes his head.  “Neither.  Either?”

“Lay down,” you tell him once more, desperately needing something else to do now, something to distract yourself from the way your lower muscles are starting to cramp up with heat and arousal.  “I’ll get us some water.  We need water.”

You’re off the bed and setting the smoldering spice on the small metal counter without another word, grabbing two empty cups and beginning to fill them up in the tiny little sink with your back to him. 

Stars, he was right.  It’s not supposed to feel like this.  It feels… it feels like everything is burning inside you, but such a good burn.  Like your mind is being seduced by your own body right now instead of the other way around, and the paradoxical sensation is manifesting itself in an unprecedentedly strong urge to jump your best friend’s bones.  The urge has always been there, granted, but it’s never been this shameless before.  Never arced and pulsed so brilliantly in your veins before, never been steadily fed by such a tempting outside source.  Not the drugs—but him.  The tangible fuck-me vibes Cassian is radiating towards you right now, staring at your back with those big, gorgeous brown eyes of his, silent and unmoving behind you as he watches you from your bed.  He’s never done anything to encourage your desire for him like this before.  He’s never wanted anything more than just platonic companionship and playful banter in the midst of war zones from you, and yet you can feel the heat burning from him too, feel it start to intensify your own high.

It’s bantha shit, you have to realize.  This whole Maker-forsaken situation—it’s forced; none of it’s real.  Cassian is your best friend, and he’s only looking at you like this because spice is chemically altering his hormones right now.  You can feel it doing the same to you, just steadily stirring deep in your floor muscles and amplifying your baser desires, but you need to snap yourself the fuck out of it and be the levelheaded one here.  Despite the arousal burning hot in your tummy, at least you know your thoughts are still fundamentally sound—in contrast, you have no fucking clue what’s going on in that hard head of his right now.  At least one of you needs to buck up, handle your drugs, and be the adult before things get out of hand.  If it falls to you, then so be it.

You focus on your breathing and do as much as you can to mentally will the tingling sensation down deep.  Taking a second to put a comfortable expression on, you finally turn around and start walking back to him.

When you raise your head and make eye contact with Cassian again though, the look in his eyes almost immediately threatens to undo everything you just decided.  Fuck, he looks like he just had an internal pep talk of his own, but in the entirely wrong direction you went.  He’s a bit more relaxed now, same as you, but his gaze is now searing hot on your body, tangible enough to stop you dead in your tracks in front of him.  It burns through you, and you literally feel the sweat drip down your back as a shiver rolls down your spine.

No.  Hold strong.  Maker, irresponsibility has always been appealing but never so fucking seductive as this is, has it?  Taking such a gorgeous fucking form.  You take a few more steps forward, quickly trying to gather composure.

“Should we stop?”  You ask him once more and stars, you were aiming for calmer and gentler and with more lung support—not this breathless scrape of a sound that feels like sandpaper in your throat.  He hasn’t said a fucking word and your resolve is already wavering.  You try not to make eye contact as you carefully hand him one of the cups.  “We’re only twenty minutes in, barely halfway through it.  We can stop and coast, it’s not a big deal.”

Cassian takes the water from your outstretched hand, letting the tips of his fingers brush lightly across yours in the process.  Your heart skips in your chest.  “Do you want to stop?”

You absolutely should fucking stop.  Just standing here and handing him water without ripping your clothes off is a challenge; you’ve still got half a joint left and you’re not even sure you’ve reached the come-up yet.  What if this is just the beginning?  What if this is just laying the foundation?  What happens when you actually peak on this shit?

“It’s not a big deal,” you repeat instead, keeping your answer as ambiguous as possible and taking a sip of the blessedly cold liquid.  At least the water is responding correctly to the frigid environment on this horrible fucking planet.  You feel ready to burn up.  “Just wanna make sure you’re cool.”

Cassian flicks his eyes over to the joint still cherried and smoking on the metal counter behind you.  “We can keep going.”

Your breathing picks up slightly.  Does he know what he’s really asking right now?  He has to have figured out what that spice does by now, right?  But no, he’s so steadfast in the way he looks at you, blinking up at you confidently.  Fuck, you should stop.  You should stop.

You should… compromise?

“If we keep going, no more of this,” you tell him, gesturing to the way he still hasn’t moved or drank any of the water in his cup.  “You need to.  Chill out, alright.  Act normal.”

Fuck, you’re normally so blunt and outspoken with him, so why is it that everything happening here is so fucking unsaid?  Everything is transpiring right below the surface, a conversation taking place within another conversation.  You’re telling him to cut the heart eyes, lay back on the bed and spend some rare quality time with his best friend.  Regardless of the weird side effects, this spice is still giving you an incredibly strong body high.  If he could just stop looking at you like that so you can stop rhythmically clenching and pulsing between your legs, you’d probably be incredibly relaxed right now.

“I will lay down,” he finally agrees, breaking eye contact with you and grabbing the pillow from his lap so he can throw it down next to him.  “Go, get the rest of it.”

“Drink.”  You stay rooted to your spot.

He gulps down the entire cup of water right in front of you, and something about how sassy and exaggerated it is makes you unwind just a bit and head back for the spice.

This is better, you think.  Butting heads with your strong personalities is better than whatever mind games you two were playing before, more familiar and grounding.  Cassian sets down his empty cup on the floor as you pick up the joint, and then you sit on the edge of the mattress across from him when you come back.

“So how were patrols?”  You ask him, taking another hit of it and studying the strange color it burns as you hold the smoke in your lungs, almost a light pink.

“Not bad,” he says, scooting back to lay lengthwise across the back of the bed.  His long legs stick off the end but he looks way more comfortable now, settling back into the pillow and watching you with a calmer, more easy-going look in his eyes.

“Where’d you get sent this time?”  You have to lean forward quite a bit to hand him the spice.

“The Lothal Sector,” Cassian responds casually, taking it from you.

“Oh, fuck off,” you snap, already unamused before he’s even started to mess with you.  “I will shoot down red leader tomorrow, Cass, don’t you dare fucking test m—”

“A local was trying to sell kittens to the pilots,” he goes on, completely ignoring you and relaxing back down into the mattress with the joint between his fingers.  “They were very cute.  But then I tell him no, because I did not know of anyone who could care for one.”

“That’s not fucking funny.” Cassian smiles slowly at you as you glare back at him very, very sternly.  “This is a no lothcat joking zone, I’m sensitive about this.”

He keeps smiling even as he takes his hit, gentle and fond and lovely on his face, but his eyes eventually go softer and a bit melancholy on the exhale.  

“I am sorry I missed your birthday, caraya,” he says to you truthfully, something sincere and tender in the way he looks at you.  “But I will get you something better than a cat.”

“What does that mean?”  You lean forward and grab the spice from him when he holds it out for you.

“No idea,” he admits during the careful exchange.  “Maybe something with less claws and teeth, I think.”

“No,” you shake your head, settling back on your butt once more.  “Caraya.  What does that mean?”

Cassian quickly opens his mouth to reply, but then pauses and takes a second.  As if he’s debating on what exactly he wants to tell you.  You inhale from the spice held between your fingers and wait patiently for him.  Probably something to do with birthdays, right?  Since he only started calling you that after you told him he missed yours.

You end up waiting for his answer so long, you actually feel like you should take another hit.  But when Cassian does eventually speak, it’s incredibly calculated and slow, like he’s actively trying to find the correct words to translate its exact meaning into Basic.

“Fest is part of a binary star system,” he finally tells you, breaking the silence.  “It is… it is what my people call the times when… when one of the stars sets while the other is rising on the opposite horizon.”

You pause with the joint halfway to your mouth, staring dumbly at him.

“It is rare.  I have seen it only twice.  Each time, for less than a minute.  It is very rare for them to match up perfectly, but when they do.”  His eyes go a bit softer, losing himself in his memories instead of concentrating so much on the words.  “The sky shines with every color.  Reds, yellows, and pinks to the west; blues, indigos, and violets to the east.  It is… it is also… something we call the ones close to us,” he continues, blinking his gaze slowly back to you.  “Caraya na cotâ vi zas iz’búsdari.  To care and be cared for is to feel the sun on both sides.”

You… you just keep staring at him.  Blank, unmoving, not really even breathing.  Your chest suddenly feels incredibly tight.  He looks back at you and stars, he looks so fucking gorgeous; long lashes dusting over his cheekbones at this angle, one hand resting lazily over his abdomen as he relaxes on your bed.

“It sounds…”  You sound winded.  “Lovely.”

“Yes,” Cassian returns softly, tilting his head on your pillow and blinking at you.  “It is.”

You don’t know why the fuck you thought this would be okay, honestly.  This whole thing was such a horrendous fucking idea right from the start.  You’re surprised you haven’t set the both of you on fire by dropping the lit spice between your fingers.  You were a fucking idiot to think you could resist him.  You were overconfident, underestimating him the way you did.  It’s like… like he’s approaching this in surges, almost.  Lulling you into a false sense of security for a bit, and then carefully pushes forward, toeing the line between best friend and person he wants to fuck and seeing how much you’ll let him get away with.

You’re… you’re a weak, spineless little thing.

“Is it—is it your turn?” You eventually ask him, looking down at the joint in your hands.  It’s barely above a whisper and it’s vaguely squeaky and it’s probably one of the dumbest fucking things you’ve ever asked in your life.  Of course it’s his turn, who the fuck else’s turn would it be?  

Cassian would normally rip into you for being such an idiot, but he doesn’t.  He just blinks softly at you, pupils dilated and glassy as they take you in.

“Would you like to…”  He sounds equally breathless now, swallowing thickly before he speaks again.  “You can… come closer, if you want.  Here.  With me.”  He pats his belly.  “No more reaching.”

What is… what is happening right now?  Is Cassian Andor actually, like—for real making a move on you?  His best friend?  The one he’s never looked twice at?

“You want me to…?”  Your cunt clenches.  Stars, you’re so wet already.  You can feel it, dampening your underwear as his eyes flutter slightly at the rasp in your voice.

“Come,” he pats his stomach once more.  “Lay down with me.”

You slowly begin to shuffle over to him on shaky knees, trying to move normally as he watches you.  He stretches out across the back of the bed, giving you a perfect spot along his open torso to relax into.  Your heart pounds as you carefully hand the spice to him before settling yourself on your back with your head on his tummy, making a little perpendicular t-shape with him on the mattress, vision slightly blurry but pulsing at the same time.

Maker, he smells so fucking good.  He smells like fresh snow and something warm at the same time, so lean and long above you.  You’re almost panting now, burning up in your thick layers as you try to get comfortable.

