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btsqualityy · 3 years

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I Choose You

Taehyung x Reader

Genre: ABO (Alpha/Beta/Omega) dynamics, crushes-to-lovers, kind of a soulmate!AU (it’s based on their scents), fluff, and smut

Warnings: Oral sex (Male and female receiving), unprotected sex, dirty talk, soft Dom!Taehyung, impregnation kink, and creampie

Author’s Note: This fic is based on a prompt from the Spring Fest “Spring Will Come Again” hosted by @bangtanarmynet! I hope you guys enjoy it!

Prompt: Every Spring Fest, the unmated Alphas had to choose a mate but when Taehyung felt a pull, he didn’t expect it to lead to you.

“Come on!” Taehyung whined loudly. “Just tell me!”

“You know that I cannot tell you who is participating in the Mating Ceremony Tae,” Jimin giggled. “It’s against pack rules.”

“Alright, well just give me a clue,” Taehyung tried to bargain. The two of them were sat outside in the territory that belonged to their pack, deciding to enjoy their lunch in the newly nice weather.

“You know, to be an Alpha, you have no sense of patience,” Jimin laughed.

“And for you to be an Omega, you have no sense of loyalty to your best friend,” Taehyung pouted.

“Oh God, he’s pulling out the pouts,” Jimin groaned playfully. “If you’re so impatient about not being able to know who’s participating in the Ceremony beforehand, then why are you even doing it?”

The Mating Ceremony was an age old tradition in Taehyung’s pack that occurred every year, right at the start of the Spring Festival. For people who still believed in soulmates, the Mating Ceremony was an unbiased opportunity for those people to find the one that their soul desired. The Omegas and Betas would gather together, with their faces hidden, and it was up to an Alpha to use only their sense of smell to find the scent that they liked the most.

Of course, a lot of people felt that scents weren’t the only important thing when it came to building the foundation of a relationship as time has passed but it was still an honored and revered tradition nonetheless.

“Besides the fact that literally everyone that I know has found their mate during the Ceremony?” Taehyung huffed. “The fact that I’m almost 26 years old and haven’t found my mate yet.”

“Oh please, you say that as if you’re old and if you’re old, then I’m old,” Jimin said as he rolled his eyes. “And I’m definitely not old.”

“Well, you say that because you’re not alone,” Taehyung pointed out. “My parents found each other 27 years ago, Yoongi hyung found you three years ago, Joon hyung found Aareum the year before that, and hell, even Jin hyung found Jungkookie last year. Too long, didn’t read, I’m gonna die alone if I don’t do it.”

“I feel so bad for your future mate because you are so fucking dramatic,” Jimin laughed as he reached over and stole a French fry off of Taehyung’s plate.

“You’d have time to warn them if you’d just tell me who’s joining this year,” Taehyung tried to persuade him. “Come on, what’s the point in having the Head Omega as your best friend if he doesn’t supply you with useful information?”

“Oh, and here I was thinking that I was your bestfriend because I’m your platonic soulmate,” Jimin scoffed. “Look Tae, the entire point of the Mating Ceremony is to let your heart and your nose do the deciding for you. If I tell you who’s participating and who’s not, it’ll cloud your judgement and then the whole thing will be moot.”

“Ugh, fine Mr. “I wanna be ethical”,” Taehyung sighed as he stood up from the table. “I gotta go and finish up my gift for the Ceremony so I’ll see you later.”

“See you later, Pouty Pants,” Jimin giggled as he waved his hand and Taehyung began to walk around the territory. He wasn’t lying when he said that he needed to go finish working on his courting gift, but he figured that it wouldn’t hurt to take a walk around the pack’s territory before he did.

Taehyung’s pack was pretty tight knit, though it was considered to be considerably larger than the other surrounding packs. Even though Taehyung’s family weren’t the ones who founded the pack, his great-great-grandfather was one of the first members to join the pack so Taehyung‘s family line literally had stakes in the very beginning of the pack.

Growing up, Taehyung had been pretty well known around the pack but after he presented as an Alpha, it was as if he were a celebrity. Every unmated Alpha, Beta, and Omega seemed to be after him and admittedly, he had enjoyed the attention for the last few years but now, he was ready to find his mate, settle down, and start a family.

Just as Taehyung walked around the corner that separated the school building and the doctor’s house, he collided with a figure that had literally rushed into him.

“Hey!” Taehyung yelped, gasping when the papers that the person had been holding fell down onto the ground.

“Oh my gosh,” you whispered, bending down and beginning to pick the papers up. Taehyung bent down as well, helping when he realized who you were.

“Y/N?” He called and you looked up at him, your eyes widening when you realize who he was.

“Oh Taehyung, I’m so sorry,” you apologized, bowing your head to him.

“No no no, it’s ok. Don’t worry about it,” he assured you. “Just let me help you with these.”

“I already ran into you, you don’t have to,” you tried to say but Taehyung just cut you off.

“I want to,” he chuckled and you just decided to let it go as the two of you finished picking up all of the fallen papers. Once you were both done, you stood up straight and Taehyung handed the small stack of papers that he had collected over to you.

“So, where were you off to that has you in such a rush?” Taehyung wondered with a smile.

“Well, uh, the start of Spring marks the halfway point in the second half of the schoolyear for the pups so I was in a rush to get their progress reports finished,” you explained and Taehyung couldn’t help but to smile at how shy you still seemed to be around him.

The two of you knew of each other from around the pack and you went to school together, being as though the two of you were born in the same year. Because of that, you both had a lot of mutual friends but the two of you never hung out much because you were really shy and seemed almost scared of Taehyung so he always made sure to give you your space.

“Ah, you do work in the school building,” he chuckled.

“With the seven to nine year olds,” you smiled.

“I remember, I remember,” he nodded. “Well, besides that, how are you?”

“Good, good,” you replied. “Busy as ever this time of year, but good. How about yourself?”

“I’m good, just preparing for the Spring Festival, ” he told her.

“Oh, are you doing the Mating Ceremony this year?” You asked and he nodded his head.

“Are you?”

“I’ve never done it before and I don’t think I’ll start now,” you giggled. “It’s not really my thing.”

“What, finding your soulmate isn’t your thing?” Taehyung teased.

“No, I meant that not being picked by anyone wouldn’t be my thing,” you clarified.

“Oh please, somebody would definitely choose you,” Taehyung said. “I know that we don’t talk much but anyone can see that you’re a good woman and a great Omega. I bet that any Alpha would be proud to have you be their mate.”

“Oh,” you uttered in surprise, and Taehyung couldn’t help but to feel a little sense of pride at how flustered he had made you. “T-Thank you Taehyung.”

“You’re welcome,” he grinned.

“W-Well, I have to go,” you murmured. “See you around?”

“Yeah, see you,” Taehyung agreed but he didn’t know if you’d even heard him because you were already walking, almost running, away from him.

.....................................

Even though the Spring Fest was being held during the first week of April, Taehyung had made the decision that he’d be participating back in December of the previous year and this was because he wanted to make sure he had enough time to prepare his courting gift. A courting gift would show his future mate that he was serious about them so it took Taehyung a lot of thought to decide what he wanted to give his future mate. In the end though, it was actually Taehyung’s mother who helped him.

He off-handedly mentioned that he was trying to figure out a gift and she ended up giving him his great-grandmother’s engagement ring. It was a ruby that sat on a nest of gold diamonds, with a gold band to accompany it. Taehyung was familiar with it because it was a family heirloom and he was so honored that his mother trusted him with it.

When the first day of the Spring Fest arrived, Taehyung made sure that the ring box was nestled safely in the pocket of his slacks before he checked his appearance in the mirror. Wanting to look his best, he settled on a button up dress shirt that was a deep maroon color and paired it with black slacks. He added a few simple accessories like a few rings on both hands and earrings but he skipped any necklaces or bracelets, wanting to makes sure that nothing would get in the way of someone being able to smell his scent.

“Let’s go find our mate,” Taehyung whispered to himself, making sure to fix his hair one last time before hurrying up and rushing out of the front door of his house.

The Mating Ceremony was to be held in the large flower garden that was towards the back of the pack’s territory. The logic behind it was that finding your soulmate amongst beautiful things would help your relationship with said soulmate be beautiful as well.

When Taehyung got there, he immediately spotted Jin and Jungkook sitting together on a bench so he walked over to them.

“Hi Tae hyung!” Jungkook greeted him happily.

“Hi,” Taehyung replied. “You guys came for moral support?”

“You know it,” Jin nodded. “You look really good Tae-ah.”

“Ready to find your soulmate?” Jungkook wondered.

“Thank you, and hopefully,” Taehyung sighed heavily. “I’m so nervous.”

“Don’t worry hyung, all you have to do is trust your nose,” Jungkook told him.

“Kook’s right, you know our senses will never purposefully lead us wrong,” Jin added.

“Thanks for the advice guys,” Taehyung chuckled, reaching out and ruffling Jungkook’s hair a little. Suddenly, a voice erupted over the loud speakers that had been placed around the garden.

“The Mating Ceremony is about to commence,” the voice that Taehyung recognized as Jimin announced. “If you are offering a gift, please get into position.”

“Well, that’s my cue,” Taehyung said.

“Relax and don’t worry,” Jin advised him. “Just...let it happen.”

“Ok,” Taehyung nodded before turning around and walking over to a large wall of white roses. Falling into line with several other Alphas and Betas who were also participating in the Ceremony, he waited with baited breath as another line of Omegas and Betas stepped into the garden and walked over to stand right in front of the wall of roses.

Every Omega or Beta had a veil or mask over their face so that they couldn’t be seen, and their own choice of outfit but most of them were dressed pretty formally, just like Taehyung was.

“Alphas and Betas who are presenting gifts, you know the rules,” Jimin spoke up again. “No sneaking a peek at anybody until you offer them your gift and they actually accept it, no trying to force your gift upon anyone who makes it clear that they do not want it, and trust your instincts! Happy finding!”

Taehyung then closed his eyes, taking a deep inhale in order to smell the air around him. He picked up a few scents here and there, with hints of chocolate and mint but none of them especially stuck out to them. He then opened his eyes and they slightly widened when he saw some of the Alphas and Betas already offering gifts to some of the Betas and Omegas who had been waiting. He had to admit, it kind of shocked him because it was seemingly so simple for them but not for him. Deciding to follow everyone’s advice and trust his senses, he shut his eyes again and took another deep breath it, and that was when he smelled it.

The initial wave that hit his nose was reminiscent of tangerines, and then that was mixed with the scent of berries that seemed to almost intermingle with the tangerine scent. Those were two very typical scents, especially for Omegas, but what really caught Taehyung’s attention was the scent of pink champagne. It was something that he had never smelt in a scent before and before he could even realize it, he was moving towards the source of the scent.

When he realized that he had stepped up to the person that the scent belonged to, he took a second to look over them. It seemed to be a woman, who had on a flowing white dress along with a small matching white veil. Taehyung reached out and extended his wrist towards their nose for them to be able to smell his scent clearly and when the woman let out an appreciative hum, Taehyung’s heart clenched because this was it. He had found the one.

Taehyung reached into his pocket and took out the ring box, extending it towards the woman. The woman then reached out and took the box from it, a soft giggle coming from her as she did so.

“Thank you,” the woman said and Taehyung’s eyes widened because he recognized the voice, he just couldn’t remember where from. When the woman reached up and lifted the veil back from her face, Taehyung wanted to kick himself for not immediately recognizing who the voice came from.

“Hi,” you smiled.

.....................................

“I cannot believe that I didn’t know that it was you,” Taehyung huffed.

“Well, that’s kind of the point Taehyung,” you giggled from your spot on his bed. After the ceremony had ended, Taehyung invited you back to his house so that the two of you could have some alone time.

“I just didn’t expect this,” he said as he sat down next to you.

“Are you...upset that I’m your mate?” You asked wearily and Taehyung immediately shook his head.

“No!” He exclaimed. “Even though we don’t talk much, I know that you’re amazing. Hell, Jungkook raves about you all the time. I also meant what I said the other day.”

“W-Well, that’s good,” you replied shyly. “By the way, I’m sorry for not talking to you much over the years.”

“Ah, don’t worry about it,” he shrugged. “I just figured that you were shy and I don’t mind that.”

“It wasn’t shyness, though,” you blurted and his eyebrows rose.

“Really?”

“The truth is, I’ve had a crush on you since you presented,” you confessed.

“Y/N, that was almost 10 years ago,” he gasped in surprise. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because I never thought that I had a chance,” You chuckled. “For years, every unmated Omega and Beta and even some Alphas have been after you. When you look at them and then look at me, I’m not as interesting or as beautiful when compared to them. I don’t know, I just don’t think that I measure up.”

“Hey, don’t say that,” Taehyung admonished you. “You’re gorgeous Y/N-ah, and the sweetest person I know.”

“Really?” You deadpanned.

“Absolutely,” he nodded. He could tell that you didn’t believe him though, so he decided to be honest. “You wanna know something?”

“Hmm?”

“I’ve had a crush on you too,” he admitted, making your eyes widen. “Not for as long as you have, but at least two years. I just never made a move because you seemed so shy around me and I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable because I figured that you just weren’t interested.”

“Seriously?” You gasped and he nodded. “We’re a big pair of idiots then, huh?”

“Definitely,” he laughed as he reached over and grabbed both of your hands in his. “It’s a good thing that we both decided to participate in the Ceremony then, huh?”

“Another confession? I only joined because I was hoping that my Omega would be able to say to your Alpha what I’ve never been able to bring myself to say aloud,” you told him.

“And what is that?”

“That I want to be with you, Kim Taehyung,” you replied. Taehyung felt his Alpha preen at your confession and it wasn’t that Taehyung had doubted the validity of the Ceremony but actually being able to feel the connection between the two of you only solidified everything for him.

“I want to be with you too Y/N L/N,” he smiled. “Can I kiss you?”

“Please,” you giggled and Taehyung let go of your hands to set his hands on your cheeks, leaning forward and pressing his lips to yours. The kiss began soft at first, the both of you feeling a little nervous since this whole thing was so new.

It wasn’t until you laid back on the bed, pulling Taehyung down along with you that the two of you became more comfortable, you opening your mouth and allowing his tongue to slide against yours. Taehyung set his hand on your thigh, gently tracing random shapes with his fingertips as you kissed each other passionately.

“Y/N, I have to ask you something,” he murmured and you pulled away from his lips to look up at him.

“What is it?”

“Are you a virgin?” He wondered and you felt your cheeks warm up immediately. “I’m not trying to be intrusive or anything, I just want to know so that I can gauge how comfortable you are.”

“Do you remember when I dated Xiumin?” You asked him and he rolled his eyes.

“That dickhead? Yeah,” he huffed.

“I lost my virginity to him.”

“Well, I can’t say that I’m in love with that piece of information,” he admitted.

“I only dated him because I was trying to get over you, which sounds really bad when I say it out loud,” you laughed. “That was around the same time that you were dating Jisoo.”

“Ah,” he said as he set his fingertips over your lips to silence you. “We don’t mention that forbidden name.”

“Ok, sorry,” you giggled.

“So, if I told you that I want to have sex with you tonight,” Taehyung began, making your lower half clench around nothing. “Would you want to?”

“Yes,” you rushed out. “I want to.”

“Good, because I want to too,” he smiled before leaning down and kissing you again. You moaned into his mouth when he moved over so that he was on top of you, his lips never leaving yours as he did so. He then trailed his lips downwards, licking and sucking on the skin of your neck.

“Ohh,” you sighed in pleasure, reaching down and tangling your fingers in his hair. Taehyung pulled away and reached up to grab your hands, untangling them from his hair and holding your wrists firmly when he placed them back down on the bed above your head, holding them there.

“You keep these here for me, ok?” He asked and you could tell from his tone that he was both asking for permission and clarification.

“Ok,” you whispered and he smiled.

“Perfect Omega,” he murmured as he went back to kissing your neck and you had to clasp your hands together because you were too tempted to reach down and touch him again. After he had left a few marks on your neck, he brought his hands up and grabbed onto your breasts which made you gasp.

“As beautiful as this dress is Y/N-ah, I think we should take it off now. Yeah?” Taehyung suggested and you nodded your head rapidly. He moved off of you so that you could sit up and he moved around the bed on his knees so that he was behind you. He reached out and pulled down the zipper on your dress, and you reached up and pulled the dress down off of your shoulders. Once your arms were out of it, you got up onto your knees and pushed it down your legs and onto the floor.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous Y/N-ah,” he muttered huskily as he took in the sight of you in your stark white bralette and white lace panties. Your Omega preened at his praise, making your cheeks warm up.

“Really?”

“Really,” he smiled, moving back around your body and leaning down so that he was face to face with your breasts as he reached out to grab ahold of them. “I’m so fucking lucky.”

“I’m the lucky one,” you whispered as he pulled the material of the bralette to the side, causing both of your breasts to fall out. Without another word, he leaned forward and sucked your nipple into his mouth. You couldn’t help but to fall back on the bed, Taehyung falling along without a problem and not letting up on the onslaught that was his tongue.

Once your nipple had stiffened to a peak, he switched over to your other nipple and gave it the same treatment. You could smell your scent from in between your thighs, the notes of berries and pink champagne becoming stronger and stronger the wetter you became.

You knew Taehyung could smell you too, because you could feel the outline of his hard cock against your inner thigh.

“Fuck, Alpha,” you whimpered. “Wanna suck you off.”

“Whatever you want baby,” he agreed easily after pulling his mouth away from you, sitting up and reaching down to unbutton his slacks. You sat up, watching with hooded eyes as he unzipped them, pushing them down a little bit so that he was able to pull out his cock and your mouth literally watered at the sight of it.

Taehyung’s cock wasn’t enormous, but it was definitely longer than average and it looked to be thick. You reached out and wrapped both of your hands around his length, and you felt yourself become wetter when you realized that you couldn’t even wrap your hands around him completely.

“Fuck, I can smell you baby,” he grumbled and you moaned softly at the pet name. “Do you like what you see?”

“Mmhm,” you nodded, leaning forward and wrapping your lips around the head of his cock. He exhaled harshly, looking down to watch as you did your best to take as much of him in your mouth as possible. You actually managed to do pretty good, doing your best to breathe through your nose as you sunk down closer and closer to the base of his cock.

“Oh fuck,” he huffed. “Such a good girl, taking Alpha’s cock down your throat.” Bringing your hands back up, you stacked both of them on top of each other as you jerked him off while suckling on the head of his cock.

“God, that feels good. Makes me want to fuck your throat,” he grumbled. “You gonna let me do that one day baby? Gonna let Alpha use your mouth?”

“Mmm, yes Alpha,” you gasped after releasing him from your mouth, your spit acting as lube as you continued to jerk him off.

“Fuck, lay down for me,” he instructed you. “I have to taste you.” You didn’t hesitate to follow his instructions, laying back on the bed and resting on your forearms as you watched him push his slacks and boxers down and off his legs before he moved onto unbuttoning his shirt.

He wasn’t overly muscular but you could still see the outline of what would be a six-pack, and your inner Omega loved the fact that your Alpha would be able to protect you if need be.

Taehyung laid down on his front in between your legs, pulling your panties to the side before leaning forward and licking a stripe up your pussy, from your slit up to your clit. You gasped, your thighs involuntarily coming to together but Taehyung’s hands came up to push them back down.

“Be still and let me make you come baby,” he whispered and you nodded numbly. He then went back to licking at you, making you whine and squirm underneath him.

“Huh, holy shit,” you gasped, your chest beginning to move up and down quickly as your orgasm approached you. “Please don’t stop Tae.”

“Mmm,” he moaned against you, shaking his head back and forth over your clit which made his tongue do the same.

“Do that again,” you requested and he obliged you, shaking his head back and forth rapidly and you felt your orgasm winding to it’s end in your abdomen. “Fuck yes, I’m gonna come.” Your head fell back onto the bed and just as you closed your eyes and felt yourself about to tip over the edge into ecstasy, Taehyung pulled away from you.

“What?” You whimpered as you opened your eyes, looking down at him.

“I want you to come on my knot,” he told you. He reached out and grabbed the band of your panties, pulling them down your legs and throwing them onto the floor. He then settled himself in between your thighs, leaning down and letting his cock rub against your clit.

“If you want me to come on your knot, you shouldn’t do that,” you whimpered.

“You could come like this?” He wondered in awe and you nodded your head. “We’re gonna have to test that out one day.”

“We have the rest of our lives for that,” you promised him.

“You got that right,” he smiled, moving his hips so that he could slide inside of you. You wrapped your legs around his waist, your hands gripping onto his arms as he slowly opened you up.

“Fuh, fuck,” you stuttered, your eyes fluttering closed at how good he felt inside of you, stretching you out in the best way.

“God, you’re so tight but you’re opening up so well for me baby,” Taehyung grunted, making sure to push his hips as close to yours as he could so that he could go as deep as possible. “You really are my mate, huh?”

“Yes,” you whispered, your mind barely being able to comprehend his words because the feeling of being completely and utterly clouded all of your senses. He continued to roll his hips against yours, his cock dragging against your walls as he did.

“You have no idea how much I’ve wanted this, how much I’ve thought about this,” he muttered. “I’d see you walking around the territory all shy, keeping your eyes low so that people wouldn’t approach you and all I could think about was that you were the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen and how much I wanted to fuck you with my knot.”

“Mmm, knot,” you slurred, making Taehyung smile because of course knot was the word that you caught.

“I’d watch you with the pups, teaching them and being so gentle and patient with them and my only thought would be about how I wanted to fuck some pups of my own into you so that you could be their mother,” he groaned, his hips stuttering slightly when he felt your walls clench around him like a vice grip. “Oh, you want that? Want Alpha to give you some pups?”

“Fuck yes,” you moaned wantonly, moving your own hips so that you were fucking back onto him. “Want your cum, want a pup.”

“I’ll give it to you baby,” he swore as he began to fuck you faster. “Alpha will give you anything you want.”

“W-want you,” you whined as you felt your orgasm quickly building back up again.

“You have me baby,” he chuckled deeply. “You always have, I think.”

“A-alpha, g-gonna c-c-come,” you managed to utter as your body moved up and down the bed, the force of Taehyung fucking you literally moving you on the bed.

“Go ahead so that I can knot you gorgeous,” he encouraged you. You reached down and set your fingertips on your clit, only managing to make two circles on it before you were coming. Your thighs spasmed and clutched around Taehyung’s waist, the rest of your body shaking on the bed from how forceful your orgasm was.

“T-Tae,” you whimpered, your body shivering even after the crest of your orgasm had passed. Taehyung leaned down, pressing soft kisses against your face that were in stark contrast to how he was still fucking you.

“So good for me baby,” he whispered. “Came so prettily for me.”

“Kiss me,” you pleaded weakly and he just smiled at you before pressing his lips against yours. The force coming from how hard he was thrusting into you caused your mouth to fall open and Taehyung didn’t hesitate to stick his tongue inside, exploring around.

You literally felt his cock pulse inside of you and before you could pull away in order to ask, ropes of his cum flooded into you. His knot inflated immediately afterwards, making you moan as it forced its’ way inside of you.

“Holy shit Y/N-ah,” he panted as he hid his face in your neck, collapsing on top of you. “I don’t think I’ve ever come so hard in my life.”

“Me either,” you admitted with a giggle. “I loved it though.”

“Me too,” he muttered as he pulled himself up so that he could look down at you. “I know this is probably a weird thing to ask given what we just got finished doing, but you accept the fact that you’re my mate right?”

“Tae, of course,” you smiled. “My Omega would hate me if I rejected you and you know our wolf side doesn’t lie.”

“I guess I just wanted to know if it was as strong for you as it was for me,” he mumbled and you placed your hands on his cheeks, making him look down at you.

“You’re my mate Kim Taehyung,” you told him. “I knew it and felt it the moment that you gave me your wrist and I smelled your scent.”

“I knew it too,” he smiled. “I’ll give you your bite in the morning, I’m just too tired right now.”

“No complaints from me,” you laughed. “Coming so hard can definitely take a lot out of a person.” Taehyung then laid his head down on your chest and you reached up, setting your hands in his hair as you began to play with the sweaty strands.

“I’m so glad that my Alpha chose you,” he muttered sleepily and you could feel the goofy smile spread onto your face before you leaned down and kissed the top of his head.

“Me too Tae,” you sighed in contentment. “Me too.”

