#because I need to ‘’’’catch up’’’’ on all the sleep I don’t get because insomnia is trying to eat me alive

[haml3t]

This week I have had no more than 5 hours of daylight to myself.

[freedomfireflies]

Pillow Talk*

Summary: The one where you and Harry both have insomnia, and decide to spend one very strange night together.

Word Count: 7.2k

Content Warning: 18+, smut, daddy kink, mentions of drugs, angst (w/ happy ending!), not suitable for Ramadan!

“Oh, absolutely not.”

“Come on. Just one time.”

“No. Are you out of your fucking mind?”

“Probably. I haven’t slept in 32 hours.”

You huff as you hide yourself behind your door. You don’t even want to see him. Because you don’t want to have this conversation or entertain this idiotic idea. This is what Harry does. He plays games. He tricks and he ruins and if you open this door, you know you’ll regret it. 

“Poppy, please,” he calls, and you hear his forehead land on the wood as though to brace himself. “I’ve tried everything else, okay? It always works with you. I just…I wanted to try. See if it still does.”

You frown. “You realize how wildly inappropriate this is, right? Asking if you can come in just so we can sleep together?”

“Yeah, but that’s all I want to do. Sleep,” he insists again. “Really. I’ll keep my hands to myself and I won’t even talk to you.”

You consider this. Truthfully, you haven’t slept all that well since the breakup, either. And sure, you’ve longed for the nights when the two of you would fall into such an easy, simple, and incredibly effective routine. 

But he broke your heart. And now you’re both paying the price.

“Just one night,” he pleads again. “And if it doesn’t work, I swear I won’t bother you ever again.”

There’s a subtle ache in your chest. Just hearing his voice reminds you of the pain. Of the joy. Of every good moment and every bad one, all wrapped up in the same silky cadence.

You take a deep breath. Perhaps you’re curious, too. Even if you don’t want to be. Because maybe this will work. Maybe you’ll finally be able to rest and get on with your life.

Or maybe it won’t.

But at least if it doesn’t, maybe you can find some closure.

So, with that thought…you open the door. 

He looks worse than you’ve ever seen him. Which makes you just a touch happy if you’re being honest with yourself. His usual curls are askew and unkept. The bags under his eyes are dark and his clothes are wildly wrinkled.

And you’re surprised. He’s been up for longer than 32 hours before and handled it much better. You wonder if his age is catching up with him or if there’s something else keeping him awake.

It wouldn’t be the first time.

But you don’t fight with him. He’s not here to fight and you accept his terms as you widen the door and allow him to step inside.

He nods gratefully as he slips into your living room, but his eyes linger on your face. Almost like he doesn’t recognize you, and it makes your insides turn as you shut the door and put a few feet between you.

“What?” you huff.

He shakes his head. “I don’t know, you look…different.”

“Okay…?”

“You changed your hair.”

“Yeah.”

“Hm. It’s nice.”

You cross your arms. “Thanks.”

“Sure.”

Another pause, and the silence feels heavy.

“Well…do you wanna…?” you eventually say, and he nods.

“Right, yeah.”

“Okay.”

You turn to lead him to your room and it’s…unsettling how normal it feels. Like an old habit rearing its ugly head once again.

When you get there, his surprise returns. “You changed your room, too.”

“Yeah.”

“Oh. Why?”

Your eyes roll as you angrily toss your blankets back. “This is the one room I associated with you the most. And short of moving, I needed something you hadn’t touched or tainted. So I made the room mine again.”

He thinks about this, attention lingering on the new paint on the walls and the new furniture in each corner. “I like it.”

“I don’t care.”

He smiles. “I know.”

“Great. Can you get in the bed please so we can get this over with?”

Obliging, he slips off his shoes and joins you under the duvet. “Never thought I’d hear you say that again.”

“Never thought I’d have to say it.”

“Mm. You changed your mattress.”

“Obviously.”

“And the sheets and blankets, too.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Is there anything in here you didn’t change?”

“The carpet. But only because my landlord said I couldn’t.”

“Right.” He’s smiling again. “But you did get a rug.”

“Yeah.”

“It’s nice.”

“Bite me.”

He laughs now and you want to smack him. “I see you still get grumpy when you’re tired.”

“No, I get grumpy when my asshole of an ex shows up to my apartment at 3 in the morning demanding to be let in so he can sleep in my bed with me like a fucking child,” you argue. And you know you’re being snippy and maybe even rude, but he deserves it. After everything he’s put you through, you deserve to be in charge of your own emotions. 

You turn the lamp off and the dark room grows incredibly quiet. You’re both stiff, unable to relax when you’re this close. You don’t want to touch—not the way you used to. And you don’t want to be close or let your guard down, although you suppose you’ll have to in order to sleep.

And then he says, “I really did try, you know. To find another way to sleep.”

You look up at the ceiling and release a soft exhale. “Okay.”

“Melatonin, light therapy, cut out coffee. Even drank those…sleep mocktail things everyone talks about.” He shifts. “I don’t know, I guess my brain just wouldn’t turn off.”

“Yeah. I know.”

More quiet.

“I haven’t done any since we broke up,” he finally says. Gentle, like he’s afraid to break the silence. 

Your lashes flutter. He doesn’t have to say it for you to know what he means. “Great.”

“Yeah.” Another beat. “I thought it was work, I guess. Maybe the stress or something. I’ve been sleeping fine, but these past couple weeks…”

“Right.”

“And I just figured—”

“No, I got it. It’s fine, let’s just…let’s just try to sleep,” you say and he nods.

The bedroom settles and you try, you really do. But you can’t when he’s breathing so goddamn loud and shifting every two seconds and sighing like he’s in pain.

“What?” you eventually hiss.

“Are you dating someone?” he asks.

“What?”

“Are you dating someone?” he repeats. “Josie said you were.”

You hesitate. “I don’t know. Kind of. I guess.”

“You guess?”

“We’re…we’ve been on a few dates. It’s not official.”

“He hasn’t asked you to be his girlfriend?”

“Why does it matter?”

“I don’t know. It doesn’t. I just figure you deserve someone that actually wants to date you.”

“Oh, do I?” You roll your head to look at him. “Funny, you didn’t seem to think so when you were dating me.”

“All right, touché,” he mumbles. “I could have been better, I know that. And I know I took advantage. You did a lot for me and I didn’t…I didn’t care.”

Surprised, you twist your fingers together. “Uh…yeah. Right. Thank you.”

His head rolls, too. And even with the dim-light, his eyes find yours. “I’m sorry, Poppy. You really did deserve better than me. And if you found it with this guy…I’ll be happy for you.”

You swallow before sighing to yourself. “I mean, I don’t know if I did. He’s…he’s really nice. But he’s so…he’s just…”

“Vanilla?”

Your eyes widen. “Yeah. How did you—”

“He was wearing Crocs with tube socks.”

You laugh—loud. “Oh my god, how did you know?”

“I might have looked him up,” he admits through a grin. “Wanted to make sure he was worth your time.”

“Yeah? And?”

“And he wears Crocs with tube socks. He can’t make you cum.”

Your features scrunch together as you gasp and look away. “Ew, Harry. It’s not about that—”

“It’s always about that. Come on, am I wrong?”

“You—yes. What he wears has nothing to do with what he’s like in bed—”

“So he’s not vanilla?”

“He’s…” You pause. “He…look, he really tries—”

“So, he is,” Harry finishes for you. “Well, at least you got some.”

“I…yeah. Uh-huh.”

Instantly, he turns onto his side, head resting in the palm of his hand as he studies you. “He couldn’t get it up, could he?”

“Harry,” you groan, and reach out to swat him. “Stop, it wasn’t that. We just…we were taking things slow. We did some stuff. Just not…all of it.”

“So what he’d do?”

“Harry—”

“Come on, we’re adults, just tell me.”

“Ew, no—”

“Listen, you used to get fucked good. I’m just trying to help you get back to that.”

You frown but do oblige. “I don’t know. He ate me out and I blew him. That’s it.”

“And…?”

“And…I don’t know. He was fine. He was good.”

“Sure.”

Your eyes roll. “Okay, he…he wasn’t really all that into it. He stopped after a few seconds and asked if I came. Then he said his jaw was tired and that maybe we should just switch.”

Now, Harry’s features scrunch, too. “Shit. What a fucking pussy. Ironically.”

“I guess. It could have been worse.”

“Really? Eating you out was always my favorite. What kind of asshole just stops if he doesn’t have to?”

You feel a rush of heat through your body as you look away. “I guess they can’t all be you.”

“Damn fucking right,” he scoffs. “Seriously, you still wanted to see him after that?”

“He’s cute,” you argue. “And nice. And yeah, maybe he’s not that adventurous but that’s okay. I don’t need wild sex all the time.”

He’s quiet. “How about just one time?”

You turn back. “What?”

“I—okay, I was just thinking…you know, one of the things we would do when we couldn’t sleep was…fuck, so—”

“Oh, absolutely not.” You sit up, as though to put some distance between you. “No. Forget it—”

“Poppy—”

“Don’t call me that,” you huff. “You don’t get to call me that ever again. Okay, I’m not gonna fuck you just so we can sleep—”

“It wouldn’t be just for that,” he argues, sitting up as well. “It would also help your mood, too—”

“Oh, my mood?” You glare at him. “My mood is just fine, actually. In fact, I’d say it’s pretty good if I agreed to let you in my apartment in the first place—”

“You didn’t have to. I’m just saying, if sex with him is gonna be bland, might as well get in one last good fuck before you commit to a lifetime of boring—”

“Oh, my god. It’s not a lifetime and you’re a fucking asshole—”

“Yeah. We’ve established that. Doesn’t change the fact that you need it.”

You stare at him. “Is that why you’re really here? To trick me into sleeping with you?”

He leans back. “What? No. I don’t trick people into having sex, it was just a suggestion—”

“Yeah, a pretty dumb one. Did you honestly think I’d say yes?”

“Yeah,” he admits haughtily. “Yeah, because we didn’t break up over the sex. We broke up because you’re an uptight—”

“What? Say it,” you sneer. “Say it. I’m an uptight bitch because I wouldn’t let you do cocaine.”

He scoffs again and looks off into the dark of your room. The argument lulls. “I could never do anything right.”

“That wasn’t the problem and you know it.” You pull your legs to your chest. “I wanted to move forward and you kept going back. You’re almost 30 and you still act like you’re 19.”

“Maybe I didn’t want to get married and do the whole white picket fence life,” he says. “Maybe I liked things the way they were—”

“No. No, you liked parties with your friends and doing drugs that kept you up for hours  and getting fired and leaving me to pay all the bills—”

“You didn’t pay all the bills and I told you I would do what I could to help—”

“Yeah. But apparently that included getting fucked up and staying out all night just to crash the next day.” You study him closely. “You were never around anymore. I never saw you. We were on two different paths and the only time we ever talked was when you asked if I wanted to fuck.”

“So, that’s it, huh? I’m just a villain in your story. You were this perfect fucking princess, and I was a monster that ruined your life?”

“No, obviously not. I wasn’t perfect. I know that.”

“Do you?” His eyes flick between yours. “You didn’t want me to move forward with you. You liked your new job and your new friends because they didn’t remind you of me. Of who we both used to be.”

“So? I’m not proud of what I used to do. And sure, maybe I wanted to make a better impression on the people paying my salary and keeping me employed. Is that such a fucking crime?”

“No. But you didn’t want me to be a part of that impression and you know it.”

“Right. Because you were shit-faced all the time.”

He opens his mouth, ready to retort. But then he closes it. He closes it and he stares at you and then…he surges forward.

Even if you were given at least two seconds to prepare, you’re not prepared for the way his hands feel on your cheeks as he kisses you. As he presses his lips to yours and steals the labored breaths in your lungs.

But you don’t fight him. You know you should. Know you should push him off and berate him. Yet you let him kiss you. And you kiss him back. And it’s far too easy to slip back into this routine as his tongue slides against yours in such a teasing way.

Your stomach flips while your hands land on his lap. You’re desperate to be closer, to feel his body against yours. His skin, and the way it melts beneath your palms like butter. You dance this devious dance and before you know it, you’re stripping each other of the few clothes you have.

He starts with your shirt. Ripping it over your head before his mouth lands on your chest. Bare and beautiful to him. His kisses are wet and sloppy and you arch yourself closer as you drag your fingers down his scalp.

The only reason he stops is to let you peel his t-shirt off, too. And then his jeans and socks. And you move so fluidly, you’re nearly naked in under a minute. The only thing left between you now his underwear and yours.

He lays you down, gentle. Surprisingly gentle, given the anger that brought you here. And he gazes at you in a soft, unspoken way that says everything you don’t exactly know how to say. 

His fingers brush down your cheek as his body settles atop yours. He still fits between your legs like he was always meant to and the weight of him almost feels good.

“Are you all right?” he finally whispers, and he doesn’t sound like the same man from before. He sounds like the man you fell in love with. “Is this okay?”

You nod quickly, scared that if you think about it, you’ll ruin it. “Yeah. Go.”

He doesn’t. “We don’t have to,” he says. “You were right, it’s probably a dumb idea—”

“Yeah, but…it always works.” You shift beneath him and reach for his briefs, rolling them down his hips. “And I’m tired. Tired of fighting with you, tired of not getting any sleep…tired of pretending I hate you. You were right, our sex is good. So let’s do it. And then we can sleep. And we can finally move on.”