“Maker, it’s so fucking hot in here,” you whisper, using your sleeve to wipe the sweat gathering at your temples.  “Fuck.”

“Take off your shirt,” Cassian suggests quietly, and your mouth instantly goes bone dry, your chest forgetting to rise again after it collapses with a quick whoosh of breath.  “You have something on underneath, yes?”  He adds quickly before you can completely ignite in flames.  “Take off the top one.”

You… you have a thin undershirt on, but nothing underneath that.  It’s nearing three in the morning, of course you don’t have a bra on right now.  And the undershirt is white, and you’re sweating buckets, which means—

“It… it might show some…”  You have no clue how to phrase this, but Cassian quickly responds.

“It is just me,” he reassures, carefully reaching his arm around your head to hold the joint up to your lips for you.  You inhale the drug deeply, watching the pink light illuminate the tips of his fingers.  “We are best friends, and this is your room.  You should relax.”

Maker, this is… this is dangerous.  He’s dangerous.  He’s smart, choosing to go at it from this angle.  He’s not toeing the line anymore, he’s just… blurring it until it doesn’t exist anymore.  Or better yet, just walking over it and pretending it doesn’t exist at all.  Pretending nothing at all is happening between you right now.  Trying to see whether you’ll be more willing to give in if he comes at you from the side like this, not necessarily catching you off guard but refusing to outright confront you about it either.

Apparently precedent rules.  You’re a weak, spineless little thing, especially when presented with such a compelling out.  He’s… he’s totally right.  You are best friends, this is your room, and you should relax.  Nothing sexual about it at all, right?  Furthermore, relaxing trumps overheating any fucking day of the week, so… so that’s why you tell yourself it’s okay to sit up and immediately reach behind your head, grabbing the hoodie and beginning to pull the thick fabric off.  

Only, it’s damp and clings to your thin undershirt, dragging both of them up the length of your back as it goes.  You stop when the lower hem pulls up just below your breasts, trying to reach back behind your head even further and separate the two materials but struggling with the angle.

“Cass,” you eventually prompt, trying not to flush.  Not like he’d be able to tell, though; you’ve been unbearably warm and fidgety this entire time, your embarrassment conceals itself without your assistance.  “You wanna help me?  Or you just wanna keep watching?”

“Do not ask me such stupid questions,” he tells you plainly, unmoving.  “What did I say?  We are best friends.  Of course I am not going to help you.  You are…” he trails off when you lift your shoulders upright just a bit to see if the angle will work better that way.  It does, but the fabric drags further up your ribcage from the shift, “…You are nice to watch.”

Your heart pounds, and you’re even clumsier knowing he’s staring at your exposed tummy right now.  Maker, this should not be as difficult as it is.  You swing your arms back around behind you, arching outwards and trying to separate them from the bottom this time, but gravity doesn’t appear to work in your favor.  

Maybe you can do like, some sort of weird, half-and-half thing to get them apart?  Maybe?  Where you hold the undershirt from the bottom with one hand and pull the hoodie from the top with the other?

Yes, okay—that could possibly work.  Cassian inhales more spice as he lazes behind you, getting a front row seat to watch this subsequent genius unfold.

You get into your monkey-like position, beginning to pry the two materials apart from behind like you planned.  But then—oh, your undershirt still sticks to your hoodie at the front, pulling up a few inches with it and flashing the lower curve of your breasts to the room before you immediately halt and switch tactics, reaching back down and trying to pull them apart from the front withou—

A large, warm palm comes up to settle on your bare spine, right in the middle of your shoulder blades.

You freeze.  But Cassian doesn’t say anything, doesn’t do anything more than that.  He just holds his hand there, steady and solid against your upper back.

Neither one of you move.  It’s like… it’s like you’re both trying so hard to get a read on each other that your reactions are equally stunted.  Is he doing this to bring you to a still so he can help you?  Is he simply as blazed as you are right now and not thinking about things before he does them?  Is he—

But then Cassian starts slowly dragging his hand down your spine, carefully riding the gentle curve of it downwards as your breathing subtly picks up.  Your arms are halfway caught in the fabric, not able to stop him unless you untangle them and reach behind you.  So you just hold there statuesquely as his palm inches down the sweat-slick muscles of your lower back, thumb just barely brushing the hemline of your sweatpants.  

Fuck, you feel like you’re about to vibrate out of your skin.  Heat pools deep in your tummy, spidering outwards and sending pulsing shocks down your legs when he keeps his hand there for just a second.

Until… until he traces all the way back up and carefully hooks a finger around your undershirt.  

Your heart pounds as Cassian gradually pulls it over the top of your head with your hoodie, guiding you to bring both of them around your arms.  He pushes against your shoulder wordlessly, urging you to lie back down with your head on his stomach once more, the fabric stretched tight over your upper-body and the entire length of your spine now fully exposed as it touches the mattress.

“C-Cassian,” you breathe, fluttering your eyes up at the ceiling.

“Yes, caraya?”  He murmurs, and you completely forget what you’re going to say when he continues to pull the hoodie and undershirt down over your arms, exposing your naked breasts to the open air.

Your cunt pulses between your legs and you hear him throw the thick bulk of fabric carelessly on the floor.  “I—I-I don’t—”

“You will stay like this?”  Cassian tells you softly, brushing your damp hair back from your shoulder so that your bare chest is completely unobstructed as it faces the ceiling.  Your nipples are hard, a thin sheen of sweat covering your entire body, and you can feel his gaze drag down your naked skin, even if he doesn’t actually touch you.  No, he just takes another slow drag from the spice in his hand and tilts his head back to rest on your pillow, relaxing into the mattress with a gentle shuffle of his shoulder blades.  “If you are too warm, you will stay like this, okay?  Be comfortable.”

Is it possible to die from arousal?  Your clit is fucking pounding; everything from the waist down is unbearably tight and cramped.  Stars, you feel like you’ll cum if you even move wrong right now.  He told you to be comfortable, but you’re not—you’re boiling from the sensation, topless on your bed, trying not to close your eyes or squeeze your legs together.  It’s too fucking casual and unacknowledged, how he’s going about this.  You feel like you’re going to explode.

Cassian gently taps your bare shoulder to get your attention and shifts his head slightly to look down at you.  You bite your bottom lip and flutter your gaze sideways to meet his after a second, hoping you don’t look as flushed and tight with burning arousal as you feel.  Deep brown eyes look back at you, hazy and dilated.  He takes a second to slowly drag his gaze down the length of your half-naked body once more, now that he knows you’re watching him.  Your breath comes audibly now, quicker and shallower than it should be after laying flat on a bed for this long.

“Here,” Cassian prompts, holding the smoldering joint out for you to take.  His voice sounds raspier now, but still so… casual.  Like he’s out here talking about the weather with a mildly sore throat, not because your tits are out while you stare at each other and neither one of you is saying a damn thing about it.  It’s like he’s determined to hold onto the splitting tension, drag it out between you as long as he can.  “Want more?”

You know what he’s really asking, and it cramps your lower muscles up even harder.  He’s asking if you want more of this spice that’s currently getting you naked in front of him.  More of this madness, twisting up your insides with need and jumbling your thoughts.  More of him treating you like this, like there’s not a damn thing out of place in the universe right now, like you’re still just best friends so that’s why it’s okay you’re both doing this together.

Stars, do you want more?  Do you want him to keep winding you up like this?  More of this torture, this agonizing foreplay, wondering when he’ll finally give in and touch you?  Pretending like this is still completely platonic, like what’s happening here isn’t wildly unprecedented, insanely inappropriate, and so fucking hot?

You can feel your eyebrows pull up in the middle as you look at him, almost pleading with him to… something.  To stop, maybe?  Stop altogether, or just stop… fuck, stop ignoring the way your cunt feels clamped around itself tighter than a vice between your legs?  Stop neglecting your burning desire for him, even when it’s right in front of his face.  Stop refusing to acknowledge the way you’re just letting him look at you right now, how you haven’t once stopped playing along with this fever dream just in case you aren’t imagining it?  Fuck, but Cassian just looks back at you, his expression completely blank except for the smallest little glimmer in his eyes.  A silent, heated glint as he just barely quirks an eyebrow at you.

So you make the decision all at once.  You carefully reach over for the spice with your far hand, feeling your breasts shift towards him slightly with the slow movement.  Cassian doesn’t even feel like he’s breathing as you gently take it from him.  He just stares down at your naked chest and swallows thickly, eyelids dipping slightly as he moves to meet you halfway.

You let your nipple brush up against his knuckles just slightly with the exchange.

When you face back towards the ceiling again and readjust your shoulders flat on the bed, he lets out a slow, shaky breath under your head as it rests on his tummy.  The tension rockets up to eleven, weighing heavy and unspoken and ready to snap.  

But then like that, the moment passes—it’s just another invisible spark igniting between the two of you, just another thing buried beneath the silence and yet ringing so unbelievably loud because of it.  You’re both emitting and absorbing the same buzzing energy, amplifying it back to one another in a slow, endless feedback loop of rising pressure.

The spice comes up to your lips, and Cassian’s fingertips carefully trail along your other arm as it rests by your side.

“This is better, no?”  He asks you quietly, the rough tips of his fingers just barely gliding across your skin in small, mindless patterns.  They dance down your skin like feathers, tracing a small arch over the ridge of your elbow so lightly you almost feel like you might be imagining it.  Your eyes flutter when he gradually skims down the length of your forearm and brushes his thumb in a smooth circle around the bone in your wrist.  “Or you are still too warm?”

You bite your bottom lip when one of his fingers carefully stretches all the way up to your hip, running along the hem of your sweatpants.  

“Yeah, m’still a little—” you gasp, trying not to stutter when Cassian starts to draw up the length of your waistline, pausing right when his fingers reach your drawstrings.  “Little w-warm,” you finish hoarsely, painfully aware of how fucking wet you are, how your nipples are peaked and glistening with sweat as they move with your soft, shallow breathing.

He slowly dips one finger below the elastic wrapping across your hips, dragging it back and forth under the damp waistband.

“This fabric is heavy,” Cassian remarks, just the slightest husk in his voice.  “You… you will take this off, too?”

“I-I don’t—”  You’re about to say have anything on underneath except you immediately go quiet, because he’s suddenly slithering his entire hand down into your sweatpants and brushing his knuckles along the gentle slope of you.

He pauses once more when his longest finger reaches the very top of your slit.