#BAspringwillcome #bangtanarmynet #bts #bts taehyung #bts v #abo bts #taehyung x reader #v x reader #taehyung smut #taehyung angst #taehyung fluff #v smut #v angst #v fluff #bts smut #bts fluff #bts angst #bts x reader

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voiceless-terror · 3 years

Text

Inseparable (TMA)

For the @tma-valentines-exchange and @theotpauthor

Characters: Jonathan Sims/Martin Blackwood

Rating: Teen

Warnings: Some Bullying, Canon-Typical Martin’s Mother and Jon’s Grandmother

Summary: Jonathan Sims and Martin Blackwood meet as children. Some things change, others do not.

As expected, he’s going to have to eat lunch alone.

Martin surveys the school yard, the teacher behind him smiling with encouragement. It’s nice that they let them go outside, sitting alone at a table in the cafeteria seemed far more intimidating than finding a tree or a bush he could hide behind. He’s getting better at making himself small.

It’s a bright, warm day and the sun beats down on his face, he’s going to need a shady spot. He spies a tree on the far edge of the grounds; it’s tall and thick, a perfect place to hide away. He trudges down the slight incline, his bagged lunch held tight in his fist. Maybe if he asks nicely his mum will get him a lunchbox. But this’ll do for now. He’s about to sit down in a small nook of roots when a disgruntled voice pipes up from behind the tree.

“Hey!”

Martin can barely see the boy’s scowling face but he recognizes him from class: Jonathan Sims. He’s a scrawny kid almost half his size, but that doesn’t make him any less intimidating. Jon always raises his hand in class and interrupts others when they have the wrong answer. The other students snicker but Jon pays them no mind, more interested in getting out all the information stored in his head. Martin admires his confidence, but still. He’s a bit scary.

“This is my tree,” he sniffs, patting the ground as if planting a flag. “This is where I eat. Alone.”

Martin feels his face burning from more than just the sun. There’s tears forming behind his eyes but he tries desperately to hold them back, the last thing he needs is a reputation as the class crybaby.

“I’m s-sorry.” He scrambles up, casting his eyes down to the ground if only to avoid Jon’s glare. “I’ll- I’ll find somewhere else, sorry to bother.” A brief scan of the school yard reveals there really is nowhere else, unless he wants to sit in the dirt or out in the sun where everyone can see. Maybe he should find an empty classroom, or a closet or even a bathroom, just to be out of sight. But he doesn’t think the teacher will let him, and she keeps looking over. She probably just saw his rejection, and he really doesn’t want her to come over and embarrass him further. Jonathan Sims already seems to hate him.

“You can stay.” The voice interrupts his internal panic, and he looks over to find Jon studiously avoiding his gaze, staring hard at a neighboring bush. Martin wonders what caused his sudden change of heart. “But you have to sit on the other side. And don’t talk to me.”

He hurries to sit down, afraid the other boy will take it back. “Y-Yes, thank you-”

“I said don’t talk to me!”

Martin closes his mouth, cutting off the ‘sorry’ that’s already spilling from his lips. With one final glare Jon swivels back around, dropping out of sight.

Martin sighs with relief and begins to dig out his soggy peanut butter sandwich. He packed it this morning with the meager supplies in their kitchen; Mum forgot to get the groceries again, he’d have to remind her. She’s been forgetting a lot lately; the move has been hard on the both of them, but especially her. Ever since his father left they’d been moving from town to town, wherever his mum could find work. She’s working at a doctor’s office now, and hence the move to their very small flat a few blocks from school. Once again, he’s the new kid.

And of course no one talks to him. Why would they? Mum always says he’s rubbish with people, that he should try to be more outgoing. It’s not his fault his glasses are too big and his clothes are ill-fitting and he’s awkwardly taller than ‘any seven year old has the right to be’ (his mum’s words). Whenever he opens his mouth, all that comes out is a high-pitched stutter. No, better to be quiet and stay out of everyone’s way. That’s easier. That’s how his Mum likes it at home, why change it up here?

But it doesn’t make it hurt any less. His teachers are nice enough and no one’s bothered him yet. As long as he continues to keep his head down and do his homework, he’ll be fine. Who needs friends, anyway?

And he’s got a spot to eat now. Jon sits on the other side of the tree, just out of sight, saying nothing. But Martin still feels a little less lonely with him here, like they have some sort of silent truce. Jon doesn’t seem to have any friends; in fact, Martin thinks he actually has enemies. People shove him in the hallway when they’re standing in line, throw paper balls at him in class, whisper insults audibly behind his back. But Jon never reacts other than a tensing of his shoulders and a pointed look the other way. Martin wishes he could be like that.

Jon lets him sit there for the rest of the week. Martin itches to talk to him, but decides it's easier to keep his promise. Mum likes it when he’s quiet so she doesn’t have to hear his ‘inane chatter.’ Jon probably wants the same.

The next day it rains. He doesn’t know where Jon goes when he can’t sit at his tree. Martin decides to eat at the very end of a lunch table where a few other quiet kids sit. No one talks to him. He’s getting used to it.

It’s too muddy to sit outside for the next few days. No matter where he looks, he can’t find Jon. The teacher doesn’t seem to care much about Jon’s whereabouts. Martin’s heard the word ‘handful’ muttered as the teachers gather in the common space. They just let him do what he wants.

But the next Monday, there he is. Sitting at the tree, a book in hand, his lunch box conspicuously absent. It’s bright yellow with a cat on it; it looks ancient, beat up and scratched as it is. But it’s not there. Martin sits at his usual spot, fidgeting with his lunch bag. I wonder if he’s hungry. He hears the crinkle of the library book, the turn of a page. Before he can second guess himself, he gets up and steps to the forbidden other side of the tree.

Jon barely deigns to look up from his book, instead focusing more intently on the pages. Martin shuffles on his feet and fights the urge to run away before clearing his throat.

Jon looks up. “What?” he snaps, clearly irritated at the interruption.

“S-Sorry, I just saw you had no l-lunch and I-” he fumbles around in the bag until he finds what he’s looking for and offers it out to Jon with a shaking hand. “I thought you might be hungry.”

Jon stares at the applesauce like it's bound to leap out and bite him. He looks back up at Martin with a suspiciously gaze, and he fights the urge to swallow nervously. Jon’s eyes are so large, even hidden behind glasses and it’s hard to meet his stare head-on.

“Fine.” A small hand reaches up and snatches it from Martin before he can so much as blink. Jon rips open the lid like a man starving and instead of asking for a spoon, opts to slurp at it like it's some sort of milkshake.

Martin stares at him open-mouthed as Jon scrunches his face in distaste and complains. “Ugh. Who gets applesauce without cinnamon?” He finishes it anyway and hands the crumpled plastic back to Martin in under a minute. He takes it, stupefied, as Jon picks up his book and goes back to reading, once again ignoring Martin. Well then.

Martin feels like he’s approached a feral cat and come back without a scratch. He takes his usual spot on the other side, mechanically biting into a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, and wonders if he can convince his mum to buy the good kind of applesauce when he hears the words, barely audible.

“Thank you.” It’s the softest he’s ever heard Jon’s voice go.

“You’re welcome,” he replies, equally as quiet. Jon says nothing else, but Martin will take this as a win.

read more on ao3

#my writing #tma #the magnus archives #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #jonmartin #exchange fic #childhood friends au #tma valentines exchange

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masterjedilenawrites · 3 years

Note

hey, could you do a fic on how would the bad batch react to Omega's first period? idk if you've done it already, but i love your writing and you describe the characters really well!

I haven't actually written for Omega yet so I'm excited to dive into this one! Definitely love the single dad energy (x5... because in this house we pretend Crosshair was never left behind and it's the big happy family we all deserve)

Omega & The Bad Batch | 1.3k words

Omega closed her eyes in an effort to stop the wave of anxiety that rose in her chest. But when she reopened them, she was met with that scary red stain again.

She was so confused. She didn't remember getting hurt. She wasn't in any pain. Where was this blood coming from? And how was she going to get it to stop? She really didn't want to have to tell the team about this. They already worried about her over every little thing. If she could just figure out what was wrong first....

A sudden knock at the refresher door startled her. Her heart raced as she heard Hunter on the other side.

"Omega? You alright in there?"

She could hear the concern in his voice and it made her panic. She quickly flushed the toilet and fumbled with her clothes.

"Uh, yeah... yeah, I'm okay, Hunter... Everything's fine. Almost done!"

Hunter wasn't fooled. He rarely was, much to her annoyance.

"Omega," he said evenly, "if there's something wrong, you need to let me help you."

"Nothing's wrong!" she said quickly, starting to turn in circles, unsure what else to do. She should probably put something down there to stop the bleeding, right? Until she could figure out what else to do about it.

"You're hurt, I can tell..."

She was unrolling a wad of toilet paper and paused as she remembered the Sergeant's heightened senses. There would be no hiding this. But she would have to try anyway.

She unlatched the refresher door, letting it swoosh open to reveal Hunter's hardened gaze looking down at her. She quickly stepped out and started making her way around him toward her bunk, careful to keep the toilet paper out of his eyesight.

"I'm not hurt. See? Everything's fine. Just using the fresher like everyone does. No big deal."

Her scene with Hunter was starting to attract the attention of the others. Tech and Echo peered down the hall from their seats in the cockpit while Crosshair and Wrecker paused their daily weapons cleaning to watch.

"You're hiding... toilet paper," said Crosshair, perceptive as ever.

"And I know you're bleeding," said Hunter. "What did you do?"

Omega paused just below the ladder up to her little room. His comment made her snap. Why was he always assuming she was getting into trouble? It didn't matter that she'd been with them a few years now and had more than proven herself as an equal member of the squad. He was still suspicious and way too over-protective.

"I said I'm fine, Hunter!" she shouted. "Why can't you leave me alone?"

She climbed the ladder as forcefully as she could and threw the little curtain closed. She wasn't sure why she felt so angry, so emotional. It'd been like this for a few days now, where even the smallest things frustrated her, and she hated she couldn't control it. She didn't want any of them to think of her as a child anymore and these emotional outbursts certainly weren't helping. She clutched the toilet paper to her face and cried softly in it, forgetting about her little predicament for the moment.

On the other side of curtain, Hunter had moved to follow her up the ladder with an exasperated call of her name, but Tech stopped him.

"Hunter," he called from the cockpit.

"She's hurt, Tech," Hunter huffed over his shoulder, one hand on a ladder rung. He need only go up one step before reaching eye level with the curtain.

"Yeah," agreed Wrecker, ready to follow after her as well. "We need to help her."

Tech shook his head. "The best way to help her in this case is to understand her."

Hunter and Wrecker paused in their journey to look back at their brother, holding up a holopad in his usual signal of having more information than them. They shared a look before reluctantly changing course to see what Tech had to say. Even Echo and Crosshair were leaning forward in curiosity.

"I started researching after Omega mentioned having pains in her abdomen yesterday. Coupled with her more sensitive emotions lately and the odd blemishes that have appeared on her face, I wondered if it wasn't all connected somehow."

Tech looked between all of them, dragging the explanation out as he always did, delighting in being the one to teach them something. Usually Hunter could ignore his brother's theatrics, but he was already on edge knowing Omega was hurt. He couldn't be so patient now.

"And?" he prompted with an annoyed furrow to his brow.

"There are a few explanations, but your mention of bleeding has confirmed my primary suspicion. Omega has started what is known as her menses."

The others only blinked in response. Tech held back a self-important smirk and continued to explain.

"You are all familiar with the concept of puberty, yes?"

They nodded slowly. Even with their accelerated growth, the clones had still experienced a degree of it.

"Well, with girls, it is accompanied by the start of their menstrual cycle, which is a process by which the body naturally discards the inner lining of the uterus, roughly every twenty-eight rotations. It is ultimately a sign that pregnancy has not occurred."

The air in the small space of the ship immediately became anxious as the others fully processed Tech's words.

"Oh."

"Uh...."

"Hmm."

"Oh my..."

Tech pushed his glassed up matter-of-factly, the only one unbothered by such things. "It's a natural bodily process for most female humans. And it does lead to the other symptoms we've been noticing from Omega. The cramps, the pimples, etc. All a normal part of the process."

"Is that true?"

It was Omega's voice that reached them, and they all turned to see her timidly standing nearby. It was clear she had overheard enough of Tech's lecture so that it wouldn't have to be repeated.

"It really is normal?"

"You know if Tech says so, then it must be true," said Echo with a friendly smile, the first to recover from the awkwardness, mostly to throw in a little jab at Tech.

Hunter found himself feeling guilty. Looking at how shy and scared Omega stood before them, he knew she was going to need their full support in figuring out this strange new part of herself.

"And it's nothing to be worried about," he affirmed, instinctually bending lower to face her, even though she was getting tall enough now where he didn't really need to do that. "I'm sorry I upset you earlier. I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

"I know," she said, wiping at her eyes. "And I'm sorry for yelling at you."

"So what do we do about it?" asked Wrecker. "She's just going to be bleeding forever?"

"Of course not," said Tech, his voice edged with annoyance. "Didn't you listen? It's a cycle. It'll run its course over the next several days, and then she'll be fine for about another month. It varies from person to person... In fact... You should probably have a calendar to track it, Omega."

While Tech got up to dig around in a chest of old holopads, Echo leaned over to look at the scans on the ship.

"There's an outpost only one short jump away, near a human-inhabited planet. Surely there will be some special supplies for this sort of thing there."

"And if you still need to blow off steam," said Crosshair, "we can test out that new blaster I got on those old clanker heads."

"Okay," said Omega, perking up with every offer of help from the boys. "I'm also kind of hungry..."

"I got you covered there, kid," winked Wrecker.

Hunter placed his hand on her shoulder. "We've all got you, Omega. We'll figure this out together."

She started tearing up again, only this time it was in relief. What had started as something scary and mysterious and embarrassing, had now turned into a rally of support and love from her team. Her family.

It also seemed like a great opportunity to be spoiled a little... She'd have to work on figuring that part out herself....

#star wars #star wars fanfiction #the clone wars #the bad batch #clone force 99 #omega #hunter #crosshair #wrecker #tech #cw: periods #my sweet baby girl #found family #i'm feeling creative in this chilis tonight

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self-proclaimed-chaotic-good · 3 years

Text

All the time in what's left of the world | 28 Days Later!Jim x Reader (Oneshot)

Words: 1776

Warnings: Mention of death, slight innuendos

A/N: I'm surprised I hadn't written for him sooner, but I needed something to write to take a break from the other series I've been writing.

When the outbreak of the Rage virus happened, you tried calling your loved ones. Some answered and were rushing to get on the next flight or boat ride off the island. Some never picked up. You were glad that your parents had moved to the States to be with the other family members. When you called, they said that they were fine and that only the UK seemed to be affected. For now. While your parents were safe, those words also meant that the government was going to shut down the whole country into quarantine. There would be no point in trying to get out.

Your friend, Jim, had been in a coma for days after his accident and you had been by his side almost every day if your job had allowed it. When the doctor assured you that you and his parents would be notified as soon as he woke up, you had left to focus on yourself more and catch up with your work. Jim’s parents used to call every day, asking if he woke up. They lived a little ways from the hospital, so they relied on you for updates when they couldn’t go. You always told them the same thing, just that his injuries had been healing properly and that he should be waking up any time now.

Assuming that the hospital would have some kind of quarantine protocol that could keep him safe, you decided to look for each and every friend or distant relative in the area, hoping to find someone when they stopped answering their phones. Travelling had become scarier the more the virus had spread. And if it wasn’t for the infected chasing after you, it was the living wanting to scavenge off of you. Your car was long gone within a week of the outbreak and had to search for a bicycle for the trip.

You couldn’t find anyone. They either left in a hurry or got attacked by the infected on their way out. News of the infection spreading to other countries reached the radio and news channels until they, too, were gone. With your hopes of finding any allies on your side dwindling, you went straight for Jim’s parent’s house. They weren’t answering their phone either, but you hoped that being away from London would have at least meant that the virus took longer to reach them. It was optimistic, but you were also reminded that it had been almost a month since the outbreak and everything happened so fast.

His parents had told you where the spare key was, so you had no problem getting in. Parking your bike at the front, you spotted Jim’s old bikes that his parents had kept over the years. He had been the one to teach you how to ride a bike and you weren’t too surprised when you found out he had taken a job as a bike courier. Jim always liked living simple.

The silence was ringing in your ears as you crept through the house. You were afraid to call out in case there were nearby infected, or worse. You searched each room, memories of when it was lived in coming in flashes until you reached upstairs to their room. A chill was already running up your spine as you spotted their door closed, a rotting smell leaking through the cracks of the door. Opening it slowly, your eyes swept the room until they landed on the bed. Your hand flew to your mouth as you collapsed on the floor, stifling your sobs.

You couldn’t bear to be near the room anymore and not even daring to go in, rushing down the steps. It wasn’t until you almost tripped over the last two steps did you take a deep breath and come to your senses, the whole thing feeling like a twisted nightmare until now. Everything was real, the virus, the killings, the bodies all around the country. There was no way to get out of it. Unless foreign aid came to help stop the virus, you didn’t see a way for this nightmare to end any time soon.

Seeing the sun going down outside, you reluctantly decided to stay the night at the house, gathering supplies around the place before dredging back up the stairs. You paused at the landing, willing yourself in avoiding looking anywhere near that room and made your way straight to Jim’s old room. His mother was always tidy, but after turning on the desk light, you could see the thin layer of dust that had settled within the past month.

You locked the door and dragged a chair under the door knob before flopping tiredly onto the bed. Staring up at the ceiling with Jim’s old posters lining the wall, you could still picture yourself with Jim lounging around in his room attempting homework while talking about everything and nothing. When you used to sleep over, you would share the bed with ease until you both got a little older and a little more uncomfortable with it. There was one late night, though, where he laid next to you on the bed.

He buried his face in your shoulder and whispered, “I don’t want you to go.”

It was the night before you moved away to go to college. You couldn’t say anything.

Growing up, he had been the more expressive of the two of you until he got older and was told that real men didn’t cry. There were times where he let his anger take hold of him and lash out on you and you’d fight back, but you both hated it. He’d run away with tears streaking down his cheeks while you had to break away and let the anger simmer out until the emotions finally sunk in and overwhelm you as well.

When you both calmed down, you were always able to find him. Eventually, the two of you had a talk and sorted things out. That was the closest that your friendship had been to breaking. Back then, that had been the scariest and nearly heartbreaking thing to have happened to you.

A loud bang had jerked you awake, setting your body into shock as your heart began to race. You grabbed the machete that you found among the old family camping gear and strapped your backpack on you. The noise paused, followed by some shuffling.

“Stop making all that noise!” a woman hissed. “We don’t have time for this.”

“Wait, I just need to grab something from my room before we go,” came a familiar voice.

Another man sighed. “We can just leave him.”

“You’ve got less than ten minutes, then we’re leaving. With or without you,” the woman said.

After the two pairs of footsteps disappeared down the stairs, Jim sighed and tried the door knob again. You approached the door slowly, pulling the chair away before opening the door. Even with his uneven dark hair and unkempt beard, you could recognize your best friend anywhere.

His blue eyes widened when he realized what he was seeing in front of him. He reached a hand out to touch your face, squeezing your cheeks together. You pinched him, making him bite down a yelp as he flinched away. You reached over to squeeze his cheeks, too, ending it with a slap. His smile brightened up his face as he pulled you into a tight hug.

“I thought you were dead,” he muttered into your hair. “My… my mom and dad… they-”

“I know. I saw. I’m so sorry, Jimmy.”

The footsteps returned, the woman stared at the two of you with a neutral expression. “It’s too dark to go to the shops. We’ll have to sleep here for the night.”

Jim nodded. His head had been in a daze until he found out you were still alive. It was all still much to take in, but with you around, he felt more grounded with all things considered.

“You and Mark can take my room. We can sleep downstairs,” Jim offered.

The woman glanced in the room. “We’ll sleep in the same room. It’s safer.” She walked over to you and nodded. “I’m Selena and that idiot downstairs is Mark. It’s a good thing we were there when your boyfriend was being chased down.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you muttered, but she ignored it, turning around to get Mark.

“You and Selena can take the bed,” Jim said, going in to clear up the space.

“No need,” Selena said, climbing back up the stairs, “We’ll take the floor and you lovebirds can get the bed.”

“Don’t get too carried away, though,” Mark teased.

Jim grimaced, obviously not a fan of Mark’s type of humor. Selena scoffed, setting her things down in one corner of the room. Mark was used to Selena’s serious demeanor and simply chuckled, slapping Jim’s back before pushing past the two of you into the room. You shook your head, your hand raising up to run through his messy hair where it had grown around his stitching.

“Does it look that bad?” Jim asked in amusement.

“I guess it doesn’t matter during a zombie apocalypse if you look good or not,” you teased.

Once everyone was settled down in their own corners, you and Jim adjusted yourselves on the bed. He pulled out a crumpled piece of paper and sighed, passing it over to you. In his mother’s handwriting, it said: “Jim - with endless love, we left you sleeping. Now we’re sleeping with you. Don’t wake up.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t have woken up to this… this nightmare.” His eyes were shut as he rubbed his temples. “First thing I saw was being alone, naked in the hospital bed. The whole building was empty and everything was just a mess. You weren’t there and I knew that you had always been there because I could hear you.”

“You could?” you whispered back.

Jim hummed and nodded.

“Could you hear my snoring?”

That made him snort. He shook his head at your attempt of lifting the mood before shifting around to lay on his side to face you. He leaned into you, slinging an arm across your stomach, very reminiscent of your last night here in his bedroom. Even after you had reconnected after college, life never made time for the two of you to spend time together like this. Now, with a raging virus spreading around the world, it seemed that any time would be the last time. You hope that would not be the case, that the two of you would find a way to get out of this alive.

#jim x reader #28 days later #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy fanfiction #28 days later imagine #oneshot #I'm still typing out ideas for an emmett x reader fic for a quiet place p II

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drabbles-mc · 3 years

Text

Language

Neron ‘Creeper’ Vargas x F!Reader

@redpoodlern requested more Dad!Creeper and honestly I was more than happy to deliver on that haha. And thank you to @garbinge for always helping me pull together all of my ideas!

Warnings: language, mentions of alcohol, Creeper being a big ol’ softie with his kiddos

Word Count: 3k

A/N: This definitely takes place in the same universe as Like Father, Like Son because I’m a big fan of the family dynamic that I was sort of starting to build there. If no one has any objections that’s probably going to be my default HC for my future Dad!Creeper fics unless stated otherwise haha. I just love the idea of him with a pack of kids.

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The kids had one week off from school. One week. Seven days. Technically only five if you weren’t counting the weekend. You didn’t want to take the entire week off of work when you would be out on maternity leave in a couple more months, and as much as Creeper wanted you to be taking it easy, he said that if you really wanted save your time off for your leave, he would gladly keep the kids with him for the week.

“You and the guys can’t be doing,” you glanced around to make sure the kids weren’t in the room, “You and the guys can’t be doing serious club shit while they’re there, okay?” you knew that Creeper was always careful, but you also knew that some of the other men in the MC with him weren’t quite as cautious.

“Never, mama,” he leaned in and kissed your cheek, “Don’t worry. We’ll hold it down. It’s been a while since they got some time with their uncles, anyway.”

“Alright,” you nodded, taking a deep breath, “Go round up the gremlins, then,” you laughed, “They should each have their backpack with stuff in it.”

“Givin’ ‘em homework on their week off?” he chuckled.

You shook your head, “No, no. Just stuff to do if they get bored at the clubhouse. Coloring books, matchbox cars, whatever else they can fit in there.”

“Pfft,” he shook his head, “like we’ll ever let them get bored,” he let out a whistle, “Let’s go, homies! Time to roll out.”

Their footsteps thundered through the house as all three if them came booking it down the hall, each with their backpacks either on their shoulders or dangling from their hands. Both you and Creeper laughed at how excited they were to spend some time with their dad and their entire squad of uncles at the clubhouse.

“Which car you taking, baby?” you asked him.

“Just figured I’d take the van. It’s got all their stuff in it already.”

You smiled, nodding as you grabbed the keys off the counter and tossed them to him, “Alright, no doing donuts with it.”

He chuckled, “If they ask I won’t be able to tell them no,” he was about to say something else when his phone started going off in the pocket of his kutte. He reached and took it out, brows furrowing slightly as he answered, “Yea? Yea I’m about to head out. We’ll talk about it when I get there,” he shook his head slightly, “Alright yea,” with a huff he hung up the phone.

“All good?” you arched one eyebrow.

He nodded, “Yea. They act like I’m not gonna see them in twenty minutes. What the fuck is that important that it can’t wait?”

You shot him a glare, “Neron! Language, please.”

“Shit, sorry.”

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose.

He smiled sheepishly, stepping in close to give you a kiss, “I’m sorry, I love you, and I’ll call you later, mama.”