Not the most romantic of speeches, but it works. At least right now. He kisses you again and drags your underwear aside in order to tease you with the tip of his cock.

He feels like you remember. And maybe you find just a touch of comfort in that. There are no awkward pauses or confusion about what to do next. You don’t have to find your rhythm or anticipate the next step. You know him. And he knows you.

Your rub your clit in order to stimulate yourself. You aren’t exactly wet enough for this to be enjoyable, but you don’t expect him to do what he did before. The foreplay is up to you now and you’re more than all right with that.

However, he’s not. And he instantly swats your hand away in order to do it himself. Allowing his fingers to drag up and down your pussy until you shiver before he slips the tip of his middle finger inside.

“Shit,” he whispers. His forehead drops to yours. “Fucking missed this.”

You bite the inside of your lip to keep from grinning. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He starts to pump, bending your body to his salacious intentions until the unmistakable sound of wetness echoes throughout the room. “I know you missed it, too.”

“Hm. Don’t push it.”

“Why not?” He presses a kiss to your cheek. Then to your jaw. Your lips. Your nose. Your neck. Everywhere you used to love. “Are you really gonna tell me you didn’t?” 

“Maybe.”

“So Crocs with Tube Socks is better, huh?”

“…not exactly.”

“Right.” He adds a second finger and your eyes roll back. “Don’t worry, Poppy, I’ll fix it.”

“Don’t…call me that,” you pant again, and he chuckles.

“Don’t know what else to call you. You were always my pretty Poppy.”

“But now I’m not,” you say. “Now you call me nothing. Because I’m not yours to call.”

He sighs but does seem to obey, at least for now. And the faster he thrusts his hand, the needier this growing feeling becomes. Stronger and louder until you finally grab onto his shoulders and say, “Just put it in already.”

He smirks. “How romantic.”

“It’s not supposed to be. Just come on.”

So, he does. He takes hold of his cock and he slips it through the gathering arousal until he can push in. And you both reel.

Truthfully, you’ve missed the sounds he makes when he’s turned on. The way he groans and grits his teeth together. The way the muscles in his arms strain until you can see those beautiful veins you used to love to run your tongue over. 

He’s stunning. Even now, in the soft light of the moon through your curtains. His silhouette is unholy as it hovers above you. Strong hips beginning to thrust as you both work in tandem to find release.

And it’s closer than you expected. There’s something about him that can get you there even without much effort. Something Crocs with Tube Socks could never seem to figure out. 

Because he’s not Harry. And only Harry can play you like an instrument and make such symphonic music all with the flick of his finger and a thrust of his cock.

He kisses you again and you both feel anxious. Soft murmurings of praise and, “Keep going,” that have you arching from the bed and moaning into his mouth.

You’re sweating and gasping for air and clutching onto his back as you attempt to meet his rhythm with rolls of your own. You need this. You need to cum so you can find release and you need to cum so you can finally sleep and you need to cum because then you’ll finally be able to let him go. To close the door on the chapter of you and Harry and move the fuck on.

But how can you move on when you’re still under him? How can you insist that you’re fine and doing great if you’re so easily convinced to fuck him just so you can both get some sleep?

There are other remedies to insomnia that don’t involve his cock and maybe you should have tried that before you let him into your apartment. 

Either way, you’re coming before you can think twice about it. Raking your nails down his back and whimpering his name as he pulls out and finishes on your thigh. 

And just like that…

It’s over.

You find him in the kitchen about an hour later. You managed to sleep at least a few minutes before you felt the sadistic hand of insomnia pull you back out. But when you woke, Harry was gone. His clothes were still on the floor, so you knew he hadn’t left. But he wasn’t with you.

He’s staring out your kitchen window when you slip into the living room. You’re not sure if he hears you or not but if he does, he doesn’t acknowledge it. Instead, he keeps himself braced against the sink, clad in nothing more than his briefs.

Curious, you call, “What’s wrong?”

He shakes his head. Silent. Contemplative. “I used to love this window,” he eventually says. Soft, like he’s reminiscing. “The way the light looked in the morning. The way your little crystals would put rainbows on the wall and you’d get so excited. How you’d make me dance with you to some Elton John song while we were literally in the middle of cooking.”

You blink. “Um…okay.”

He turns and his eyes find yours. “I fucking loved this apartment. And this kitchen. And that couch. And your room. And even the hallway. I loved being here, all the time. I hated going back to my place because it never felt the same.”

The silence grows louder now as you look down at your feet and pull your robe just a bit tighter. “I know,” you finally whisper. “That’s why I changed it.”

“I know,” he whispers back. His expression falls. “You changed everything. This apartment, your life…us.”

“Because I had to,” you argue, glancing back up. “I had to, Harry. I couldn’t keep going in circles. I couldn’t drag you along behind me into the future when you clearly wanted to be anywhere else.” 

“Because the future you always painted didn’t seem to have room for me,” he huffs. “Okay, with all these dinner parties and fancy houses and good school districts. You’d planned out the next 30 years and I didn’t see myself anywhere in your picture.”

“I didn’t fucking care about the parties or the school districts,” you nearly yell. “God, I—I didn’t want the white picket fence life. I didn’t want the 1950’s American Dream shit you keep thinking I did. I just wanted you. Yes, I wanted a good job with insurance and stability. But I wasn’t gonna trade what we had just for that—”

“But you did. You didn’t tell your parents we’d moved in together. You didn’t even tell half of our friends. You went on trips without me and you stopped telling me about your day and we never talked—”

“Because you were never around! You were either out with your friends getting drunk or high or you were in there playing video games because you’d had a ‘hard day.’ So, no. I didn’t want to talk to you when I knew you weren’t even listening in the first place.”

 He leans against the counter and crosses his arms. Angry. Indignant. “You resented me. You resented the fact that we were together and you resented that I wasn’t perfect like your precious new friends—”

“Oh, that’s—” You pinch the bridge of your nose and force in a deep breath. “No. I didn’t want you to be like them. I didn’t want you to act pretentious and stuffy and talk about the stock market every goddamn second of the day. The only thing I resented…was the fact that you wouldn’t take care of yourself.”

“I was taking care of myself—”

“Bullshit. You were doing drugs—you were doing cocaine—and you weren’t eating, you weren’t sleeping, you nearly drunk yourself to death—”

“Right, but I wasn’t doing it all the time. It was just…it was occasionally, and it wasn’t a lot—”

“I don’t care. You shouldn’t have been doing it at all, Harry,” you finally shout. “You…you scared the shit out of me. Every time one of your friends would call and say you were passed out, I thought…I thought this was it. I thought I was gonna lose you. Do you know how many times I just sat on the floor and cried because I was so scared? Because you never wanted to listen when I told you to stop? Because you were so sure you were invincible?”

He seems pained by this, features wilting as he takes a tentative step forward. But he stops when you move back. “Poppy, I wasn’t trying to scare you, I…I didn’t know—”

“Yes, you did,” you scoff. “I told you, over and over that I didn’t want to lose you, but you thought I was being dramatic.”

He nods once. “I know, I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?”

“Yeah. I am.” He looks at you. “S’why I stopped after we broke up. You were right, I needed to get my shit together.”

You nod, too. “Good. I’m glad.”

His gaze dances around the kitchen. “I hate that you changed everything,” he says again, and your heart wrenches. “I hate that it doesn’t look like it used to. I hate that I hurt you so bad that you felt like you had to erase everything I ever touched.”

You step closer and wipe a tear from your cheek. “Yeah, I hate it, too. I hate that I had to. I hate that stupid mattress and I hate that my kitchen doesn’t look like a rainbow anymore and I really fucking hate that I have no one to dance with when I cook.”

His eyes soften as they find yours and in only a few seconds, he’s reaching for the belt on your robe and tugging you to him. Wrapping you in his arms as he presses you against his chest, the way he always used to when you were sad.

“No,” you argue weakly, although you do nothing to stop him. “No, you can’t…you can’t—”

“Yes, I can,” he retorts quietly. You feel his lips press to the top of your head. “You don’t get to cry over me anymore. You’re better than that now. You did what I couldn’t. You moved on. And I don’t get to ruin that for you.”

You sniffle as you run your hand down his stomach. “It wasn’t about moving on. I just needed to learn how to be strong enough for both of us.”

“Poppy,” he breathes and holds you tighter. “You shouldn’t have to be.”

And deep down…you know he’s right.

“Shit, just like that…a little closer. Good girl, hold yourself open for me, baby. Yeah.”

Doing your best to oblige, you slip your fingers between your folds as Harry nudges his nose closer. Kissing his way along your thighs before allowing his tongue to lick a very generous stripe up your pussy.

Round 2 is on the couch. Harry wanted the kitchen counter—nearly insisted on it, in fact—but you knew you didn’t want to ruin your favorite breakfast spot. And you weren’t about to just for him.

So, the couch it was. He complained about it as you got settled. He hates this new couch, too. The color, the lumpy cushions, the way it feels like you’re sinking when you sit. 

You told him you didn’t care. You loved it and if it annoyed him, that was a bonus.

Thankfully, he swallowed his complaints in favor of swallowing you. He tossed your robe open and pulled your thighs apart. And then he buried himself between the warmth of your pussy the way he always used to.

And you decided that maybe you don’t mind insomnia so much if this is the remedy.

“Missed this, too,” he says now as he nips at your clit. “God, you’ve always tasted so fucking good. S’fucking crazy, baby. Can’t ever get enough.”

“Sure,” you snort, head dropping back. “I’m sure you say that to all the girls—”

“No.” He shakes his head and his nose nudges the sensitive nerves as you whine. “No, there’s no other girls. Come on, did you really think there could be?”

“With a mouth like that? Yeah,” you admit. He laughs. “That’s how we met. You were such—fuck—such a player.”

“Maybe,” he concedes before mouthing at you again. “But nobody else has ever made me feel the way you do.”

You snort. “Where’d you learn that line?”

“It’s not a line. It’s the truth.”

“Harry. Come on. I know you.”

“Then you should know I don’t say shit I don’t mean.” He smooths his palms down your thighs in order to spread you just a bit further and see the way your hole flutters. “Oh, pretty girl. S’just drenched, hm? All sensitive from the last one…need Daddy to make it better?”

You scrunch your nose. “You don’t get to call yourself that anymore.”

“No?” He grins. “Why not?”

“Because I hate you and Daddy is reserved for someone I like.”

He tsks. “I don’t know, kind of seems like you still like it. Keep clenching around my tongue like you wanna hear me say it again.”

You hesitate as you weave your fingers through his curls. “Never.”

He hums and the vibration against your cunt makes your thighs twitch. “Come on, baby. Don’t be mean to Daddy.”

You want to glare. Slap at him, refuse him. But he’s right—you have missed the moniker. If only just because of how good he sounds when he says it. So, you let him tease you and taunt you as he tastes you. You let him do whatever the hell he wants because your second orgasm feels stronger than the first and you don’t imagine you’ll survive this one. 

He slips a finger in as well. Beckons your pleasure closer with every curl of the large digit. It’s practiced. He sucks and licks and nips and thrusts and curls and pumps all at the same time.

Then, he pulls back and brings his palm down in a sharp smack to your pussy. 

“Stop squirming,” he instructs, then shoots you an obviously pleased frown. “Don’t be a brat.”

“M’not,” you whimper. “Not a brat…just wanna cum.”

“Do you, hm?” He licks you again then adds two fingers. “Should I let you?”

“Obviously.”

“Obviously?” He’s smirking now as he starts to go faster. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe you do deserve it. Yeah? After being so nice as to let me in.”

You pout. “Mhm.”

He’s so happy. He’s always his happiest when he’s suffocating himself with your pussy. He does everything he knows you love. He leaves teasing kisses to the inside of your thighs. He slaps at your leg, your clit, your hip. He helps rock you against his tongue and even lifts you from the couch to find a deeper angle. 

And he does all of this out of sheer enjoyment. 

“Harry,” you whimper as you melt into the cushions. Your limbs feel like jello. The pleasure is everywhere, and he looks like a god. His face is covered in you, glistening about as bright as the stars.

“I know, Poppy,” he says. He kisses your pussy and then smiles at you. “I know.”

You like the way Harry’s chest feels. Warm and soft and painted in the tattoos you used to trace with your finger.

He’s gently scratching your back as you both lay in bed. The room is quiet—you haven’t spoken in minutes. Still, neither of you can seem to find sleep and you know you’ll desperately need it soon. 

But this is nice. Even if it is the last time. You like getting to reminisce—pretend for even a moment that things are the way they used to be. When you were happy and safe and content to be together.

You weren’t sure you’d ever feel this kind of peace again.

“I missed you, too, you know,” he whispers after a moment.

You glance up. 

“I didn’t just miss your apartment. I missed you.” He takes a breath and runs his palm along your spine. “I miss our Sunday mornings and I miss when we’d watch scary movies just so we could make out and I miss the way you used to dance around in your underwear to some stupid musical you were obsessed with.”

You swallow a lump in your throat. “Har…”

“And I don’t know what happened,” he says. “I felt like…I felt like I was watching you do all these amazing things and I just couldn’t keep up. You were getting promoted and moving up and I was still at the fucking bar serving drinks. And you knew what you wanted to do. I didn’t.”