But then he just holds it there for a second, tracing small arches back and forth along gentle give of it, the slight dip that separates your soft curls from your soaking heat.  You tighten up and wait in breathless anticipation for it, before the tip of Cassian’s finger finally comes to a rest over the soft split of flesh.

And then he’s suddenly pushing in, and down—

—fuckfuckfuckfuck—don’tcumdon’tcum—don’t—

You make a soft, vulnerable sound in bliss as he slowly slides his finger through the hot, slick cleft of your pussy.

“You are warm down here, too,” Cassian murmurs quietly.  Your eyes roll back when he drags the entire length of it up against your clit, letting you feel each individual ridge and joint and crevice across the swollen bit of flesh.  “Is it the spice?”  He asks, sinking his finger back down into you once more.  “Or are you always this wet between your legs?”

Neither.  Both, maybe?  Mostly it’s just him.  Cassian, whispering softly to you through the hazy darkness, lazily dipping his fingers into your cunt and letting it drench and engulf his skin in its heat.

“Tell me,” he prompts when you don’t say a word.  His finger pulls up and begins tracing slow, gentle circles around your clit.

“No,” you breathe haggardly, arching your hips up just slightly as he touches you.  “N-No, this is…”

“This is different,” Cassian confirms when you don’t finish your sentence.  He keeps circling your clit, and it’s like he’s just casually, carelessly stirring a pot that’s about to boil over and set everything on fucking fire.  You pulse threateningly under the tip of his finger, swollen and tight and just trying your best to control your breathing.  “So it is the spice.  Why you are this hot, this… this soaking.”

“It’s…”  Don’t you say it.  Don’t you fucking say it.  Don’t you turn this into something it isn’t.  “Yeah.  It’s—it’s the sp-spice.”

His finger follows the hard curve of you down to where you give, where you’re leaking wetness and heat from the source, before he’s suddenly shifting his wrist and pushing the entire thing into you down to his knuckle.

Now you do arch your hips, spreading your legs and helping him go deeper even as Cassian hums, stretching his finger and feeling you clench hot and tight around him.  He says something softly, something in a language you don’t understand.

And then he’s pulling out and rubbing circles around your clit again, the tip of his finger steady and firm as he steadily drags the pleasure out of you.

“We need to finish it soon,” he eventually reminds you, and it takes a remarkable delay for you to realize he’s talking about the lingering quarter of the joint still clenched tightly between your fingers.  “Take your hit.  We have a nine-hundred call, remember.”

Fuck, you bring the spice up to your lips with a shaky hand, trying to remember whether you should inhale or exhale first.  Cassian’s finger just keeps circling your clit, winding you up tighter and tighter.  His motions are so repetitive and predictable, but they’re somehow still lighting you on fire from the inside, slowing you down spectacularly as you try to take a steady breath in through the filter.

“Stars, you are so wet,” he remarks after a moment.  “Are you going to cum soon?  You feel like you are so close already.”

You are close.  Everything is swollen and slippery and tight, and hearing him say it out loud like that makes the pleasure rocket up even tighter inside you.  You don’t even feel him reach around with his other hand and take the spice from you.  You just lose yourself in the mindless sensation of Cassian’s finger on your clit, rolling your eyes back and reaching your hands down to fisting the sheets at your sides as he touches you.

“Does this feel good, caraya?”  He whispers quietly to you, inhaling deeply from the spice.  “You are usually so… mouthy with me.  Is this helping?  Do I need to rub your clit like this more often?”

“Fuck—Cassian, I’m gonna cum,” you tell the ceiling raggedly, chest beginning to arch up and hips bearing down.

“Do it,” he murmurs, reaching his thumb through your slick lips to pinch and roll the pulsing bud between his fingers.  “Right here.  All you can.”

And then wild, painful bliss stabs through you, launching you headfirst into a blinding orgasm.  A desperate sound tears from your throat as you cum hard all over your best friend’s hand, agonizing pleasure shredding mindless rapture through your veins.  It rings white noise through your ears and rips you apart from the inside out, arcing lightning down your spine more bright and explosive than ever before.  Fuck, it’s unprecedentedly powerful.  You’re drenched but your clit is hard and pulsing and swollen, and he’s able to keep it between his fingers the entire time your hips writhe desperately on the mattress.

Cassian inhales from the spice once more and massages your clit through the torturous, blazing hot aftershocks.  He drags the pleasure out of you until you’re a trembling mess, exhausted from the spasms wreaking havoc on your body.

But then… but then you’re still so hot.  It’s like your limbs have no energy left but your cunt is still pulsing and wanting more from him.  You feel your wetness coating his hand, your inner thighs, probably soaking through your sweatpants, but fuck, you want him to keep touching you like this—you want him to keep doing this.

It’s the spice, something tells you in the very back of your mind.  It almost made you black out with a wild orgasm and now it’s quickly preparing your overheated body for another one.  Your feet come up to brace against the mattress and your eyes close, jaw going slack as you grind feverishly against Cassian’s hand.

“Again?”  He whispers to you, fingers continuing to pinch and roll your clit and then—and then another debilitating wave of euphoria is suddenly slamming through you, pulling your chest up and flooding his hand with another series of wet, powerful contractions.  Cassian rasps something in his native tongue and rides you through the second one just as steady as the first, your pussy spasming uncontrollably as he slowly wrings the pleasure from you.

Fuck, it feels so good.  You’re worked up and trembling and trying not to whimper for him, desperately wanting him to keep his hand right here forever, buried right between your legs like this.  But you also—you also want Cassian to feel it too, feel the way the unrestrained hedonism practically burns you alive when you cum.

So you carefully turn over on your side and shuffle forwards a bit, resting your head on his lower stomach, right in front of the mouthwatering bulge in his trousers.  His fingers can’t fully reach your cunt from this angle, but Cassian is resilient.  He just drags his hand over your hip and slithers his fingers into your pussy from behind while you start unbuckling his pants with shaky fingers.

He’s unbelievably hard and throbbing and leaking when you pull his cock out of his underwear, the pulsing urgency of his erection not lining up with the way he’s still relaxing on your mattress, still hasn’t moved under you.  So you just hold his length up to your lips and open them, slowly sliding your tongue around the tip of him three times before taking his curved head into the hot cavern of your mouth.

Cassian takes a deep, shaky breath as you suck softly on the head of his cock, fluttering your tongue along a bead of precum he leaks from the slit.  He drags his fingers through your drenched pussy lips from behind as you carefully move your head down his tummy, opening your jaw wider and letting him fill your mouth deeper.

“Fuck,” he breathes, and you hum softly and lift your back palate slightly, sliding your tongue drift down his shaft and taking him a bit deeper still.  He shudders under you and pushes the tip of his finger up against your clit.

And then you shudder because Cassian completely bypasses your hood at this angle, bumping into the swollen bit of flesh without any resistance or protection and just… holding it there.  Barely moving an inch while you begin to slowly bob up and down just slightly around his cock, just keeping his fingertip right up against your clit and sparking heat down through your legs.

You move your hand down to cup his balls and start to roll your hips against his fingers.  Cassian’s breathing stutters as you lazily suck his cock, rubbing a tight little circle on your clit in silent encouragement.

“We should—” his voice is hoarse now, now that you’ve got his dick in your mouth and you’re gently swirling your tongue around it, almost as unhurried and casual about the act as he was bringing you to your first orgasm.  “We should do this.  More.”

You slowly pull off him, kissing the tip of his cock and mouthing at the way he’s steadily releasing thick drops of precum for you.  Cassian’s finger rolls firmly against your clit in response.

“You just want your dick sucked every time you come back to base,” you counter breathlessly, brushing your lips against him while talking with his cockhead resting on the edge of your tongue.

His hand shifts, and then he’s suddenly pushing two thick fingers deep inside you.  You moan around his tip and prop one leg up on the mattress so he can fill you easier, going back to sucking and swiping your tongue over his frenulum.

“I would not mind it,” he admits with a shaky exhale.  “You are.  Very g-good.  Fuck.  And wa—” he gasps, feeling you clench tight around his fingers, “—warm.  Fuck, every… everywhere.”

Fuck, it feels so good like this.  Laying here, topless and being penetrated two different ways by Cassian, feeling him throb in your mouth while you rest your head on his tummy, feeling him stretch your cunt walls with his fingers while you hold your legs open for him.

You pull off him to drag your slick tongue over your palm, coating your fingers in saliva.  Cassian groans when you wrap your hand around the thick base of him, and then he lifts his hips slightly as you start to slowly jerk him off into you mouth.

“Fuck—caraya, if you keep doing that, I will—” he whispers after a moment, curling his fingers inside you in warning.  You just tighten your grip and add just the slightest twist to your wrist and “Wait—wait—” Cassian grunts, starting to pull his fingers out of you—

You pull off him just enough to murmur the words against his throbbing head.  “You’ll want more than one, okay.  Trust me.  Cum like this, okay?  Cum just like this, right in my mouth.”

You wrap your lips around his cock once more and keep jerking him off slow and tight into the heat of your mouth, and Cassian’s abdominal muscles go incredibly tense under your head.  And then you squeeeeze your lower muscles around his fingers, and all the tension suddenly snaps.

His cock goes rock hard on your tongue and starts pulsing steadily as he groans out your name like it hurts, fingers stuffed deep in your cunt.  You swallow around him and moan, clenching rhymically around his fingers and letting him slowly empty himself into your mouth.  Fuck, he takes forever with it, shuddering and gasping and pumping cum down your throat, his orgasm clearly as powerful as yours was.  The spice drags it out, makes you both lose yourself in the raw heaven of release for far longer than normal.

The spice also prevents him from softening when Cassian finally stops spurting hot cum in your mouth.  You suspected as much—which is why you keep sucking his cock even as he stops throbbing, you keep him in your hot mouth even when he’s laying trembling and exhausted under you.  And he still stays rock solid on your tongue, swollen and needing more.

Cassian’s voice sounds shredded when he finally speaks.  “I—I am going to crash my x-wing tomorrow,” he tells you hoarsely, fingers finally slipping out of your channel with a vulgar, slick sound.  “You were right.”

You pull off him and kiss the tip of his cock one final time, making sure you’ve cleaned up the mess completely.  “Today.”

“Fuck.  Today,” he acknowledges tightly, adjusting his hips when you lift your head off his stomach.  “Fuck.  In a few hours.  You will make me crash, just thinking about this.”

“Why is it,” you turn around and blink at him, “that after literal decades of my friendship, you only acknowledge my perpetual rightness after I make you cum for the first time?”

Cassian just smiles softly at you, and his fingers are drenched as they rest lazily against your thigh.  “Caraya.  Two suns.  Twice the illumination, no?”