“Mhm,” you laughed as you playfully shoved him towards the door, “Tell the kids they gotta keep your boys in line.”

“They don’t even need me to tell ‘em.”

Very few things rivaled the excitement that the guys felt when they saw the minivan rolling into the scrapyard. Seconds after Creeper threw the van in park, all of the kids came sprinting out. His son leapt out of the passenger seat as his little sisters came tumbling out the back. It was quite the scene watching them walk up with their father, looking like quite the entourage all together.

“Wifey let you take the real whip today, huh?” Angel said with a laugh as he pulled Creeper into a hug.

He chuckled, “Anything for the wolfpack,” Creeper watched as his kids made their rounds to say hi and hug each of the men that were outside the clubhouse waiting for them to arrive.

Angel looked over at the minivan, “Still can’t believe she let you put those fuckin’ stickers on there, bro,” he laughed.

“Yo,” he smacked Angel in the chest, “No swearin’ in front of the kids,” he paused, “What do you got against the stickers? I think they’re cool.”

“Guess I just never thought that your soccer mom van needed fake bullet holes.”

“That’s what keeps it from being a soccer mom van,” he tapped the side of his head with a knowing look, like he had cracked some sort of code.

“Right,” Angel laughed and shook his head before turning his attention to the kids, “Brandon! Get over here! Let’s see if you’re taller than me yet, dude.”

Creeper turned and saw that the twins were already trying to take Hank down to the ground—a goal that they’d had ever since they were little toddlers. Every time they saw him, they got closer and closer to being successful but they weren’t quite there yet. He had one hanging off of each arm as he tried to walk across the yard without falling over onto them. Creeper laughed as he watched the shenanigans unfold, and they’d only been there for about two minutes.

“Alex! Ava!” he shook his head slightly with a smile, “Give Uncle Hank a break, alright? The man has work to do.”

“They’ll be taking him to the ground soon enough, man,” EZ laughed as he let Hank struggle with the two little girls.

“Make sure you’re filming it,” Creeper responded with a laugh as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“How’s Y/N?” EZ asked.

“Pregnant,” he looked over at EZ and laughed, “Nah she’s good. Working this week, so we got some extra help around here.”

“She’s still working?”

He nodded, “Oh yea. She’ll work till the baby pops outta her,” he shook his head, “I don’t know how she fu—” he caught himself, “I got no clue how she does it, man.”

“Pregnancy one of those things you get better at the more you do it?”

He laughed, “Why don’t you ask her next time you see her?”

“Hard pass,” he shook his head, laughing.

Creeper was glad that he had an entire team of guys to help him try to tire them all out, because it wasn’t an easy task in the slightest. At one point he was fairly certain that he lost them in the depths of the scrapyard and when he did finally find them, they were running around and playing hide and seek where all the scrapped cars were kept. The only thing that kept him from having a heart attack at the sight of it was knowing that none of the cars had any glass left in them that the kids could cut themselves on. But the three of them had easily turned the scrapyard into their kingdom.

“C’mon, lunch time,” he called out to them and they all hesitated, not quite ready to give up the game. Creeper sighed, “Chucky made lunch for you guys.”

That was all it took. Their eyes lit up and the girls almost pushed their brother to the ground in an attempt to beat him back to the clubhouse. Creeper shook his head as he followed them, egging them all on.

“C’mon, B-Dawg, use those legs!” he called after his son with a laugh.

“Knees to chest, Brandon!” Angel joined in as he watched the three of them race up the steps of the clubhouse.

Soon enough, the three of them were all sat at one of the tables inside the clubhouse. Chucky beamed at them, “The Vargas Trio,” he brought their plates over, “I hear you’re keeping us company for the week.”

“Dad said we get to come every day,” Ava said as she shoveled a spoonful of food into her mouth.

“Eat first, then talk, lil mama,” Creeper chastised her with a small smile as he shook his head.

Creeper sat at the table with them, casually drinking his beer as he watched the three of them tuck into the lunch that Chucky had made for them. He knew that Chucky loved when the kids were around—he became the ultimate chef and babysitter once those kids set foot on the property. There wasn’t a single thing that he wouldn’t do for those kids and Creeper could tell just by the way that Chucky seemed so at peace as he watched them sitting around the table together.

“What d’you guys say?” he asked them as he nodded towards Chucky.

“Thank you, Uncle Chucky,” they all said in unison.

The warmest of smiles spread across Chucky’s face as he nodded, “The pleasure is all mine.”

By late in the afternoon, the kids were finally starting to run out of steam. The girls were sprawled out on the floor of the clubhouse, art supplies strewn everywhere as they worked through entire sketchbooks’ worth of paper with Chucky. Brandon had been lurking at a safe distance as he watched some of the guys work in the scrapyard. The idea of breaking things apart was intriguing for many reasons to an eight-year-old boy, but he always listened if one of the men said to back up or not touch something. Every now and then, though, Creeper would let him take a crack at something with the hammer and the excitement on his son’s face was contagious.

The two of them walked back into the clubhouse to get a couple water bottles for themselves and the rest of the guys outside. Creeper was behind the bar, handing them over to his son while also trying to get a good look at what Alex and Ava were up to with Chucky. He smiled at the way the three of them seemed to exist so peacefully together. He hoped that the twins would always get along as well as they seemed to so far.

There was the quiet snapping sound of a pencil point breaking, followed by Alex tossing it to the side and huffing, “Fuck that.”

The entire clubhouse fell silent. Creeper’s eyes went wide as his jaw dropped slightly and Chucky looked over to him, trying to figure out what he was supposed to say or do. Creeper set one last water bottle down on the surface of the bar before addressing the issue.

“Alex? You good, babygirl?”

“It’s like the bazillionth time my pencil has broken.”

He wanted to be amused but he knew that you’d kill him for not talking about the whole language issue, “Alright. I hear you. But…but you can’t be talkin’ like that. Where’d you even hear that, anyway?”

“You,” all three of his kids replied in unison.

He exhaled sharply through his nose as he pressed his lips together into a thin line, trying to figure out what the right way to go about this was, “Look,” he waved for his son to follow him as he walked over to his daughters, “You can’t be talkin’ like that, okay? Those are grownup words. Whatever you do,” he rested his hand on her shoulder gently, “Don’t say that in front of Mommy,” he looked amongst the three of them, “And if it slips, you tell her that Uncle Angel taught you that, alright?” they all nodded and he let out a tiny sigh of relief, “Good. Okay.”

That was the last thing he said about it as he nudged Brandon’s shoulder and they went back to collect up the water bottles and bring them outside. The girls went back to their drawings and Chucky decided that there was nothing left to do but follow suit.

“Uncle Chucky?” Alex asked without looking up from her paper.

“Yes, my dear?”

“Why don’t you talk like they do?” she continued to fill in the cartoon coloring page, “Daddy says they’re grownup words but I never hear you saying them.”

“Speaking like a grownup doesn’t interest me in the slightest,” he smiled at her before returning to his own paper.

It was a week filled with antics. The clubhouse was covered in coloring pages of every cartoon and Disney character you could possibly think of. All of the guys had gotten their nails painted by the twins at least once. Brandon got his own Romero Brothers work-shirt and now he never wanted to take it off. Every single member of the MC was tired in a way they never remembered being tired before. Nap time was something that everyone partook in, even the adults, because they all needed the rest.

You took a half day on Friday so you could spend some time with all of them at the clubhouse. You liked seeing the kids running around having a good time with the guys, and truthfully you missed the nights you’d stay late with Creeper there. Late-night partying hadn’t been something the two of you had done in a long time, but none of that compared to the sense of joy you felt as you heard your daughters very intensely explaining the entire plot of both Frozen movies to EZ, who sat and nodded along, a very serious look on his face.

You smiled, making your rounds to say hello to the guys before you made your way over to Creeper who was sitting at the bar. He smiled, standing up to place a kiss to your lips and then to your belly before offering you his seat. You took it without hesitation, always happy to be off your feet for a few minutes.

“How’s the week been?” you asked as you glanced around the clubhouse.

He nodded, “Good. The guys will be sleeping for a week straight once the kids go back to school,” he laughed.

You smiled, nodding, “I bet.”

“It’s been nice having them here. Keeps things from getting to serious.”

“Yea,” you chuckled, “I’d imagine that it’s a bit harder to have a serious argument when all of your tables are covered in drawings of Olaf and Moana, and everyone’s nails are painted hot pink.”

“I kinda like it,” he held his hand out for you to inspect, “But I think purple is more my color.”

You laugh, nodding, “Oh, for sure, baby.”

The two of you were chatting when all of a sudden you heard a series of thuds, followed by Ava softly, but very clearly, saying, “Fuck,” as she rubbed her skinned knee.

You looked over at your husband, staring daggers, “Neron, I swear to god if—”

“It wasn’t me, mama, I swear,” he held his hands up in surrender.

With a sigh you rose up from the stool and made your way over to your daughter. You looked at her knee—it was scraped but it wasn’t bleeding. She also wasn’t crying which was a good sign. You asked if she was alright and when she said yes, you asked your follow-up question, “Where’d you hear that word, sweetie? Because those aren’t words that you should be using.”

Creeper held his breath as he waited for her to respond. Ava looked at you, and with no hesitation she responded, “Uncle Angel.”

You whipped your head to look at the biker in question. His eyes were as wide as you’d ever seen them. He tried to sputter out a denial, some kind of defense, but he couldn’t string the words together. He couldn’t believe that he’d just been thrown under the bus like that, especially by the girl who not even an hour beforehand said that he was her favorite uncle.

Calmly, you rose to your feet and smoothed out your dress. Creeper recognized the look in your eye and he knew that Angel was in for it. He felt bad, but not bad enough to step in and tell you the truth of the matter. It was a little deal in the grand scheme of things, really.

“Baby,” Creeper called after you, “Baby I can handle—”

“It’s fine, Neron,” your tone was dangerously even, “I just wanna talk to Uncle Angel for a minute.”

He knew that that meant you did not want to talk, “Mama, really—”

“Bring the kids outside, please. We gotta start heading home anyway.”

At that point he knew that he wasn’t going to convince you. He scooped Alex in one arm and Ava in the other, “Alright, let’s go, babygirls,” he nudged Brandon gently towards the door, “C’mon, lil homie, let’s pack the car up.”

Once the clubhouse door shut behind them, you turned your full attention to Angel. You picked up a stray coloring book and rolled it the same way you would a newspaper, and smacked him with it, “Angel Reyes!”

“Ah,” he held his arms to block your swings, “Y/N, hear me out!”

“You will not,” you smacked him again, “be teaching my six-year-olds how to cuss,” you hit him with the book once more for good measure, “Got it? Pregnant or not I will beat your ass.”

He held his hands up in surrender, “Okay, okay. Sorry, querida. Didn’t realize that they picked things up so quick.”

You pointed the rolled up coloring book at him accusingly, “Better start realizing it.”

“Yes ma’am,” he nodded.

You looked at him for a few seconds before giving a nod of approval and dropping the book back onto the table, “Good. Alright then,” you stood on your tip-toes and kissed him on the cheek, “Glad we’re on the same page. I love you.”

“Love you too,” he shook his head slightly as he followed you out of the clubhouse.

He said goodbye to the three kids as they piled into the minivan before pulling Creeper to the side, “Why’d Ava snitch on me like that, bro?”

Creeper chuckled nervously, running his hand over his head, “About that. I…I might’ve told them to blame you if they slipped up in front of their mom.”

“What the fuck, Creep?”

“What? You tellin’ me you wouldn’t do the same shit?”

He paused for a moment before laughing, “Yea, probably. But still,” he gave him a light shove, “Messed up turning my own nieces and nephew against me like that.”

“Technically just turning their mom against you a little bit,” he chuckled.

“I feel like that’s worse.”

“It’s definitely worse,” Creeper clapped him on the shoulder, “Well. Better get ready. Next vacation is gonna be for the whole summer.”

Angel laughed as he hugged Creeper, “Can’t wait.”

#mayans mc #mayansmc #mayans fx #mayans mc imagine #creeper vargas #creeper vargas x reader #creeper vargas x you #creeper vargas fanfic #neron vargas #neron creeper vargas #my writing #drabblesmc #fanfiction

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awkwardgtace · 3 years

Text

Secret Brother Pt1

New OCs let's go. Trying out something idk if I'll write more with these guys. Realizing some bit of traumatic past seems required in my ocs so far.

TW: mentions of abandonment. Later parts will have mentions of a borrower being treated like a pet this is entirely painted in how fuckin wrong it is and how it added to the trauma.

Part 2 Part 3 (Final)

Secret Brother Part 1

Everything started when Mikhail’s students were talking about some weird happenings in their dorm. Things were going missing and a voice was heard commonly late at night. They started to say they thought it was haunted. He offered to host a study session to disprove anything, making sure to bring his shoulder bag. It was easy enough to leave open on the ground and should be tempting enough for the ‘ghost’ to climb in. He kept a close eye out and sat near a wall he thought he saw a crack in. He was starting to worry that this wouldn’t work, until he saw a small form climbing up the edge of his bag. He didn’t like doing this, but he knew the students in this dorm were more likely to share their discovery. They were being too obvious here, probably someone who just struck out on their own. Now the dorm ‘ghost’ would be somewhere much safer and could learn the skills they needed.

Mikhail was anxious for the remainder of the session. He couldn’t be obvious for the sake of the one in his bag, and the others around him. He carefully placed his bag on his shoulder, opting to carry the books he’d used out as he continued speaking with the students. He rushed to his car, placing the bag safely on the floor of the passenger seat. He took the drive slower than normal, eyes constantly drifting to his bag. He parked and rushed straight to his door. Once inside he placed his bag on the ground, unzipped it, and pulled out a random book. He quickly walked off, settling down in a chair pretending to read. He was keeping an eye out for when his passenger left the bag. After an hour he decided to just leave the bag on the floor for a few days, give the little one time to get out.

It took a few days, but he finally heard the ‘ghost’ acting. It started with a clatter sound from his kitchen late at night. He held his breath, waiting for another sign. A voice that sounded somewhat young started mumbling. He wanted to get involved and help, but it’s never gone well in the past. He would just stay as an oblivious human and they could figure this all out. At least that was his promise to himself, but the little one was far from subtle. He could hear them talking to themselves on a daily basis, they were leaving messes, and worst of all they left trails back to their entrances. Mikhail had promised himself he wouldn’t get involved anymore, but he couldn’t leave this. He sighed, gathering what he needed to help out the inexperienced borrower.

He faked a phone call claiming he’d be gone for a few days then left shutting the door loudly. He went around to the back of his house, pulling out a fishing hook with a line attached and hanging it on the windowsill of the kitchen window. He’d left it open just enough someone the size of his guest could squeeze through. He focused on the feeling he’d grown used to over the years and watched the world slowly grow around him. In only a few seconds the world towered around him. He started climbing quickly, a little out of practice since he’d gotten his size under control.

He squeezed through the open window, reminding himself to open it just a bit more next time. Once inside he froze, he never once considered the borrower might recognize him. He considered squeezing out the window again, but was stopped before taking a step. He heard a small clatter, and saw a poorly made paper clip hook fail to catch. He heard a groan from below as the paper clip fell from the counter. He just had to hope they wouldn’t notice the similarities between the human they were living with and the new borrower in the house. He took a steadying breath then marched to the edge of the counter. The borrower was already murmuring to themselves, it was clearly a problem.

“You know you’ll get caught talking to yourself like that right?” he called down. The source of the failed hook screamed, clearly not expecting anyone to be here. Mikhail hadn’t been wrong, this was definitely a kid. They were probably a teenager, and honestly didn’t look like they’d had an easy time. He took his own hook, placing it down and throwing the string off the edge. “Climb up and we can talk. Don’t want to be too loud in case the human is around.”

The kid had no hesitation climbing up, that much trust could be dangerous. Although most people this size trusted each other almost blindly. They were worn out and panting once they were at the top of the counter, clearly new to borrowing. Had he accidentally kidnapped a young curious kid? He’d find out if anyone else was there once he’d trained the kid a bit. He gave them another minute before finally starting with his plan.

“Kid, why were you making so much noise? Half of being a borrower is being quiet especially when out in the open.” he said. The kid opened their eyes and Mikhail realized he’d made a mistake. Their eyes were watery, they must have been terrified. The kid sniffled a bit as they finally got their breath back.

“I-I didn’t mean to,” they said, “my parents didn’t really teach me how to borrow yet. W-we were on our way to a new home when a storm hit and I got separated. I wound up here by accident. I climbed in the human’s bag, I thought I saw loose threads I could use, along with some food. Th-they closed the bag on me and I wound up in this house.”

“Where were you before?” Mikhail asked. He wondered if there was a chance he could find the kid’s parents at the school.

“I’m not sure, I was dragged by water for a long time. When I got out of it I-I ran to the first building I found. I’m pretty sure they got dragged away too...” the kid’s voice was quiet. They seemed to know they weren’t going to find their parents. It sounded like there may be more to the story the kid didn’t want to mention yet. Mikhail would do everything he could to make sure they could survive on their own. He was getting attached already and he hated it.

“Well I was planning to stay here for a few days before moving on again,” he started. “I can teach you the basics. I happen to know you picked a pretty good human to live with. This one doesn’t tend to investigate small noises, but he has gotten curious from times I took too much.”

“Wait wait, you'll teach me? W-why? Isn’t it better to just move on and leave me to whatever happens?”

“Who told you that?” Mikhail’s voice went icy. The kid lost their family and just needed some guidance.

“Well, I uh, I met other borrowers who always said that. Then my parents too...sometimes.”

Mikhail was ready to scream hearing that. He’d dealt with people like that a lot since he lost his parents. He wrapped his arm around the kid’s shoulders and pulled him into a half hug. They froze but soon melted into the contact, he started rubbing his arm on their arm to calm them. The kid started to cry and Mikhail just let them. He knew they were safe and later, he’d say they should be careful. He let them go as long as they wanted, he knew sometimes you just needed times like this. The kid was the first one to pull away, looking a bit ashamed as they did so.

“I’m sorry about that,” they said. “We were lucky the human didn’t come back, I could have gotten us both caught. I-if this is where you usually live I can leave. I don’t want to put you at risk.”

“I offered to teach you, didn't I? No one has to leave, besides I tend to be a bit more nomadic. My name is Mik, he and him,” he said.

“I-I,” the kid shook his head, “My name is Ian, he and him too, I think. Are you really all right to teach me?”

“Don’t worry about the he and him thing too much, if something else feels right just tell me, ok Ian?”

Ian nodded his head. Mikhail took the time to really assess him now that he didn’t have to worry about being an accidental kidnapper. He didn’t look like he’d had much to eat recently, although that wasn’t uncommon for borrowers. His clothes were a bit baggy, and needed some patching. Mikhail may try to pull some tricks with his shifting to get him some better clothes. Ian seemed to be at least a full inch shorter than Mikhail, which wasn’t reassuring if they ever met when he was human.

“Ian, how old are you?” he finally asked. He needed an idea before deciding the next steps.

“I-I’m seventeen, or well I’m almost seventeen.”

Mikhail nodded, a little surprised he was that old. Ian was just a teenager after all. He knew what to do then. First they’d make a better hook, then practice having it catch on tables and counters. Then how to grab supplies without leaving a trace. He’d leave him with the fish hook once the few days he gave himself were up. The fish hook and line is sturdier, and would last with fewer replacements longer. Perfect for someone still just learning, plus he could just start a collection of random hooks to leave out.

“All right, here's the plan,” Mikhail explained. It didn’t take more than that for Ian to get excited. He trailed behind Mikhail hanging on every word, mouthing the important things. Mikhail felt like he had a little brother with how this was going. He couldn’t deny that he was enjoying being with Ian like this. It’s been a while since he really spent time with people outside of work. By the time the weekend ended and ‘Mik’ had to move on, neither was happy with it. Mikhail knew Ian would get better without trouble, but he didn’t want to leave him alone.

They were sitting in Ian’s home, set up a lot better with the supplies they grabbed safely over two days. Ian had gotten into a habit of staying almost on top of Mikhail while in the home, like he thought he’d disappear. It left Mikhail with a sour feeling, knowing he had to leave the kid at least for the week. He jumped a little as that thought crossed his mind. He could, probably, keep this up on the weekends. Eventually Ian would see the human’s face and he may put two and two together, until then he could keep this up. He’d only come back until he was positive Ian wasn’t being reckless, if he went a week without seeing him then ‘Mik’ would come to say goodbye. It would work fine and then Ian wouldn’t have to deal with everything that’s happened alone.

“Can I go with you?” Ian asked, it knocked Mikhail from his thoughts. Mikhail looked at him with a sad smile shaking his head. “Why not? You said I was doing well. I can get used to being an outdoors borrower. Or, or just a traveling one or whatever. Please?”

“It’s too dangerous. Maybe when you’ve improved more. I don’t want you taking risks you don’t have to. I was told the same thing by the person who taught me everything,” Mikhail explained, he knew he couldn’t just abandon him. “I can try to come back though. I help keep some others connected, but I’ll come back, I promise.”

Ian grabbed him tight into a hug, the promise barely keeping him together. Mikhail knew it was a dumb idea, but he couldn’t do it. He’d promised himself not to get involved with borrowers again after the last time, but he never expected to find a kid who had no one. Once Ian could take care of himself he’d tell him the truth and then deal with the consequences. For now he’d help him stay safe. Ian fell asleep holding Mikhail in a tight hug. He knew he shouldn’t stay like this, but it was nice to be with someone else. After a few hours he knew he had to leave. It was Monday so he had to be a human again and go to work.

He slipped out of Ian’s grasp, careful not to wake him. Quietly he grabbed the hook that they’d fashioned out of some threads and a paper clip, leaving Ian the one that he’d brought. He snuck through the walls until reaching an entrance that he’d leave open just enough to come in through again. Once out of the walls he focused on shifting back to his human size, the world slowly matching him again. He quickly made his way to the front door, keeping an eye out for anyone awake right now. He snuck in quietly, trying to avoid being loud enough to wake Ian up. He collapsed on his bed, turning his phone on with an alarm set for the class that started in a few hours.

#gt writing #gt #giant/tiny #gianttiny #g/t #g/t writing #OC:Ian #OC:Mikhail/Mik #OC:Mik/Mikhail

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imagineyourworld · 3 years

Text

Rockstar AU

Hunter x Genderneutral!Reader (Cinderella Story) Wrecker x Genderneutral!Reader (Love at First Sight) Tech x Genderneutral!Reader (Enemies to Lovers) Crosshair x Genderneutral!Reader (Second Chance Romance) Echo x Genderneutral!Reader (Friends to Lovers)

Warnings: Slight bit of language, mean fans in the last one

Hunter

Hunter would for sure be the lead singer

He’d be the one most people simp for, including your friends

The same friends who dragged you to the concert, and the same friends who abandoned you the next day because they just had to spend the afternoon at the bands known hang out spot to try to meet one of them

Little did they know that Hunter wasn’t there that afternoon, in fact he had the same plans as you, to spend the day aimlessly wandering the city streets, a new city for you, one you’re just visiting for a few days, and a new home for him, one he still needs to familiarize himself with

You exist a small café, where you had just gotten yourself a drink, when you first met. In real movie meet cute style you walked right into him and spilled your drink all over his shirt, and the light grey material did little to hide the stains

“I am so, so sorry”, you said over and over again as you began to search for bag for a tissue to wipe off the worst of it. To your surprise he just chuckled. It was a low and raspy sound, one that sounded somewhat familiar. Only when you stopped your search and actually looked at him did you realize why you knew that chuckle, it was the one your friends had shown you over and over again in a ton of different videos. Just your luck, that you didn’t just spill your drink on anyone, it had to be Hunter from The Bad Batch.

“I gotta say, this is a new way of meeting fans.” You raised your eyebrow at his words. “Who said I was a fan?” There ist was again, that chuckle. Even though you told yourself that it didn’t affect you, you were only human and couldn’t deny that Hunter was incredibly attractive. “The look in your eyes. It’s alright, I get it all the time.” You scoffed. Who did he think he was? He was a singer, not some god. Based on the expression now overshadowing his face that wasn’t the reaction he had been hoping for.

You apologized once more, even offered to buy him a new shirt, before you made your goodbye and tried to walk past him. Hunter’s hand on your wrist stopped you. To be honest, you were a second away from janking your wrist from his grasp and asking him who he thought he was, a question that wouldn’t stop running around in your head. “Before you go, how about you buy me a coffee? You do kinda owe me for ruining my shirt”, he said. Though his words were arrogant, it was his kind, almost joking, tone and the hopeful expression in his eyes that made a small smile appear on your face. “I don’t know, what’s in it for me?”, you asked, trying to match his tone. Hunter just shrugged. “At the very least an interesting conversation.”