“I didn’t know,” you argue gently. “Not really. I hate my job. I hate that I don’t enjoy it the way I used to. I mean, I like that it pays the bills, but maybe that shouldn’t be enough.”

He presses his cheek to the top of your head. “You should do what makes you happy.”

“You used to make me happy.”

The soft strokes against your spine slow. 

“You did, Har,” you tell him. “So happy. That’s why I hated that we started fighting all of the time. I hated that you were gone or that I was gone or the fact that I was too ashamed to tell you that I missed you. And that I was scared we were losing each other.”

“Maybe we needed to lose each other,” he says and you feel sick. “Maybe we needed to be apart to see what we really wanted.”

You think about this. The idea sounds nice. Inviting. A happy end to a rather dreadful story.

But you both know better. Five months has taught you better.

“There’s a reason we broke up,” you finally murmur. “We didn’t…we didn’t like each other anymore. We were holding each other back—”

“I liked you,” he says softly. “I loved you. Yeah, I was mad, but I didn’t just stop loving you.” 

“Maybe you should have. Maybe it would have been easier for us and we wouldn’t be…here.”

More silence. It stretches for what feels like hours.

And then, “I can’t sleep because of you.”

You suck in a quiet breath. “What?”

“When Josie told me that you were seeing someone, I couldn’t…I couldn’t stop thinking about it. And she showed me a picture she took of you guys and you were so happy. Smiling at him like you used to smile at me and I just…I didn’t know what to do.”

Another pause. You don’t know what to say.

“I put my fist through a wall,” he tells you. “And somehow, that still didn’t hurt as much as knowing you’d moved on.”

You snake your arm around his middle and snuggle closer. “Harry, you knew we both had to move on eventually.”

“Did we?”

“Harry…”

“But so soon? It’s only been five months.”

“Yeah. Five months to grieve you and cry over you and realize I did this for you.” You close your eyes. Tight. “We’re better people now.”

“No, we’re tired people now,” he teases, and you smile. “And I think I’ll be losing sleep over you for the rest of my life.”

“Don’t say that.”

“I mean it. I’m always gonna think about you. Think about what I did wrong. What I could have done better.”

“I fucked up, too,” you argue. “I should have told my parents. And our friends. I should have talked to you more, asked you to do more things together. You’re right, I was ashamed of you. Of this…routine we’d fallen into. And I’m sorry.”

He says nothing. After all, there’s nothing more to say.

But he kisses the crown of your head and it speaks louder than any words.

“Fuck…fuck, Poppy, please—”

You grin as you lick your lips. He’s always sounded the most beautiful when he’s begging. And his best begging always tends to happen when his cock is down your throat. 

“What, Daddy?” you ask innocently. “What do you need me to do?”

His eyes roll back and he grips the sheets in his fist. “Please…”

You reposition yourself over his legs as you dip back down to have another taste. You lick and you suck and you stroke until he’s making another strained noise that sounds like sex.

You hope your neighbors can hear. You bet they missed him.

“Good boy,” you purr, squeezing his thighs as you take him even further. 

He sucks in a sharp breath through gritted teeth before his hand finds your hair and he squeezes. “Easy…easy, baby. S’been a while. Don’t hurt yourself—”

You respond to his instruction by inhaling through your nose and relaxing the muscles in your throat. Allowing him to hit the back the way he always used to.

His head drops into the pillows. “Shit—Poppy, I mean it. M’not gonna fuck your throat. It’s gonna hurt and I don’t wanna hurt you anymore.”

It’s an oddly thoughtful gesture but it does nothing for you now. Instead, you shake your head and pull off, a string of saliva dripping down his cock in your wake. “I’m fine, H. Trust me, I can take it.”

“Yeah?” He pushes up onto his elbows. “Is Crocs with Tube Socks hung or something?”

You grin. “No. But that dildo you got me last year is.”

He blinks. “You…fucking hell, you fuck your throat with that?”

“Mhm.” You swirl your tongue around his tip as he curses. “And then I fuck myself. And I pretend it’s you.”

He tightens his hold on your hair and forces your eyes back to his. “Are you serious?”

You nod, now feeling a touch shy as you wipe your mouth with your knuckles. “Yeah…I know that’s…probably weird, but…I mean, you got it for me, so I thought I’d be weirder to think about someone else—”

“No, it’s…” He stops. Struggles. “Shit, I really needed to hear that.”

“Oh, you did, huh?” 

“Yeah. I wouldn’t want you to think about anyone else when you used it, either. It’s got my fucking initials on it.”

You laugh, louder than you mean to and it makes him grin. “Yeah, it does, doesn’t it? It was a pretty good gift, I’ll admit.”

“S’a fucking perfect gift,” he retorts. “We had a lot of fun with that dildo.”

“We did indeed.”

“But apparently not as much fun as you’re having with it.”

“Fucking myself helps me sleep,” you remind him. “So sometimes it’s necessity.”

“Is that right?” 

“Mhm.” You squeeze the base and he twitches. “You used to watch me. Remember?”

“I do.” His eyes get darker. “Do you fuck yourself a lot?”

“…these days, yeah. Apparently, I can’t sleep all that well, either.”

“And does it work?”

“Most of the time, yeah.” You turn your attention back to his cock in order to avoid his curiosity before you quietly admit, “Sometimes I pretend you’re here. Sleeping next to me. And…that helps, too.”

He reaches for your wrist and pulls your attention back. “Poppy—”

“No, don’t look at me like that, it’s dumb—”

“I imagine you, too.”

You blink. “You do?”

“Every night. Except the past couple weeks. Cause now I just think about you and him. And then I can’t fucking sleep.”

You turn your hand so your fingers brush through his. “Shit. We’re a mess.”

He smiles. “Yeah.”

The conversation falls away as you dip back down to resume your work. Squeezing his balls, moaning as you take him on your tongue, and milking him for every last drop. 

Turns out, you missed the taste of him, too.

Morning comes before either of you find a moment of rest. But you can feel yourself growing tired. Your eyelids are beginning to droop, and your body feels incredibly spent. 

Turns out, round 4 is where the magic happened. He brought out your favorite vibrator and teased your poor, swollen clit with it until you squirted. It was easy and quick and he seemed rather delighted to be bathed in you.

Until, of course, you insist on an actual bath to clean you both.

The shower felt good. The warm water washing away the sticky sweat on your skin. And the two of you fell back into a similar routine. He ran the soap down your arms and you washed his curls with your favorite shampoo. A shampoo he claimed he looked everywhere for after you broke up but could never find.

He said he missed the smell. The way it made his hair so soft. And the way it would make his pillowcase smell just like you.

You were grateful that the shower hid your tears.

You both crashed on the couch after you had dried off. The sheets still needed to be cleaned and neither of you could be bothered. But, as it turned out, the couch was growing on him. And he begrudgingly admitted it was rather comfy as the two of you curled up in your usual spot. 

You know you’re both close to sleep. Finally, after all your efforts to get here. But you also know that once you wake up, Harry will leave. 

And there’s a chance you won’t see him again.

You know that nothing has changed. The two of you still want different things, even if you want each other. And you hate that that’s not enough. That what you want and what you should want don’t align.

Instead, he’ll move on with his life and you’ll move on with yours.

But you don’t want to learn how to fall asleep without him.

“Make me a deal,” you whisper.

He hums. Lashes shut tight as the morning light slips in through the window. “What?”

“If I wake up, and you’re still here…we do this again. Not…as a couple. But as two broken humans that find rest with each other.”

His eyes open.

“But if you’re gone,” you continue, “then we don’t. We don’t do it again, we don’t see each other again, we don’t reach out again. We cut ties. Officially. Block and move on. For real.”

He seems saddened by this, and you hate that you’ve made him sad. But you both know it’s for the best. This won’t be sustainable in the long run. And maybe it’s a bad idea to continue at all, but maybe you want to hold on to him anyway. At least for a little while.

Even if it’s just as friends.

Exes.

Two broken humans that used to make each other whole.

His lips press together and he nods once. “Deal,” he agrees, and you can tell by the look on his face, he’s already made a decision.

You aren’t sure which way, but you suppose you’ll find out soon enough. So, you allow your eyes to fall shut and your dreams to take hold. Melting into his arms and into the sofa as you finally find sleep quicker than you have in months.

You’re not sure how long you’re out. It feels like hours. A heavy slumber that leaves you rather refreshed as your eyes eventually flutter open. 

You don’t see Harry as you slowly adjust to your surroundings. And you don’t feel him, either. But you’re too afraid to really look. To sit up and realize that he’s gone. For good.

And then, just when you think you’ve lost him…you hear the most beautiful sound in the world.

“Good morning, Poppy.”

Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @peterparker1sgf @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @vane28282 @lukesaprince @closureesny @lc-fics @0nlythrowharrybeaux @hannahdressedasabanana @iguessyourejustwhatineeded @dylanobandposts21 @butdaddyilovehim-hs @floral-recs @itjustkindahappenedreally @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @laelamarley @myalovesharry

[literaila]

perishable hours 

tasm!peter x reader 

summary: peter reminds you how important sleeping is. and then proceeds to keep you awake. 

warnings: fluff, insomnia, half-asleep drabbles. 

a/n: and in this i attempt to write fluff without writing fluff 

*

it's quiet when he gets the call. 

quiet enough for new york city in the middle of the night. car horns, and flickering lights, and yelling from a couple of streets down. the sound of doors opening and closing, and people running from dreams they used to covet. 

peter likes it best like this. when there's nothing to do. 

when time is only a thing to stand on, tilt off of the edge as he appreciates the silence that comes with three am. 

but then his phone starts buzzing in his pocket. 

peter--for just a moment--feels a bout of relief that his phone is still there. the guy at the tech store is getting tired of seeing him, and peter is getting tired of making an excuse every time he loses his phone. 

the relief goes away in a second; no one should be calling him at three in the morning. 

and when he sees your name on the screen--illuminated by a picture he took of you sitting at a counter, glaring at him because it was the fifth picture he'd taken of you that day--his confusion morphs into panic. 

you're usually asleep by now. usually laying in your bed, slightly snoring. you've always got some drool on the side of your cheek. always got your legs kicked out of the covers, shivering because of how cold it is. 

which peter knows, because he finds it all endlessly adorable. 

but only when you're actually doing it. 

and besides, you have a weird thing about calling him when he's patrolling.  

"i don't want you falling on your face when you get shocked by your ringtone," you'd said to him. 

peter had smiled, charming. "but then you could kiss the bruises away." 

so peter clears his throat, avoids thinking about whatever you might need, and backs into an alleyway that he would avoid under any other circumstance. 

he'll do the most for you. 

"hey, baby," he answers, sounding more carefree than he feels. 

he can hear you breathe into the phone. "hey." 

peter keeps a smile on his face. "what're you doing up so late?" 

there's a sniffle on the other end. 

it only proves to drop peter's heart even lower in his chest. 

he hums into the phone, waiting. 

"peter," you whisper, softly, breath catching.

"what's going on, sweetheart?" peter asks you, slipping the mask off of his face. he looks around for any pedestrians, and then takes off his gloves. "another bad dream?" 

"no. it's just--" peter can't hear you clear enough to tell if you're crying, but he has a sinking--sinking so far into the earth that it digs up spare body parts--suspicion that you are. "i can't sleep." 

peter holds the phone up between his ear and shoulder, sneaking his other arm out of its sleeve. "are you feeling okay?" 

"yeah." 

"just tired?" 

"yeah." 

peter switches ears. "i'm sorry, baby. what can i do?" 

"i don't know. i thought talking to you would help" you breathe out, sniffing again. "but i just feel worse now." 

"worse?" 

"you're working. i can hear sirens." 

peter avoids shivering from the cold. "i was just heading home." 

"don't lie, peter." 

"i'm not," he swears, pulling his suit down so he can shake it off of his feet. "i'd much rather talk to you. it's boring tonight. and cold." 

"you like when it's boring." 

peter tries not to smile at how well you know him. "i like it when you're feeling alright, too. did you just want to talk?" 

there's a brief pause, leaving peter a moment to dread whatever you're going to say next. 

as he stands in a dark alleyway in a t-shirt, underwear, and socks. his hand digs around for the backpack he stashed earlier. 

"it's okay," you whisper. "i'll probably fall asleep soon." 

peter smiles, maybe amused at the unspoken words. or maybe because he's trying not to freeze to death. his heart flickers at the concession in your voice. 

he slips his sweatpants on next, refusing to think about the reality of this situation. 

"baby," he whispers to you, listening to you breathe. 

"yeah?" 

"can i come over?" 

peter hears something that sounds like a laugh. 

"you don't have to. you're probably tired." 

"nope." 

"peter," you sigh, now trying to convince him. 

peter laughs, slipping on his shoes. "i'm wide awake. and greedy." 

"greedy?" 

"wanna see you. it's been too long." 

this time, you actually laugh. "i saw you earlier today." 

"my point exactly." 

"you still don't have to." 

peter zips up his backpack, falling back into the light once more. he listens to the sirens and smiles into the phone. 

"i'll be there in ten." 