You bite your lip and try not to smile back at him, wanting to blush and roll your eyes in equal parts.  Stars, why is he so… so lovely?  Speaking to you so sweetly, looking back up at you from your pillow like you’re every single color in his sky.  Your heart seizes in your chest, staring at him with the same kind of fondness and admiration his beautiful eyes are shining with.  Fuck, you want… you want to…

“Can we… can we have sex now?”  You whisper.  Not really shy, but… but it almost sounds shy in its quiet, breathless hope.  

“You do not want me to taste you?”  Cassian immediately asks, reaching out with one hand to offer you what’s left of the spice while the other stays firmly wedged between your legs.  “I want to.  I have…”

You bite down on your bottom lip and take the nearly finished joint from him, feeling his fingers curl against your pussy lips at the same time and knowing you’re going to regret letting him finish his sentence.  He swallows thickly.

“I have thought about it,” Cassian eventually tells you, carefully admitting the words like he never expected he’d ever say them aloud and is completely unprepared.  “Sometimes.  Sometimes when… when I am about to sleep.  I think of… of you.  What you taste like.  Right here.”  He barely slips the tip of his finger back between your folds, fluttering his eyelashes at the way you’re still dripping in his hand.  “I bet you are so sweet.  Will you let me find out?”

Except.  Except you’re suddenly blanking.

He’s… he’s thought about you before?  Like this?  Fuck, he isn’t just… just saying that, right?  Just telling you what you want to hear?  Because fuck, it’s almost too good to be true; like everything out of his mouth since you first put his cock in yours has somehow sounded even better than the last.  You feel like you’re dreaming, and it.  It makes you almost frantic with need, overcome with the desire to solidify your connection with him before it can be ripped away like it always is.

You don’t respond to him.  You just quickly wiggle out of your sweatpants and get on top of him, swinging one of your legs around Cassian’s hips.  The spice is held in one hand while the other reaches down and aligns his cock right up against your opening.

Cassian grabs your thighs tightly and takes a long, shuddery breath under you.  Fuck, he really is a dream, isn’t he?  Long and lithe and beautiful, still throbbing and pulsing and ready for you after you already swallowed his first load.  You straighten your back and slowly sit down on his cock, letting the thick, hard length of it break you open slowly.

His hands trace up to your hips and then slide along the gentle curves of your sides, measuring the size of your ribcage before eventually grasping both of your tits in his palms.  You breathe through the pleasure and the stretch, letting Cassian pinch and roll your nipples between his fingers as you gradually slide down him and come to a rest flush against his pelvis.

Fuck he feels spectacular.  You can feel him pulsing inside of you, fitting and stretching the contours of your slick cunt perfectly.  You shiver and clench around him, finishing off the last hit of spice as you roll your hips slightly to adjust to the tight fit of his cock.

You twist your shoulders to carefully toss the smoldering roach into the sink when it’s done, really taking your time with aiming it to make sure you don’t miss.  The second it lands in the metal basin is the second Cassian grinds his hips up into yours while giving both of your nipples a gentle tug, and a jolt of pleasure rocks its way down your spine.

“Im-impatient,” you whisper, trying to scold him but it comes out sounding all wrong, far more needy and breathy than you wanted.

“I wanted my tongue in your pussy,” he whispers back in reminder, squeezing your tits as you start to circle and grind against him, letting you both enjoy the sensation of each other without any solid aim at the moment.  “You could not wait.”

“Later,” you gasp, tipping your head back and just—fuck, just enjoying his cock.  Enjoying how it feels, pressing up deliciously tight against something inside you that just absolutely loves the pressure.  You scoot yourself back just a bit, just so he is really shoved up hard against that spot as you grind and roll your body.  It ignites sparks deep in your floor muscles, makes you clamp tighter around him as you slowly ride your best friend’s cock.

And stars, Cassian just watches you.  He drags his hands over your naked body as it swells and rocks back over his hips like waves in the ocean.  He’s still completely clothed, and while something inside you wants you to get him as naked as your are, rub your exposed skin against his and make sure he never forgets how you feel against him, most of you is just fucking burning at the eroticism of being so bare and tall above him while he looks at you.

“Later,” he eventually repeats after you, definitively confirming what you said.  Cassian’s voice is somehow soft and rough at the same time, quiet but tight and hoarse in his throat.  “I will taste you later.”

You jerk a nod in agreement, starting to gain just a little bit of a rhythm on top of him.  Your eyes flutter closed as you lean your weight back slightly and begin to pull up when your hips twist in towards him, and then sinking back down on his cock when your hips circle back around again.

“Fuck,” you hear Cassian grit as you keep doing that, relaxing your lower muscles as he’s thrusted into you and then clamping down on his length as it’s slowly dragged out.  “Fuck, you are—a-amazing, caraya.  You are.  You are—fuck—”

A sinful heat starts simmering deep inside you as Cassian cuts himself off with a gasp and squeezes his eyes shut, starts rocking his pelvis up in time with your slow, sensual rotations.  Both of his hands clamp down hard over your hips as they continue to undulate in slow circles around his cock.

“Maker,” you whisper, trying to focus on your rhythm instead of the terrifying, building sensation inside of you.  Fuck, you can literally feel the threat of your orgasm start to carefully wind itself around the base of your spine, simmering and sparking with dark pleasure as it gradually spreads its electric claws outwards.  It’s huge.  You can already feel it gathering together inside you, culminating into something monstrous and fierce.

Cassian says your name, and you suddenly blink your eyes open at the unexpected urgency and tightness in his voice.  Your vision takes a second to focus on his gorgeous face, and when you immediately see the same exact storm of swirling desperation in his eyes, your jaw goes slack as you speed up, trying to chase him as Cassian all but hurtles towards the blinding explosion nearing its detonation.

“Fuck, I—” he gasps, and then he’s suddenly going rigid under you and cumming deep in your slick heat with a desperate sound, shuddering and gasping for you as his thumbs dig into your thighs.  Fuck, you grind harder, trying to find and focus on your favorite angle now as Cassian whimpers through the bliss and writhes under you, throbbing and pumping in steady, helpless jolts.

You whimper, too—fuck, you’re almost there, you’re gasping and trying to surrender to the swelling sensation, but it’s so intense and overwhelming and you’re close to tears because you’re fighting it just as much as you’re seeking it out, and—

And then the breath is suddenly knocked out of you when Cassian reaches up to grab you and flip the both of you over, your back coming down hard against the mattress.  He kneels between your legs, hooks both of your calves over his shoulders, props his arms next to your head, and then he starts thrusting.

You sob brokenly, slapping an open palm against his chest.  Fuck, his cock is still so hard and it shreds up achingly deep against that blinding spot so perfectly, you can’t focus on anything anymore.  The dark, evasive build immediately twists up sharp and impending as Cassian fucks you steady and deep, and you start to muffle your cries and gasps into the back of your hand.

But then, oh—words are coming, too.  Oh Maker, you can feel the urge to say them rise up along with the ferocious stirrings of your orgasm, clawing its way out of your throat before you can do anything to stop it.

“Fuck—” you tear your hand away to sob brokenly, not being able to stop yourself as the tsunami begins to peak, “oh, fuck—I love you.  Oh, fuck, I—I love you, Cassian—I love you, I—IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou—”

His cock splinters up against sheer euphoria inside you as you cum with a desperate wail of his name, pussy clamping down hard as it erupts into searing hot ecstasy around him.

—and then suddenly Cassian is lurching against you and bringing his lips down to yours, licking into your mouth and cumming deep inside you once more.  Maker, you nearly scream at the sensation, your tight cunt milking the throbbing length of him with endlessly wet, hot contractions as he grinds you both through the aching bliss.  He kisses you like he’s wanted to do it for years, bites your bottom lip as you whimper and spasm wildly around him.

Fuck, you can hear the mess you’re both making.  It’s obscene, filling the room with the slick sound of your desperate coupling.  Cassian eventually pulls his mouth away to look down at where he’s rocking into your drenched cunt, the evidence of his own pleasure slicking up hard lines of his erection.

Your eyes roll back when he doesn’t stop thrusting.

***

You lose track of everything.

Time, direction, responsibility—nothing matters, because Cassian goes on like that.  For hours, taking you apart every single way you can imagine.  You fuck the effects of the spice out of your body until nothing exists but him—Cassian’s cock stretching you, his tongue gliding along your skin, his whispered words of broken praise murmured against your neck.

Strangely, your body feels absolutely amazing when you finally manage to gain the slightest bit of awareness of your obligations again.  You feel like you’re floating above everything, almost dreamlike in how unbelievably satisfied you feel.  

You slowly blink up at the ceiling, and then suddenly remember the nine-hundred call you have to make.  You’re both naked, sprawled out on top of your mattress, and Cassian—

“Cass—” you rasp, pulling on the thick waves of hair tangled between your fingers and feeling his hot tongue slip out of your pussy.  It’s still slightly dark in your room, but that could just be the horrendous weather blocking the sun.  “What—what time is it?  Did we miss—?”

“Almost eight,” Cassian rumbles low against your thigh.  “We still have some time before we need to get up.”

You lurch into startled awareness, getting go of him to prop yourself you on your elbows.  “But that’s—no, we have to shower, and—”

“A ten minute walk to the hangar from here, yes?”  Cassian reasons, pressing a lazy kiss to your thigh and not sounding bothered in the slightest.  “Twenty minutes to shower together, ten minutes to get dressed.  We have at least ten more minutes before we need to think about getting up.”

You shudder and blink down at him, naked and relaxed as he mouths over your skin.  Maker, how can everything change and yet still be so familiar at the same time?

“I think I might crash my x-wing today,” you finally breathe out, dropping your shoulders back down to the mattress once again.

“No,” he returns, turning his head to kiss your other thigh.  “You will not.  Because I checked my holopad earlier, and they sent the coordinates for red squadron’s patrols.”

You narrow your eyebrows at the ceiling.  What does that have to do with anyth—?

And then you suddenly go shock-still under him, trying not to let the blind, overwhelming hope surge up inside you.

“Bring extra credits, caraya,” Cassian murmurs, lowering his head back down between your legs.  “We are going to Lothal.”

[1-800-hellraiser]

The Other Side Of Paradise

Requested by: No one

Words: 1,841

Aged up: Nope 

Song: The Other Side Of Paradise- Glass Animals

Genre: Angst with a happy ending 

Pairing: David x Counselor!Reader

!TWS!: A small bit of swearing and mentions of suicide and manslaughter at the end. 