Of course it wasn’t the conversation that made you agree, not at first at least. But it did turn out to be good. So good that it made you forget who you were actually talking to, and good enough that by the end you even gave Hunter your number.

When he texted just half an hour after you parted ways, asking you whether you wanted to have dinner the next day, you realized that you would have a lot of explaining to do with your friends.

Wrecker

I don’t know why, but I feel like Wrecker might be the guitarist.

Other than Hunter I don’t think Wrecker would have the biggest fan base, but his fans would be the most dedicated and loyal

Wrecker would be most likely to date a fan. While he might not be looking for a romantic partner amongst the fans, he does try a bit of flirting here and there if someone catches his eye.

That’s actually how the two of you met. You had been saving to buy tickets for the concert and the following meet and greet and ever since Wrecker saw you in line his eyes had been glued to you. “You’re not exactly subtle, you know”, Tech told his brother as he followed his stare. Wrecker nudged him with his shoulder, which made Tech stumble a bit due to his strength. That’s when he heard it, the one sound that was better than music in his ears. “That’s not very nice”, you told him with a sly grin.

Honestly, you had no idea where you were getting your sudden confidence from. You were standing right in front of The Bad Batch and yet here you were, making a joke.

Embarrassment coursed through Wrecker’s veins, making him rub the back of his head nervously. “I know. It’s... a bad habit”, he finally admitted. It was your laugh that told him you weren’t really mad or scolding him at all, and without thought he joined in. Your laugh, if possible, sounded even more beautiful than your voice.

“What’s your name?”, he asked. You told him, a small blush making its way to your cheeks. Of course you had expected the band to be friendly, but never in your wildest dreams did you ever imagine Wrecker being this kind. And if you weren’t mistaken he was even flirting with you. But that couldn’t be, right? He must have thousands who flirt with him every day, why would he be interested in you of all people? “(Y/N)”, you told him. After his next action there was no doubt left in your mind that he actually was flirting. “(Y/N), Wrecker repeated as he lifted your hand to press a gentle kiss to your knuckles. You didn’t know what to focus on. His soft lips on your skin, the way your hand felt and looked so much smaller in his big hand, or the way he said your name.

Leave it to Tech to interrupt your little moment. “You need to move it along, there are others waiting”, he informed his brother. Of course he was right, of course you shouldn’t expect Wrecker to continue to talk to you when there were others waiting for his attention. But little did you know that letting you go was something Wrecker wouldn’t dream off. “This thing ends in half an hour. If you want to, you don’t have to but if you want to, you can wait for me in the lobby of the Park Hotel in about an hour and we’ll continue this conversation, (Y/N).”

Part of you knew that there was the possibility that he was only looking for a one night stand, but the bigger part told you that Wrecker was genuinely interested in your company. It was that part that made you agree. And you were so glad you did, because the rest of the night spend with Wrecker couldn’t have been better. Apparently he felt the same, because just before you left he slipped a small note with his number in your pocket.

Tech

The usual instrument for a band might be drums, but I cannot imagine Tech playing the drums. A keyboard however? That’s so Tech.

I can’t see Tech dating a fan, but a fellow musician would be a dream come true! There is just one slight issue...

“I can’t stand that guy! He never stops talking, every time he opens his mouth I just wanna punch his stupid glasses right into his eyes”, you grunted. Tech had been about to round the corner, in his hands he had the setlist you had requested for your band, which was opening for The Bad Batch. Now, after hearing those words and realizing that the friendship the two of you had been building had all been fake, that Tech had been right in trying to shove his developing feelings down, he just threw the pieces of paper in front of your feet. “There”, he grumbled before turning around and leaving again. You shot your friend, who you had been talking to, a confused look.

Your band opened for The Bad Batch for a couple more shows before you parted ways. They went back to recording, while you had your first solo tour, which went incredibly well, since only a year later you reunited at a music festival where both bands were asked to play.

“God, Wrecker, did you grow?”, you laughed while Wrecker enveloped you in a hug and lifted you a few feet into the air. “I think I’m a bit too old to continue growing, but who knows”, he replied with a grin. Tech tried his best not to roll his eyes. How could his brothers still be friendly with you? Wasn’t it obvious to them how much you hated him? Wasn’t blood thicker than water? You moved away from Wrecker to greet Tech next. Your previously joyous smile growing nervous, but it still ignited something Tech wanted to put out. “Hey, long time no see”, you started. You reached out to touch his shoulder, but before you could Tech took a step backwards, knocking over Hunter’s water bottle. Tech saw this as his way of escape and quickly offered to get a new one, though Hunter, who knew what he was up to, shook his head. “Take (Y/N) with you, they know the location better and can show you around.” Tech wanted to disagree, he really did, but he knew there was no use in arguing with Hunter shortly before the concert.

You did show Tech around, at least a little bit. You even tried to chat as best as you could, but his answers were reduced to “yes” and “no”, if he even gave you an answer that is. Finally you reached a small supply closet in which you knew most of the snacks and drinks were kept. “They have your favourite chocolate, I checked the second I heard you guys were showing up”, you told Tech with a smile, hoping at least your shared love for chocolate would break the ice. It didn’t. What did break a second later, almost as soon as Tech followed you into the small room, was the door. With a loud bang it closed behind Tech, and no matter how hard the two of you pushed or pulled, it wouldn’t budge.

“What now?”, you asked, chewing on a piece of said chocolate. Tech was just shoving his phone back in his pocket. “I texted the others, one of them should come around with maintenance in a few minutes.” A moment of silence followed. “Hey, Tech”, you started softly, nervously. “Why do you hate me?” Finally Tech tore his eyes away from the water in his hands and looked at you, really looked at you. “I didn’t hate you until I found out that you hate me. I still don’t hate you, no matter how hard I try-” The last part was mumbled, so quiet you almost didn’t catch it, but you did. “I don’t hate you! Why would you think that? God, Tech, I was starting to fall in love with you during your last tour, but then you suddenly got all cold and never talked to me.” This made Tech raise his eyebrow. He ran a hand through his hair and avoided eye contact. “You were?”, he asked, his voice soft before it suddenly hardened again. “Then why did you tell your friend that you wanna punch me?” Confusion and realization chased each other across your face, finally it dawned on you. “Tech, you idiot, I wasn’t talking about you, I was talking about my neighbour.” He opened his mouth and closed it again. “Oh... So, you don’t hate me?” You shook your head. “In fact, I’d like to take you out to dinner. As a date. If you’d like.” Of course Tech said yes, there was lost time to catch up on after all.

Crosshair

Crosshair might play the drums, it gives him an opportunity to be in the background (and let all his aggressions out)

The two of you had been dating for only a few weeks when he left the band. Afterwards he told you that he needed a bit of space, wanted to be alone for a while. You weren’t exactly happy, but you understood, though when he still hasn’t reached out to you after almost two months you decided to give him a call, only to find out that his number had been disconnected.

It wasn’t until a couple of years later that the two of you met again. It was actually your friend who pointed Crosshair out in the crowded café and encouraged you to talk to him, to find out why he had ghosted you instead of simply breaking up.

“Why did you ghost me instead of simply breaking up with me?”, you opened, having stolen your friend’s exact words. Crosshair, with sunglasses and the usual toothpick between his teeth, looked up from his phone. His face didn’t betray any emotions, but you knew him well enough to recognize a hint of shock in his eyes. “What are you doing here?” You didn’t answer, instead you pulled up the chair opposite of his and sat down at his table. “I asked you first.” There it was, that laugh you had first learned to love and later to hate. It wasn’t a mocking or cruel laugh, instead it reminded you of his reaction whenever you would do something he found cute. “How old are you? You rested your elbows on the table and glared at him, a look that you knew from experience was one of the few things to truly make him uncomfortable. “Old enough to be tired of your bullshit. Now answer my question.”

Crosshair had never been a man of many words, his answer just proved that all over again. “I wanted to start my new life without any baggage from the old one.” Even though you had been hurt after the initial breakup, you considered yourself to be stronger because of it and over Crosshair, but his statement hit you hard. “Is that what I was? Baggage?” Finally he reached up to take the sunglasses off and really look at you. You hated the part of your brain that thought that he still looked good, and as if this conversation didn’t affect him at all. “You didn’t let me finish. I never thought of you as baggage, but you were a connection to my old life, my old band, that I couldn’t take with me into my new life. But I soon realized that I made a mistake, you were more than a connection, it only occured to me after it was too late that I loved you.”

To say you were shocked was the understatement of the century. Of course you had liked Crosshair, but even back then you couldn’t say whether you were actually in love with him. “I know I messed up, but maybe we could meet for dinner and try again.” Those were the last words from the longest monologue you had ever heard him speak. Crosshair put his sunglasses on again and left without another word, though he did leave something behind. You picked the piece of paper up and realized that he had given you his new number, the number you would only have to call to rekindle your relationship, but was that what you really wanted after what he did?

Echo

No doubt, Echo plays the base. It’s the backbone of a band and often underestimated, just like Echo.

The poor guy’s start with The Bad Batch wasn’t the easiest, he joined the band shortly before Crosshair left and many fans thought he was the reason behind the split (which of course he wasn’t, but you know fans). Needless to say that this resulted in some trust issues.

You had been working for the band for what felt like ages, basically from the very beginning and the second you met Echo you were intrigued. It took a bit of time, but he finally started to open up to you and now the two of you were good friends, you were actually one of the few friends Echo had outside of the band.

Though one day your friendship was put to the test. You were backstage, in Echo’s private room, which on itself wasn’t unusual, you spend more time with him than any other band members. What was unusual, and made Echo stop in the doorway, was the fact that you were going through his mail. “What are you doing?”, he asked, not yet angry, but not exactly calm either. He could have sworn that you actually jumped in shock before you turned to face him, guilt written all over you. “Echo, I was just...” “Going through my mail?”, he finished the sentence for you. You knew there was no use in lying, so you simply nodded. “Why?”

The million dollar question, to which you knew the answer would hurt Echo, and possibly your relationship. “I was looking for fan mail.” A gentle smile was now on Echo’s lips. He stepped closer to you, so close that he could take the envelope you were holding out of your hand. “You’re doing a terrific job, but I don’t think you get any fan mail, especially not send to my room.” As if to prove his point he opened the first envelope and started reading. At first his expression didn’t change, then it darkened. Before he could finish you ripped the piece of paper away and threw it in a far corner of the room. “Is that what you were looking for? Hate mail?” You knew there was no sense in denying it any longer. “I’ve been trying to hide it from you, but you get a lot of letters like that. Everyone gets them once in a while, but ever since Crosshair left it’s been a lot.” Echo’s eyes flitted from your face to the letters you were still holding in your hand. “You’ve been doing that all this time? Why?” For some reason the obvious shock and disbelief in his voice broke you more than any words directed at him ever had. “I don’t want you to take what those idiots say to heart. You... You’re perfect just the way you are”, you told him, whispering the last part. Echo stepped even closer to you, so close that you could feel his body heat through both of your clothes. So close that you had to lift your head to continue looking him in the eyes. Slowly Echo took your chin in his hand, his thumb caressing your jaw. The other hand found its way around your waist and you cold feel the cold prosthetic through your thin shirt. “I think you’re perfect as well”, he whispered. Your eyes widened at his words. He had heard you, and he thought you were perfect. Perfect! “Echo, I-”, you started, but he interrupted you. “Since we’re both perfect, maybe we’d be perfect for each other.” A blush crept up his neck as he said those words. You reached up to wrap your arms around the reddening skin. “Maybe we could find out over dinner tonight.” Echo smiled at you, a smile that made you question how anyone could hate him for what had to be the millionth time. “I’d like that”, he said as he leaned his forehead against yours.

-------

This AU just popped into my head and I had to write it down. At first I wanted to make the 501st a band, but I wasn’t quite sure what to do with Anakin and Ahsoka in that scenario, but then it occured to me that the Bad Batch as a band would fit even better, I hope you agree.

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jointhephantomtomorrow · 2 years

Text

Legion of the Black - Story of the Wild Ones

I will only be posting the first chapter here. If you want to read the whole fic (it is fully finished) you can check out the link at the bottom of this post or in my pinned.

Be warned there is some very heavy subject matter, all warnings are posted in the fic description on AO3. This first chapter has no warnings.

I hummed absent-mindedly to myself as I brushed an old piece of charcoal over a torn cloth - the ashes on the material was the closest one could get to a pencil on paper these days. The ashes created smudges on the cloth - not nearly as neat as I would have liked - leaving behind lines of varying weight as I pressed lighter in some areas and harder in others. My eyes followed my fingers intently as a poorly-drawn bird came into shape. Having been so long since I had seen a bird, let alone heard a distant birdsong, the details were wobbly and vague. It didn’t help that my fingers cramped uncomfortably, holding the odd shape of the charcoal.

“Maracheck!” I jumped at the sound of my friend’s voice as they stormed through the door (which was really just another old rag hanging over a hole in the wall of the old trailer we had converted into our home.) My closest friend, Forrest, glanced from me to the rag in my hand and back to me, their expression shifting into one of horror.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” They demanded. I sighed.

“Drawing?” I replied. I knew drawing was illegal. As was humming, singing, dancing, and basically anything creative that you could think of. Just dragging charcoal across cloth and humming quietly would have got me killed had the wrong people heard or seen me. “It’s fine!” I insisted as Forrest snatched the rag from my hands. “No one’s been within five miles of the camp for the last three months and even then they didn’t even know we were here.” While I tried my best to look and sound calm, a shiver ran down my back as I thought back to the event.

Abandoned vehicles weren’t exactly a rare sight in these wastelands - or so I had heard - and unless you were a survivor looking for supplies or shelter, there wasn’t anything remarkable about them at all.

Our camp consisted of five total trailers, all of varying size and sturdiness. Forrest and I slept in the smallest one. It also just so happened to be the least stable one. Every day another pipe or sheet of metal would fall on someone’s foot or head; it wasn’t going to last much longer at this rate.

Forrest glared at me again, fighting back tears.

“I don’t care how safe you think it is!” They cried, “What if someone heard you? What if someone else in the camp decided that you constantly humming and drawing was putting us all in too much danger and turned you in?”

I didn’t know what to say and Forrest fell silent as their voice began to crack and tears started to fall. I jumped to my feet and pulled them into a hug.

“I’m sorry,” I admitted honestly, “I promise I’ll try harder. No more art. No more music.” It was a difficult thing to promise, but if it kept us alive...

“I don’t want to lose you,” Forrest sobbed softly into my shoulder.

“I promise you,” I said sternly, “I will always be here. You will never, ever lose me.”

That night I lay awake, listening to the soft grumbles of Forrest snoring beside me. Some days I fell asleep with no problem, only to awake the next day feeling as though I hadn’t slept in weeks. Other days, I lay awake for hours - sometimes being able to watch the sun rise - and I would put on my best I-got-a-full-night’s-sleep impression the next day. Tonight seemed to be one of those nights.

I sighed to myself and sat up. This was a stupid thing to do. So unbelievably stupid, no one with half a brain would do it. Still, I found myself stepping outside as quietly as possible and making my way to the edge of the cliff our camp sat upon. I knew the way down - a hand here, a foot there, climb around the foothold that had been damaged by a small rock slide, let go and bend your knees as you land.

Glancing around once more to make sure I was alone, I reached for a rag draped over a rock. At a glance it appeared to be merely sitting there, as though a small breeze would surely carry it away at any moment. I adjusted the rocks subtly holding it in place and pulled it back to reveal a mess of wires and circuits and breathed a sigh of relief. It was still here.

Pulling the half-functioning pile of machinery into my lap as I sat down, I reached for a few radio knobs and started to fiddle with them, turning them this way and that until the gradually forming static made way for voices. I kept turning them, not wanting to stop and listen to whatever lies F.E.A.R was spreading this time.

I remained where I was, cross-legged on the filthy ground for a long time. I was unsure how long I sat there for, adjusting wires and turning knobs, until finally, I heard what I had been searching for. Amidst the static was the strum of a guitar, accompanied by the beat of drums and a bass. And then, there it was. That voice.

He sang so beautifully, his voice carrying hope and anger, belief and fear, readiness and desperation. It was dull, a little hard to hear through the static, but certainly there.

I revelled in the music for as long as I dared, trying to force my shoulders to relax but being unable to resist a few glances around to keep reassuring myself that I was truly alone.

It’s okay, I thought, no one’s ever out this late at night. Despite this, I decided it was time to head back. Hesitantly, I switched off the make-shift radio, cutting off the music, and not for the first time I felt myself filling with the anxiety that I may never hear it again. I tried to ignore it, but I could swear that feeling was a lot stronger that evening than it had ever been before.

Taking care to hide the radio as well as I could, I positioned the rag back in place and scrambled back up the cliff face, entirely oblivious of the horned figure staring at me from afar.

#black beil brides #bvb army #black veil brides army #wretched and divine #legion of the black #wretched and divine story of the wild ones #story of the wild ones #fanfic #fanfiction #sfw #sfw fanfic #sfw fanfiction #no smut #no smut fanfic #oc insert #long post #aquila's special interests #aquila infodumps

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emkay512 · 3 years

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Rubber

A quick Drake One-shot

A/N: This idea came to me when I recently learned via TikTok that what we call an eraser, people in the UK call it a rubber and I couldn’t stop giggling at the idea of being asked for a rubber. So I applied that vernacular to Cordonia and Drake.

Thank you @sfb123 for helping me with my non-existent decision making skills with the moodboard! And thank you @burnsoslow for pre reading my mess of writing!

Warnings: lots of talk about condoms (obviously) and sexual innuendos

Tags: tagging my regulars! @queenrileyrose @ao719 @bbrandy2002 @charlotteg234 @kat-tia801 @callmeellabella @ofpixelsandscribbles

A newly “freshman” faced Drake found himself in the library of NYU on the Sunday before America’s Memorial Day weekend. He had just finished his very first spring semester of school and was gearing up for the start of the summer session of classes. Drake knew majority of students would be taking advantage of their holiday and he was enjoying the small number of people around him.

Drake had his textbooks and laptop around him, but he also had a notebook filled with notes by his side. He took notes on his laptop during classes like majority of students, but whenever he did his research in the library, he still enjoyed the old fashion style of writing his thoughts down with pencil and paper. It made it feel like he was reliving his thoughts from when he wrote it down in the first place. Chicken scratch and all.

Drake, who never claimed to be perfect, was known to need to erase and re-write a lot of his thoughts. As an idea popped into his head, he went to make a change to his notes and turned his pencil over, only to find the top had been flattened completely and he was just smudging the lines on his paper. He was a couple floors up in the library and didn’t want to lose momentum in his studies by going all the way down to the librarian desk on the first floor to ask for office supplies. As much as he hated the idea of having to interact with another student, he took a look around to see if there was anyone near that would be willing to spare writing supplies.

A couple of tables away from him, Drake spotted an attractive looking girl sitting with her own studies. Great, Drake thought, bad enough he has to talk to someone, he certainly didn’t want to talk to some ditz who was probably only in summer classes to make up for credits they could barely earn during regular semesters. He groaned, stood, and made his way over to her.

“Excuse me, can I borrow a rubber for my paper?” Allie heard the somewhat European accent that she couldn’t place and looked up at him with a completely confused and somewhat offended face. She might have taken the time to notice his rather ruggishly handsome appearance if it hadn’t been for his inappropriate request for a condom.

“Uh, um... I’m sorry, what!?” She looked around to see if this was some sort of prank. “You really think I would just have that on me and would randomly give you one?” There’s a line she’d never heard before. Who the hell thinks it’s charming to ask a perfectly innocent girl for a condom!?

“Um yeah? Are you immune to making mistakes or something? Are you opposed to sharing?”

Seriously!? Is this some kind of strategy? If he admits unprotected sex is a mistake, then she’d magically be turned on?? And what exactly was he expecting her to share?

He was getting agitated that she was taking forever to just lend him the damn rubber already! The grandma librarian downstairs would probably be quicker than this girl. He was convinced he pegged her right, as a pretty girl that probably only spent time at the library to make it look like she was smarter than she was.

Drake ran his hand over his face with a frustrated moan, “Okay look, I’ve been here for quiet some time today, and mine is just down to a nub and I still need to rub one out.” He said rather seriously.

Down to a nub!? Rub one out!? With a gaping mouth, she unconsciously glanced her eyes at his pants and immediately shook her head still at a complete loss for words. She was feeling school girl shyness at his very direct request and was awkwardly chuckling to try and make the exchange less uncomfortable. This was either the strangest attempt at a pick up line that she’d ever heard or she was completely missing something.

Still at a loss for words, Allie was shaking her head, now with an impossible-to-shake grin on her face from the disbelief that this random, yet handsome, man was asking her for a condom. “I, uh… I’m sorry I have to ask this again, but…. WHAT!?” She snapped her head to look him direct in the face when she asked her question yet again.

“That! Can I please borrow THAT!?” He started stabbing his finger at the eraser on her table.

“Ohhhhhh!! Oh god, the ERASER!!” She started laughing as relief washed over her that he was NOT being a total perv. “Oh my goodness, yes!” Her laughter was continuing to grow as she was now in full awareness of the misunderstanding between them. She sighed as she contained her laughter and said again, “yes, sure use the eraser for as long as you need.” She was now wiping tears from her eyes, “whewww god I thought this was going in a totally different direction!”

It was Drake’s turn to be confused and now based on the way she found this rather frustrating exchange to be somehow extremely funny, he needed to know what was going on. “Um, I’m sorry but just exactly what did you think I was asking for?”

Still chuckling, Allie answered, “I take it you’re not from here.” She picked up the eraser and showed it to him, “around here, we call this an eraser. A rubber is what we call a condom.”

Realization started to dawn on him and he could feel the color drain from his face. He wasn’t exactly a man of the courts, but he certainly wouldn’t be so crass to bother a strange woman for a condom. “Oh... Oh! Oh, god! Look, I… geez, you know I wouldn’t…”

Allie was still laughing at the role reversal and the fact that he was now the one that was tongue tied. “Hey, hey, it’s totally fine! Welcome to New York, and here,” she put the eraser in his hand, “knock yourself out. Keep it. Think of me when you.. what did you say? Rub one out.” She said with a very friendly smile and she turned her focus back down to the work she was studying. Drake held the eraser and stood there, still a little dumbfounded, before he realized he had what he came for and he eventually turned and walked back to his desk, unable to shake the thought of the girl he completely misjudged.

#choices trr #drake trr #drake walker #the royal romance #choices

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missdawnandherdusk · 4 years

Text

Beautifully Beastly

Reader X Draco

Summary: It’s over ten years since the Battle of Hogwarts, and you stumble upon an old classmate and his son. Soon you find yourself in a large house, tutoring a young protege, and acquiring feelings for his father...?

A/n: Okay, so this is the cutest thing in the world. I changed cannon of course, but isn’t that the point of fanfiction? Anyway, I know I tortured you guys with the last chapter of my Hufflepuff!Reader series, so here’s a cute one shot with a brooding older Draco and a lively Scorpius who just wants to learn everything. I love you guys so so much, let me know what you think!!

“Draco? Draco Malfoy?” I asked, pausing at the park bench.

The same white blond hair was not longer and tied back at the nape of his neck. I would have mistaken him as Lucius if I didn’t linger. He had grown into his features, his eyes still the same piercing blue. It had to have been maybe ten years since I had seen Draco last. They were memories I didn’t dwell on often.

“Y/n,” Recognition flirted across his face. “What... what are you doing here?”

“It’s a park?” A smile found its way to my lips. “I come here to clear my head,”

He nodded, as if in understanding.

“So, what are you doing here?” I mused.

“I’m here with my son,”

“Son?” I was surprised. “I didn’t know you had a kid,” my eyes scanned the park and narrowed in on a little boy with white blond hair. “Should have known though,” I smiled. “His mother?” I sat on the opposite side of the bench.

“Died when he was seven months,” His eyes stayed on his son’s playful form in the distance.

“Sorry,” I offered, wrapped my arms around my midriff.

“It’s fine,” His lips pressed into a tight line, letting me know that it was not fine.

“I hear you’re a Head Auror,” I tried to keep pleasant conversation. “Brought in a lot of his followers,”

He didn’t comment. His jaw clenched and he kept a cool mask on his features. He clenched his left fist and drew it to himself almost defensively. I heard a lot of other things about Draco as well over the years. It was hard to escape the politics and news of the Wizarding World, but I knew Draco better than a news article, even if I hadn’t seen him in a decade—which spoke to how much the papers knew.

“Where did you end up?” He asked finally.