*

you flinch as you wake up, body on alert, nerves short-circuiting until you're sure that your limbs have left completely. 

that the numbness of your arm is just a trick of your mind. 

and that the eyes on you are just some part of a leftover dream. dazing carefully, droning on and on because they won't look away. 

brown and warm and soft and smooth. rough in their nature. playful. 

they stare at you, amused. unmoving and careful and cautious. 

and there's a hand on your head, musing your hair. 

you groan and squeeze your eyes shut, trying to grab onto the grasps of dreams that are still leftover. 

because it would seem that this isn't one. 

"good morning?" peter says, laughing. 

you fall even further into the pillows, head aching from the light coming in through your window. 

"are you still sleeping?" peter asks, softly, moving your malleable head. tilting your jaw. 

you can still feel his eyes on you. 

"why are you staring at me?" 

"incoming news: my baby is beautiful." 

peter's voice is soft and teasing and far too amorous for your heart. too strong and true and every usual thing that you love about it. 

"too early for this," you mumble, moving away from him and digging your face into a pillow. 

peter laughs. moves you back so that he can stare at you. 

"this is creepy, peter." 

"okay." 

you open one eye, squinting at him. "i don't remember inviting you in here." 

"that's weird because i remember it very well," peter tilts his head, eyebrow raised. "i distinctly remember someone tackling me when i--" 

you push him away. 

"not like that," peter says, returning.

"how long have you been awake?" 

"an hour or so." 

your other eye opens. you blink. "what?" 

peter moves his head down into your neck, nuzzling the skin by your pulse. "you're very warm." 

"you mean to tell me that you've just been laying there for an hour?" 

"not just," he says into your skin. 

you can feel the vibration. curse the goosebumps that respond. 

peter laughs. 

"how did you sleep?" he asks you, softly.

"fine until i woke to a stranger in my bed." 

peter's head jerks up. "where?" 

you laugh, pushing his cheek away with the tip of your finger. peter smiles and grabs your hand from his face, kissing the knuckles there. 

"how did you sleep?" you ask him. "were you here all night?" 

"came in around four. you woke up, kissed me, and then fell back asleep." 

"sounds about right." 

peter moves some hair out of your face. "i didn't mean to scare you," he says. "i'm sorry." 

"you didn't scare me." 

"i would've left but i fell asleep." 

"that's good. you were out late." 

peter doesn't answer that, only traces a finger from the corner of your eye to your jaw, up to your lips. his touch tickles, which you know, is the point. 

"you didn't scare me," you repeat, because you know him. 

"no? you jumped." 

"that's how i always wake up." 

peter laughs and kisses your cheek, melting his adoration into you. 

it's almost unfair. 

"i thought i was dreaming. i like it when you're here." 

peter meets your eyes. "yeah?" 

you nod, allowing your lips to move on their own accord. to bend and twist and smile at him like he's the only thing that could be worth it. 

peter smiles back, just the same. "you're cute when you're half asleep," he whispers. 

cloudy tone and sweet words and things that are supposed to kill you right where you lay. 

but then he kisses you. he manages to wake you up completely, any hazed thoughts drifting away from your head. nerves alight with fear that he'll move away. skin burning at the thought of him touching you. 

which he is. 

he teases at your skin, laughing into your mouth. 

you laugh back. 

peter pulls back, hand tilting your chin toward him. "what do you wanna do today?" 

*

when peter wakes up, it's to the sound of a door closing. 

so he lays in bed for a moment. tries to remember where he is and why he's asleep. 

it's still dark outside, he can see when he looks through the window. streetlight shining in on his face. 

if he touched the glass, his skin would freeze.  

peter pulls the cover over his head, his own warm breath punching him in the face. 

he's pretty sure that he forgot to brush his teeth. 

so he moves them back down, blinking the sleep out of his eyes. he's not sure when he fell asleep. barely remembers watching a movie with you, and laughing when you almost fell off of the bed. he doesn't remember what happened next. 

but he knows that you should be right next to him, clinging to him like you always do when it's cold outside. 

but you're not. you're nowhere near him. 

he looks over to the clock on the bedside table, the numbers flashing red back at him with a glare. 

he blinks again. 

and then sits up, looking at the crumbled covers on your side of the bed. the pillows on the floor. 

and peter frowns because usually, this isn't a good sign. 

he hears you close something else in the other room. 

there's a slight concern fuzzing up in his chest. like a purr of his blood, telling him that he's not falling back asleep any time soon. just barely dimmed from the excess of exhaustion still in his chest. 

peter feels just a little bit dizzy when he stands up, feet wobbling over the floor. he still has his socks on. 

he walks to the door, just about to open it when he hears something else on the other side. 

something that sounds like music, and something that sounds like you dying. 

peter walks out into the kitchen to find you singing into a whisk, dancing to a song he doesn't quite recognize. 

all of the lights are on. 

you don't seem to notice him, even when he goes up to the counter, just continue singing and dancing--movements soft and smooth and far too enthusiastic for two in the morning. 

still, peter lets a smile tease at his lips. 

he wonders if maybe he's still asleep. that maybe this is just something funny to tell you about tomorrow. 

but then you look up at him, eyes widening, movements stopping. 

peter watches as you almost fumble with the bowl on the counter, falling like he's just changed your center of gravity by walking into the room. 

"peter," you say, surprised, voice a bit quieter than the music. you reach over the counter to grab your phone, turning it down. "you're awake." 

peter laughs, noticing some flour on your nose. 

"did i wake you up?" you ask, brows folding. "i'm sorry. i was trying to keep it down." 

peter shakes his head. "no. what're you doing?" 

you look down at the bowl again, almost guilty. like a child with lipstick all over their face. "making cookies." 

peter sits down on a stool, watching you. "this late?" 

you give him an innocent smile. "i thought that you might help me eat them." 

"why are you awake?" 

you shrug. "i wanted cookies." 

"so you decided to start making some at two in the morning?" 

you frown. "well, actually, i woke up an hour ago. do you know how dirty the kitchen was?" 

"bub--" 

"i spent an hour cleaning it. and now i'm making cookies." 

peter lets out an exasperated laugh. "that's all?" 

"i was dancing." 

"i noticed." 

you frown and stop mixing the dough. look towards the clock on the stove. "you should go back to bed. you have to be up early, don't you?" 

peter nods, biting his lip. 

you stare at him, waiting. 

he stares back, so willing to watch your face shift and burn into the atmosphere. 

a perfect cosmology. 

"what?" you ask him, brows raised. 

"what kind of cookies?" 

"chocolate chip." 

peter gets up, walking around the counter, towards you. "can i have one?" 

"i'm making them for you." 

peter goes right behind you, wrapping arms around your waist, pulling you into his chest, and letting his head drift down to your shoulder. 

"are you going to fall asleep right there?" you ask him. 

"i might," peter leaves a kiss on the skin of your neck he can reach. "speak now or forever hold your peace." 

you say nothing. simply take the bag of chocolate chips next to you and pour it into the dough. 

"you know i'm not going back to bed until you do, right?" 

you nod your head against him, pushing yourself as close to peter as possible. 

peter closes his eyes, breathing you in for a moment. 

and a couple of minutes when he opens them again, he frowns, reaching around you to grab a mug. 

"is this coffee?" he sniffs at the cup, spinning you around. 

you're trying not to smile. so guilty. 

"baby," he sighs, throwing his head back. 

"i just needed a little kick when i was cleaning--" 

"we've talked about this." 

you frown and cross your arms. "when?" 

"when we talked about getting enough sleep, and not sabotaging yourself--" 

you tap a finger on your chin. "do not recall." 

"you're not getting out of this one." 

"we'll go to bed when the cookies are done," you say, so simply, turning back around, purposefully avoiding his eyes. 

"hey," he says, tilting your head back towards him. "what's with that?" 

"what?" 

"your mischievous little smile." 

you pull away from his hands, shrugging. "don't know what you're talking about," you mumble.

peter pulls you away from the counter again, moving so that he can see you. "you planned this out." 

"hmm?" 

"being loud, the music, my favorite cookies..." peter stares at you, maybe amazed, maybe annoyed. 

you are completely silent. 

"oh, you--" peter laughs, digging a finger into your stomach to watch you squirm. "waking me up because you missed me, huh?" 

"peter--" 

he laughs when you giggle hysterically, trying to push his hands away. 

"what'd i do to deserve that, bub? you're always talking about--" 

"you win!" you gasp, "baby, i don't--" 

"--how important sleep is." 

"peter, c'mon, i can't--" 

"and what was that about 'you should go back to bed?'" peter demands, a smile playing at his lips. "you're the one that woke me up--"

"mercy," you plead. "i'm sorry," but you're laughing so hard that peter can feel your body shaking. 

one of his hands moves to cradle your cheek, getting you to look him right in the eyes. 

face bright and warm and every beautiful thing that peter isn't sure he deserves. 

"you're sorry?" 

"so terribly." 

"and you're going to stop drinking coffee this early in the morning?" 

you pout. "i didn't say anything about that." 

peter's hand reaches for your ribs again, and you squeal. 

"okay," you move away from him--not that he's letting you go. "okay. no more coffee." 

"good." 

and then peter stares at you, trying not to burst into laughter. 

you look like you're doing the same. 

peter raises a brow. 

"okay, to be fair--" you begin. 

"here we go." 

"you fell asleep so early. like, how old are you actually? because i thought you would at least make it to eight, but--" 

peter's jaw drops. 

you giggle at him, eyes crinkling at the sides. 

"did you just call me old?" 

"not explicitly." 

and then he pulls you even closer, tilting his head so he can whisper in your ear. "now you're in for it." 

the next morning, peter doesn't remember if you finished making the cookies. 

*

"peter," you whisper, almost close enough to taste his skin. 

to watch him breathe and wonder what it would be like to never stop. 

he doesn't budge. moves over and continues snoring into the pillow. 

so you laugh at him, sit down on the space he's so considerately made for you on the bed. 

you rub at his shoulder, frowning at how warm he is. 

"hey, kid," you say to him, glancing at the clock. "wake up." 

peter's eyes flutter the minimalist amount. 

you snort. 

"c'mon," you say. "it's almost noon. i would let you sleep but you're going to mess up your schedule..." 

he sniffs. tries to roll over again. 

you poke his cheek. 

"you should know that there is a water bottle right on your desk," you say, softly. "and that i am not afraid of you. or the water. at all." 

peter peaks an eye open. 

"there he is." 

he frowns. "would you really dump it on me?" 

you pretend to think about it. "i would kiss you awake first." 

"is that still an option?" 

you laugh and fall over him, cuddling deep into his skin. 

"woah," he says, but wraps an arm around your back, holding you closer. his fingertips tease at the back of your neck, daring. "have you been up long?" 

"since nine." 

"what'd you do?" 

"watched some tv. made breakfast. drew a mustache on your face in sharpie." 

peter's head lifts up, meeting your eyes. "really?" 

you laugh, trace his cupids brow. 

you admire the soft color of his skin. the pink to his cheeks and the flush that he has only this early in the afternoon. only after you've been laying on him. 

only with you; only with him. 

"shame," peter sighs. "i've been trying to grow it out." 

his nose meets yours, sweet and soft, and he's so close that you almost don't remember how to speak. 

how to breathe and pretend that it's normal. 

"i'll keep that in mind tomorrow morning," you whisper, just barely. 

peter lays back, pulling you with him. you watch the dimple on his cheek twitch and forget about doing anything else. 

*

peter doesn't bother to knock on the window when he gets in this late. 

he doesn't want to run the risk of waking you up--of worrying you with bruises that will be gone by morning, and making you leave the secure cocoon you've collected around yourself. 

blankets and wonderful thoughts and feelings that peter misses just a little bit too much right now. 

as soon as he's in your room, he's slipping his shoes off. 

he's looking at you and wondering how he ever managed to leave. 

he's taking off his jacket, dropping his bag on the floor, and trying not to shiver from the cold. 

he's staring at you, for just a little too long. 

he watches your face as you twitch in your sleep, a soft curve of your lips. a blank and peaceful face. 

peter's chest pinches at the idea of watching this any longer. 

so he crawls towards you, leaving a short and yearning kiss on your cheek. 

moving the covers just a little bit. so that he can fall into them with you. 

"hey, bub," he says to you, knowing that you can't hear. 

he lets himself fall into your bubble, taking up space that he knows you don't want. 

he moves some hair out of your eyes; smiles at the subtle twitch of your cheek. 

and then he kisses your hairline, wanting to spend all night staring at you. 

talking to you and listening to you speak back. memorizing the sound of your voice and every little thing that makes you laugh. 

he wants to fall asleep right here. right now. 

he wants to avoid the world and pretend that there isn't anything else. 

because maybe there isn't. 

even with the light from outside shining on your face--ruining the illusion--he smiles. 

he pulls you closer to him, cooing softly when you cuddle close to him, smiling in your sleep. 

and then he breathes out. 

falls asleep without a doubt in his mind. 

*

my masterlist here. 

tags: @moonlarking-blog​ @v1ci0us​ @preciousbabypeter​ @alexxavicry​ @directioner5life​  @inthegetawaycarwithtaylah​ @localrockstargf​

[vividraft]

a soft inconvenience ! *ੈ✩‧₊˚ - where they are magically turned into pets, and you have to turn them back ⋆·˚ ༘ *

⇢ ˗ˏˋ characters: Scar, Jinhsi, Changli

⇢ ˗ˏˋ readers gender not specified !