(A/n: This chapter is kind of an alternate ending to The Order Of The Sparrow (s1ep12). Essentially what I think would happen if another counselor (aka Y/n) was there with David and Max. Also sorry if Max is a bit ooc, I can't write him well.)

÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷

"I know you don't but I, I know you don't but I still try. My thunder shook him down. My thunder came and shook him down."

      When things couldn't get any worse, it started down pouring. "David, just let it go." Gwen says, standing beside you. "No no no! I can still light it, You'll see!" David says, as he goes back to trying to light the bonfire. The kids just stare at David with bewilderment. You hear Neil say "I can't belive I frenched a platypus for this!" Gwen sighs and starts herding the kids into the mess hall. "Come on kids...you coming, Y/n?" She asked, you shook your head. "I'll call for you if anything happens." You say as Gwen nods. 

    "Y/n! You understand, right?" David asks you with a desperate tone. "I do David, but-" you cut yourself off with a sigh, not knowing how to word the next sentence. You crouch down next to David, as he still tries to light the fire. You're about to speak but a certain jaded ten-year-old cuts you off. "Well David, you were right! This is amazing." You glare at Max, standing across from where David is crouching. "Max, you should be in the mess hall with Gwen," you say to the child. "If I could just, show you." David says, with a hurt look on his face. 

      "Do you really think a big fire and an outdated and honestly racist tradition is going to make anyone care about anything?" Max questions sarcastically. "Max..." you warn the small Indian boy. You stand up from your crouching position and kneel in front of Max. "If you don't go to the mess hall this instant, you will have double chores for a week and no pudding cups for the rest of the month. Got it?" You explain in a stern, yet calm voice. Max rolls his eyes and makes his way to the mess hall. You sigh and go back to David.

     "I just wish people understood." David mumbles after an extended period of silence. "I may not understand what you're going though, but I understand what you're doing for the kids. It's admiring that you put in one hundred percent every day for these kids." You say, putting your s/t hand on David's shoulder. You feel his shoulders sag under your touch, your heart sinks to your feet. "It's just...times have changed. Whether I like it or not. The campers don't care, Gwen doesn't care, even the founder of this place has better things to do. That's why I'll never stop trying. Because somebody fucking has to." David says, you stare at him in disbelief.

         "Davey, please...why don't we do this tomorrow? The wood won't be wet and you need a break from the kids." David sighs and nods his head. You two both get up and you walk David to the cabin. It wasn't exactly the end of the day just yet so Gwen was still in the mess hall with the kids. After you drop David off at the counselors cabin, you tell him you'll be right back. You open the doors to the mess hall and walk over to Gwen. Gwen was ranting to the kids about how they should respect David and everything he does to keep them safe and happy. 

       "Hey Gwen, just wanted to let you know David is at the counselor's cabin and he's taking a break from the camp tomorrow." You say, Gwen nods in agreement and continues to talk to the kids. You duck out of the mess hall and make your way back to the cabin. You open the cabin and notice that David is sitting in his bed, running a lanky hand through his hair. You gently close the door and sit next to him. Putting your hand on his back, you rub comforting circles into his back. David lets out a shakey sigh, "I just wanted to show them something cool, and they don't even care...what's the point anymore?" You almost stopped rubbing David's back when he says that.

     "I mean, the kids don't care, Gwen doesn't care, Mr. Campbell doesn't care, you don't care, what's the point?" David sighs out, tears welling in his eyes. "David look at me." You say, putting a finger under his chin and gently moving his head to make eye contact with you. "I couldn't care more about you and everything you do for this god forsaken camp and these kids." You say, wiping a tear from David's eye. Without warning, David envelops you in a hug, sobbing uncontrollably into your shoulder. You continue to rub his back with one hand and you start to run tour hands through his hair with the other. You whisper sweet nothings into his ear, trying to get him to calm down. 

    After an hour of consoling him, David falls asleep in your arms. You gently move him onto his bed and pull his blanket over him. Gwen came into the counselor's cabin about a half hour ago. You tell her you'll be right back, as you forgot something in the mess hall. You exit the cabin and see Max, leaning on the right side of the door. "Max, what are you doing up past eight? You've been here long enough to know no-one can roam around past eight pm." You question, Max sighs.

     "Yeah I know the stupid rules, I just wanted to talk real quick." You cross your arms and raise a brow at him. "Okay, walk and talk with me, I forgot something at the mess hall." You say as you proceed towards the mess hall. "I know how hypocritical this sounds coming from me, but I feel...bad. Bad about what I said to David earlier. And I want to make it up to him." Max says hesitantly. "Go on..." you say, pushing him to continue. "I want to do the dumb 'Order Of The Sparrow' thing." You smile, and ruffle Max's hair. He grumbles and sho's your hand away from his hair. 

        "Wait, Max, how are we going to do this if the other campers don't know?" You ask, looking down at the ten year old boy. "After Gwen left, I talked them into doing it. We'll wake up at the ass-crack of dawn and Preston will make the outfits and I already taped the staff back together. You just have to let Gwen know about the plan and wake David up at around five thirty am. Got it?" Max finishes, you nod. "Yes I got it, now get to bed kiddo, we have a big day tomorrow." You say, walking into the mess hall.  You return back to the cabin, Gwen is awake and writing in her journal, and David is still passed out. Perfect. You let Gwen know about the suprise and ask her if she'd be willing to do it. She agrees and you both head to bed. 

        "Wake up Davey." You whisper, gently shaking his shoulder. His eyes flutter open "wh- Y/n? Why are you up? It's five thirty, we don't get up until six. " You blush at how deep David's morning voice is "I know today's you're day off, but I have a suprise for you!" You whisper excitedly. David rolls out of bed and you take a black piece of fabric put it across Davids eyes. "Y-y/n?" "It's a pretty big suprise, don't worry, I'll guide you there." You say as you take Davids hand and lead him out of the counselors cabin and back to the bonfire pit from last night. 

    As you and David make it too the spot, you quietly motion for everyone to get into position. Nikki shoots and arrow past David as you're taking his blindfold off. "Nikki! No. More. Arrows!" Gwen yells, "You can't control me, white devil!" Nikki yells before running off. David looks around at the campers and Gwen stunned. "...you're all dressed up as-" "Indians, like you said!" Neil cut David off. "We designed zie outfits ourselves!" Dolf added. "Do you love them?! I love them!" Preston interjects. "But, why..?" David asks.

     "Alright I fixed it, everybody hurry up and...oh shit he's awake." Max says, holding the taped up staff. "Y/n, Max, did you-" "DO NOT LOOK TO DEEPLY INTO THIS!" Max says, pointing the staff at David. "You suck, this world sucks, and one day, we're all going to die and none of it will matter. But if we didn't do this, I'm pretty sure you'd kill yourself or something." Max finishes, David sniffs and wipes away a tear. "Oh you two..." "Or shoot up the camp, I don't know it was a possibility." Max says, shrugging. "Max!" You scold the boy.

      "Thank you." David says looking at you and Max. "Whatever, just take your stupid stick." Max scoff as he tries to hand David the staff. The staff breaks in half for the third time. David pushes the staff back to Max with a heart-melting smile on his face. "Awww....lucky." Space kid says next to Max. Max smacks Space kid in the face with the staff, making him fall backwards. You stifle a laugh. You and David walk over to the raging bonfire. "Y'know, this is kinda nice." Neil says, staring at the fire. You hear the strum of a guitar and look over to Quartermaster and Gwen. 

      "There's a place I know that's tucked away, where we can go to laugh an play."

 You look around at the smiling campers and they all crowd next to the bonfire. You and David glance back at Max. He rolls his eyes and smiles as we walks over to the fire as well.

"And have adventures everyday. I know it sounds hard to believe, but guys and gals it's true..."

      "Hey Max, how'd you start a fire with wet wood anyway." You ask, looking down at the boy. "I'm not an idiot Y/n, I used gasoline." He says, your and David's face drops. "Wait what?" you both say in unison as the campfire literally fucking explodes. "WHOOO! DO IT AGAIN, DO IT AGAIN!" Nikki cheers, you chuckle and wrap your arm around David's shoulders. "So, do you like it?" You ask. "Like it? I love it. Thank you, Y/n." He says, wrapping an arm around your waist.

"Camp Campbell is the place for me and you."

[fukurodaze]

five stars: part 3 | three words

IT’S EMBARRASSING: a third year cheerleader!reader x second year athlete!suna au

wc: 4.1k warnings: swearing

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you hate mornings. 

they feel restless and empty and full of longing to have something worth waking up to. sometimes it’s hard to even get up when your mind is full and your heart is worried.

but you do not hate suna rintarou. in fact, you’ve learnt a few new things about him.

one, he has a little sister.

two, he has a nice laugh.

three, he is only “occasionally lactose intolerant”, but not if he “tries his best”.

the things you already knew - his volleyball position, birthday, grade, home town - were never brushed up on, but somehow made their way to the forefront of your memory the more time you spent with him. you began to see him as simply ‘suna’, instead of ‘the boy you helped with physics last year’.

you wonder how you ended up spending every morning of the last two weeks with him. he seems nonchalant, almost lazy, when you see him around with his teammates: back slouched and face relaxed almost all the time. yet, when you let him walk you to class, he’s talkative. he’s eager. he’s walking slowly so you can keep up.

it’s a bit of a question for you, why he’s suddenly popped up into your life once more after waking you up on an unlucky monday morning. 

(he had told you that you had slept with your eyes wide open, and it took you some time to process everything as your chest fluttered with embarrassment.)

then again, you’re not complaining.

“if you notice over here,” suna leans into your side, pointing at the phone in your hand as the two of you walk through the school, “there’s a little cockroach at the corner of the room going out.”

“oh my god,” you laugh. the video on suna’s phone displays today’s fight between the miya twins at the gym. 

it’s your third week with him.

now, as he lets you hold his phone, the literal embodiment of all the volleyball team’s blackmail material, there comes the familiar urge of yours to steal a few glances, adjust your hair, or maybe do something absurd and see how he’d react.

it’s a strange feeling. stranger than when he walked you to your classroom once and you, in your half-awake genius, slipped him a tube of your lip balm in the open pocket of his bag in case you didn’t have an excuse to see him again.

“what were they fighting about again?”

suna shrugs, “osamu was having a bad day, and atsumu got pissed, so, naturally, osamu got pissed.”

“shit. everyone was crowding around i couldn’t even see them throwing punches,” you mutter.

“anything that the twins do usually gets a crowd, really.”

you pass the phone back to him. “yeah, the twins are crazy popular. especially with the girls. they’re like idols.”