“Um, well, I’m a writer. Historian.” I clarified. “It’s been a lot of work lately trying to get everything written correctly. So many biased petty people wanting to get their two cents in,” I scoffed, my thoughts drawing to Skeeter, who still wouldn’t retire.

“Historian?” He mused. “So, you’re well versed in a lot of topics then?”

“I guess, yeah. McGonagall sent me a letter not too long ago asking me to come and teach. I... I couldn’t bear to think going back...” I looked down at my hands. “That place still haunts me.”

“Are you for hire though?”

That caught my attention.

“Hire?” I pressed, my brows quirking together.

“Private tutor, for Scorpius.” Draco nodded towards his son. “I’ve been looking for someone to come and start his schooling.”

“You want me to tutor your son?” I asked, quite shocked.

“You’d have lodging at the Manor, and all the books and supplies you needed, as well as a salary,”

I gaped at him. “Okay...?” I finally got out.

It took about a week, but soon I was moved into the Manor with access to the library wing, and the rest of the house as I pleased. The house elves had orders to answer to me as if I was there mistress—even though I hated the notion and protested.

Scorpius was hesitant around me for a few days, until he caught me practicing spells. He was delighted to see even a bit of magic, and I wondered if Draco ever did magic in front of his song. Draco gave me a vague outline of what he wanted me to cover with Scorpius, leaving a lot of it up to me. Which was for better or worse, the best mistake he could have made.

Draco seemed to realize that when he came home one evening and Scorpius and I were in the front lawn, covered in bowtruckles. The little boy was laughing joyously, playing with the small plant creatures. Draco started to yell, but seeing his son laugh, he paused and gave me a cold look before heading inside. I rolled my eyes at him and brought Scorpius inside to wash up for dinner.

“If you have something to say to me,” I baited, leaning against his study door jam.

“No,” He said curtly, his back to me as he leaned against his desk. “He should be well versed in herbology,”

I made an exasperated gesture and let it drop.

A few months passed, and I spent the days teaching Scorpius anything and everything. I had the weekends off, but still didn’t mind taking the young Malfoy to the park or lake or wherever else he wanted to go. Sometimes Draco accompanied us, sometimes he’d be gone weeks on end on a case. In those long periods of time I did my best to keep Scorpius happy. I taught him how to bake cookies and other sweets. I read to him bedtime stories, both muggle and wizarding—after getting a pinky promise from Scorpius that he wouldn’t tell his father.

There were some nights that Draco and I spent together, not intentionally. But he’d be in the library, reading from a pile of large old books, and I’d flit around, finding the material I wanted. Sometimes I’d ask him for a certain book, and he’d raise the one in his hands. It was always left on my desk in the morning.

A few nights I’d find him asleep in his large chair, the book that was in his lap fallen onto the floor. I’d pick up the book and drape an afghan around his shoulders. Neither of us mentioned it.

We shared tea and coffee in the early mornings before he was off to work and I had been up all night reading, our internal clocks aligning for no more than a quarter hour.

After seeing Scorpius to bed, one night in late November, I retired to my own room, picking up my book, continuing to read. The hours slipped away, and I was forced to stop reading and turn in for the night. It was a silent night... almost.

My eyelashes flickered open at the nudging on my arm. I met a teary eyed blond little boy.

“M-miss Y/n? I-I had a nightmare and d-dad’s not h-home,” He hiccupped, trying to hold back further tears.

I was immediately alert and awake, a gentle smile on my face. The light from the hall softly lit the room. I scooched back in the bed and held up the covers.

“Well, come on,” I encouraged. “It’s alright,”

Scorpius hurried under the duvet and curled up to my side without hesitation. My arms draped around him and my hands stoked his hair softly. I had no idea what I was doing, but it seemed to calm the young Malfoy.

“Nightmares, huh?” I asked softly and he nodded into my shoulder. “Can I tell you a secret?” Starling blue eyes met mine shining with tears and hope.

“There’s a way to beat nightmares,” I smiled widely and pulled my wand from under the pillow. “It’s called a Patronus,”

With practiced movements I casted the charm and a silvery ferret emerged from my wand. My eyebrows furrowed. The last time I casted the charm, it was a housecat. The ferret, however, bounced around in the air, circling around the room before hovering in front of Scorpius.

“You have a Patronus, Scorpius,” I let the charm fall, tucking my wand back away. “And it’s always protecting you,”

“But I can’t do magic,” The little boy pouted. “I don’t even have a wand.”

“A Patronus isn’t cast by a wand,” I watched confusion fall upon his face. “It lives inside you, in your happiest memories. And it always protects you.”

The little boy nodded, and I went back to stroking his hair softly.

“I miss daddy,” He mumbled.

“I know sweetheart,” I sighed softly. “But he’s out there protecting you too. He takes down bad wizards who want to hurt you and everyone else,”

“People say that daddy is a bad wizard,” Scorpius was almost scared to say it.

I took a sharp breath in and exhaled slowly.

“I grew up with your dad,” I told him, rubbing his back. “And he made some... difficult choices. We all did. His choices didn’t work out so well, and people hold it against him. But we were just kids,” I sighed softly thinking of my last few years at Hogwarts. “I should have done something...” Shaking the thought I looked back down to Scorpius. “But your daddy loves you. So much Scorpius, and though it may not seem like it, you’re his entire world.”

He nodded into my shoulder again, and I pulled the covers around him. His eyes had a hard time staying open. I smiled, running my fingers through his hair still. Humming an old lullaby, we were both calmed to sleep.

“Scorpius!?” A harsh worried voice called.

My hand went to my wand as I cradled Scorpius protectively watching Draco burst in through the door. We both seemed to relax at the sight of the other. Scorpius stirred in my arms, blinking up at me sleepily.

“Nightmare?” Draco asked softly, kneeling beside my bed, reaching out to stroke his son’s head.

I nodded and uncurled my arms from around him, letting him cling to his father, he was now wrapped up in Draco’s arms. Draco disappeared from the room for a few minutes then returned. I sat up, turning on the lamp.

“I’m sorry about that,” Draco looked at the floor. “He’s been having a hard time lately.”

I nodded. “It’s okay, I don’t mind.”

“Thank you,” There was a weight in Draco’s eyes.

“Dray,” I called. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, long day, that’s all,” He rubbed his face. “One too many hexes... we got him though,”

“That’s good,” There was a silence that hung around us.

“How did you get him to calm down?” Draco asked, changing the topic. “It takes me at least an hour,”

“Patronus Charm,” I smiled. “And an old muggle lullaby,” I tacked on.

“Are you contaminating my son with muggle things?” The words were harsh, but there was a smile at Draco’s lips.

“A bit,” I smiled back. “He loves you Draco,” I confessed to my duvet after a moment.

He nodded and leaned against the door jam, his eyes slipping closed. I called his name and his eyes snapped back open. He grumbled a goodnight and lumber down the hall. I shrugged mentally and spent the next hour staring at the ceiling trying to figure out why my Patronus had changed all of a sudden.

It was a few nights later and I was awoken again, this time by muffled screams and cries. I sprang from my bed, wand in hand, Lighting Charm casted as I tore down the hall. The sounds were coming from Draco’s room. I barged in and saw him thrashing on the bed.

Nightmares must have been a commonality in the Malfoy household.

“Draco!” I called, setting down my wand and shaking his shoulder. “Draco! Wake up!”

His eyes didn’t flash open. He didn’t seem to notice me.

“Daddy?” A small voice called from the door.

“Scorpius go get me a glass of water, please,” I threw the task at the young boy to get him out of the room. He scurried off.

“Come on, Draco,” I whispered, throwing back the sheets. “You can beat this,”

Grabbing my wand, I went through a mental list of spells that might wake him up, but I took the notion after dealing with Scorpius’ nightmares and casted my Patronus. The ferret instantly soared towards Draco, diving into his chest and disappearing. I stared, awaiting.

“Draco?” I asked again, sitting beside him on the bed. Hesitantly, I reached out and took his hand. “Please wake up Draco,” I pleaded softly. “It’s just a dream,”

Blue eyes flashed open and wrestled me to the ground, wand under my throat, a wild look in his eyes. I raised my hands in surrender, raising my eyebrows at him.

“It’s me,” I soothed. “It’s just me,”

Draco groaned and released me, rubbing his face. He sat on the floor, leaning against the bed frame. I sat next to him. We didn’t say anything. There wasn’t much to say. The patter of little feat had us both looking at Scorpius enter the room, glass of water in his shaking hands. He offered it to me, and I passed it to Draco who downed it instantly.

“Are you okay daddy?” Scorpius asked meekly.

“Yeah, I’m okay bud,” He nodded. “Just a dream,”

“Don’t you have a Patronus like Miss Y/n? She says it protects you from nightmares,”

“It’s okay sweetheart,” I smiled tiredly. “I let him use mine tonight,” Standing, I lifted the little boy into my arms. “Let’s get back to bed, huh?”

It took a while, but Scorpius did finally settle down enough for me to feel comfortable to leave him—it did require a bit of spell work. A simple spell that left his bedroom ceiling reflecting the starry night outside—what my parents used to do for me. Another soft muggle lullaby and the stars beckoned the young Malfoy to sleep.

When I turned to leave, Draco was waiting for me in the hallway. Something gripped my heart when I saw the brushed away tears on his face. Without thinking, I wrapped him in my arms, pulling him close. He didn’t push me away. Instead he clung to me, the same way that Scorpius did.

My hands laced into his long silvery hair, carding through it. He pressed his face into my shoulder—having to hunch himself down to accomplish the feat—and inhaled deeply.

Before I wanted him to, he pulled away. Again, we didn’t say anything. Deciding that I wasn’t going to leave Draco on his own either tonight, I took his hand and led him back to my room. He didn’t protest. I nodded to the bed and got in on one side and he got in on the other. There was a tension between us that dissolved when I reached out for his hand in the moonlight.

“Has your Patronus always been a ferret?” He asked softly.

“It was a cat up until recently,” I confessed.

We fell back into silence and remained like that until my eyelids became too heavy to open again.

“Thank you,” Was the last thing I heard before being pulled under.

In the morning, he was gone. I expected it though, he had to work at the Ministry. It was the entire point of my being at the Manor, to watch after Scorpius while his father worked. That and tutor him, but that was become less of a priority the more time I spent with the small family.

That night, however, I was on the verge of sleep when I heard my bedroom door open. A familiar silhouette slunk through the darkness, padding across the wooden floor. A small smile grew on my face as Draco slipped into bed next to me, lying very still. My heart raced. I rolled onto my back and we both stared at the ceiling in silence. Our soft breaths were the only thing heard. His hand reached for mine in the darkness.

He was gone again in the morning. I sighed and sat up, rubbing my face. My feelings were confusing themselves as questions swarmed in my mind. Draco was home for dinner that night. Scorpius went on and on about the day we had: I introduced him to Latin.

“They’re just like spells!” He exclaimed. “Miss Y/n showed me!”

“You know Latin?” Draco looked at me.

“Spent a few semesters at a muggle college learning it,” I shrugged. “Some records only have copies written in it.”

He didn’t comment.

I retired to my room early that night, worrying my lip the entire evening, trying to figure out what was going on. It was all so confusing. Sometimes I thought I saw something in Draco and he in me, but... what did I know?

Draco was preparing for another long-term case. It was only a week. Scorpius tried not to cry in front of his father, but later the young Malfoy ran to me in tears. I lifted him into my arms and rocked him softly. I began to sing another muggle lullaby, a new one. It caught his attention as he calmed to listen to my new melody.

“How do you know all of these songs?” He asked with watery eyes.

“I used to get scared too,” I confided in him as I laid him into bed. “Sometimes I still do. They’re another secret to keep from being afraid.”

“But where do they come from?” He asked.

I smiled and pulled his covers up. “That... is something I’ll have to talk to your father about. It’s complicated,”

“Why?”

“Because they’re all muggle songs,” I explained softly. “And your father is...”

“Against muggles?” Scorpius frowned.

“No,” I responded immediately. “But though I teach you, I don’t have liberty to tell you everything my dear,”

“Why not?”

“Because...” I sighed. I’m not your mother.

“It’s complicated?” Scorpius gave a familiar smirk that once belonged to his father.

“Quite so,” I replied and stood. “I’ll talk to him before he leaves.”

“Night Miss Y/n,”

“Goodnight Scorpius,”

I closed his door and leaned against it for a moment before finding my courage to go and find Draco. I found him packing in his study, gathering books and various magical items. I knocked on the door frame.

“Yes?” He didn’t look up.

How was I supposed to start this conversation?

“Y/n?” This time he did look up, worry in his blue eyes. “What’s wrong?” He set down his bag and came over to me. “Is Scorpius alright?”

“Yes, he’s fine,” I answered quickly. “He... Am I allowed to show him muggle movies?” The question was barely audible.

Draco’s expression sobered as he went back to his desk.

“They’re just fairytales, Draco.” I reasoned softly. “Just stories...”

“And they were just lullabies,” He snapped. “I should have stopped you the first time you sang to him... muggle songs... my son wanting to hear muggle songs... and movies...”

It was like a slap to the face. I took a small step back. Maybe I had been wrong, and Draco was still against muggles.

“If they’re so awful, why didn’t you stop me?” I snapped. “You had every chance to stop me.”

“I’m stopping you now,” His voice was ice.

“You can’t do that,” I argued back. “He wants to know!”

“I do as I please! I am his father! You work for me! You will do as I say!” He threw down a book and stormed over to me, fury written on his face.

“Then I resign,” I bit out.

He faltered and froze.

“What?”

“You heard me,” I tilted my chin back. “I will not be treated like a child. And I will not keep secrets from yours. He deserves more than that,” My voice was calm and even.

“And what do you know about what he deserves!?” Draco spat. “He isn’t your child! You aren’t his mother!”

“I know that!” I yelled back, tears in my eyes.

I turned away, covering my face, biting back the tears that wanted to fall. I took a deep breath.

“I’ll stay until you return, for Scorpius’ sake.” I gritted out. “Then I’m gone,”

I ran down the halls of the Manor and slammed my door shut, locking it childishly. Then I broke down into tears, leaning against it. I quieted when I heard footsteps coming down the hallway. They lingered outside my door but made no attempt to knock or open the door.

The next morning, he was gone.

Scorpius noticed my somber mood almost immediately. He asked me why I was sad. Then he asked me what I fought with his father about, bursting into tears when I told him that I was leaving within the week.

“But you can’t go Miss Y/n!” He sobbed, crawling into my lap. I bit back tears and cradled him close.

“I have to,” A few tears escaped. “But that doesn’t mean I love you any less,” I stroked his face softly, brushing away tears. “But I can’t keep things from you, and your father won’t let me teach them to you. I can’t do that to you my darling,”

“I don’t care! I don’t want you to go!” He clung to me.

“Scorpius, darling,” I tried to reason with a four-year-old.

“No! I won’t let you go!” He cried.

I held him close, hiding my face from him so that he didn’t have to see me cry. I started to whisper out another song. It quieted his crying once more but didn’t stop my own. He slept with me every night that week. I knew it wasn’t a smart idea, but I couldn’t seem to get out the word ‘no.’

There was a loud crack in the foyer while I was teaching Scorpius how to write his letters—he had a habit of mixing up runes and letters. I rose, knowing the sound of apperating and rushed down the hall. Draco was lain on the floor, scantly breathing and bleeding, severely.

I froze at the sight and turned, catching Scorpius in my arms and ushering him away from the sight.

“Scorpius, I need you to listen to me very carefully,” I set him down, kneeling in front of him. “In my room there’s a green carpet bag with purple flowers on it. I need that bag. Please Scorpius,”

He nodded and took off up the stairs and I rose, shedding my cardigan and rolling up my sleeves. I hurried over to Draco, kneeling beside him, drawing my wand.

“Medicari,” I chanted, running my wand over his slain skin.

The gashes on his skin vanished, but he still looked deathly.

“Draco? Draco can you hear me!?” I fought back tears, lifting his head softly, placing it in my lap.

Scorpius came in, my bag in his arms. I thanked him and ripped the bag open. He took his father’s hand, silent tears on his face as a house elf showed up behind him.

“Get out!” I shouted at the elf, drawing a vial from my bag: Elixir of Life. “Just one drop,” I whispered softly to myself.

Uncapping the bottle, I took the dropper and placed it to Draco’s lips that were parted, scarce breaths drawing through them. Just one drop.

Slowly Draco became less a sickly green and restored back to the beautiful pale complexion. His breathing became deeper, healthier. His lips were no linger blue, but the soft pink color they had always been. His eyes remained closed, however.

“Daddy?” Scorpius asked softly.

“He’ll be fine,” I whispered, mostly to myself.

My eyes trailed over his body, making sure I hadn’t missed anything else, and I noticed that his shirt sleeve had been torn and the Dark Mark was opaque black and surrounded by red and irritated skin.

“Death Eaters,” I hissed. “Scorpius, come here,” I opened my arms and the little boy ran to me. I held him protectively and drew my wand, casting Protective and Shielding Charms around the Manor.

“What are Death Eaters?” Scorpius asked.

“I’ll tell you later,” I murmured softly. “Just stay close for now.” My eyes kept darting around the room, expecting to see the dead walk again and my old nightmares come back to haunt me.

“Are you still gonna leave?” Scorpius sniffled, his tears staring to fall again.

“No, sweetheart,” I consoled. “I’m not leaving you on your own.”

I was decided in that moment. It didn’t matter what Draco said to me or ordered me to do. I would stay for Scorpius’ sake. Even if that meant laying aside my pride. I would stay.

With the dreadful feeling that Draco might not wake up soon, I called a house elf—whom I apologized to upon seeing—and had her apparate Draco up to his room, and into bed. Scorpius was glued to my side the entire evening. The house elf came in later with soup and tea for dinner as well as a bowl of water and washcloth.

After dinner, Scorpius fell asleep in my lap. I gently laid him on the chaise lounge that was next to the bed and covered him with an extra blanket. Then I took the water and washcloth and began my task.

I took my time and gently washed the sweat and grim from Draco’s face, moving to his neck and arms. He looked peaceful like this. Years of harsh and cold looks were gone. Instead I found something reminiscent of a young boy at Hogwarts evident in his features. Without knowing it, I began to sing softly.

I unbuttoned Draco’s black shirt and continued to wash away the dried blood and dirt. It was a slow process, but it gave me something to focus on; rather than the crippling anxiety that loomed over me. My fingertips traced old scars that littered his chest in an abstract pattern. I wondered how many of them he had to mend alone...

I sat on the floor, leaning against the bedframe and tried to read my book, but failed. I just stared at the fire in the hearth and sang absentmindedly. The grandfather clock in the hall chimed three o’clock.

“Y/n?” A scratchy groggy voice called.

I sprang up and met tired blue eyes.

“Merlin, Draco,” I cried, tears springing into my eyes as I crouched beside him stroking his face.

He tried to sit up and I aided him, tears streaming silently down my face.

“Don’t do that to me!” I squeaked, cupping his face between my hands, sitting on the bed. “What were you thinking!?”

“I-I’m sorry,” He stammered, shocked at my cry of emotion.

I drew him into a tight embrace and buried my face in his shoulder. Tentatively his arms wrapped around me. After a moment, they started to rub my back as I cried into his shoulder.

“I thought I was going to lose you,” I confessed through tears.

“No, never,” His vow baffled me.

I withdrew and studied him, confusion and heart break on both of our faces.

“I’m sorry,” He took my hand in his. “It was wrong for me to yell at you like that. Or to say the things I did. Please, don’t leave. Even if you can’t stand to be near me, nor say another word to me again, Scorpius needs you,” A pause. “...I need you.”

Saddened blue eyes met mine and I pressed my lips to his without a second thought. His lips melded to mine instantly as he drew me into his arms. My hands went to his hair, knotting themselves into his long locks. His lips were hot and desperate against mine—mine even more so against his.

“Daddy?”

We quickly parted, both of our attentions snapping to a sleepy Scorpius.

“Why are you kissing Miss Y/n?” He asked, rubbing his eyes. “And why is she in your lap?”

After a moment of shock, I dissolved into laughter, hiding my face in Draco’s shoulder. I felt him shake with laughter too. One of Draco’s hands left my waist, beckoning Scorpius into our embrace. It took a bit of finagling, but soon we were all laying on the bed, Scorpius tucked between Draco and me. Draco pulled a blanket around us, pressing kisses to Scorpius’ head and to my forehead. My fingers combed through Scorpius’ hair as I watched him fall asleep to the soft melody that fell from my lips.

When I was positive that he was asleep, my gaze shifted to nervous blue eyes. I searched for answers, for an explanation. Draco seemed to pick up on that.

“They... Polyjuice Potion,” He started. “It was you; they were you... I... Merlin, Y/n,” He reached out and took my hand. “It was a living nightmare... your screams... they wouldn’t advance... it was days before...”

“Stars, Draco,” My heart broke at the picture that he was piecing together for me.

I could only imagine if the roles had been switched and it was Draco that I had heard screaming from pain and torture for days... not being able to do anything... trying to prove to myself it wasn’t real... What would I have done?

“You went in alone,” I realized. “You... Draco, what were you thinking? You could have been killed!” I whispered harshly, careful not to wake Scorpius.

“I... They weren’t going to take away someone else that I cared for. I wasn’t going to sit by and watch it happen,” His voice was firm and sure.

I reached out and stroked his face softly, his eyes connecting with mine. Nothing was said but everything was meant. It was moments like these that my regrets shone the most. I should have done more in school... I should have done something...

“I was going to stay anyway,” I confessed, my gaze dropping down to the young Malfoy. “I couldn’t leave him like that.”

“You... you would have let me order you around... for the sake of my son?” Draco’s eyebrows furrowed.

“Yes,” I whispered softly. “And I still will, if that’s what it takes.”

My eyes met his again. There were tears in them.

“What did I ever do to deserve you?” Draco whispered softly.

I smiled and shook my head softly.

“It’s never about what we deserve, but what we do in spite of it,”

We fell asleep, the three of us, curled up and clinging to each other. It was peaceful, for once. When I awoke in the morning, I was alone. Frantically I looked around for Scorpius but relaxed when I heard laughter and a loud clatter downstairs.

Snagging Draco’s house coat, I made my way downstairs to find Draco and Scorpius in the kitchen, in various states of disaster. Scorpius was covered in what looked like flour—Draco not faring much better—and the kitchen counters were covered with pretty much every baking utensil and dish that the Malfoy’s owned. It was very hard not to laugh. So, I did.

“Scourgify,” I snapped my fingers and the kitchen began to return to a less chaotic state of being.

Scorpius marveled at the wandless magic as everything was placed in its proper order. I carefully made my way over to the two Malfoys, avoiding dishes and pans that floated around in a hurry to find their proper homes.

“Good morning,” I drawled, raising an eyebrow at Draco.

“He insisted we make pancakes the muggle way because someone taught him,” He raised an eyebrow back at me.

“I almost remember how to do it Miss Y/n!” Scorpius cut in between us, pulling at my hand.

Chuckling, I pulled him up into my arms and set him on the counter. Then I went around and gathered what was actually necessary to make pancakes. Draco watched quietly, offering things I needed before I could ask for them. His gaze and hands always lingered when they were upon me, and it left me a bit redder than I cared to admit.

With breakfast on the small kitchen table, coffee and tea brewed—a glass of milk for Scorpius— we ate in the company of one another. Draco started to chide Scorpius about the amount of syrup he was using, and I gave Draco an amused look and he refrained, sighing and reading the Daily Prophet. (It meant having to give Scorpius a bath afterwards because of the sticky mess, but it was worth it).

“How did you do it?” Draco asked as we walked the grounds, Scorpius chasing the wild peacocks.

“Do what?” I asked, eyeing a peacock that was getting a bit too aggressive for my taste.

“Last night,” He gave, but I still wasn’t quite sure what he wanted me to explain. “you saved my life. I know about every spell and potion out there... how did you do it so quickly?”

“Elixir of Life,” I paused and teetered my head. “Sort of. It’s the juice of the Fire-Flowers that grow in the Mountains of the Sun. Cures any illness and injury... as long as the person still has breath.”

“That what of what?”

I laughed. “Historian, remember?” I nudged his side. “You learn a few things. I think I have what’s left of it... no one has been able to find the flowers or the mountain any longer.”

“What did you go and waste it on me for then?” He exclaimed.

“Um, you were dying?” I argued back. “It wasn’t a waste.”

“I’m hardly worth keeping alive,”

“That’s not true,” I refuted stubbornly. “You mean so much to Scorpius, and to me for that matter. What would either of us do without you?” I looked to Scorpius who had a peacock feather in his hand, waving it proudly. We both waved back.