⇢ ˗ˏˋ important note: I struggled a lot with writing Scar, because he is very yandere-ish, and Changli because I don't know her personality that well...

⇢ ˗ˏˋ a/n: I wrote this in the middle of the night, because my insomnia wouldn't let me sleep... hope this is okay anyways!

masterlist

You’re a well renowned magician in Huanglong. You have dealt with pretty much every spell and curse in the book, and yet it still hits you by surprise, when one day a very unexpected person crosses your way. And not as their usual self, but as an animal, that fit’s them a little too well. 

Scar: 

“So I know this is funny and all, but I would really like to be turned back now…”, Scar sulked on your couch, while all you could do was laugh at the little red and white cat sitting in front of you. 

When you heard commotion from your front door, you quickly rushed out to see what it was. Yet when you opened a door, all you could see was a cat in the middle of some knocked over vases, looking at you innocently and expectantly. 

“I was trying to knock, I’m pretty new to being a cat you know”, Scar argued. 

You obviously understood the seriousness of the situation, and the fact that there was someone out there who was turning people into animals was something that had to be dealt with quickly. Turning someone back into their original state was also not something that was hard for you, but you wanted to use this situation a little to your advantage. 

And apparently Scar was starting to have his fun as well. 

“Hey- Scar get off the windowsill you’re gonna knock down-! My decorations…”, you will definitely make him pay you for those. 

“Wait! Not the flowers! Scar!!”, now he was really enjoying himself. 

“This is what you get for laughing”, if he wasn’t a cat right now, he would definitely have his annoyingly smug smile on his face. 

At this point you were chasing him around the house, unable to catch up to him. He was jumping around like he had been a cat his whole life, and you thought you were never able to catch him. Until you did. 

“Hey! Let me down! I wasn’t- ooohhh…”, Scar was suddenly real quiet when you started crawling him between his ears. Just like you would treat any other cat. 

You sat down on the couch with your new cat in your lap, and to your surprise, Scar even started purring! 

You would never let him live this down. 

“Oooh yeah right there…”, the red cat was basically melting in your lap, unaware of how you were already slowly turning him back into his human form. 

After just a few more minutes, you had a now human-form Scar lying with his head in your lap, and at that, you finally stopped crawling his head. 

“Hey, why’d you stop?”, Scar opened his eyes, just to see that he had his arms and legs back. 

He sat up, confused and presumably embarrassed. 

“You owe me one”, you giggled. 

Suddenly he laid back down in your leg. 

“Keep petting me, I didn’t say you could stop”

“Hell no get off my lap I have other things to do. You’re not as cute anymore”, you replied, pushing him off. 

“Nooooo pleaseeee I’ll do anything just pet meeeee!!!”

Great, now you have a big kitty crying in your living room. 

Jinhsi: 

It was a pretty warm day, and just to get some fresh air into your house, you opened a window. You would have expected anything, except for a swan to come flying into your house, almost hitting you in the face. 

A clumsily flying swan was something you had never seen before, usually they were very graceful fliers. Although most swans also don’t fly into other peoples homes. 

“y/n I need you help”, the swan sounded like it was on the verge of tears. 

“Wait- Jinhsi?!”, the realization struck you like lighting. The not-so-graceful swan in front of you was Jinhsi! 

“Yes it’s me! Iwastransformedintoaswanandidontknowbywhoand-”, the words were flooding out of here, incomprehensible and absolutely unstoppable. 

“Woah, okay Jinhsi calm down. Don’t worry we can fix this. It’s not the first time I have turned somebody from an animal into a human… or the other way around”

“Really? Thank you y/n, thank you-!”, her wings were flapping like crazy, and it was like she had absolutely no control over her own body.

You had to sit down on the floor next to her to reach her height. Never have you thought about how much a swan fits Jinhsi as an animal. Whoever had turned her into a swan knew which animals to associate with which people. You also needed to have a word with them though. 

“Okay Jinhsi I need you to calm down for this though okay?”

“O-okay”, Jinhsi tried to sit down next to you, but it looked a little clumsy. She really did not belong into the body of a swan. 

“Just relax, and lean against me”, you started petting her head, and she really seemed to relax at your touch. 

“This is not going to take long don’t worry I will fix this”, your soothing voice was indeed making Jinhsi a little sleepy. She should really take more breaks from her work. She wishes she could, but for now, your touch and your soothing voice were enough for her to take a break. 

Before she knew it, she was already back in her human form, eyes still closed, and her head on your shoulder, sitting next to you on your kitchen floor. 

It hurt you to ‘wake her’ from her utterly relaxed state, but she should know that she had been transformed back. 

“Hey Jinhsi, you’re back in your normal state”, Jinhsis eyes fluttered awake, and her head abruptly lifted from your shoulder. 

“Thank you so, so much y/n, I will pay you back with whatever you need!”, she said standing up, and you got up as well. 

“Personally, I don’t need anything, I’m content with everything I have- unless…”, an idea formed in your mind. 

“It would make me very happy if you would stay a little longer, just to relax. You seem a lot like you need a break from all your duties. Would it be okay for you to just stay here with me and hang out a little?”, hoping Jinhsi would accept your invite as a way of ‘paying you back’, you blinked at her expectantly.

“I guess… it wouldn’t hurt to stay a little longer”, Jinhsi smiled at you.

Changli: 

You were out, running errands, hoping from A to B like there was no tomorrow, hurriedly wanting to head home again. You wanted to take your usual way, till you came across a very remote street in Jinzhou, which could possibly make your way home faster by at least 5 minutes. Without a second thought you took the way. 

Strolling through the empty street you felt watched, and you really didn’t want to act on a mere feeling, until it got too strong, and you decided to turn around.  You would have expected anything - really anything - except for a pink fox to be jumping on you, making you stumble back and fall over. 

“You know you really shouldn’t walk through dark and empty alleyways on your own”, the fox’ voice was oddly familiar…  “Changli?” “Took you a second”, usually you were a little intimidated by her, but now in her fox form she looked so… “You look so cute!”, you reached out your hand to pet her, but she was faster than that, and quickly jumped out of the way, to your dismay.

“I need your help, you need to transform me back”, it was barely even a question. But neither was it a demand. It was a little like she assumed that you would do it no matter what.  “How are you so confident that I’m able to help you?”, you just wanted to play with her feelings a little… you will probably regret that.  “I know what you are capable of, y/n. Now just- please transform me back”, she was very clearly embarrassed. Easy to know that Changli did not like asking for help. 

“Okay fine I’ll help you, but not here. Let’s head home first”

Arriving at your place, Changli expectantly jumped in front of you. As if you were going to drop everything to help her, which you definitely would, but you didn’t like her assuming that. 

“Okay now we can figure something out”, you kneeled down on the floor with her. “What are you implying?” “If you let me pet you, I will transform you back!”, you clasped your hands together.  “y/n you know that there are other things I could help you with in return…” “Yes, I know, but you look so fluffy!” After a very long moment of silence, followed by a sigh, Changli closed her eyes.  “Fine, whatever you need to do”

You almost jumped in excitement at her words, and also didn’t hesitate for even just a moment. You started petting her soft fur, and crawling her under her chin, and Changli wouldn’t admit it - not in a thousand years - but she actually really enjoyed being petted. 

You had long transformed her back, but was still petting her head, just to see how long she would take to notice that she is back in her original state. 

Suddenly a hand grabbed your wrist. 

Changli brought your hand down from her hand and held it for just a moment. 

“Thank you for your help, we are now more than even”, a sly smile on her face reminded you that the Changli you knew was back.  “Both your fur and your hair are very soft you know-” She flicked your forehead at that. 

[leewritestoomuch]

Hello! This is my first ask and it may be very bad but here it is:

Can you do a headcanon of any dr.stone character with an always exhausted and introverted s/o? They’re just always exhausted with no reason why and they don’t like talking to people as that delays the possible time they could’ve been sleeping

If you do this, thank you from the bottom of my heart! Remember to have a great time and take care of yourself <3

P.S: may I be called 🍙 Anon?

Hi, 🍙 anon! Thank you for your request!

Dr. Stone Characters with a Constantly Exhausted! Introvert! S/O.

The characters I chose for this are: Senku, Gen, Chrome, Ryusui, Hyoga, and Francois.

Random fun fact: I have the same MBTI as Senku! INTP! (Joel Gear from the manga also has the same type)

Senku Ishigami

Before you’re even dating, he may notice your constant exhaustion. It likely worries him, and he will probably try to seek out the cause.

He might confront you about how you’re sleeping at night, in order to offer advice, but even then, he makes the kingdom of science pull ungodly feets so he might just assume it’s all that hard work.

He’ll likely assume you have hyposomnia, or maybe insomnia at night, leading to sleeping throwout the day. Or something similar.

If it’s none of those, just how you are. He’ll except that and let you sleep periodically when you need to.

But he’ll likely remind you about how much sleep is TOO much sleep.

He really just means the best for you.

So if you need help sleeping better at night to prevent sleeping so much during the day, he’d make sleep drugs or melatonin.

He’s an introvert too, so he’d understand any of your personality traits pretty well.

If you just want to be alone, he understands that and will give you space.

If you don’t like big groups and need a break, that’s okay. But they need 800 manganese batteries so you can do that while you’re alone :)

He’s not very affectionate, so he’d show his love for you by giving you inventions to help you in any way you need, rather he makes them or asks a friend for a favor. So if that’s a pillow? There is left over fabric, he can ask Yuzuriha to sew it together for you.

Gen Asagiri

He understands, but he, like Senku, would be concerned.

He’d likely be trying to figure out if it’s a mental health issue. Or something typical, but harmful, like “revenge bed time.”

Insomnia can be caused by anxiety, or something of that sort. And same goes for hyposomnia.

If he rules you have neither, or even if you do, he’ll do anything he can to help you. Maybe by convincing you to go to bed earlier.

He likely would know it’s more than just this new world and the work Senku has everybody doing.

If he gets a chance though, he’s taking a nap with you. I think he’d be the type to hold you or let you sleep on his shoulder if you want.

Then he’d tell Senku he simply can’t work at the moment because it’d require waking you. (Senku would invent the megaphone just to wake you to do work)

Gen isn’t an introvert himself, but he has a strong understanding of mentalism, of course.

He’d understand you completely. And if the social life gets to be a lot, he’s got some ways to deal with it to help you.

Overall, he’d understand you don’t really want to be around everybody all the time. And that may include him.

Chrome

Are you… sick?

That was his first thought. But he’s smart. So it puts it together after talking to you.

If you have trouble sleeping at night, he’ll do anything he can to help.

If you sleep fine at night, but just sleep more anyways. He’d be a bit confused, especially if you are from the past. It’s a bit weird to see in a fast paced, grit and grind kind of life style.

He’ll do any work or scavenging or whatever all by himself if you need to catch up on some sleep, he really doesn’t mind! Because, yeah he likes your company, but he values your comfort (and safety, he doesn’t want you to fall asleep in a dangerous situation or to be too tired to think)

Really, he might have one of the least understanding of any of these terms and stuff out of anyone on this list, but he will likely be the sweetest one. He’s a quick learner too, so just tell him about your needs and he’ll respect that and work around that.

If you fell asleep on him, he’d be a blushing mess. Just saying.

He doesn’t have a great understanding of introverted vs extroverted people in terms of like terms and stuff. But he can tell some people are more social and lively, some people are more reserved.

So he doesn’t have a hard time adapting to your life style.

For example, if you want to stay in even though there is a party, he’d likely stay with you. He’s happiest where you are. (He might lightly nudge you towards just dropping by to say hi, especially if it’s a celebration of an accomplishment you both were a part of)

Ryusui Nanami

You’re tired? He’ll ask Francois to prepare you a bed if you don’t have one where they are.

You don’t want to walk? He’s carrying you.

You fall asleep on his shoulder? If anybody wakes you, they owe you 1000 dragos for the inconvenience to you. (He’ll likely wake you up accidentally and try to give you the money he threatened other people to have to give you. Tell him to put the dragos back)

Literally the most excessive man ever. He desires the best for you. (I love this man omg)

He’s not much help for an introvert though.

He’s always doing the most. Literally.

So quiet time usually means time AWAY from him. But don’t get it twisted, he can be quiet for you. If you want him to just spend time with you, but need silence. He can.

He’d be okay with just being in the same space together. He might be building a ship model while you sleep a few feet away. He’ll try to be quiet!

Or if you want a quiet night in, play him at chess. (Sai is shaking in his boots)

Francois

Anything you need is yours.

A drink on your bed side table? It’s yours.

Dating or not, they treat you so well.

If you are dating, they keep professional until nobody is looking. So it’s likely they don’t treat you any differently than everybody else until you’re both away from prying eyes.

You would also be the only one to see Francois rest, and know Francois does in fact run out of stamina. They are no Taiju.

So you’d likely take naps together.

I don’t see them being super physically affectionate, so likely just being within the same space as each other.

They treat you pretty much the same if you’re an extrovert or introvert, but an introvert would likely be preferred for them anyways. Seeing as they likely prefer quiet and peace when they get the chance.

Hyoga Akatsuki

I saved the worst for last :)

Now it depends on when he met you how he treats you, but how he thinks of you remains about the same.

At first, either way, he’d think you’re weak and likely wouldn’t give you time of day.