“right,” suna pockets his phone, “you’re popular too.”

your brows are furrowed. “stop it.”

suna playfully tenses his shoulders up, hands shoved in his trouser pockets, “you’re, like, the kind of person that organises the culture festival and is like the secretary for the student council.”

“i actually am.” 

“you probably are.”

you two pause when the sentences come out at the same time, and it takes no time for the two of you to laugh it out, lightly, with snickers and giggles that you’ve never really heard from his mouth. 

“you know, i finally got to watch a movie last night,” you begin, changing the conversation.

he looks at you slowly, sweetly. “oh yeah? what did you watch?”

“uh, totoro...”

he stays silent, and you find his head tilted and his eyebrows raised. he looks amused. you ask him, “what?”

“solid movie.”

there is a questioning look that you give him, and you know he sees it, pupils focused to your side. he speaks again, “you like ghibli movies?”

“yeah. i think everyone does. don’t you?”

suna looks like he’s staring down the sky, thinking. he hums, and then tells you, “i don’t.” 

now he exaggerates his normally poor posture, chin tilting up to get a view of your reaction. the two of you keep walking, in an unusual silence, and you’re left watching his eyes as they stay indifferent.

“didn’t you just say totoro was a ‘solid movie’?”

the boy looks ahead, “yeah, so?”

you click your tongue, eyes narrowing, “whatever. i don’t believe you.”

suna has a satisfied smile on his face. he makes sure you don’t know it.

the two of you enter the building, even taking extra time to go to each others’ lockers. it’s only been two weeks since he had seen you laying on the bleachers, eyes embarrassingly open; two weeks since he had walked you to class the first time; two weeks since he had really started to know you.

when you reach your classroom, suspicious eye contact from classmates and the increasingly busy hallway tell you that it’s time for him to go to class, too. he sneaks in a cynical remark, and you playfully hit him on the shoulder, for the first time.

“i’m betting you and him get together by august.” your friend, honoka, chimes in as you enter the classroom. your neighbouring seat mates agree.

you’re starting to look forward to mornings.

unbeknownst to you, suna has a deadline.

the interhigh is only a week away, and so he’s told himself that he’ll do one thing before completely shutting himself out for volleyball training: asking you out on a date.

in other words, he is fed up with the volleyball team’s rendition of his “showoff mode”. he doesn’t lift his shirt up that much!

his first strategy is the straightforward, nonchalant way. he eagerly waits for you at practice.

“hey,” suna almost chirps, feeling a skip in his step.

“hey.” your squint your eyes at the unexpected energy, “are you- are you up to something?”

suna’s ears turned beet red at your statement. he couldn’t have possibly guessed that you knew what he was about to do.

a smirk crawls onto your lips. “oh, so you are up to something…”

“yeah, right. it’s nothing.”

you slap a hand on his shoulder, “hey, i get it.”

“what?”

“i mean, whatever pranks you and your friends are up to, just try not to get expelled, ‘kay?”

suna’s shoulders relax, but his eyebrows furrow, “wait, wha-”

“the volleyball team’s up to something, no?”

suna nods cautiously, not sure if he should be relieved or sad at the miscommunication.

“anyways, thanks for waiting for me after practice. i have a some paperwork to do for the student council, so you can go on ahead,” you give him a genuine smile. he always likes to see it, but it’s a little less lovely when the thought of a failed asking-out attempt is circling his mind.

“right. bye.” suna dashes off, hand fisted in his pockets. 

he tells himself it’s a work in progress.

“what the fuck am i doing making breakfast so well,” suna mutters under his breath one morning, preparing a cut of fish in the kitchen. he doesn’t even have practice this morning, and yet he’s skimmed through the entire oven manual and has found the joys of cooking fish meat. 

he even takes some of the fish and puts it in a metallic lunch box with rice to bring to school. normally, he would settle for the canteen’s average meat buns. 

“two bentos…?” he breathes. he has an idea.

it’s not long before he’s meeting you at the bus stop. he finds you sending him a small wave and an immediate groan about how your english teacher “is the definition of a nerd-bully equilibrium, what goes on.”

he laughs along with the complaints you have, even joining along with the flow of conversation. sometimes he thinks he changes a little bit when he’s around you, but he doesn’t mind. he likes talking and laughing and enjoying his time with you without worrying about what other people say.

he’ll give you a bento, maybe, he thinks, because he’s seen lots of girls give their boyfriends bentos in the past. maybe it would even give you a nod in the right direction.

right before the school’s building entrance, he stops you and takes you by the arm. it makes your heart skip a beat, but for him, all his heartbeats are centered around the lunchboxes in his bag.

“suna, why-”

your words are cut off when you see the boy eagerly rummaging through his bag, at first with a smile and then with a worried look. his hand is in his bag for a little too long.

there was only one bento.

so he gives you a beat-up ballpoint pen. 

it’s transparent, and from the outside you can see the ink tube only one-eighth full. it looks old.

“um, it’s a good luck charm... for your english test today.” suna keeps his mouth pursed and his look unfazed.

“oh.” you smile at the absurd charm. it seems questionable at first, but you try to convince yourself to trust in it. to trust in suna.

“i know, it’s kind of… beat up, and every-” it’s clear that suna is worried, for what you don’t know, but the way he hangs his head and his other hand fumbles with the strap of his backpack is enough to tell you to accept the surpising gift.

“no, i like it. even if it doesn’t work.” your hand keeps the pen in your fists. 

“it does work, by the way.”

you chuckle, “i’ll return it after class?”

suna shakes his head, “you don’t have to. if you do well you can keep it.”

you nod an okay, and he has a tiny look of satisfaction on his face. he had thought of giving you his lunch and not eating, but he decided against it when he remembered he didn’t bring any money to school that day. temporary success, fuck yeah.

(you get a ninety-two on the test. you keep the pen.)

as a last resort, suna tries through text. at least he’s proud that the two of you have been texting for two weeks straight. he still has you under “y/l/n-senpai (physics)”, and it makes him crack a small smile under his covers from time to time.

from y/l/n-senpai (physics): 2 notifications

suna slides the notification open. it’s always a pleasant surprise.

from y/l/n-senpai (physics): just watched arrietty its a ghibli movie

to y/l/n-senpai (physics): ik hv u watched howl’s moving castle

from y/l/n-senpai (physics): yes ofc

to y/l/n-senpai (physics): well. i havent

suna runs out of words to type. he’s not sure how to phrase it...

still, by the way that you’re typing, it seemed like he hasn’t messed it up. he rolls around to the other side of his bed.

from y/l/n-senpai (physics): then go watch it… (READ)

to y/l/n-senpai (physics): let’s watch together|

to y/l/n-senpai (physics): let’s watch tog|

to y/l/n-senpai (physics): let’s|

to y/l/n-senpai (physics): let’s go on a da|

suna sighs, thumb pressing the delete button like there’s no tomorrow.

except his thumbs are big. and phone keys are small. and his train of thought has jumbled up past usual cognition.

to y/l/n-senpai (physics): lets go, toge (SENT)

suna starts to stare down the volleyball in the corner of his room, wishing it would explode on command, when another ping lights up his phone.

from y/l/n-senpai (physics): 1 notification

he makes the slowest visit to his contacts to change your display name on his phone. he wants to stall.

but he always gives in.

from y/n: whos toge? (READ)

“fuck,” he grunts, burying his head into his pillow.

out of sheer shame and fatigue of asking-out attempts, suna doesn’t see you in the morning that monday nor text you for the rest of the weekend, having left you on read every time you sent a message. he thinks that if he reverted back to the time when the only interactions with you were stray thoughts in his mind, life would go on and this too would pass. 

it’s not like you would care, right? he would tell himself.

but suna seemed to forget that you were on the cheerleading team, and that the cheerleading team shares the gym with the volleyball club on mondays and fridays, not tuesdays and thursdays like he had very cleverly remembered.

“suna!”

you call out to him that afternoon. you have your cheerleader uniform on, having received them just today, and make sure to catch him while he’s on break.

big mistake.

you knew the volleyball team was tall, but you never really expected them to be slightly off-putting, too. it seemed like one call of his name made the entire team, consisting of over twenty boys, turn their heads at you simultaneously. then they looked at suna. then they smiled.

you find in your peripheral vision a wide-eyed kita, glancing back and forth once before going back to the volleyballs and game plans even during his break. 

you put on your sweetest smile, as expected of a cheerleader who’d just recently gotten her summer cheer uniform: v-neck, sleeveless top, pleated skirt, inarizaki lettering plastered across your chest in maroon and white.

he steps in front of you, eyebrow raised, “yeah?”

“can i talk to you about something?” your hands are behind your back, body weight shifting from left to right.

he nods, and as you take him out of the gym, you hear the volleyball team cheer and a certain miya twin shout, “fuckin’ suna!”

“fuck off, atsumu!” suna voices.

outside, your smile falters. you lean against the wall of the gym.

“did i do something wrong?” you say it softly, but firmly. you see his shoulders tense up, just slightly.

“um, no?”

you squint your eyes suspiciously, “but you’ve been ignoring my texts...?”

suna rolls his eyes instinctively. he regrets it when he sees a genuine frown on your face. “dunno,” he says.

your frown persists, and you start to bite on the inside of your mouth. “well, the last thing you texted me was, uh, ‘let’s go toge’. i’m so sorry if i missed something, or if it made you feel bad, so-”

“no, don’t be sorry,” he has his hands on his hips, “i never meant to send that.”

“what do you mean?”

“it was supposed to mean something else,” he looks down, scuffing his shoes against the brick floor.

“oh, was that message not meant for me? and who’s toge? sorry if i’m-”

suna gathers himself. he opens his mouth. he says eight words.

“i meant to ask you, ‘let’s go together’.”

the conversation comes to a halt. his words ring ambiguously in your ear, and it flusters you when the first thing that comes to mind is a date with the boy. you try to shake it off.

“like- like what do you mean?” you feel sorry for having him repeat the phrase twice.

suna shrugs, “i chickened out.”

“dude, you’re not making any sense.”

there’s a sharp pang in suna’s chest, and he visibly grimaces. “did you just call me dude?”

“maybe.”

“ouch.”

“wait, so what do you mean!” your arms flail around a little too dramatically for someone as tired as you.

suna contemplates whether or not to tell you that he wanted to ask you out. by the way you’d just called him dude, he wonders if you’d rather him give you a fist bump and tell you ‘nice toss!’ instead of hold your hand and take you out on a date.

so he counts his stars and he goes for the leap.