“He’d be fine. He’s strong,”

“He’s four, Draco,” I snapped. “He doesn’t need to be strong; he needs to be a kid.”

Draco pursed his lips and sighed. “Suppose you’re right,” He finally admitted. “Sometimes I wonder if I’m doing this right...”

“There is no right way to raise someone, Draco,” Then mended, “Okay, there’s no one certain way that you have to raise someone. And I think you’re doing just fine with him. He’s a great kid, Dray,”

“Miss Y/n! Look what I found!” Scorpius ran over, a small bowtruckle in his hand.

“Look at that!” I crouched down. “But you better go put him back, he needs to be with his family,”

The little boy nodded and ran back into the yard, crouching down beside a bush. Our conversation of the matter seemed to end there. Draco was called back into work and Scorpius and I remained outside for the rest of the evening. When he returned later that evening, Scorpius was fast asleep in bed and I was staring at the family portraits in the great room. Though the figures moved, they gave me no guidance on what to do. Draco came and stood beside me, gazing at the paintings as well.

“She was beautiful,” I whispered softly, looking at the painting of Draco, Astoria, and an infant Scorpius. “With more courage than a lion,”

Draco nodded and stared at his late wife. I gnawed at my lip and sighed softly.

“Sometimes I wonder how things would have changed if she was still here,” Draco confessed to the painting. “If they would have...”

“Well, you wouldn’t need me,” I smiled sadly.

“And why not?” He turned to me, confusion on his features. “Scorpius would still need a teacher,”

“But we never would have met in the park that day. It wouldn’t be me here...” My gaze shifted back to the portrait.

He went quiet at that, and with a deep breath, bid me goodnight and retired to his room for the rest of the evening. I gave the paintings one last glimpse and turned in myself. I was alone that night, not getting much sleep.

We fell back into an odd sort of routine as December ended. I attempted to keep my emotions for Draco under control as I continued to teach his son. I may have failed at the notion completely. I had convinced Draco to throw a small party for Scorpius for his fifth birthday and though it was only the three of us as well as Narcissa and Lucius, the youngest Malfoy was the happiest five- year-old in the world.

“Miss Y/l/n,” Narcissa gestured for me to join her in a quiet sitting room.

Setting down my plate of homemade cake—that I showed Scorpius how to make upon his request and pouting—I followed her. Anxiety grew in my chest as we sat by the warm hearth.

“It’s my understanding that you are tutoring my grandson,” She said softly.

“Yes ma’am,” I nodded, fidgeting with my sweater.

“And that you care deeply for my son,” She gave me a knowing look.

I pressed my lips together and stared at the crackling fire.

“It doesn’t matter how I feel,” I repeated my mantra. “I can’t...”

“And why not?” My eyes snapped up at hers, a startled look on my face as she continued. “Draco has been through a lot, and I cannot change the past. Astoria aided him through some of it, setting him back on his feet, but you my dear, have brought back life to my son’s eyes.”

“Mrs. Malfoy,” I started, but she raised her hand to stop me.

“I understand if you do not wish to take on the family name, nor commit to a very broken man.”

“That’s not the issue,” I amended quickly. “I... I don’t know if Draco is ready... Sometimes I think yes, then other times I don’t know what’s going through his head... and I don’t want to lose him or Scorpius if I’m wrong...”

“We are never truly ready for anything my dear,” Narcissa spoke softly, reminiscing. “But I know my son, and I know that he has changed so much since you’ve been around. Do not be afraid of not being ready, it’s when true character shines through,” She rose elegantly and gave me a warm smile. “You are good for him,”

“Everything alright in here?” Draco stood in the doorway, a curious look on his face. I did my best to offer an encouraging smile.

“Yes, quite,” His mother smiled and swept out of the room with the grace of a swan.

I stood and readjusted the shawl around my shoulders. Draco’s eyes didn’t leave me as I walked over to him. He was still waiting for me to explain.

“It’s nothing,” I smiled and looked down. “We just talked about Scorpius and his studies, that’s all,” It was an easy lie, and I knew that he could see through it, but he didn’t call me out on it.

“Miss Y/n! Look! Daddy got me a book! Just like yours!” Scorpius bounded over to me, a thick leather-bound book in his hands.

“Isn’t that wonderful!” I beamed, bending down, examining the book’s cover.

Walt Disney’s Classic Storybook Collection: Volume Three

Shock flitted across my emotions as I looked up at Draco, my eyebrows drawing together.

“They’re just fairytales,” He offered a lopsided smile and a small shrug.

I couldn’t stop the smile on my face or the warmth in my heart that grew. I rose, giving Scorpius his book back and went over to Draco.

“You didn’t have to do that,” I whispered softly. “I told you, it was alright.”

“You were right, Y/n,” He spoke in a hushed tone. “He deserves to know, and he deserves to be a kid,” He pulled me beside him, nodding to his son that played with a mix of muggle and magic toys on the floor, Lucius eyeing him warily and Narcissa beaming.

I leaned against Draco and watched Scorpius play in the firelight, pondering what Narcissa had told me. Was I really the one that brought life back into this small family? Could Draco hold the same regard for me as I did for him?

With his arm wrapped around my side, keeping me close, I thought that just maybe he could.

The night after Narcissa and Lucius had gone, Scorpius begged me to read from his new book as a bedtime story. I gave in and opened the gold leaf pages and skimmed the table of contents. I chose a familiar tale: Peter Pan.

“Is one of your songs from this story?” Scorpius asked, his eyes shining.

“Not this one, no,” I smiled. “But we’ll get to those, I promise,”

He nodded and settled in as I began to read the fairytale. Scorpius was fast asleep before Peter saved Wendy from the mermaids. I closed the book and set it on his bedside table, smiling and leaving his room, the door cracked open. Draco was in his study, hunched over a book on his desk, deeply focused. Passing the room, I headed to the kitchen and made two cups of tea before returning. Setting one on his desk next to him, I stood behind him, leaning against his desk chair.

He murmured a thanks and didn’t look up from the book. Gathering my courage, I sat my mug down as well.

“Draco, can we talk?” I bit my lip and looked down.

His blue eyes looked up from the book, his eyebrows raised, waiting for me to continue. I took a deep breath. Hopefully this conversation would go better than the last time we ‘talked.’

“I... have had a wonderful time, here over the past year, with you and Scorpius,” I began. He sighed.

“I understand,” There was an air of melancholy in his voice.

“You do?” I wondered what he was referring to or if we were on the same page. It seemed like we weren’t.

“You wish to leave,” His gaze didn’t meet mine. “You tried, and it didn’t work, I understand.”

“What?” I took a small step back, wrapping my arms around myself. “Where in the world did you get an idea like that?” I paused. “Do you want me to leave?” My voice was as small as I felt in that moment.

“No,” He confessed softly.

“Then what do you want?” His eyes flashed to mine.

“The truth?” He seemed nervous and afraid. I nodded. “I... I don’t...” He pursed his lips together and stood, his back to me, like it would make it easier. “I don’t sleep well when you’re not beside me. I don’t go a day at work without thinking about you. I feel the same need to protect you as I do with Scorpius.

“You understand my son in a way I’ll never comprehend, and I see you in him more and more every day. I’ve given you everything I can, and I still fear it’s not enough to make you want to stay. Because I’ve spent months trying to deny and conceal what I feel about you from you and myself and I can’t do it anymore.”

I gaped at him.

“And maybe keeping you away will keep you safe,” He whispered.

I rounded his desk and reached out, placing my hand on his shoulder. He turned, desperation in his eyes. I reached up and stroked his cheek softly.

“I love you Y/n,” As if the notion broke him.

“I love you too, Draco,”

His hands cradled my face as he drew me into a scared, hesitant kiss. My hands splayed over his shoulders and pulled him closer. Holding another close, we melted into the other. Past fears, regrets, pains, and nightmares all laid aside for one shining moment.

“Don’t go away,” He whispered softly against my lips.

“Never,” I vowed. “You’re stuck with me now,” I smiled up at him.

“And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

It was a soft and gentle night. Draco continued to read, I brought my book and joined him in the sitting room that his mother and I spoke in not hours before. He was sitting in the center of the sofa and my legs were draped across his lap as we read into the late hours of the night.

With unspoken words and requests, we curled up together in his bed, in ridiculously expensive silk sheets and down pillows. My fingers absent mindedly traced the scars across his chest, my head nestled on his shoulder and his arm around me.

He rose early in the morning, placing a kiss to my forehead before heading to get ready for work. In his house coat again, I saw him off, kissing him softly before he departed. Contented, I went to wake Scorpius, humming softly to myself. He insisted that I read him another fairytale after lunch, and I compromised and agreed I would after his lesson.

Draco returned that evening, in a pleasant mood, placing a kiss on my cheek, before lifting Scorpius into his arms, asking about his son’s day. The young Malfoy babbled about the tale of Peter Pan and Captain Hook, saying he wanted to fly like Peter.

“Do you still have your broom?” I mused, curious. “I remember someone being quite the quidditch player,”

Scorpius’ eyes lit up. “You know how to play Quidditch!?” He exclaimed.

I laughed as Draco set down his son, the three of us heading out to the backyard where Draco produced two broomsticks. The wood hummed in my hand the same way that my wand did and responded to my thoughts. Draco and I hovered just above the ground. He pulled Scorpius onto the broom with him and kicked off, soaring high over the Manor. I laughed and chased after them. We flew until the setting sun provided no more light.

Scorpius was asleep in my arms as we headed back inside. Draco followed me up the stairs, helping me tuck his sleeping son into bed. With his arms wrapped around me, Draco and I watched the peaceful slumber that Scorpius had claimed.

“You’re a good mother to him,” Draco whispered lowly, not to disturb his son’s slumber.

My heart fluttered at his words, my lips curling into a smile. A new sort of anxiety set into my chest.

“And you’re a great father,” I gazed up at him through my eyelashes.

Again, Draco and I curled up together in the quiet of the night, talking about anything and everything. What we had been doing the past ten years, what jobs we had taken, how our families were. Some nights Scorpius would join us in bed, either from loneliness or nightmares.

We hold him, as I found another melody to put him to sleep again. In fact, my lullabies had a habit of putting both Malfoys to sleep.

In the park one spring afternoon, Scorpius went off and played with other kids his age. It made me smile, knowing that he probably craved the company of those his age. Draco and I sat together on the same bench where it all started.

“Does that boy look familiar to you?” Draco mused, nodding to the child that Scorpius was laughing with, chasing around the swing sets. There was another little girl with them, with bright red hair and an older boy who held more of a likeness than the younger one.

My eyes started to scan park for the Potters.

“There,” I pointed inconspicuously towards another couple a few benches down from us. “Should we go say hi?” I mused.

Draco scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“Oh, come on, don’t tell me you’re still harboring a grudge.” I laughed. “We were kids, Draco. Besides,” I nudged his side. “It looks like Ginny beat me to it.”

The two Potters came walking over, one sulking, one smiling brightly. Draco and I stood, mirroring the other couple.

“I thought I knew a Malfoy when I saw one,” Ginny grinned at me and Draco.

“Ginny,” I beamed, and we hugged.

“It’s been too long Y/n,” She smiled.

The two boys seemed to be having a stare down, neither giving in. I slipped my hand into Draco’s and Harry’s eyes darted to the gesture, then to my eyes. I offered a smile and Harry seemed to backtrack a bit.

“Daddy! Daddy!”

Both Draco and Harry turned.

Scorpius came bounding over smiling hugely. Draco crouched down, a smile on his face as well.

“Daddy! I made a new friend! We’re lost boys together!” Scorpius beamed. “And his brother is Peter Pan and his sister is a lost boy like us!”

The other three children came over, all flocking to Harry and Ginny, telling about the same story that Scorpius did, who was now in Draco’s arms, still going on about their adventure.

“You son knows about Peter Pan?” Harry asked skeptically. “Isn’t that a bit muggle for your lot?” There was a snide tone in his words.

“They’re fairytales Harry. Let them be kids,” Draco responded coolly, like I hadn’t spent months trying to get that through his head.

“Miss Y/n knows all about fairytales! She’s really good at singing them too! She’s been teaching me about so many things!” Scorpius could barely hide his excitement.

Harry looked at the three of us, baffled.

“Seems we have a lot to catch up on,” He finally spoke.

“You’ll have to come by the Manor sometime with the kids,” Draco offered to everyone’s shock, including mine.

“Er, yes.” Harry narrowed his eyes. “I’ll have Ginny send an owl,”

Draco gave a small nod and set Scorpius down.

“Men,” I heard Ginny muttered and grinned.

The young Malfoy clung to my side, holding my hand. This seemed to surprise Harry and Ginny both.

“Are you ready to go, darling?” I asked Scorpius, crouching down. Scorpius gave a small pout. “No crocodile tears,” I tickled him, lifting him into my arms. “Or I’ll just have to make dinner myself tonight...”

The young Malfoy perked up at that. Every once in a while, I’d cook dinner myself, the muggle way and Scorpius was always keen on learning how. Draco joined us on those nights, showing his son how magic also worked in the kitchen.

“I’ll send an owl,” I smiled to Ginny and Harry. “Say goodbye Scorpius,”

A chorus of goodbyes rang about the four children and Draco and I apparated home. Scorpius bounded off to the bathroom to wash his hands at my request before we started dinner and Draco cornered me against the counter in the kitchen.

“Was that so bad?” I smiled up at him, wrapping my arms around his neck.

“Terrible, absolutely dreadful,” He smirked, pressing a kiss to my lips. “Potter,” He snarled in a familiar tone that had me laughing.

“Oh, some things never change, do they?” I laughed into his shoulder.

“Afraid not,” Draco chuckled. “Thank you, for staying by my side.” His words were soft and low.

“Of course, always,” I murmured, tugging the hair tie from his hair and running my fingers through it. His eyes closed as he relaxed under my touch.

“I love you,” His tone was soft.

“I love you too,”

Something lingered in his eyes. Something that he hid and something that made the butterflies in my chest flutter anxiously. A question that we both waited for.

It was a few days later that the Potters came over to the Manor, along with the youngest Weasleys and their parents, and another teen who was just as much family as the five kids that accompanied them.

It was tense and awkward for some time between Harry, Ron, and Draco, but with some easy planning and quick thinking between Ginny, Hermione, and me, it faded. We all sat comfortably

out on the back porch, watching the kids play in the yard. I couldn’t help but smile watching Scorpius finally having someone his own age to play and imagine with. Draco seemed to have the same thought because his hand found mine.

“So how did you two end up together?” Ron asked, not so stealthily to Hermione’s dismay.

I laughed and Draco smiled.

“Draco hired me to tutor Scorpius,” I shrugged. “And well...” I looked to Draco and smiled.

“That explains why Scorpius knows so many muggle things,” Harry laughed. “I never thought I’d see the day,”

Soon we all began swapping stories, catching up with each other’s lives. It was nice to be beside Draco and other friends from school. The memories that always haunted me about Hogwarts seemed to fade as the afternoon went on. Dusk came and the two other families bid us goodnight. Scorpius was sad to see his friends go, but with a promise that they would be back, he seemed alright. It wasn’t hard to get him to bed that night, he was fast asleep after the first verse of my lullaby.

An early June day, Scorpius insisted that we make another cake for Draco’s birthday. I laughed and let the young Malfoy pull me to the kitchen as we started our adventure. When Draco came home from work, he found us both covered in frosting, laughing. At least some of the frosting made it onto the cake.

“Happy birthday, Daddy!” Scorpius yelled. “We made a cake!”

“I see that,” He grinned, setting down his case and shrugging off his robe. “And a mess,”

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to my cheek then lifted Scorpius into his arms. The little boy giggled, and like every day that Draco came home, began to talk about his day.

“Happy birthday love,” I smiled, leaving them to catch up.

I snapped my fingers and the kitchen began to clean itself again as I set the cake onto a cake stand, I had found in the pantry. With dinner eaten and cake devoured—and no longer all over Scorpius and I—the night was quiet once more.

“Now,” Draco sat Scorpius on the counter. “A little birdie told me that someone wants to see a certain movie?”

Scorpius’ face lit up and nodded enthusiastically. I raised an eyebrow at Draco, who grinned. He lifted his son into his arms and led us both to a small sitting room where a screen and projector had been set up. I gasped, covering my mouth with my hand, tears pricking my eyes.

“Dray,” I breathed out. “You didn’t have to...”

“It’s about time he gets to see them, no?” Draco set his son down on the mountain of pillows and blankets that resided on the floor. “He deserves to be a kid.”

I pulled Draco into a hug. “I love you,”

“I love you too,”

Drawing away, I looked at Scorpius who was waiting more or less patiently.

“And every kid deserves a pillow fort.” I drew my wand and crafted a structurally sound fort, big enough for the three of us.

Nestled down into the fort, Peter Pan began to play. Scorpius was glue to the screen, taking in every moment. In fact, both Malfoys were. Laying my head on Draco’s shoulder, I combed my fingers through Scorpius’ hair.

“If you father knew about this,” I murmured into Draco’s ear, causing him to chuckle.

“He doesn’t have to,” He grinned like a rebellious teenager.

About twenty minutes into Beauty and the Beast, Scorpius was fast asleep in my lap. I chuckled and Draco helped me up as we put him to bed. I headed back down to the makeshift movie room where the movie was still playing to clean up, but Draco caught my hand. I looked at him expectantly. With a snap of his fingers the room cleaned itself and he pulled me to the cleared floor.

“Dance with me,” He gestured to the dancing pair on the screen.

I laughed and nodded, taking his hand and letting him lead me in a familiar waltz. Though I hadn’t done it in some time, my feet remembered what to do. It was intoxicating, dancing with him. It took me to a world of far off places, magic spells, and a prince in disguise. I sang softly with the music playing, the words setting in both of our hearts.

Ending the dance with the fading melody, our eyes locked both panting softly. He leaned down and pressed his lips to mine in a sweet loving kiss, something hidden in his warm eyes when he withdrew. My gaze dropped, a blush on my cheeks.

“Y/n?” He called softly.

I looked up, expectant. Waiting for those four words, dreading their moment but wishing their arrival.

“When we were younger, we lived in a different world,” He began softly. “Things were a lot less complicated. And if, as we are now, met back then... I would have courted you. I may have stolen a kiss or two but only after asking your father’s permission... but we are both very different people now, and I know it’s not the same, but if it were...” He took my hands and slid down onto one knee. My heart hammered in my chest, tears welling into my eyes as a smile grew on my face.

“I would have got down on one knee and I would have presented you with a ring.” He pulled out a small velvet ring box from his pocket and opened it, revealing a ring. “Y/n Y/m/n Y/l/n, I promise to love you every moment forever, would you do me the extraordinary of honor of marrying me?”

With tears streaming down my face I nodded.

“Yes,” I cried. “Yes, yes, yes!”

A smile broke out across Draco’s face as he scooped me into his arms, spinning me around. We were both crying and holding each other. Little ‘I love you’s left our teary-eyed kisses. He slipped the ring onto my finger: a silver band woven with diamonds and emeralds that enchanted itself to fit my ring-finger.

We didn’t let go of another that night. A night that was filled with soft words, gentle kisses, and loving touches. In the morning, Scorpius burst into our room and bound onto the bed, pulled my left hand into his sights as soon as he was close enough, squealing when he saw the ring.

“I told you daddy!” Scorpius beamed. “I told you she would say yes!”

“That you did,” Draco ruffled his son’s hair.

I smiled at my boys and pulled them both close. The morning was lazy and filled with laughter and moments that I wanted to hold close forever.

List of Muggle Lullabies:

Stay Awake, Mary Poppins

Feed the Birds, Mary Poppins

My Favorite Things, The Sound of Music

Edelweiss, The Sound of Music

Once Upon a December, Anastasia

Lavender’s Blue, Cinderella

A Dream Is a Wish Your Heart Makes, Cinderella

You’ll Be In My Heart, Tarzan

Beauty and the Beast, “”

Remember Me, Coco

You Are My Sunshine, Jasmine Thompson

Part 2

Tags: @coffee-addicti @msmcsmutt @ravn-87 @artemismohr18 @whygz @crazywritingbug @fuzzy-panda@bitemebro522 @zombiesnips-blog @jillanaholland @shookyungsoo @savingdraco @welcometomyworldwithoutrules @akari180 @slytherin-emerald @chaotic-good-gemini @memalfoy-spidey@theres-a-dog-outside-omg @queenfeatherwings @fanficflaneuse @go-whovian-universe @spicyshenanigans @darling-im-not-okay-i-promise@dietkiwi@katsukink @takemetothekingdom @strangerr-things@tmnt-queen @mccloudchloe @hxneybgb @justsomerandomgur @belcvayelena @moviesbooksandfandoms @howdycharlie@xtrashmouthxtozierx @cocochanelthepupper@ninacotte@mccloudchloe @braelynn-j @jiggllyy @honeymarvel@go-whovian-universe @darcypottah @atomicpunkrock@thiccheerioss @lottie289 @boredashaeck @beautiful-pegasus @tceedlmao @deadlynyghtshayde @iconjuresnapeingrandmaclothes @anonymous034 @bi-andready-tocry @lunna-does-real-doodle @dragonsandbread @atomicwonderlandmentality @okaydraco @the–queen-of-hell @langdonzvoid @cmxreader @alienmotel @oh-itsnothing @tulippings @thestressedprincess @sunflowerxsadnessw @caps-wilsonn @fattycooter @angelotakunerd08 @thisisahugemistake @fanficsigottaread @gweaslvy @okaydraco @strawberriesonsummer @ughjjloveme @honeymarvel

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ragewerthers · 3 years

Text

Relaxation Therapy

Summary: Iwa has gotten himself so caught up in his paper that he feels he doesn't have time to relax. Luckily his boyfriends know just the way to get him to listen to reason. A little relaxation therapy is definitely in order!

A/n: Hello there!

This is written for a prompt sent to me from @lady-namo!

She asked for:

'matsuhanaiwaoi? iwaizumi is really, REALLY stressed by whatever and they try to relax him. actually i don't mind how exactly you do it, i'd just be happy with teasy af mattsun!'

This was so much fun to write as I've never gotten to write these four before, but they are ridiculous and amazing to write banter between! I hope that you enjoy it, my friend!

You can also read on AO3 at: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28599321

Enjoy! :D

Word Count: 3937

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

Iwa growled in frustration as he ran a hand through his hair, staring hard at the readings laid out before him on the kitchen table.

If this civilization wasn’t already lost to history, he would be cursing the ancient Minoans as the texts he looked over spoke of them. How dare they be so god damn interesting that he decided to write his history paper on their mysterious disappearance? How dare they lure him into trying to read through dusty old texts that only offered up the same three conclusions each and every time?! Three conclusions does not a paper make!

With another deep growl he let his head fall to the table with a resounding thud that he immediately regretted more than the Minoans existence. His pen had been in just the perfect spot for his forehead to land against, sending a nice little shockwave of pain through his forehead and making him reel back in his chair with a shout. Sadly the force that he’d pushed himself away with was enough to send said chair tilting backwards at lightning speeds and his life flashed before his eyes.

Sadly the only thing his mind supplied was the Minoans.

The bastards.

Squeezing his eyes shut he waited for the cold, hard impact of the floor, but soon just found himself suspended mid-air.

Slowly, almost fearfully, he let his eyes peek open only to be met with the amused and gentle smile of Mattsun.

“Issei?” Iwa said a little dumbly, having thought his boyfriends were still out of the apartment for a grocery run. When Oikawa was involved this usually meant that the trip could last hours and it felt like they’d only just left a few minutes ago. Oikawa shouting something sassy from the hall, Hana rolling his eyes and Mattsun promising that they wouldn’t lose Tooru… again.

Now, it seemed, they had all returned just in time to see the Minoans attempting to take him out with his own pen.

“The one and only. Appears we didn’t get back too late for me to be your knight in shining armor, Hajime,” the taller man said lightly, ducking down to press a careful kiss to the red line already starting to appear over Iwa’s forehead.

“What was that thud we heard when we came in, Iwa?” Hana called, carrying in at least four grocery bags collected on his arms and trying to carefully place them on the table and avoid Iwa’s work.

“Yeah, Iwa-chan! Mattsun literally jumped the sofa to get in here when he heard you yelp,” Oikawa said with a teasing smirk, putting his own single bag of shopping right on top of Iwa’s work and spreading out his papers even more.

Matsukawa quirked an eyebrow at Oikawa before carefully setting Iwa’s chair back down on the floor.

“This coming from the man who literally elbowed Hana in the face trying to unlock the door when we heard the commotion in the hall. Don’t act all cool and collected now,” Mattsun teased, watching as Oikawa’s ears tinged red and he puffed his cheeks out into a pout.