Now, if you’re strong beyond just being exhausted, now you’re talking.

Or if you’re super intelligent and can use that as strength.

You’d have to have something to make him gain respect for you to even get together.

He doesn’t have much time for your issues, or pity.

He says, at least. But he finds himself doing small things behind your back to make it easier on you.

If you two, for any reason, went out on a scouting or scavenging mission together, he’d stand guard and watch while you sleep. He says he’s stronger so it makes sense, but really he just thinks you should rest.

He’s come to care about you, rather he’ll admit it or not.

He’ll give you a, ever so slightly reluctant, helping hand when you need it.

He’d prefer an introverted s/o, likely, because he doesn’t have any interest in being encouraged to be social and lively.

He’d be the type to just like to be in the same room, at the same time, and that’s bonding.

Thank you so much for the request. I hope I did your vision justice :) have a wonderful day!

[mcrdvcks]

Sweet Dreams - Chapter 2

Chapter Summary: Alexandria starts to attend classes while also struggling with insomnia.

Word Count: 15.2k+

Pairing: Logan (X-Men) x Original Female Character (platonic relationship)

Notes: i meant to update yesterday, but imma be real, college is no joke, especially when you're like me and have chronic insomnia and get 4 hours of sleep on a good day.

anyways, quick note. when dialogue is italicized it means alexandria, or other characters, are talking in a different language, usually russian. some words i kept in russian only because alexandria uses them often (they're pretty much just curse words).

i had no idea this chapter was 15k, oops

Series Masterlist - Chapter 1 → Chapter 3

AO3 Link For Chapter

Alexandria looked down at the paper schedule in her hand. There were 4 classes for the day, each to be repeated every day.

She thought HYDRA was bad? This was almost the same thing. Or maybe she was just exaggerating.

After a week of getting used to the environment, Professor Xavier thought it best for her to start classes. Kitty was taking her to her first period, which was chemistry taught by Hank.

“Mr. McCoy isn’t a bad teacher.” Kitty said, as they walked, “if you end up taking any sort of biology or mutant physiology, then you’ll get Dr. MacTaggert. She’s a bit harsher.”

Kitty continued to talk as they walked down the hallway, her tone light and conversational. Alexandria appreciated that Kitty didn’t try too hard to make her feel at ease, but instead just talked about things that might be useful. It was a different approach than what Alexandria was used to, and it made her feel slightly less on edge.

“Mr. McCoy—well, Hank, really—he’s great with chemistry. He’s one of the smartest people I know,” Kitty said with a small smile. “And he’s really patient, which helps if you’re, you know, new to all this.”

Alexandria nodded, though she wasn’t sure how much that would matter. She had a lot of catching up to do, considering she didn’t even know how a computer worked until last week. The thought of trying to keep up with the other students in a subject as complex as chemistry made her stomach twist, but she kept her face neutral.

As they neared the classroom, Kitty paused, turning to face Alexandria. “Listen, I know it’s a lot to take in. I was pretty overwhelmed when I first got here too. But if you need anything—help with classes, or just someone to talk to—I’m around.”

Before Alexandria could respond, Scott walked in between the two of them, placing an arm around each of their shoulders. Alexandria furrowed her brows at the action.

“Don’t worry Kitty. I’ll help her, I have chemistry too.” Scott raised a hand in front of Alexandria as she stared at it.

Was this an American gesture? She doesn’t think she’s seen this in HYDRA before.

Alexandria stared at Scott's raised hand; her expression blank as she tried to decipher what he wanted from her. It took her a moment to realize it was a gesture meant to be friendly, maybe even encouraging. Slowly, she lifted her own hand and awkwardly slapped it against his, feeling utterly out of her depth.

Scott chuckled. “High five! We’ll work on that.”

She didn’t respond, unsure of what to make of the entire interaction. It felt forced, unnatural. She’d spent the last week trying to figure out how to exist in this strange new environment, but every day felt like she was trying to wear someone else’s skin. Nothing fit right.

Kitty noticed Alexandria's discomfort and shot Scott a look that was a mix of exasperation and amusement. “Come on, Scott, don’t scare her off before her first class.”

Scott grinned, stepping back and giving Alexandria some space. “Relax, Kitty, I’m just being welcoming.”

“Yeah, well, maybe ease up on the enthusiasm a little,” Kitty suggested, rolling her eyes before turning back to Alexandria. “Like I said, if you need anything, just let me know.”

“Sure,” Alexandria replied, her voice clipped, but not intentionally. It was just how she spoke—short, to the point, without the usual pleasantries most people added in. She wasn’t used to them, didn’t see the point.

Kitty seemed to understand that and didn’t push for more. “Alright, see you later then.”

As Kitty walked off, Scott led Alexandria into the classroom. The room was filled with lab tables, each equipped with the standard chemistry setup—Bunsen burners, glassware, and various other tools that Alexandria was only vaguely familiar with.

The other students were already seated, some chatting in low voices, others reviewing their notes. Alexandria felt their eyes on her as she followed Scott to a table near the back. She hated the scrutiny, but she was getting used to it. It seemed like everyone here was curious about the new girl.

“Here we are,” Scott said, pulling out a stool for her. “Hank’s a cool guy. You’ll be fine.”

She nodded stiffly, taking the seat and glancing around the room. She wasn’t sure what to do with herself. She didn’t have any notes, didn’t even have a pencil. The realization made her stomach twist again, but she forced herself to keep her expression neutral. No one needed to know how out of place she felt.

Scott noticed her empty hands and frowned. “You didn’t bring anything?”

She shook her head. “I wasn’t given any supplies.”

Scott frowned, glancing at his own neatly organized notes and pens. “Don’t worry, I’ve got extras. Here.” He handed her a pen and a blank notebook.

She took them, feeling a mix of relief and frustration. She hated relying on others for anything, but she didn’t have much of a choice right now. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” Scott said, leaning back in his seat just as the classroom door swung open.

Hank McCoy, or Mr. McCoy as everyone here seemed to call him, strode in with a calm and confident air. “Good morning, everyone,” Hank began, his voice reassuring. “I hope you all had a restful night and are ready to dive into the wonders of chemistry.”

The class responded with a mix of murmurs and nods. Hank’s gaze swept over the room, landing on Alexandria for a brief moment before he gave her a small, welcoming nod. She returned it with a curt one of her own, not sure how else to respond.

“We have a new student joining us today,” Hank continued, gesturing towards Alexandria. “This is Alexandria Sokolova. Let’s make her feel welcome.”

There were a few more murmurs, but nothing too intrusive. Most of the students just gave her a brief glance before turning back to their own work. That was fine with her. She didn’t need or want their attention.

Hank moved on quickly, diving into the day’s lesson. He explained the concept of chemical bonding with a level of detail and enthusiasm that would’ve been impressive if Alexandria had any clue what he was talking about.

As it was, she found herself lost within the first five minutes, the terms and equations swirling in her head like a foreign language. She tried to keep up, scribbling down notes as best she could, but it felt hopeless. She’d never had formal schooling like this. Everything she knew was learned in HYDRA’s training facilities, and none of it involved covalent bonds or molecular structures.

Scott noticed her struggle and leaned over, keeping his voice low so as not to disturb the class. “Don’t stress about it. Hank’s really good about explaining things if you need help.”

She gritted her teeth, hating that she needed help in the first place. “I’ll figure it out.”

“Hey, no pressure. Just letting you know you’ve got options,” Scott said, his tone light and nonchalant.

The rest of the class went by in a blur. Alexandria spent most of it trying to make sense of what Hank was saying, but it was like trying to catch water with a sieve. By the time the bell rang, signaling the end of the period, she was exhausted. Mentally, at least.

As the students began packing up, Hank approached her table. “Alexandria, how did you find the lesson?”

She hesitated, not wanting to admit how much she hadn’t understood. But lying didn’t seem like a good option either. “It was... a lot to take in.”

Hank nodded, his expression kind. “That’s perfectly understandable. You’re adjusting to a lot of new things. If you ever need extra help, don’t hesitate to ask. I’m here to make sure you succeed.”

She nodded, though she didn’t quite believe him. Success wasn’t something she was used to, and she doubted it would come easy here.

“Thank you,” she said, the words feeling foreign on her tongue.

“You’re welcome,” Hank replied with a warm smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She nodded again, then quickly gathered her things and followed Scott out of the classroom. They walked in silence for a bit, and she was grateful that Scott didn’t try to fill it with more idle chatter. She needed a moment to collect herself.

Finally, Scott spoke up. “Next up is math. It’s with Ms. Frost.”

Hank she had met when she’d first got here, but this Frost woman she hadn’t heard of yet.

"Who’s Ms. Frost?" Alexandria asked as she and Scott walked down the hallway toward the next classroom. Her tone was flat, but there was a hint of curiosity behind it. After the chaos of the last class, she wanted to know what she was walking into this time.

Scott glanced at her sideways. "Emma Frost. She’s… well, she’s different. She teaches math, but she’s also a telepath, one of the most powerful ones here. She doesn’t exactly have a soft touch."

"Great," Alexandria muttered under her breath. A telepath. Just what she needed.

Scott caught the tone in her voice and tried to reassure her. "Don’t worry. She’s tough, but she’s fair. If you put in the effort, she’ll respect that."

Alexandria wasn’t sure if she cared about earning anyone’s respect, especially not from a teacher who could read her mind. The idea of someone poking around in her head made her uneasy, but she wasn’t about to show that to Scott.

When they reached the classroom, Scott pushed open the door, revealing a sleek, modern room with large windows letting in plenty of light. The walls were lined with bookshelves, and at the front was a large whiteboard filled with complex equations.

The students were already seated, and Alexandria noticed immediately how different the atmosphere was from the last class. There was a tension here, an unspoken understanding that you didn’t mess around in Ms. Frost’s class.

Emma Frost stood at the front, her presence commanding without needing to say a word. She was tall, blonde, and dressed impeccably in a white suit that looked like it cost more than Alexandria’s entire wardrobe. Her expression was cool, almost indifferent, but her eyes were sharp, taking in everything with a single glance.

Scott led Alexandria to a seat near the middle of the room. As she sat down, she couldn’t help but feel like she was under a microscope. Emma’s gaze flicked toward her, and for a moment, Alexandria wondered if the woman was already inside her head.

“Class,” Emma’s voice was smooth, cutting through the quiet murmur of the students, “we have a new student joining us today. Alexandria Sokolova.” She said the name as if she were tasting it, evaluating it. “I expect you all to help her catch up, though I’m sure she won’t need much assistance.”

The way she said it, it was hard to tell if it was a compliment or a challenge. Alexandria kept her face impassive, refusing to give anything away.

“Open your textbooks to page 157,” Emma continued without missing a beat. “Today we’ll be covering logarithmic functions. For those of you who found last week’s lesson difficult, I suggest you pay close attention.”

As Emma began the lesson, Alexandria tried to follow along, but the pace was relentless. It was clear that Emma Frost didn’t waste time with handholding. She expected everyone to keep up, and if you couldn’t, that was your problem. The students around her were focused, scribbling down notes with a speed that made Alexandria feel like she was moving in slow motion.

She gripped her pen tightly, trying to force herself to understand the equations on the board. Numbers and symbols blurred together, and she could feel frustration building in her chest. The last thing she wanted was to fall behind, to look weak, but the material was completely foreign to her.

Scott glanced over at her again, noticing the tension in her posture. “If you need help, just ask,” he whispered, his voice low so Emma wouldn’t hear.

“I’m fine,” Alexandria replied through gritted teeth, her pride refusing to let her admit how much she was struggling.

Emma paused in her lecture and turned her icy blue eyes directly on Alexandria. “Miss Sokolova, since you’re new, why don’t you come up to the board and solve this equation?”

Alexandria felt her heart skip a beat. She wasn’t prepared for this, but there was no way out. Standing up, she walked to the front of the room, feeling the weight of everyone’s eyes on her. She stared at the equation Emma had written on the board, trying to make sense of it, but it was like looking at a foreign language.

After a long moment of silence, Emma spoke again, her tone calm but with an edge to it. “Take your time, Miss Sokolova. We’re all waiting.”

The pressure was suffocating, but Alexandria refused to back down. She raised the marker to the board and began to work through the problem, her mind racing to piece together the bits of information she understood. The room was so quiet she could hear her own heartbeat, and she knew that every mistake she made was being scrutinized.

Finally, she stepped back, unsure if what she had done was correct but unwilling to admit defeat.

Emma studied the board for a moment, then turned to face Alexandria. “Not quite,” she said, her voice sharp enough to cut. “You’ve missed a crucial step here. Let me show you.”

With a few swift strokes, Emma corrected the equation, explaining where Alexandria had gone wrong. The explanation was clear, precise, but there was no warmth in her tone, no encouragement.

“Understand?” Emma asked, fixing her gaze on Alexandria.

“Yes,” Alexandria replied, though she wasn’t entirely sure she did. It was more of a reflex, a refusal to show any more weakness than she already had.

“Good,” Emma said, her expression neutral. “You may sit down.”

As Alexandria walked back to her seat, she could feel the eyes of her classmates on her, judging her performance. She hated the feeling, but there was nothing she could do about it. She just had to get through this class, through the day, and keep her head above water.