“actually, i wanted to ask if you wanted to watch a movie together.”

you back up into the wall at his words. there’s a heat that crawls through your body and beats through your heart.

“is that what let’s go toge meant?”

he nods, shoulders relaxing, arms to his side, “let’s go, together. like- like a date.”

his words take you by surprise. still, you’re nothing but glad.

“yeah,” you lick your lips, “i’ll go. and i take back the ‘dude’”

“oh, really now?” his shoulders relax. 

you roll your eyes.

“so he asked you out, right?” honoka asks during a water break in pe class. you couldn’t say no.

“yeah, i’m going to his flat next wednesday.”

“why not today? friday?”

you pouted, head turning slowly, “stuco meeting. we have our cultural festival late october, remember?”

“ah.” honoka sips on her water bottle, “i won’t be here by then.”

“what date are you leaving again?” you try not to darken your tone, pouting at the idea of losing one of your dear middle school friends to distance. 

“august eighteenth. a month away.”

you begin to slouch on your bench. there are more classmates that come to your bench after hearing honoka telling you her leave date. ‘oh my god!’s and ‘i’m gonna miss you!’s fill the corner of the gym, and soon the whistle blows, signalling the end of your water break.

the rest of the day proceeds as normal, and yet there’s that familiar emptiness that seems to continue to fill up even more of your days.

it’s tiring.

suna’s flat is extremely well put, for some reason. you’d always passed him for a boy who simply didn’t care, but now you see him at his own place, grabbing his laptop from his desk one-handedly.

you’ll admit going to a boy’s place alone is an awkward concept in itself, but it seems like suna doesn’t pay no mind. he’s plugged in his laptop to a charger, set it on the table, and has sat himself down on a floor cushion.

it’s a relief that you don’t know how suna’s heart is almost threatening to beat out of his chest.

“what do you want to watch?” you’re quick to sit down on the floor next to him.

he shrugs, “maybe you can convince me to like ghibli.”

you tsk at his line, yet it eventually brings you an ear to ear smile. you reach over to the laptop, scrolling through netflix. “i guess we could start with howl’s moving castle?”

your head turns to him, and he nods, before standing up all of a sudden. you look at him questioningly, but you find him walking over to his kitchen and returning with two paper bags and two glasses of water. 

your eyes follow him as he rests the items down on the table and scoots back on the floor. he gestures the paper bag towards you, “popcorn. it’s salty, so i don’t know if you’re into that.”

“ah. thanks,” you smile, and he reaches over to the laptop, pressing play. 

you don’t expect the movie to be the first thing on your minds - the both of you knew this. though you and him had spent some time marvelling at the movie, you find that for every other time you dip your hand into your popcorn, a pair of eyes turns to glance at you. 

you two spend your time silently during the movie, however. your eyes have developed a habit of simply tracing suna’s figure with your eyes, and it comes in embarrassingly when he had looked back and found your attention on him instead of the laptop at one point.

you’re surprised, though, because he does seem to be paying attention to the movie, more or less, and you can hear his small hums of amusement and surprise as the movie progresses. you colour yourself proud.

suna doesn’t even touch his food nor his drink, having felt too nervous to do so. he wants to know how you’re doing, silently, but whenever he meets your eyes, he decides that he’d rather fix himself on the movie. he wonders if a date like this means holding your hand or even saying goodbye with a kiss hug.

when the movie ends you ask him why he hasn’t eaten his popcorn, and how you feel kind of bad about it, but he ends up telling you how good the movie actually was.

“i don’t believe that you don’t like ghibli movies.” you squint playfully.

there’s a grin that grows on suna’s resting face, “i never said that i was saying the truth, i just said that i didn’t like them.” 

he stands up, bringing the food and drinks on the table to his kitchen counter, and you follow him over. the realisation hits you then, “oh. oh.”

“in truth i haven’t really watched many of them so i don’t know, but, yeah.”

“it’s funny because i feel slightly played.”

“well, you’re here now, aren’t you?” 

you watch as suna reaches into his refrigerator for some eggs. he glances at you, and you’re sitting on his tiny dining table. 

“do you want an omelette?”

your eyebrows raise. your heart skips a beat at the thought of eating his cooking. you tell him, “sure.”

suna takes the time he’s faced away from you to think about what’s next. he knows that you have some kind of inclination towards him, having agreed to his explicit naming of this hangout a “date”. still, his mind wanders towards the timing: is it too early to properly confess? hasn’t he technically already confessed? the omelette flips and suna thanks the world for having it look like the prettiest one he’s ever made. 

this one’s for you, he thinks.

when you do take the omelette in your mouth, you sigh a little bit. it looks pretty - almost beautiful, in fact - but also seems to be half-half-cooked. 

you don’t care, though, because it still makes your stomach flutter thinking about the fact that he had made this with his own hands. and if it takes some half-half-cooked omelette to eat, then, hell, you’ll eat it.

it’s not all bad, though, since he offers you some rice along with the egg as well, and it eventually turns into a filling meal. you hadn’t had one of those in a while.

when you look over to the other side of the table, you find he’s already finished with your food, and normal chatter makes itself more comfortable in the confines of his small flat. this is how it’s supposed to be, you tell yourself, just meaningless banter and humorous talks.

you find yourself growing to know him even better.

“isn’t it funny, how, some weeks ago, i had only seen you as that ‘one guy i tutored last year’?” you say after the date as he walks you out of his apartment. he tells you he’ll be walking you home, and though you tell him no, you ride the bus, he says he has some extra money in his wallet for the month.

suna agrees, “yeah. i would’ve just carried on with my life.” suna lies through his teeth. he’s been through the volleyball team’s teasing for his obvious crush on you. hell, they’d even dubbed it suna’s “showoff mode” (ginjima calls it ‘beast mode’) whenever you were within a five meter radius of him. 

you tell him time flies fast, and he tells you it walks slowly. for you, getting to know suna rintarou has been something you finally look forward to after all your work. but for suna, getting to know you is something he savours every second of, remembering how he wants to make up for the times he used to pine over your unknowing self.

when the two of you get on the bus, you sit next to him, yawning. he wants to have an arm over your shoulder, or your head on his shoulder, but he doesn’t exactly know how.

“my house is actually a few stops from here.” you say. it’s already nine at night, and though you’ve spent over five hours at his flat, you don’t want to lose your time with him to sleepiness.

suna notices how you try to fight it, even having told him, “don’t worry, i usually sleep at two am everyday anyways. i’m not going to fall asleep.”

he tells you, “you shouldn’t be sleeping at two every night.”

“it is how it is.”

he chuckles, “i once got shouted at for sleeping at five in the morning during a training camp. they forced me not to train at all that day. it was-”

the bus comes to a stop and your head falls on his shoulder. he calls your name softly.

you’re asleep.

suna keeps still as the bus ride continues, remembering the stop you said was yours. he counts them - one, two, three, four, five stops - and with each, his breathing steadies. he feels like the luckiest boy in the world.

“what am i to you now?” suna’s head tilts back, whispered question dissolving into the atmosphere. he doesn’t expect an answer.

instead, your arm circles itself around his.

taglist: @maitenight​ @natszoo​ @ssuna​ @erens-piss-cleaner​ @osamus-onigiri​ @volleybloop​ @etherealiwa​ @agaashesmilktea​ @bicchaan​ @anngelllla​ @tycrackculture​ @sins-over-tragedy​ @tsumuluv​ @daichibrainrot​ @underratedmage​ @sunasexual @kenmei @daydreamingtetsu​ @sunareii​ @bebegi​ (if your url is bolded, it means i couldn’t tag you)

send an ask to be added to the taglist!

as always, thank you to roo @yooroomi for beta reading this series!

[song-fox]

A/N: Can't believe I forgot to post this one smh...

This was a little more of an experimental one! I was first gonna do the dialogue first to see if it helped the flow of writing, but I rlly liked how it turned out without narration, so... take this.

*

Hy-drate Or Die-Drate– Analogical

*

"Logan? What are you doing?"

"Work...? Why?"

"It's 2am, why are you still even awake?"

"It is? Oh, my apologies, I hadn't noticed."

"Dude, it's not me you should be apologizing to. Go to bed."

"Virgil, I appreciate the concern, but I assure you, I'm fine. You should go to bed yourself."

"Dude."

"What?"

"It's literally 2 o'clock in the morning. Aren't you the one saying that you should go to sleep at like... 10pm at the latest?"

"Yes, however-"

"'However' my ass. As your boyfriend, I suggest you go to bed before I drag you off your butt and put you there myself."

"Virgil, I'm perfectly fine, you don't need to worry."

"...seriously? The boyfriend card didn't work? Gagh, it always works when Patton does it on Roman- okay, as Anxiety, I'm making you go to bed."

"What do you- Virgil! What are you doing? Put me down-!"

"Sorry Specs, this is how it works."

"What are you-?"

"Go. To. Sleep."

"Hmph. Well, sorry for the inconvenience, but I'm going to-"

"Get back here and cuddle me, asshat."

"...are you trying to tempt me into healthier sleeping habits?"

"Is it working?"

"..."

"That's what I thought."

*

"...Virgil?"

"*UNHOLY SCREECHING–*"

"AGH! Virgil, what are you-"

"'Virgil, what are you doing awake at this hour?' Yes, yes, I get it, but why are you awake?"

"I was awoken by the sound of footsteps, why are you-?"

"...uh, I..."

"Hm?"

"..."

"...ah. I understand. But you should go to bed. Remember what you told me last week?"

"Yeah, yeah, I get it, circadian rhythm, blah blah blah, I'll go to bed."

"Good."

"..."

"...would you like to sleep in my room?"

"...maybe. Why are you patting the door like that?"

"Come here, kitty kitty kitty. Pspspspspsps–"

"Oh dear god, why am I in love with you–"

*

"Two jars of Crofters, four mugs of black coffee, six hours staring at your laptop screen... 'healthier habits', huh?"

"Virgil! Oh, uh, I wasn't aware you were watching."

"Dude, I've been standing here for the past twenty minutes. Are you alright?"

"I believe it would be futile to lie, so I might as well tell you that– ...what is the purpose of this?"

"It's called a water bottle, genius. Hy-drate or die-drate."

"Interesting phrasing."

"Just drink it, you haven't had a drop of water since last night. When Princey threw tap water at you and you accidentally swallowed some."

"...okay, I see your point."

"Awesome. Now come with me, get some air outside."

"But it's 7pm...?"

"Never stopped me before."

"Alright, I suppose I'll accompany you outside. But no longer than ten minutes, I have to get back to work soon."