“I did no such thing! I know Iwa-chan is more than capable of handling himself in any situation,” Oikawa huffed, turning around and heading back toward the living room to drop off his coat, scarf and shoes.

“I thought he was going to cry,” Hana whispered to Iwa as he passed by with a few frozen pizza’s in hand, apparently deciding to put away their frozens before taking off his things. Though he also seemed incapable of dropping a kiss to Iwa’s brow before continuing on and making the man's cheeks warm up more at all of this attention. Though the thought of Oikawa blubbering in the hallway did make him chuckle a bit.

Soon Iwa felt a strong hand lightly starting to massage the back of his neck and the chuckling instantly quieted down into a soft hum of content. Closing his eyes, he tilted his head forward reflexively, feeling the way Mattsun’s hand worked its way up to his hairline before soothing gently circles back down toward his shoulder.

“You still didn’t answer the question though, Hajime,” Mattsun said softly as he watched Iwa slowly melt in front of him from the simple contact. “But if I had to guess, I’d say this paper is putting up a fight?”

Iwa gave a little nod, though he tried to stay as still as possible to enjoy the gentle attention he was receiving. “The Minoans have decided to haunt me from their graves. But be careful what you think of them. They’ll attack you with pens and tipped over chairs,” he grumbled, getting a little snort from Hana who was somewhere near the cupboards now.

“They also seem to be able to turn your muscles into nothing but knots and stone,” Matsukawa murmured softly, bringing his other hand up to start massaging along Hajimes shoulders properly and earning himself a deep groan of pain and contentment. “Why don’t you take a break? When the ghosts of dead civilizations start to attack, it’s usually a sign you need to take a step back.”

“Did I hear that right? Iwa-chan is allowing papers to attack him now?” Oikawa cooed as he came back in, grabbing one of the other grocery bags and the table and carrying it to the counter. “That’s what turned Issei into a track star?”

“And you into a panicked mother hen?” Hana teased, getting a swat to his arm with a bag of milk bread Oikawa had moments before had cuddled to his chest like a gift from heaven.

Iwa blinked his eyes open to give him a little half-hearted glare. “No, Shitty-kawa. I just… got a little stuck in my thesis and it got away from me a bit. But I’ll still conquer this paper. I just have to focus more,” he mumbled before giving a little whimper as Mattsun’s fingers kneaded deeper into the muscles of his shoulder.

“Hajime, I can actually feel your muscles coiling up again as you speak,” Mattsun murmured in his calming baritone. “I think it would do you some good to take a small break with us. Just a little breather to get your thoughts refocused?” “I can’t,” Iwa said quietly, a little scowl starting to reappear over his features. “I only have a couple of days to get this all sorted out and I know that if I keep going I’ll be able to break through this little writer's block I have. I’m sorry, but… maybe later once I get some thoughts on paper I can take a break with you all.” Leaning forward slightly, Iwa gently broke the wonderful contact of Mattsun’s hands from his shoulders. He could hear a little exhale of air from behind him as he picked his pen back up and knew that wasn’t what the man had wanted to hear, but it’s what he needed to do. Reaching forward he began to try and reorganize his papers from the mess Oikawa had made of them.

“Oh Mattsun-kun. You should know better than trying to get through to Iwa with gentle words,” Oikawa said as he drew closer to the table.

“Yeah, Mattsun,” Hana teased from his spot by the sink, turning to watch with a little smirk playing over his lips, his arms crossed over his chest. “You know that Hajime is only just slightly less stubborn than Tooru.”

Iwa grumbled at that, hunching his shoulders to try and ignore his boyfriends talking about him as if he wasn’t there. ‘ Now where did that pen go? ’

“I mean… you’re not wrong,” Oikawa chuckled and Iwa could hear him moving around the table to stand next to Issei. “But… if there’s something I’ve learned about our sweet Iwa-chan it’s that there are better ways of getting your point across.”

Sadly, Iwa was now starting to get back into what he hoped was a groove for this paper and didn’t notice the shared look between his three ridiculous partners.

“That’s right,” Mattsun said, his voice still sounding measured even as the hint of amusement tinged his words.

“Gentle words aren’t enough,” Hanamaki agreed, his voice sounding closer and making Iwa hunch more into himself. God, why didn’t he grab his earbuds to drown out these idiots ?

“That’s right,” Oikawa’s voice purred, making the back of Iwa’s neck prickle slightly. “Hajime needs to be persuaded out of his bullheadedness…,”

“Pfft… you’re one to talk, Trashy-kawAHAHA!” Iwa startled as he felt two strong hands send a couple quick squeezes against his lower ribs, making him jolt out of his seat and sending some of his books and papers tumbling down to the floor. Turning around he saw Oikawa’s hands still extended forward, Hana and Mattsun flanking either side of him with twin looks of mischief and determination on their faces.

The world seemed to pause in time for a few heartbeats as Iwa’s eyes looked over the three of them… his mind racing to catch up with what was happening when all of a sudden the moment of stillness was broken with two words.

“Get him.”

Hana and Mattsuns smiles turned devious as each of them took flight. Taking off from either side of Oikawa to race around the table toward Iwa and looking for all the world like those evil winged hell monkeys the wicked witch of the west had sent off after Dorothy.

Though to be fair, Oikawa’s accompanying menacing cackle would’ve even sent a shiver down that witch’s spine! Iwa instantly turned and ran out of the kitchen and toward the hall, his heart beating thunderously in his chest as he realized what sort of doom awaited him if he were caught.

“Fly my pretties! Fly!!!” Oikawa cried from a little further down the hall as Iwa heard Mattsun and Hana slowly starting to catch up to him as they neared the living room.

Oh yeah… Oikawa was never allowed to watch the Wizard of Oz again!

“Get the hell away from me!” Iwa called over his shoulder, only hearing a rumbling laugh far closer than he expected.

“Sorry, Hajime… not gonna happen!” Mattsun called back, his fingers just brushing the back of Hajime’s shirt and making Iwa yelp as he raced around one side of the coffee table… only to find the pair once more splitting up to give chase.

“Damn it!” Iwa shouted, though he was surprised to find the barest hint of a smile tugging up at the corners of his lips from this stupidity! “Kn-Knock it off! I’m trying to get some work done! OOF!”

Iwa had glanced behind him for only a second and that was apparently all it took for Oikawa to make his grand entrance, quickly catching Iwa up in his embrace as he attempted to make a break for it toward their bedroom.

“Oh, what have we here?” Oikawa cooed in that far too smug voice, practically bearhugging Iwa to his chest. “Why... I think it’s someone in desperate need of a study break!”

“I told you! I don’t neheheed a breahahahak! AH! Stahp it!” Iwa instantly bit down on his lower lip as growly giggles already started to bubble up from his chest. Oikawa’s fingers dug lightly into that spot under his lower ribs making his legs already feel like jelly as his body tried to twist away from the tingly touch. “Was that grumpy and sassy Iwa just now?” Hana teased as he and Mattsun drew closer.

“M’nahahat!” Iwa giggled despite his best efforts, a little yelp escaping as he felt a third hand reaching up to lightly tickle against the side of his neck as another hand began to squeeze near his hip.

“What was that, Iwa-chan? Did you just say you weren’t being grumpy? Because I’m positive I heard you trying to defy me and not take a break,” Oikawa murmured back dangerously as Iwa tried to weakly swat at the hands seeming to come at him from all angles.

“Stahahahap it! I… I hahahave to gehehet back!” Iwa gasped out between giggles, soon finding himself being lifted off the ground as another pair of arms wrapped around him.

“Oh no. I think you are in desperate need of a bit of relaxation therapy,” Mattsun said softly, seeming to be the one doing most of the lifting now before Iwa found himself unceremoniously dropped onto their sofa.

Before he could sit up he found Oikawa already straddling his thighs, Mattsun pinning his wrists overhead and Hana settled on his calves.

“And if I remember correctly, a little bit of laughter can go a long way in helping someone relax,” Mattsun teased. The look in his eyes instantly making Iwa try to wriggle his hands free from the former blockers grasp.

“No! R-Really! You guys don’t have to do thi-HIHIhihihis! Hahahana nohohoho!“ Iwa gasped out as he felt the light scribbling of fingers against his arches, his legs trying to weakly kick out, but with Oikawa and Hana both settled on his lower half he knew he wasn’t going anywhere soon. Oikawa turned to catch a glimpse of Hana’s focused attention on Iwa’s poor feet, chuckling at the reaction it was already causing. Turning around he caught Issei’s eyes and gave him a devilish smile as he listened to Iwa’s giggles already bubbling up so sweetly. “Well, Mattsun-kun… we can’t let Hana have all the fun. We need to be here to help our sweet, Iwa-chan too!” he teased, his fingers sneaking under Hajime’s shirt to start lightly fluttering along the sides of his tum, just barely scribbling as they moved lower and lower toward his hips.

“NO! NO nahahahat my hihihips, Tooruhuhuhu!” Iwa squeaked out, his body already starting to shimmy side to side in the hope to block some of what was to come. “Oh, Hajime,” Mattsun crooned in his deep voice. “I think you have so much more to be worried about then just your hips.” Iwa only had a moment to try to register what Mattsun was saying before he felt the man's fingers settling on one particular rib on his left side. His eyes instantly widened and he began to squirm more as he knew what was coming. “WaitwaitwaitwaAHAHAHAGAHAHAD! NOAHAHAHA!” Iwa instantly cried out as Mattsun began massaging and vibrating his fingers deeply against that particular rib. Years ago he had cracked it during a match and a bad collison and somehow upon healing it had managed to become far too sensitive to even the lightest touches. He regretted ever letting these bastards find out about this particular weakness!

“I think Iwa is really enjoying his study break! Look at how big he’s smiling!” Mattsun called over Hajime’s laughter, bringing his hand up to flutter against one of his exposed armpits and making the poor man try to tug his arms free once more.

“Look at that sweet blush! Oh Iwa-chan I wish I had my phone to capture this!” Oikawa crooned softly, his hands moving to settle into the little dips of Hajimes hips, his thumbs starting to rub deep, quick circles right against the hyper ticklish spot and nearly sending himself and Hana flying off the sofa with the way Iwa jolted.

“NO PLEHEHEHEASE! I CAHAN’T! I CAHAHAN’T!” Iwa cackled wildly as Oikawa’s thumbs found a rhythm that had him bouncing what little he could on the sofa. His head was tossed back against one of the throw pillows and his entire body felt like one giant sensitive spot. Hana snickered from where he was lightly tracing his fingers over Iwa’s socked arches, making the man's toes curl and his feet twitch from the light contact. “Can’t what? Escape? We know that already, silly Iwa,” Hana teased, finding a nice little spot right in the center of his partners arches that seemed to make the poor guy shriek. “Oh! I think I definitely have the best spot!”

Tooru huffed from his spot on Hajime, looking down at the mans face already turning pink from laughter. His own hands had paused as the light tickles to his feet from Hanamaki seemed to be driving him into hysterical giggles.

“That’s not fair, Hajime! How come you let Hana have your best spot? You always told me it was your hips! Were you lying to me, Iwa-chan?” he asked with mock suspicion, narrowing his eyes and fighting a smile as his hands gave Iwa’s hips a few warning squeezes.

“NO! NO Tooruhuhu! I… I didn’t lie! I dihihihihidn’t! AHahahagahahad!” Iwa cackled, turning his head into his outstretched arm to try and hide a snort that escaped him when the squeezes turned into scribbling fingers that raced up his sides before quick and nimble fingers began to vibrate over his tum.

“Hmmm… I don’t know. Sounds like this is also a good spot! Have you been hiding them on me?!” Oikawa gasped dramatically, though this time he didn’t bother hiding the soft smile he had on his face as Iwa laughed so brightly and openly.

Mattsun had paused his own tickling as well as he watched Iwa losing himself to his laughter from the other two. His goal had been to make Iwa relax and really this was already having the desired effect. Iwa’s brow was no longer furrowed in grumpiness, his expression soft and bright with laughter pouring out of him.

However, this didn’t mean that he didn’t still want to truly drive home how much Iwa deserved this and how much he needed to listen to his boyfriends every once in a while.

“Oh, Hajime. I think you were keeping secrets from us,” Mattsun teased as he lightly fluttered his fingers against his right armpit and then his left, making Iwa jump with each soft attack, his giggles always intensifying when he did it.

“Nehehehever! I w-wouldn’t! I prohohomihihihihise!” Iwa squeaked out, his laughter already starting to become quieter as he neared his limit. Unlike Tooru, who seemed to gain energy during their tickle attacks on him, Iwa always seemed to have one big burst of energy before becoming absolutely compliant in their arms.

Mattsun chuckled at that and shook his head. “Hmm… I don’t know… you’re getting pretty jumpy with these tickles here. I think the best way to make sure you aren’t hiding any more secrets from your boyfriends is to attack all these good spots at once. What do you guys think?” he asked, watching as Oikawa and Hana both perked up with bright smiles, their resounding ‘YES!’s’ easily covering up Iwa’s frantically giggled ‘NO!’

“I think the majority wins! Ready, Hajime?” Mattsun murmured fondly, though judging from the way the man was already giggling so hard his cheeks were turning pink he knew he wasn’t about to get a proper answer. “Then here we go, on the count of three! One!” he counted, fingers wiggling just above Iwa’s torso and making him shiver.

“Two!” Hana called, letting both of his index fingers zip up Iwa’s soles in warning of what was to come, a startled squeal and wriggle the only answer from Hajime.

Oikawa glanced down at his Iwa, watching as the man peeked his eyes out from where he had been trying to hide against his arm, his smile bright, carefree, but still with that little bit of challenge behind them.

Oikawa’s smile grew at that in return. Never one to take a challenge lightly.

“Three!” he cried, and instantly, all of their hands were on the attack… and Iwa lost his mind.

Hanamaki’s fingers scribbled and traced all of his soles, moving from his arches to under his toes and drawing out the ugliest snorts Iwa had ever heard himself make. Tooru’s fingers exacted lethal attacks against his stomach, sides and hips. His fingers would massage and vibrate against the bones of his hips before moving up to massage deep circles against his lower ribs and then moving to scuttle around and vibrate against his sides and tum making him bounce and jump at the deeply ticklish touches.

And finally there was Mattsun, the instigator to all of this if Iwa had to name someone. He’d abandoned his hold on his wrists to use both hands to attack his upper ribs and armpits with fluttering fingers and scribbles that had made Iwa shriek before dissolving into wild and carefree laughter.

His arms had instantly clamped down on Mattsun’s hands and he tried for all his worth to try and wiggle away or curl into the sofa, but there was no escaping three evil boyfriends hellbent on teasing him into relaxation and oblivion all in one.

“NOHOHOAHAHAHA! PLEHEHEHEASE I… I CAHAHAHAN’T! IHIHIT TIHIHICKLES SO BAHAHAHAD!” Iwa cried out through his hysterical laughter, his mind completely taken over by nothing but ticklish sensations and absolutely nothing left to remind him of his earlier troubles, the Minoans, the paper… nothing but how terribly his boyfriends were wrecking and how much it tickled! “Do you think Iwa’s had enough?” Mattsun chuckled, already starting to slow his tickles as Oikawa and Hana both smiled softly at Iwa. Even their fingers started to turn from terrible tickles to lightly soothing over those spots.

“I think Iwa has learned his lesson,” Oikawa cooed softly, his hands soothing against his boyfriends sides as Iwa slowly regained back some sanity, giggling and panting even as he felt the tickles starting to subside.

“L-Lehehesson?” he giggled, voice a little hoarse from his laughter as Mattsun nodded. “Yes. To listen to your boyfriends. To take a break. To enjoy some relaxation therapy. To not take your papers so seriously they almost hurt you,” Mattsun listed off, carefully removing his hands from under Iwa’s arms and making him shiver before starting to sooth his fingers through his messy hair. “This is really all we wanted to achieve, Hajime. For you to have a moment to just let loose and step away from those things that were stressing you. Apparently we can only get that across that stubborn brain of yours with some well placed tickles.” Iwa felt his cheeks flushing a bit, giving a little hum and closing his eyes as his breathing started to calm more and more as he felt the gentle touches now moving over him.

“I’m… sorry I didn’t listen sooner,” he chuckled, melting a little more as Oikawa began to lightly massage down his arms and Hana moved, lifting Iwa’s legs so that he could sneak to sit on the sofa, letting them rest in his lap so he could soothe along his feet, ankles and calves as well.

“No need to apologize, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa murmured softly, ducking down to press a few soft kisses against his boyfriends pink cheeks before carefully moving off of him, sitting beside the sofa as he watched Iwa starting to relax more and more. “Besides… we achieved what we wanted. You’re relaxing and taking a breather now, right? So we’re really all winners here.”

Iwa gave a gentle, tired chuckle at that, his eyes already closing as he was pampered so lovingly by them all.

“Re… Remind me… to do this… more often,” Iwa murmured, his voice already growing softer as sleep carefully called to him after his intense tickle attack.

“I think we can do that,” Mattsun murmured fondly, giving Iwa a soft tickle behind his ear, making the man giggle softly before his breathing evened out and soft snores could soon be heard.

If this was the end result of their efforts to get Iwa to relax, they would definitely have no problem reminding him time and time again.

#haikyuu!#my fics #tickle fic #matsuhanaiwaoi #matsukawa issei #iwaizumi hajime #oikawa tooru #hanamaki takahiro #I hope you enjoy this my friend!#I'm sorry it took me YEARS #it was a lot of fun to write though!#These boys are ridiculous and hilarious to banter with!

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no-droids · 4 years

Text

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.”

#Cassian Andor x reader #Cassian Andor x you #Cassian Andor #Smut #fanfic #no-droids

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klbwriting · 3 years

Text

Unexpected Allies - Chapter 12

Fandom: Six of Crows

Pairing: Kax/female!Reader

Summary: a prison heist

Note: so 2 things, 1 - the song is this chapter is ‘Bulletproof Heart’ by My Chemical Romance and 2 - finally a kiss! maybe not exactly the kiss thats expected but its where they’re at for now

Taglist: @mcntsee @amwitherspoon

Kaz was able to catch sight of the carriage as it was pulling out of the gate. He and Mal took off running after it, Kaz screaming Y/N’s name. He dropped the cane, running as fast as he could, desperate to catch her. Mal dropped back before Kaz did, bending over panting. Kaz kept running, ignoring the hellacious pain in his bad leg. He ran until his leg gave out on him and he landed face first in the frosted grass. He screamed out his rage, punching the hard ground as he sat up. Mal came over and tried to help him stand but Kaz pulled away, collapsing to his hands and knees, retching on the grass. He wasn’t sure if it was because he was disgusted at the touch of another or if he was disgusted at himself for doing this to her. When they got to the prison if someone recognized her and sent word to the Darkling he would come for her. He would try to use her and if he couldn’t, he would kill her. Kaz finally got to his feet and accepted his cane from Mal.

“I’m going after her,” he said, starting to limp back to camp.

“I know, we can’t send a squad, we’d never get in, but, maybe a few thieves could get in,” Mal responded. “I’ll gather some supplies and go track the carriage, make sure of their destination. If it is Sarkoff’s prison we have a few people in there, we can send 3 more at the guard changing at the end of the month but not before then. Get planning.”

“The end of the month? She could be dead by then!” Kaz said. Mal stopped.

“You need to calm down and think with your head Brekker, you know that she wouldn’t want you running in there half-assed and getting yourself killed. Come up with 2 other team members and a plan and we will get you in there and you will get her back here safe. I know you will,” he said. Mal walked off then towards his own tent while Kaz went to find the Dregs.

He found his crew around a table eating and he fell to sit on a bench. They all looked at him and paled. They had probably never seen him like this. He was wet from the frost, bloody from his fall, and looked murderous.

“What happened?” Jesper asked.

“The fucking Dime Lions took her, prison in the south…” he started.

“Sarkoff’s?” Inej asked. Kaz nodded.

“I need a team, I need to get her back. If the Darkling finds out she’s there he will kill her, I cannot lose someone else I love, I can’t lose her like I lost…my brother…I can’t” Kaz said, eyes glazing over, memories washing over him. He knew he must terrifying them. He was Kaz Brekker, he kept his calm no matter what, if he lost his head that meant the end of the world and for Kaz this very much felt like the end of the world.

“I’ve been there as a guard to keep an eye on things,” Inej said. “I can help with the plan, we will get papers for the guard transfer at the end of the month. We need one more person to go with us.” Jesper stepped forward.

“Y/N is my best friend now, sorry everyone else here, so like hell I’m not going to break her out of prison,” he said. Inej nodded.

“Kaz, can you keep your head to do this? Get it together,” Inej said. Kaz took a breath and closed his eyes. When they opened he was alright again, the old Kaz was back and he was ready to formulate their plan.

Y/N sure how long she had actually been in this prison, every day was exactly the same. They days were spent with her hands cuffed to the ceiling and beatings were given when she wouldn’t reveal anything about the resistance. If she did say anything she sent them on wild goose chases and those beatings were especially savage. In the evening they paraded her out on a stage, cuffed at the hands and feet, pelting her with fruit and trying to get her to sing. Someone had revealed she liked to write songs and it became a daily occurrence to mock her into singing.

She saw the full moon one night through the small cell window and knew it must be the beginning of the month. New guards, lovely, more people to torment her and mock her. She sighed as the evening drew near, straining to breath after the strangling someone had give her earlier. She missed Kaz, every night she dreamed about him, just holding his hand or being in the stream again, in the day she went over every interaction they had had since they met nearly six months ago. How did she go from being alone and feeling trapped to being in love and free in six months? She marveled at what Kaz had done for her and she hoped one day she would see him again.

The evening guard entered her cell, laughing about the upcoming ‘performance’ she was going to give. They uncuffed her from the ceiling and led her out to the rec hall. They entered and tossed her on the set of boxes they made as a ‘stage’ and started hooting and hollering at her. She was looking towards the guards’ room where the keys were hanging desperately trying to think of a way to get to them. There was always a guard in there on duty and one standing by the door as watch. With the cuffs she couldn’t hope to get past them both and she sighed. She was knocked over suddenly by a metal cup thrown at her shoulder. She pushed herself up on her knees and looked towards the door that led to the cells and there he was. Kaz. Their eyes met and she nearly cried in relief. Jesper and Inej flanked him, all three dressed like guards, Inej whispering to him and motioning towards the guards’ room. He looked intently at her and she realized they needed a distraction to lure the guard at the door away, just for a minute. She nodded and slowly stood.

“You want a song you fuckers?” she yelled out at the guards. They all stopped, now waiting for what she would do next, thinking they had finally wore her down into performing something. This would be good, if she was willing to embarrass herself like this maybe she would start giving them information.

“Sing bitch!” one guard yelled and they laughed. She took a deep breath and opened her mouth.

“Gravity don't mean too much to me I'm who I've got to be These pigs are after me, after you

Run away like it was yesterday And we could run away If we could run away Run away from here”

The guard by the door laughed as she started singing and called into the room, probably telling the other guard he was leaving to join the others. He stepped forward into the fray of people who were yelling at her, calling out the most heinous things they could think of. But she wasn’t listening. This was the song she wrote for Kaz and right now she was singing for him and no one else.

“I gotta bulletproof heart You gotta hollow point smile”

Inej had been meant to stand guard at the door but as soon as Kaz heard that line he stopped and stared at Y/N. This was the song she was working on, for him. He looked to Inej who seemed to understand that something was going on right now.

“Stand guard, I’ll be able to search for her keys faster,” she said, leaving him at the door. Kaz stood and listened at the song continued, waiting impatiently as Jesper dispatched the guard and Inej found what she needed. After about a minute they both reappeared and started working back to the door to the cells. Y/N really turned up the energy to keep the guards distracted. Jepser and Inej slipped out first and Kaz took one more Y/N before they disappeared into the hall.

“You two find the laundry room and make sure we can get out that way as planned,” Kaz said. “I’ll wait by her cell until after the lights out bed check and then get her.” They all nodded and went their separate ways.