The rest of the lesson passed in a blur, with Emma moving quickly through the material, barely giving anyone time to breathe. By the time the bell rang, signaling the end of the period, Alexandria felt like she had been through a battle.

Scott waited for her as she gathered her things, his expression sympathetic. “That was tough. But hey, you didn’t completely bomb it.”

“Thanks,” she muttered, not sure if she believed him. She knew she had messed up, and she hated how it made her feel. But at the same time, is it really her fault? She’s never done any of this in her entire life. Never done math, or science, the only learning she did was learning 10 different languages.

“Next up is English,” Scott said, trying to keep the mood light. “Storm teaches it.”

Alexandria furrowed her brow at the mention of English class. "English? You need a class to learn about the language we're already speaking?"

Scott chuckled, shaking his head. "Not quite. It’s more about literature, reading, writing—stuff like that. Storm—well, Ms. Munroe—teaches it. She’s cool. A lot more relaxed than Frost, for sure.”

She nodded, though the concept still seemed odd to her. In HYDRA, language classes meant learning multiple foreign tongues for intelligence purposes, not sitting in a room discussing stories or essays. But then again, everything here was different. She’d just have to adapt.

Scott led her down the hallway, and soon they were standing in front of the English classroom. The door was propped open, and the room inside was much less intimidating than the previous one. Natural light streamed in through large windows, and the walls were lined with bookshelves filled with various novels and texts. The atmosphere was warm and inviting, a stark contrast to the cold, clinical feel of Emma Frost’s classroom.

Ororo was already at her desk, her silver-white hair cascading down her shoulders. She exuded a calm presence that immediately put Alexandria at ease, at least compared to what she’d just experienced.

“Good morning, Scott. Alexandria,” Storm greeted them with a gentle smile as they walked in. She had a way of making everyone feel seen, like they mattered, even if they were just two of many students.

“Morning, Ms. Munroe,” Scott replied with a nod, heading to a seat near the middle of the room.

Alexandria hesitated for a moment before following him. She wasn’t sure what to expect, but at least this room didn’t make her want to turn and bolt in the opposite direction. She took a seat next to Scott, placing her borrowed notebook and pen on the desk in front of her.

Ororo stood up and walked to the front of the class, her movements graceful and deliberate. “Today, we’ll continue our discussion on ‘To Kill a Mockingbird.’ For those who are new or need a refresher,” she glanced at Alexandria, her smile kind but not patronizing, “we’re exploring themes of morality, justice, and prejudice through the lens of this classic novel.”

The title was familiar, though only in passing. Alexandria had never had the chance to read it—HYDRA had no use for novels in their training regimens. She sat stiffly in her seat, trying not to let her unease show. The other students began pulling out their copies of the book, and she felt another pang of anxiety. She didn’t have the book, and even if she did, she doubted she’d understand what was going on.

Ororo seemed to sense her discomfort. “Alexandria, would you like to borrow a copy? I have an extra one right here.” She held up a well-worn copy of the novel.

Alexandria hesitated before nodding. “Yes, please.”

Ororo handed her the book, her expression calm and understanding. “Take your time with it. We’re here to discuss and explore, not to rush through anything.”

Alexandria nodded again, grateful for the teacher’s measured approach. As the class began discussing the novel, she opened the book to the marked chapter and tried to follow along. It wasn’t easy—there were a lot of references and concepts she didn’t fully grasp—but the discussion was lively and engaging, with students sharing their thoughts and interpretations.

Ororo encouraged everyone to speak, even if their opinions differed. It was a strange concept to Alexandria, who was used to a rigid hierarchy where differing opinions were seen as dissent. Here, though, it was almost expected. She remained silent for most of the class, taking in the way others interacted, the way they expressed themselves without fear of reprimand.

About halfway through the period, Ororo posed a question to the class. “How do you think the events in the novel reflect the moral dilemmas we face in our own lives? Are there parallels between the story and the challenges we encounter today?”

The students began discussing, some drawing connections between the novel’s themes and issues of justice or prejudice in modern society. Alexandria listened intently, trying to piece together the context and the relevance of the conversation. It was so different from anything she’d experienced before, where morality was dictated, not debated.

Ororo turned her gaze to Alexandria, not in a way that put her on the spot, but more as an invitation. “Alexandria, do you have any thoughts on this? I’d be interested to hear your perspective.”

Alexandria blinked, caught off guard. She hadn’t expected to be asked to contribute, especially when she felt so out of her depth. But there was no hostility in Ororo’s expression, only genuine curiosity.

“I… don’t really know,” Alexandria began, choosing her words carefully. “I’m still trying to understand the story. The idea of… debating morality like this… it’s new to me.”

Ororo nodded, her expression thoughtful. “That’s okay. It’s a complex topic, and it’s perfectly fine to take your time with it. We’re all here to learn from each other.”

The class continued without any further pressure on Alexandria to participate, and she was grateful for it. As they discussed the novel, she began to see the value in these kinds of conversations, even if they were unfamiliar and a bit uncomfortable for her.

When the bell rang, signaling the end of the class, Ororo gave the students their assignment—a short essay on the moral dilemmas faced by the characters in the novel. Alexandria inwardly groaned at the thought of writing an essay. She wasn’t sure she even knew how to write one, let alone analyze something as nuanced as morality in a fictional story.

As the students began to file out of the classroom, Ororo called out to Alexandria. “Could you stay for a moment, Alexandria? I’d like to have a quick word.”

Scott gave her an encouraging nod before leaving the room, and Alexandria walked up to Ororo’s desk, trying to keep her nerves in check.

“You’re doing well, Alexandria,” Ororo said, her tone warm and reassuring. “I know this is all new to you, but you’re adjusting. I wanted to offer you some additional help if you need it. We can work together after class or during free periods to go over the material. Whatever you need to feel more comfortable.”

Alexandria was silent for a moment, her pride warring with her need for help. She didn’t want to appear weak, didn’t want to rely on anyone, but she knew she was out of her depth. Finally, she gave a small nod. “I… might need that.”

Ororo smiled, a genuine one that reached her eyes. “There’s no shame in asking for help. We all need it from time to time. Just let me know when you’re ready, and we’ll go from there.”

“Thank you,” Alexandria said, her voice quieter than she intended. It felt strange to be treated with such kindness without any ulterior motive. She wasn’t used to it, but she was beginning to see that maybe, just maybe, not everyone was out to use her.

“You’re welcome,” Ororo replied. “Now, don’t worry too much about the essay. Just try your best. We’ll work on it together if you need to.”

Alexandria nodded, feeling a bit lighter as she left the classroom. This day had been overwhelming, but at least she knew there were people here willing to help her navigate it all.

As she stepped into the hallway, she was met with the gruff voice of someone she’d rather not have run into at that moment.

“Looks like you survived Frost’s class.”

Alexandria turned to see Logan leaning against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. His usual scowl was in place, but there was a hint of something else in his expression—maybe concern, though she wasn’t sure he was capable of it.

“Barely,” she replied, her tone flat. “What are you doing here?”

“Just checking in,” he said, though it didn’t sound like something he’d normally do. “How’s it going?”

She narrowed her eyes, suspicious of his sudden interest. “Why do you care?”

Logan shrugged, his expression unreadable. “Don’t, really. But Chuck asked me to keep an eye on you. Make sure you’re not causing trouble.”

Alexandria rolled her eyes. He always seemed to be right in front of her when all she wanted was to be alone. Instead of coming up with a retort to his ‘causing trouble’ quip, she went with something else. “I have to go to my,” she took the folded piece of paper out of her jacket’s pocket, “US History class.”

“Come on then, kid.” Logan pushed himself off the wall and started to walk down the slowly emptying hallway.

Alexandria blinked in response before walking to catch up to Logan. “Kitty already showed me where the class was,” she said.

Logan grunted, glancing at her sideways. “Yeah, well, I’m sure Kitty did. Doesn’t mean I can’t walk you there.”

She looked at her schedule as they walked, noticing the letters next to the class periods where the teacher’s names were. Alexandria looked up from her schedule, her gaze meeting Logan's. "You teach history?"

Logan’s expression didn’t change much. “Yeah, I teach history. Got a problem with that?”

“No,” Alexandria replied, her tone clipped. “Just surprised.”

Logan shrugged. “Most people are. History’s not exactly a popular subject around here.”

As they walked down the hallway, Logan's steps were quick and purposeful, and Alexandria found herself having to match his pace. “You might want to pay attention. History’s not just about dates and events. It’s about understanding what led to those events.”

“Thanks for the tip,” Alexandria said, though her voice was laced with sarcasm.

Logan didn’t seem to notice or care. “Yeah, well, just don’t expect me to go easy on you.”

“I wouldn’t want you to,” Alexandria shot back, her tone challenging. “I’ve had enough of that.”

Logan grunted, glancing at her sideways. “You know, you might actually fit in better around here than you think.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Oh? How’s that?”

“You’ve got that look,” Logan said. “The one that says you’ve been through some crap and come out the other side. People here have been through their own share of it.”

Alexandria didn’t reply immediately. She’d always prided herself on keeping her emotions in check, but there was something in Logan’s observation that made her pause. “And what makes you think I’m interested in fitting in?”

“Just a hunch,” Logan said with a shrug. “Sometimes it helps to have someone who gets it.”

The hallway ended, and they reached the door to the history classroom. Logan opened it and motioned for Alexandria to go in. “There you go. Don’t get too comfortable. History’s not going to be any easier than the rest of your classes.”

Alexandria stepped inside, glancing around the room. It was less intimidating than Emma Frost’s classroom but still had an air of seriousness to it. Logan followed her in and gestured to a seat near the front.

“Take a seat,” Logan said gruffly. “Class should be starting soon.”

Alexandria sat down, feeling a bit more settled now that she was in a familiar environment. Logan walked to the front of the room and began arranging his notes. The classroom started to fill up with students, their chatter a low hum in the background.

As Logan started the lesson, his gruff demeanor didn’t change. He dived right into the topic, talking about significant historical events with a no-nonsense attitude. Alexandria tried to focus, but her mind kept drifting back to the earlier classes. The pace of everything was overwhelming, and she was still trying to catch up.

“Alright, enough with the small talk,” Logan said abruptly, drawing Alexandria’s attention back to him. “Today we’re starting with the American Revolution. Anyone want to tell me why it was significant?”

A few hands went up, and Logan called on a student to answer. Alexandria found herself struggling to keep up with the discussion. She’d never had to study this kind of history before, and the different context made it even more challenging.

Logan’s eyes flickered toward Alexandria occasionally, as if assessing her. “You’ll need to do your reading,” he said at one point, his voice low enough that only she could hear. “The textbook’s on the shelf in the back. Grab it if you need it.”

“Thanks,” Alexandria said, though her voice was tinged with frustration. She stood and walked to the back of the room, grabbing a textbook and flipping it open to the right section. She tried to immerse herself in the material, but the words seemed to dance around on the page.

She didn’t even know who these people were: George Washington, Alexander Hamilton, Thomas Jefferson, John Adams- why did they all look the same?

When the bell rang, signaling the end of the period, Alexandria felt a sense of relief. She packed her things and prepared to leave, but Logan stopped her before she could walk out.

“Hey,” he said, his tone a bit softer than usual. “Stick around for a minute.”

Alexandria paused, turning back to him. “What is it?”

Logan leaned against his desk, his expression slightly less gruff. “You’re struggling, and that’s fine. If you need any extra help or if you’ve got questions, just ask. I’m not gonna hold your hand, but I’ll make sure you get what you need.”

She wasn’t quite sure how to respond, so she stuck with a nod before leaving the classroom.

---

After 4 days of school, the weekend came along. Which was great because she was exhausted. Who knew school could be more exhausting than 20-hour torture and experimentation sessions?

A knock came on her door around 11 o’clock on Saturday as she opened it to find Natasha and Wanda outside.

“Want to come on a shopping trip?” Natasha asked, her arms crossed but a small smile on her face.

Wanda looked into Alexandria’s room, “you don’t have many clothes, and it would be good for you to get out.”

Alexandria glanced around her sparse room, taking in the few clothes she had and the bare walls. She knew Wanda was right. She was still adjusting, and her wardrobe was a testament to that. But the thought of going out, especially on a shopping trip with Natasha and Wanda, felt daunting.

But she did like their company more than some of the others she had met.

“I don’t know,” Alexandria said, her voice a mix of uncertainty and irritation. “I’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”

Natasha’s expression softened a bit, though she still had that usual edge about her. “We won’t be gone all day. Just a few hours. It’ll do you good to take a break.”

Alexandria hesitated, feeling torn between her need to keep up with her studies and the urge to escape her small, confining room. She knew she should take a break, but the thought of facing the outside world, even for a short while, made her uneasy.

Wanda chimed in, her tone gentle but firm. “It’s not just about clothes. It’s a chance to get to know the place better, to get out of your head for a bit.”

Alexandria sighed, feeling a bit overwhelmed. “Alright, fine. I’ll go.”

Natasha and Wanda exchanged a quick look of relief, and Natasha’s small smile widened slightly. “Great. Let’s get going then.”

As they walked out of the mansion and headed towards Natasha’s car, Alexandria couldn’t shake the feeling of apprehension. The streets outside were bustling with activity, a stark contrast to the quiet, controlled environment she was used to. She kept close to Natasha and Wanda, trying to ignore the growing sense of discomfort as they made their way to a nearby shopping district.