"Dude."

"Okay, fine. Half an hour, fourty five minutes at the most."

"Done. Pleasure doing business with you."

*

"Virgil."

"Hm?"

"What are you doing?"

"Reading one of your Agathe Christie books, like you suggested. This one's actually pretty good. Why?"

"Virgil."

"Yeah?"

"I'm fully aware that you know what I'm talking about."

"Nope. But do enlighten me."

"You're sitting on my desk."

"Your point?"

"You're sitting on my belongings."

"And? It's not like I eat enough to break any of them."

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Ugh, what are you trying to do, anyway?"

"...it's not a subtle ploy to get you to stop working, if you're asking."

"...and you had to sit on my desk because...?"

"Well, I was gonna just steal your laptop, but that would have taken too much work."

"You were going to-?"

"Unimportant, you need to relax. The others have something set up in the commons, they wanted us to join them."

"Ah."

"The hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing, I just... I suppose I didn't–"

"Didn't want you there? Trust me, L, I know the feeling."

"I thought they'd assume that I'm working, like usual."

"And you were."

"Yes, however–"

"Just– come on. They're waiting for us."

*

"HELLO VIRGIL ANXIETY SANDERS, HAVE YOU BEEN EATING THE PROPER AMOUNT OF FOOD REQUIRED FOR THE DAY SO FAR?"

"JESUS FUCKING CHRIST–"

"Oh– my apologies, I didn't intend for that to happen."

"Agh... it's fine, whatever. Help me up?"

"Of course."

"GAGH– uh, thanks. Now why the fuck were you yelling?"

"Roman suggested that the best way to get your attention was to catch you by surprise."

"...and you–"

"In hindsight, yes, it was a bad idea."

"...right."

"Actually, you never responded."

"To what?"

"My question."

"Yeah, probably because you barged into my room and made me fall off my chair."

"Okay, so an answer?"

"..."

"..."

"..."

"...viRGIL SANDERS GET BACK HERE RIGHT NOW– NO DO NOT CLIMB OUT THE WINDOW OH MY GOD–"

"YOU'LL NEVER TAKE ME ALIVE-!"

*

...well that was dumb.

[mandoalorian]

Hi 👋 hope your staying safe! Can I request something with Santi, please? Could you write something where Santi and reader used to be friends as kids, Santi having looked out for reader when she was picked on or if she fell over at school, but then after he graduated they lost contact until years later reader reaches out to him randomly and they reunite, maybe fall in love??

Sorry if it's strange, I'm going through something similar but I'm trying to get the guts to reach out to the guy, it's nerve wracking!! 😳😨 Maybe reading something will give me a boost 😂

Tinder [Santiago Garcia x F!Reader]

Word count: 1,700

Rating: 18+ I guess? I don’t know. Nothing explicit, it’s just Tinder is an 18+ app.

Warnings: food mention, tinder mention, allusions to sex

Masterlist

Tinder. It was so tedious. An app that had gained it’s reputation for being nothing more than a “hookup app” or even a “sex app”. It was associated with superficiality and laced with sexual innuendos. It was the app that had been accused of igniting modern day hookup culture. It was the app that Santiago Garcia frequented every damn day. The man even paid a premium! It was a quick and easy way for him to meet girls for drinks and a quick fuck. It’s all a man like Santiago had time for. Falling in love wasn’t an option for him. It was something he’d never considered until Games Night last week. 

Once upon a time, Will’s small living room was just filled with him, Santiago, Frankie, Benny and Tom, but the head count had grown extensively over the past few years. Tom had reconciled with Molly, Yovanna and Benny had something going on, and now even Frankie was engaged to the blonde haired, blue eyed girl who sat quietly in the corner sipping tea and doodling in her sketchbook. 

Santiago didn’t mind the girls. In fact, he actually enjoyed their company, but their presence only had him yearn for something more. He’d never been one to think about settling down or starting a family of his own, but he felt an indirect pressure. Maybe trying out one long term relationship wouldn’t be so bad after all? But he was so used to his flings. How was he ever going to grow out of his commitment issues and find someone he could really connect with.

Truthfully, he’d already found her, about fifteen years ago.

You and Santiago Garcia were the best of friends. You used to do everything together; walking home from school hand in hand, singing and dancing when you thought no one was around, playing LEGO and building up jigsaw’s. He was your soulmate, in every sense of the word. But you can’t stay young forever and eventually Santiago left your small neighbourly town to join the military. And you never saw him again.

Which is why it was a surprise when you, half asleep at 2 am, and drooling on your pillow, lazily swiped right on his profile. You weren’t even paying attention. Just another tanned skin man with dark brown hair and chocolate eyes. It was a haze, and your desperation to move on from your ex boyfriend had you yearning to meet someone new. You groaned tiredly, deciding you were never going to find someone as good as your ex, switched your phone off and shoved it under your pillow before finally getting some sleep.

At around 3 am, Santiago still wasn’t asleep, thanks to his roommate Frankie and his fiancée keeping probably the whole apartment complex awake. He pulled out his phone from his nightstand and checked Tinder. That’s when he saw you. Before even checking your name, he could tell it was you by that familiar sparkle in your eyes, and the way your perfect lips curled into a smile. It might have been fifteen years since he’d last seen you, but just looking at your photo made it feel like yesterday. He couldn’t contain his wide grin as he flicked through your photos. You looked just as beautiful as ever, and Santiago recalled the crush he had on you when you were both kids. He wondered how come you hadn't settled down already. He knew you always dreamed of getting married and having kids, with a big house and a big dog. So why were you on Tinder?

In a simple spur of the moment, Santiago swiped right.

‘It’s a match!’ the words blew up on Santiago’s screen and illuminated the dark bedroom. Streamers and confetti exploded around your photo; the typical thing that always happened when he matched with women on Tinder, only now it actually felt like celebrating. This meant that you must’ve swiped right on him too. 

You spent the morning the same way you always did, laying in bed and checking the notifications on your different social media. Just before you were about to get up, you remembered how you’d impulsively installed Tinder the night before and, on a whim, you opened the app to see if you had matched with anyone.

You scrolled through the eight matches you’d gained through the night, frowning and twisting your face in disgust at some of the profiles. You really hadn’t been paying attention to who you were swiping.

Your eyes went comically wide when you read the name at the end of the list.

‘You have matched with: Santiago Garcia! Say hi!’

It was like time had frozen and you read the words over and over again. Santiago Garcia. Santiago Garcia. Santiago Garcia. You wondered how many Santiago Garcia’s lived in New York City - or more specifically, only three miles away?!

You hammered your thumb into your screen to view his profile and you were blown away as you went through his photos. That was definitely him. That was definitely your childhood best friend. Although his hair was once dark and curly, it was now short and slightly salt and peppered. He had a slight graze of facial hair in all of his photos, and in most of them, he was seen to be hanging out with a bunch of other guys. Wait- was that Francisco Morales too? They were still friends?

You were so nervous to say something. Truthfully, if you had come across his profile at any other moment where you weren’t half asleep, and hopelessly desperate for love, your fear would’ve stopped you from swiping right. You’d been in love with Santiago since pre-school. It had been over a decade but you still thought about him every single day and cherished those long lost moments you spent together. 

But the reality was, that he’d swiped right on you too. He was interested in you as well! Which had to count for something. You took a deep breath and typed out the words “Hello :)” before quickly turning your phone off and throwing it across your bedroom. 

You sat bolt upright in your bed for a few moments, contemplating what you had done. You told yourself it would be okay and asked yourself what was the worst that could happen. You sighed and forced yourself out of bed to get ready for the day ahead.

Turning off your phone was a good idea because you’d actually forgotten about messaging Santiago until about lunch time. You flicked through the television channels, holding a lazily put together sandwich in your free hand, and landed on a dating game show. You considered applying, thinking about how fun it might be, when you remembered you might already have a shot with someone else. Santiago. You dropped your sandwich on the coffee table in a frenzy, ran to your bedroom and turned on your phone. The painful minute it took to completely boot up sent butterflies rampant in the pit of your stomach.

Santiago: Hey! How you doing? I gotta say I was really surprised to see that we matched last night. It’s been a long time!

Oh my god. He’d replied. He’d replied three hours ago and you hadn’t said anything back. Shit. You wondered if you had already blown your chances, but little did you know, Santiago had been holding out for a message from you for a long time.

You: Right...almost fifteen years, I think! I’m okay. How are you?

You pressed send and took a deep breath. It was okay. Just casual small talk. It would be okay. You slid your phone into your pocket and went back to eat your sandwich. No matter how hard you tried to focus on the game show, you just couldn’t stop thinking about Santiago.

“Santi! You got a new message!” Frankie called from the other room, taking a huge, messy bite out of a candy bar and picking up his phone.

“Frankie! I’m literally on the toilet… can it wait?” Santiago cried, face palming and chuckling incredulously. Living with his best friend for five long years meant that Santiago had become accustomed to interactions like this.

“No, I don’t think so,” Frankie mumbled, knotting his eyebrows together as he read the notification that had popped up on the screen. “Hey, are you talking to Y/N L/N from high school?”

“Wh- what?” Santiago asked, feeling his cheeks flush.

“Oh my God you are!” Frankie gasped excitedly, typing in his friend’s passcode for his phone and getting inside. “On Tinder!”

Santiago finished up washing his hands and walked out the bathroom, an unamused scowl drawn upon his lips. Frankie swallowed at his best friend’s expression.

“This has to stop,” Santiago warned, taking his phone from Frankie’s hand. “I love you buddy, I really do. But you’re getting married next Summer. You can’t keep trying to talk to me while I’m on the toilet!” 

Frankie laughed and rolled his eyes before getting back to his video game. 

Santiago was shocked to be reminded that you had remembered exactly how long it had been since you last saw each other. He began to compose his next message. You practically screamed when you felt your phone vibrate at the notification.

Santiago: I’m well, thanks for asking. Would you be interested in meeting up sometime for a few drinks? I’d love to catch up.

Drinks. A catch up. It sounded perfect. You already found your mind racing as you wondered what to wear.

You: That sounds great!

Santiago’s reply came fleetingly.

Santiago: Are you free tonight? X

Tonight was so soon… but you were free, and it felt like you’d been waiting forever to reunite with your childhood crush. And he felt the same way. It was so exciting for both of you.

You: Tonight sounds great. See you then :) x 

You and Santiago spent the rest of the day in anticipation to see one another. You didn’t know then, but the accidental Tinder encounter turned out to be the long lasting and perfect relationship both you and Santiago craved. The soulmates were reunited at last.

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