Kaz settled himself in an alcove by her cell, just big enough for a couple people to fit in, and waited. After about an hour she was brought back to the cell and chained again to the ceiling. Kaz felt his blood raging in his veins. She looked thinner, dirty, she had been beaten and he wanted to kill everyone who had hurt her in the last month. The guards left and he still had to wait. Finally, the guards called lights out down the corridor and checked her cell before walking by. After they disappeared through the door Kaz slipped out and opened her cell. She looked up at and he could tell she was relieved to see him but still terrified. He hurried over and undid her cuffs. She collapsed to the ground and he offered her his hand. Once she was up they headed out of the cell and he locked it again. They were shooting down hallways towards the laundry room when he heard guards coming. They were still in the cells and there was alcoves like the one by hers around so he gently pushed her to the wall of one and stood silently in front of her, facing the wall. In the dark hopefully the black guards’ uniform would keep them shadowed there. He noticed then that she was completely flat against the wall, hands pressed to it hard, holding her breath so that he body didn’t touch his. He looked down at her, marveling at how she was bruised, bloody, and scared, but she still was conscious of him and his needs. He could see that she was shaking a little, scared of being caught and he knew he needed calm her down somehow, any noise she made may draw attention to them. He looked at her and did the only thing he could think of, something he had wanted to do for a long time actually. He leaned forward silently and pressed his lips to her forehead. Y/N instantly stilled.

Kas Brekker was kissing her. Y/N felt his lips on her forehead, only for a few moments, but it was enough to draw her focus to just that feeling. His lips had been soft and warm, something she didn’t expect from him, but she shouldn’t be surprised, he wasn’t as hard and cold as he seemed to everyone else. She froze in place, reminiscing and storing the memory of his kiss inside her heart. It was just enough time for the guards to leave the corridor and for them to move again. They arrived at the laundry room where Jesper was waiting.

“Where’s Inej?” Kaz asked while Y/N hugged Jesper. She was so happy to see her friend again, and so grateful they had come for her.

“She went through the vent to open the guards’ door on the other side,” he said.

“People tried to sneak out of the laundry room all the time, they added a second room to check for escapees,” Y/N explained, voice hoarse. She looked at Kaz and saw that he was upset by her appearance. She smiled at him, completely forgetting how much her face hurt from the bruising. He was with her again and that was all she needed right now.

Inej soon opened the door to the laundry room and then to the outside. They were able to slide through a gate that had been opened for them, closing and locking it again as they jumped into a waiting carriage that Mal was driving. He took off into the night back to the encampment. Y/N didn’t mean to but she was so tired from her experience that she instantly fell asleep the moment she was safe, head falling to Kaz’s shoulder.

Kaz felt her head on his shoulder and was shocked to find that he didn’t feel much. The feeling of something being off was less this time, he barely noticed it. What he felt was relief, and complete. For the whole month she had been gone he had spent every moment feeling like something was missing. It was a similar feeling to how he felt after he had climbed on the docks and left Jordie behind. It had taken years for that feeling to go away and he didn’t want to relive it again. Inej and Jesper looked surprised that he was letting her lean to him.

“Are you alright?” Inej asked. He nodded.

“I know you noticed that something’s wrong with me,” Kaz said. “With her, its not as bad.”

“And maybe love is the reason whyyyy,” Jesper sang out, mimicking the love song that Y/N had sang on their first night at camp. Kaz glared at him but couldn’t completely hide the amusement from his eyes.

“You know she is the only safe from my cane Jesper,” he said, grabbing it from the seat where he’d left it and thumping Jesper in the shoulder with it.

“That’s just rude,” his friend said, lifting his arm and letting it fall useless to his side. “Its going to take forever for it to start working again.” Inej laughed and Kaz smirked a little, leaning his head back on the seat and feeling at peace for the time.

#six of crows #kaz brekker #kaz brekker x reader #kaz x reader #kazbrekker #kaz #unexpected allies series

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i-did-not-mean-to · 3 years

Text

Back to school - chapter 5

Being sick at home, I have time to update my different stories :D

So, here's another Kira-chapter with a few surprises :))))

Fandom: The Hobbit (still an AU)

Characters : Thranduil x OC (and the others being awful)

Words: 4,5 k (+/-)

Rating: Gen

Warnings: reference to alcohol, silliness, awkwardness and a small surprise :D

Waking up was hard; Kira’s head vibrated with pain.

She should not have opened that aged rum just to numb the second-hand pain; she was not 20 anymore and she now paid the price for her reckless behaviour. “A new day, a new chance.” She told herself as she saw her bleary complexion in the tiny bathroom mirror.

A quick glance on another crumpled sheet of paper Gandalf had handed her informed her that she would have her class twice today. One hour for literature and another one, in the afternoon for “social studies and integration”. If she hadn’t been that miserable, she would have laughed as Gandalf had struck out the words and written “etiquette” beneath the line.

How the ever-loving hell was she supposed to teach those kids etiquette and manners? She had almost been stoned to death for taking them out into the courtyard and now she was supposed to teach them…table manners?

Brushing her hair back in a neat ponytail and slipping into her ratty old cardigan, she opened the door just to almost bump into a pristine white shirt. “Good morning, Kira.”

“Thranduil.” She sighed, recognising the woody, masculine scent, and the melodious voice. “I am quite able to find my way to school on my own.” She ground out, trying to push past the intrusive colleague. One could count on people like him to show up, perfectly styled and handsome as the devil himself, when one was feeling low and looking like a pile of…undesirable and unattractive things that might or might not have exited another organism.

When she turned around, he stood rooted to the ground, an unfathomable expression on his beautiful face. “I thought you might care for some company, even if it’s just me.” He murmured, lower than she had ever heard him speak.

Oh, here’s another one who isn’t loved well, Kira thought and her heart gave an unexpected and involuntary jerk.

“That is very kind of you.” She nodded slowly, seeing his eyes widen. When was the last time someone had called him “kind”, she wondered, feeling strangely sorry for him.

“The kids call me Thrandy.” He informed her as they walked to the unseemly building, earning a few nods and a few fearful looks. The kids call you all kinds of names, Kira thought to herself, but kept her mouth shut.

Her first class wouldn’t start for over an hour, but she had wanted to return Thorin’s file and maybe poke around in the school a bit before having to teach. Only, how was she to get rid of the man who seemed to have become her veritable shadow in the few hours she had been in this town?

“Don’t you have a class to teach?” She asked, trying to sound as casual as possible. “Yes.” He replied simply.

Without consciously choosing to do so, Kira walked alongside him to his class. She really was not at her best on this morning, otherwise she would have parted ways with him earlier.

“Hi, Miss Kira. Do you remember me? I’m…” – “Thorin’s sister.” Kira supplied readily, with a warm smile.

“Dís, go in, please.” Thranduil ordered and she obeyed with a smirk. “Oh, Kira, you’re early.” Gandalf hastened down the corridor. “I am not late, I am never late, I arrive exactly when I mean to arrive.” He informed Thranduil when the other man cocked an eyebrow and lifted his eyes to the clock fastened to the opposite wall.

“Yes…I had an idea. I will wander around some, except if the bogeyman might come and grab me off the stairs here inside the school as well?” Kira mocked, being met with two very disapproving looks.

“You should be fine here.” Thranduil replied calmly, making his class fall into silence by merely shoving his face, quite creepily if one asked Kira, into the classroom and giving them a punitive stare.

That man had an absurdly long neck, Kira thought, and he looked quite ridiculous, poking his head around corners like a grumpy giraffe. Really, he and Thorin seemed to be in a perpetual contest who could look dourer for the longest time.

“Miss Kira.” Ah, speak of the devil. Kira turned around to find Bilbo with Thorin hovering just behind him; the young boy’s very own dark raincloud. “Bilbo, Thorin, good morning.” She turned on her teacher-smile.

In the long months before coming here, she had almost forgotten how much she loved working with teenagers. They thought themselves so grown-up already, but they smelled like cheap shower gel and half-outgrown dreams.

“Did you have a nice night?” Bilbo asked. “I…Yes, I was very eager to come to work though.” Kira replied. Bilbo was an adorable kid: small with a penchant to growing slightly pudgy maybe, he had eyes that reminded her of the rolling hills of the countryside…and of its bustling, invincible life.

“Yes, I couldn’t wait either.” He gave her a wide grin and let himself be herded into class.

“Was it really bad?” Thorin nodded at the file sticking out from her satchel; a file that might well reek of spilled rum and tears now. “You tell me, Thorin, was it really bad?” She asked back earnestly.

“He’s a troublemaker.” Thranduil interjected, lifting his hands placatingly when Kira spun around, eyes ablaze. “But, there’s a but, woman, let me finish! This one is a pain in the ass, excuse my French, but not all of what you’ll find in the files is 100% true…or fair.” She stared at him in confusion, had he really said what she thought he had?

“I’ve got to go teach. The kids usually go home for lunch, but there is a lunchroom.” Thranduil nodded and went into his classroom without waiting for Kira to collect her thoughts and reply to his surprising admission of fallibility in teachers.

“What was that about?” Kira scratched her head. “I think the dear colleague wanted to invite you to have lunch with the staff?” Gandalf said gently, but his smile was sharp and too radiant to be honest.

Kira blushed, confusion writ plain on her face. “If…my idea works out, I shall have to go home again. I’ll be fine.” She smiled, wondering if her colleague would think that her no-show would be some kind of rejection.

Thorin was still staring at the closed door, apparently aghast that Thranduil would admit that he was indeed not actually the Antichrist reborn. “Thorin, can I beg for your illustrious presence in my mathematics class?” Gandalf prompted the boy with a rumbling chuckle.

Kira watched as he slid his impassive mask back on and trudged into the room as if he was under duress when she had clearly seen the tiny smirk he had given his headteacher before returning to being the sullen boy everyone expected him to be.

“I’ll hand them over soon enough, don’t you worry.” Gandalf grinned at her and closed the door.

Kira huffed, her superior seemed to know everything and have an amazingly good understanding of what went on inside of people’s minds; she had noticed that the previous evening already, but he was so humorous and nonchalant about it, that it had only struck her when she had returned to the void of her apartment.

Resolutely, she struck out for the administration office and returned the file.

“Ah? And? Already scared off?” The same lady asked her casually. “Not in the least.” Kira replied pugnaciously; the more people tried to warn her off, the harder she would doggedly stay true to her course.

“Is there a ballroom here?” She asked. “A what? There’s the festivity room, but it’s never used. Whatever do you need a ballroom for? Do you want them to dance? Dwalin will give you a bloody nose.” The woman laughed.

“Dwalin will do nothing of the sort. He’s a decent fellow.” Kira contradicted calmly which made the woman freeze in the middle of her movement as she was bringing a cup of coffee to her lips.

Her eyebrows rose in slow-motion. “Decent? Dwalin? He brawls like he’s paid for it. Always black and blue.”

Kira’s stomach turned into a block of ice. There were other reasons for kids to be bruised and she would have to look into it. No, his brother had not struck her as someone who would mistreat a young’un like that.

“Let that be my worry. Where is that room?” Kira enquired and took off as soon as she was given the information she had asked for.

Yes, she thought, this would do nicely.

There was even a small kitchen down a corridor. “A small lunchroom, huh?” She muttered to herself.

Table manners, yes, and who knew? She might even get the kids to dance.

Either way, if it was at all possible, she would organise a ball. A winter formal for her kids, for she saw them as her very own and she was fiercely loyal to them already, and all the others.

“Air…We need air and sunlight.” No matter how dark the times were, children needed fun and something to look forward to and she would be damned if she didn’t at least try to provide that for them.

If necessary, she would clean the whole room by herself, decorate it by herself, cook by herself. Kira had a purpose, and she would not be set adrift again, not when she remembered all too well how it had felt to haunt her own life as a shadow of herself.

Dreaming her time away, she had to run to be on time for her class and she nearly bumped into Thranduil again. He was like a moving wall, always in the way, he was the very symbol of the labyrinth she had fallen into.

“Kira…” He started, but then ran out of words. “Thranduil.” She replied in that same cold tone.

“So…Oh, the Silmarillion? You know that they’re borderline illiterate?” He mocked as he saw the book she was extracting from her satchel. “You know that you’re…unfair?” She shot back and pushed past him, which felt like squeezing along a statue of marble. He didn’t budge. She didn’t even throw him off balance. Cocky bastard.

“Hello Miss Kira.” Unisono, the class greeted her, and she could see the astonishment in Thranduil’s eyes as he was still standing in front of her open door, eager to see her flounder and fail, probably.

“Hello class.” Kira replied, her warmest smile on display and then, turning to her colleague, “Was there anything else I can do for you? If not, be so good as to close the door, please? Thank you.”

Kira was unsurprised to find that the kids were not anywhere near illiterate. Yes, their reading skills had to be improved upon, but they listened carefully as she explained J.R.R Tolkien’s early mythology and were willing to read some of the parts as their curriculum for this class.

“Will we have to buy the book?” Ori asked, worrying his lower lip. “There might be a copy or two in the library…but…” He went on, looking intensely miserable.

Kira caught Bilbo’s discreet look and the almost imperceptible shake of the head; his index rubbed ever so lightly across his thumb and Kira understood: money was an issue for some of these kids.

“I’ll see if the school can order them.” Kira replied vaguely. “And we get to keep them?” Ori exclaimed, his eyes sparkling like precious gems in a deep cavern.

Kira looked at her class, everyone but Bilbo looked wretched, but Kira knew that it was not for the same reasons. Having experienced Thranduil’s reaction first-hand, she could understand why Legolas would be afraid to bring home a book his father would think so far beyond his capacities that it would make the boy hate it; Tauriel, Ori and Bombur were probably loath to ask their parents or guardians for money for a schoolbook, especially as their actual schoolbooks were clearly hand-me-downs. Thorin and Dwalin worked hard for their money and should have the right to spend it on fun and extravagant teenage pleasures rather than dusty old books.

“The school will not spend one cent on us.” Thorin grumbled. “Well, tough luck for them, because I have a long wish list.” Kira replied, a steely note in her voice.

“What if the school says “no”?” Tauriel asked, taking into account everything that had been said.

“If the school says “no”, I’ll ask them why.” Kira answered. “Because they think we cannot read.” Legolas muttered.

“In that case, I will buy the rotten books myself and we will read them and that will teach them…No, I’m sorry, but is this a school or a prison? If a school decides that kids are denied materials to learn because they are unable to learn, then the fault lies with the school and not the kids. How about that?” Kira took a deep breath; it would not do to show the students her irrational frustration and anger with the school system in general and this school in particular.

“You’ll get yourself into trouble, Miss Kira.” Bombur commented between two bites of his sandwich.

“Good. I have to prove myself worthy of my class. So, where are we on those presentations?” Kira asked.

The minutes just flew, intelligent questions were asked, and answers were dug out, discussions were sparked and entertained, and Kira could feel herself breathe again. This was what she had dreamt of doing all her life.

“Listen class, I see you this afternoon and I wanted to ask you for a small favour. I want you to draw up, in your mind, your understanding of formal clothing. We’ll meet in the festivity room, and we’ll talk about an idea I had.”

Blank stares followed by excited chatter.

Bilbo’s eyes lit up. “I can wear my formal clothing. If I do, will you?” He asked Kira with earnest joy in his eyes.

“Deal.” She said and they shook hands on it. “No lunch for me then…” She chuckled, not in the least dismayed.

“See you this afternoon.” She waved at her class and made her way out of the school before someone else got it into their head to walk her to and from home.

What had she agreed to? Kira was exasperated by her hair and her sickly pale face, but she had given her word and she would not go back on it.

The long dark red dress shimmered in the midday light as she stepped out of the shower and pulled her hair up in a formal bun; she might as well go the whole nine yards, she thought, and put on make-up.

She felt silly and she couldn’t shake the impression of being watched as she walked back to school, her dress sweeping over the floor with every step.

“Kira.” Jesus Christ, was he everywhere? How many times had he said her name today?

“Thranduil?” She turned around, the flowing fabric billowing around her and almost making her stumble.

“Why do you…You look…Why…?” He would have looked adorably flustered if it hadn’t been for the frown that crossed his forehead as if some moody god had tried to strike out his face.

“Etiquette class this afternoon. We’ll start with formal clothing.” She replied haughtily and tried to walk away from him again, but he took one smooth step to block her path. Now, he was definitely doing it on purpose.

“Ah ok…Erm…Good afternoon.” He snapped, turned on his heels and walked back into the very direction he had originally come from. Did he often just walk to and fro for no reason?

“Miss Kira!” Ah, that was a much more welcome voice, Kira thought as Bilbo caught up with her. “Amazing idea, I am invited to Tho…Dís’ this afternoon and now, I don’t have to go home to change.”

Kira cocked her head questioningly. “That is nice, what is the occasion?” She asked. “Homework.” Bilbo replied.

“You do homework with Dís? In your formal clothing?” Kira frowned mockingly, exaggerating her confusion.

“No…erm…I…I do my homework with Thorin of course, but Dís invited me and I wanted to make a good impression on his…her…their family.” Bilbo spluttered, blushing a dark pink and rubbing his nose in embarrassment.

“Well, that is even nicer. I am glad to hear that you take your homework so seriously.” Kira smiled and let the boy lead her into the school. He was wearing a white shirt and a tawny waistcoat over a very formal looking pair of brown pants. Down to the pastel cravat and the pocket handkerchief, Bilbo looked like the very picture of sophisticated adolescence.

“I think you should not have worried that much.” Kira whispered as they approached the locked festivity room.

“Oh sweet potatoes and gravy.” Bilbo cursed under his breath, or at least his tone made Kira believe that it was meant as a curse.

Thorin looked like he was going to a funeral. All clad in black and dark blue, he reminded her of a raven more than of a boy, and his perpetual scowl had never looked as appropriate as in this moment.

“I look like a fool.” He complained, and Kira was about to tell him that she had never asked or forced him to don his most refined clothes, but Bilbo was quicker and his breathless “You look amazing” was probably also the better answer.

While she unlocked the room, a swishing sound got Kira’s attention and she turned around to see Legolas and Tauriel coming their way; they were both wearing clothes that looked foreign in cut and material: flowing, silky and absolutely stunning.

Kira patted herself on the back for her idea and, a few minutes later, when the whole class had arrived, she could feel excitement and interest burgeon instead of open hostility. Apparently, all of them had agreed to dig out their Sunday best for this class and Kira had to hold back not to stare at them in amazement.

They had never seen each other like that and the fact that they all seemed awkward and ill-at-ease made it easier for them to bond over the shared experience of trying to wear the clothes and not let the clothes wear them.

“You look absolutely marvellous.” Kira declared finally; her voice heavy with pride.

“I look like a clown.” Dwalin grumbled, the dark grey dress shirt taut over his broad chest and his dark hair slicked back elegantly. “You don’t.” Kira contradicted. He looked imposing and obviously uncomfortable, but he also looked very elegant and handsome in his dark trousers and his well-ironed shirt.

“We grown-ups wear our best clothes as an armour and as a reminder of who we want to be and what we want to represent. I see that you respect the weight that comes with formal clothing; your posture has improved, and this is the first time I don’t see any downcast looks and averted faces.”

She sighed: “You deserve to be proud of yourselves just as much as anybody else. This class is an etiquette class…and I want it to be a redemption. Children…we will have a ball.”

“A ball?” Tauriel piped up, her voice strangled with emotion. “A ball. We will have a winter formal.” Kira confirmed.

“Just us? Dís would love that.” Thorin blurted out and then hid behind his disapproving, grumpy mask again.

“No, not just us. We will organise it and the others will come and dance.” Kira smiled.

“We will?” Ori was doubtful. “Yup, we will see where your strengths lie and then we’ll work on everything that goes with it: cooking, serving, making small talk with Thranduil.”

“Are you sure you’re able to teach us that?” Dwalin muttered, apologising immediately when he realised that he said that out loud and that it was an insult that might well lead to ruining the good will Kira had for them.

“I am not, but we will all try. Should we try that?” Kira was worried that they’d refuse outright, that they’d laugh at her, but once again, the class surprised her when they all started talking at the same time.

“I am a good cook. God, I love food.” Bilbo exclaimed. “So do I!” Bombur laughed and ambled closer, already thinking up recipes that would work in that context.

“You’d dare organising a ball?” Thorin was standing right in front of her, his voice dangerously low.

“Yes…I’ve been told that Dwalin would give me a bloody nose for it.” Kira replied, acting braver than she felt.

“Dwalin? Never…He’s a good dancer and he loves it.” Thorin chuckled, a sound like faraway thunder rolling over the land and shaking the ground. “A ball…” Thorin mumbled pensively, his eyes wandering to Bilbo again and again.

Ah, yes, that was a part she had not thought about duly, Kira had to admit: with formals came the whole teenage anxiety-inducing ordeal of asking someone out and buying flowers and corsages.

“Hmmm, there should be fairy lights.” Ori muttered beside her, chewing on the end of his pen pensively. “We’d need a contraption of sorts for that, wouldn’t we?” Kira thought aloud, charmed by the idea and happy to have another one of them on board.

“That can be done. Legolas here is good at climbing things and we are good at crafting things.” Dwalin muttered in a low growl that was much less impressive as his eyes shone with a fierce glimmer of joy.

Kira had the feeling to grow taller by the minute; she was so proud of those kids who had been hailed as Satanists and who had followed her into every single thing she had pitched as a project. She would do her best not to let them down.

“Uh-oh.” Legolas made, standing a few feet away from her and looking around the walls to gauge how tall the ladder would have to be to attach fairy lights below the ceiling.

Whirling around, Kira almost ended up smothered in a dark grey woollen cardigan partially covering the white button-down she had looked at from much too close up this morning already. How many times could this man just manifest right behind her? Did he float? Was she deaf?

“The door was open.” Thranduil declared as if that explained his sudden appearance. “Yes, this is a school. If I locked myself in with a bunch of teenagers, with this bunch of teenagers, I’m sure someone would have called the firemen and the police by now.” Kira rolled her eyes. “Are you spying on us?” She asked with a wink.

“No…Class is over and I…I was curious what you were doing, looking like that…” He looked around and caught the embarrassed gaze of his son. “Oh, you look nice, Legolas.” He commented which made the boy’s ears turn pink with pleasure. “Thank you, Sir.” He breathed shyly.

“So…what is this going to be when it’s over?” Thranduil leant against the door he had pulled shut behind him and Kira couldn’t help noticing how tall he was; he had slender limbs and his whole body seemed to flow in almost liquid lines.

Snap out of it girl, he has asked you a question, Kira admonished herself and replied: “A ball. We’re going to have a ball.”

The closed door made her feel claustrophobic all of a sudden; it felt strangely as if she was the one pressed against the hard surface with Thranduil towering over her, the cool, gauging expression in his eyes making her squirm.

“Ah, really? And…will you send hand-written invitation to said ball?” Thranduil cocked one eyebrow. “Maybe we will.” Kira gave back in a stroppy tone. “So, the other classes are invited?” He pressed on.

“Why? Do you want to chaperone?” Thorin chuckled grimly. “As their headteacher, it falls within my responsibilities to oversee this kind of celebration if my class is to attend.” Thranduil answered stiff-lipped.

“Oi, lads, we are going to send old Thrandy an invitation.” Dwalin hooted under his breath, for he had caught the flash of embarrassment in the teacher’s eyes; Thranduil wanted to come, he wanted to be invited.

“Yes, quiet, Dwalin, thank you. Those are things to decide later in the process.” Kira tried to prevent a complete derailment of the conversation into complete and utter chaos.

“You are dismissed, I’ll see you the day after tomorrow.” Kira ushered the children out, confused by the fact that her colleague made no attempt to follow either the stream of chattering youngsters or his own son.

“I had hoped you would come to the lunchroom.” Thranduil murmured as soon as the students had vanished around the corner, flipping a strand of his perfectly smooth almost colourless hair over his shoulder nervously.

“Dude, this,” Kira pointed at her face and her dress, “did not happen in a jiffy. I had to go home and change. Otherwise, I would have come.”

“Ah…yes…well, it would be a shame to waste such a tremendous effort.” As he saw Kira’s face sour, he went on quickly: “Not that I want to insinuate that it would take a great deal of effort to make yourself look lovely, but as you’ve pointed out that you’ve taken pains to create this…” He waved helplessly at her, “I wondered what you had planned for dinner.”

I don’t cook myself a three-course menu, Kira thought, remembering the can of beans in her cupboard; she had not had the time or the inclination to go shopping since arriving and she was not exactly looking forward to the beans.

“Nothing. Why?” She asked, shrugging and retrieving her satchel from the floor.

“If you don’t mind seeing your students AGAIN today, there’s a little restaurant down the street. I feel like we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot. Maybe, we can resolve that issue over dinner.”

Was she seeing things or did his face twitch?

“What makes you say that?” She asked, narrowing her eyes suspiciously.

“You’ve called me an asshole? I am confident in saying that you do not like me overmuch.” He muttered, visibly annoyed. “True. I am sorry for insulting you.” Kira stood firm, not sure if she fancied having dinner with her stuck-up colleague whose eyes were dancing with dizzying stars like fireflies over a frozen lake.

#Fanfiction #Bagginshield #Kira chapter #AU #School AU #Thranduil #OC #dinner?#upping the cliffhangers #First try AU

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