The shopping center was filled with people, the noise and activity almost overwhelming. Alexandria’s eyes darted around, trying to take it all in. She felt out of place, like she was on display in a world that was too vibrant and unfamiliar.

But, she felt a small amount of excitement ramping up. Last night, after Jean and Kitty helped her with homework, they showed her a website called Pinterest, and told her to look up whatever she wanted. Clothes, nail designs, outfits, hair styles. It was definitely a weird and new experience, but considering two weeks ago she didn’t know what a computer was, she supposed it wasn’t that weird.

Alexandria pulled out her phone, one Tony had shipping over a few days ago and logged into the account she made with Jean and Kitty’s help before showing a few outfit pictures to Natasha and Wanda.

“That’s a wide variety, kid.” Natasha commented.

“I… wasn’t sure what would look good on me. I’ve never been shopping.”

Wanda and Natasha exchanged a glance, the corners of Wanda's lips twitching into a small, sympathetic smile. "You don’t have to worry about that. We’ll figure it out together," Wanda said, her tone reassuring.

Natasha nodded, her voice steady and matter-of-fact. "The first time can be a bit overwhelming, but it's not as complicated as it seems. Just think of it as trying on different versions of yourself until something feels right."

Alexandria hesitated, feeling a bit awkward admitting her lack of experience. "I just… I don’t want to look stupid. I’ve never had to do this before."

Natasha’s gaze softened slightly, though her expression remained cool. "No one's judging you here. And if anyone does, they’ll have to deal with us," she added, a hint of a smirk playing on her lips.

Wanda chuckled, her laugh light and warm. "And trust me, nobody wants to mess with us."

Alexandria found herself relaxing a little at their words. She was still on edge, but at least she wasn’t alone in this. “Okay,” she said, her voice steadier. “Let’s do this.”

The three of them walked through the mall, navigating the crowded corridors with ease. Natasha led the way, her sharp eyes scanning the stores while Wanda stayed close to Alexandria, offering quiet reassurance when she noticed her discomfort. They eventually entered a large clothing store, racks of clothing and mannequins on display creating a maze-like environment.

Natasha motioned to a section of the store that was filled with casual clothes—jeans, t-shirts, hoodies. "We can start here. Try picking out a few things that catch your eye."

Alexandria looked around, feeling overwhelmed by the sheer number of options. She took a deep breath and started walking through the racks, her fingers brushing over the different fabrics. She didn’t know what she was looking for, but she tried to focus on what felt right.

Wanda watched her for a moment before stepping closer, holding up a dark green hoodie with a small design on the front. "What about this? It’s simple but has some character."

Alexandria took the hoodie from Wanda, inspecting it closely. “I like it,” she admitted, surprised at how easily the words came out. She usually kept her thoughts to herself, especially when it came to things like this.

“Good,” Wanda said, her smile widening. “Let’s grab a few more things and head to the fitting rooms.”

Natasha was already holding a couple of items she’d picked out—a pair of black jeans and a gray t-shirt. “Try these too,” she said, handing them over. “You’ll need basics like this.”

Alexandria took the clothes, her arms now full, and followed Natasha and Wanda to the fitting rooms. Once inside, she hesitated for a moment before stepping into one of the small cubicles. She tried on the first outfit, the dark green hoodie and black jeans, and looked at herself in the mirror.

The reflection staring back at her was unfamiliar, but not in a bad way. She looked… normal. Like a regular teenager, not the trained operative HYDRA had molded her into. It was strange but also oddly comforting.

“How’s it going in there?” Natasha called from outside.

Alexandria took one last look at herself before opening the door. “I think I like it,” she said, her tone uncertain.

Wanda’s eyes lit up as she saw the outfit. “It looks great on you, Alexandria. You’ve got a good eye.”

Natasha nodded in agreement. “Solid choice. Comfortable but still stylish.”

Alexandria felt a small flicker of pride at their approval. “Thanks,” she said, her voice a little more confident. “I’ll try the other stuff now.”

She went back into the fitting room and tried on the other outfits they had picked out. Each time she emerged, Wanda and Natasha offered their thoughts, always encouraging but never pushy. By the time they were done, Alexandria had a small pile of clothes she actually liked, a mix of comfortable basics and a few pieces that added a bit of personality to her wardrobe.

As they walked up to the register, Alexandria couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of accomplishment. It wasn’t just about the clothes—it was about finally taking a step towards something that felt like her own choice.

Natasha glanced at the clothes in Alexandria’s arms and raised an eyebrow. “You did good, kid.”

“Yeah,” Alexandria said, a small smile tugging at her lips. “I guess I did.”

After paying for the clothes, they left the store and continued walking through the mall. Alexandria was carrying a few bags, and though the weight of them was light, the significance felt heavy in her mind.

Natasha seemed to notice, her sharp eyes catching everything. “You okay?” she asked, her voice neutral but with an underlying note of concern.

“Yeah,” Alexandria replied, her tone thoughtful. “Just… I don’t know. This feels weird.”

Wanda tilted her head slightly, her expression gentle. “Weird how?”

“Like I’m doing something normal,” Alexandria admitted, her voice quiet. “I’m not used to it.”

Natasha nodded, her face unreadable. “That’s understandable. But you’ve got to start somewhere.”

Wanda reached out and gave Alexandria’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “You’re doing great, Alexandria. Just take it one step at a time.”

Alexandria nodded, not entirely convinced but willing to try. “I will,” she said, her voice firmer than before.

As they continued walking through the mall, something caught Alexandria’s eye- a different store with a black shirt that she found… cute.

After picking out a few things from that store, Alexandria looked over at the card Natasha was using. "Whose card is that?"

Natasha looked over at her, “Tony’s.” She said, with a small smirk.

Alexandria gave a small huff of amusement before taking the card Natasha held out to her. She read over the numbers on the back, committing them to memory, which she knows Natasha approved of based on the smile still on her face.

Before she knew it, they drove back to the school with 7 bags of clothes and shoes for Alexandria.

When Natasha, Wanda, and Alexandria pulled into the driveway of the mansion, Alexandria was struck by a mix of exhaustion and satisfaction. The shopping trip had been a whirlwind, and though she’d felt overwhelmed at times, she was glad she’d gone. It was a small victory in her new, unfamiliar life.

“Thanks for today,” Alexandria said, her tone genuine despite her usual reserve. “It really helped.”

Natasha gave her a small smile. “Glad you think so. Just remember, don’t let it all go to your head.”

Wanda nodded in agreement. “And if you ever need a break or more shopping, just let us know.”

Alexandria nodded, feeling a bit more at ease. “I will. Thanks again.”

As they headed inside with the bags, Natasha and Wanda left her to unpack and relax, promising to catch up with her later. Alexandria made her way to her room, feeling the weight of the day lift as she finally reached her sanctuary.

She started unpacking her new clothes, trying to organize them into her limited closet space. The process felt oddly satisfying, and for the first time in a while, she allowed herself to relax, letting her thoughts drift as she worked.

---

As much as she would’ve loved the weekend to last forever, it didn’t. Because it was once again Monday which meant more classes and more work.

This place definitely seemed worse than HYDRA. At least there she didn’t have to learn about useless things like chemistry, math, history, or English.

One good thing did happen during breakfast, where she begrudgingly sat with Kitty, Scott, Jean, and a few other kids. Her and Jean had happened to walk through the lunch line together when Jean had complemented her outfit.

It was the shirt she liked in the window at the mall, with a cut-out in the shoulders, tucked into jeans, and paired with black combat boots.

She liked compliments, Alexandria realized. But she wasn’t sure she was willing to give any out yet herself.

When she walked into her third period, English, Ororo was already at her desk, chatting with a few students. Alexandria took a seat towards the back, pulling out her notebook and trying to focus on the lecture. The class was discussing ‘To Kill a Mockingbird’ again, and while Alexandria had made some progress in understanding the book over the weekend, she still felt out of her depth.

In fact, she never had to read much in English. She usually read in Russian. So, some of the words on paper seemed odd.

The class went by in a blur of discussions about morality and justice, and Alexandria found herself half-listening while trying to jot down notes. It wasn’t until the bell rang that she realized just how tired she was.

During the brief break between classes, she found herself in the cafeteria with Scott, Jean, and Kitty. They were gathered around a table, chatting and laughing about the latest school gossip.

“Hey, Alexandria,” Jean greeted her warmly. “How’s the new wardrobe working out?”

“Good,” Alexandria replied, feeling a bit self-conscious but also pleased by the attention. “Thanks for the compliment on the shirt.”

“You looked great,” Jean said with a smile. “It really suits you.”

“Yeah, definitely,” Scott added. “You’ve got a good sense of style.”

Alexandria shrugged, not used to receiving such positive reinforcement. “I guess. I’m still figuring things out.”

The conversation shifted to other topics, but Alexandria found herself feeling slightly more comfortable in their company. The casual banter was a nice change from the more intense atmosphere of her classes.

When the lunch period ended, she found herself heading to her next class—US History, which Logan taught. She was dreading it a bit, knowing that Logan's gruff demeanor might make the class even more challenging.

As she walked into the classroom, she saw Logan at his desk, already preparing for the lesson. His usual scowl was in place, and he didn’t look particularly thrilled to be there.

“Morning,” Alexandria said as she entered, trying to sound casual.

Logan glanced up from his desk, his eyes briefly meeting hers. “Yeah, morning. Take a seat.”

She sat down in her usual spot, trying to ignore the lingering sense of unease. The class was about to start, and Logan began discussing the American Revolution with his usual no-nonsense attitude.

Alexandria struggled to keep up with the rapid pace of the lecture. The details about the Founding Fathers and the various battles felt overwhelming. It was hard to wrap her head around the significance of it all, especially given her lack of background in this kind of history.

The rest of the class continued with Logan’s usual blunt style, which made it difficult to relax. By the end of the period, Alexandria felt mentally exhausted.

When the bell rang, signaling the end of the class, Alexandria quickly packed up her things and headed out of the room. She wanted to avoid any more interaction with Logan if she could help it. But as she made her way to her next class, she found herself unexpectedly intercepted by Logan.

“Hey,” he said, his tone more subdued than usual. “Stick around for a minute.”

Alexandria glanced at him, her brow furrowing. “What’s up?”

Logan leaned against the wall, his arms crossed. “You seem like you’re struggling. Just wanted to see if you need any help.”

“Here we go again.” Alexandria muttered to herself, her frustration slipping out in her native Russian. She turned back to Logan, her expression a mix of annoyance and wariness.

Logan raised an eyebrow. “You got something to say?”

Alexandria shrugged, trying to hide her irritation. “I just… this isn’t what I’m used to.”

Logan nodded, his expression unreadable. “Yeah, I get it. History's not everyone’s cup of tea. But if you’re struggling, it might help to get a bit of extra help.”

She eyed him warily. “Why do you care?” She feels like she says this every time she sees him.

“Look, I’m not in the business of coddling students,” Logan said, his tone gruff. “But I’m also not in the business of letting them fail if I can do something about it.”

Alexandria shifted uncomfortably, her gaze dropping to the floor. “I just don’t get why it’s so important.”

“It’s important because knowing where you come from helps you figure out where you’re going,” Logan said. “But if you’re not getting it, then let’s see if we can fix that.”

She hesitated, torn between her pride and the reality of her situation. “What would you suggest?”

“Extra help sessions after class,” Logan said bluntly. “I can give you some resources to read up on and go over stuff with you. If you’re willing to put in the effort.”

Alexandria sighed. “Alright, fine. When’s the next session?”

“Tomorrow after school,” Logan replied. “Meet me in my office. I’ll give you some material to work through.”

“Got it,” Alexandria said, though she wasn’t thrilled about it. In fact, she didn’t want to go at all. “Thanks, I guess.”

Logan gave a curt nod. “Don’t mention it. Now, get to your next class.”

Alexandria turned and walked away, feeling a strange mix of relief and frustration. She didn’t really know if she should be grateful or annoyed, but at least she had a plan now. She hoped it would help her catch up, but she couldn’t shake the feeling of unease about the whole situation.

As she walked down the hallway, she saw Scott, Jean, and Kitty waiting near the entrance to their next class. They greeted her with friendly smiles, and she tried to shake off the lingering tension from her conversation with Logan.

“Hey, Alexandria,” Jean said. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, just had a talk with Logan,” Alexandria replied, trying to sound casual. “Got some extra help lined up.”

Scott gave her an encouraging smile. “That’s good. Sometimes a little extra help can make a big difference.”

Kitty nodded in agreement. “Yeah, don’t stress too much. We’ve all had subjects that we struggled with at some point.”

Alexandria managed a small smile. “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”

---

Using Tony’s card, she found an online course on English. Specifically, how to read it.

She thinks that’s where her problems are coming from, she can speak it perfectly fine, but she can’t read it for shit.

Alexandria might’ve not slept at all that night, mostly due to the fact she was doing the online course, and also due to the fact she can’t sleep properly since she sees what everyone’s dreaming about.

But at some point, her luck had to hit an all-time low. There was a saying she heard in HYDRA a few times, “bez truda ne vytashchish’ i rybku iz pruda.” No pain, no gain.

A loud pounding sounded out from her door, jerking her awake. She was hunched over at her desk, the video she swore she was just watching now a quiz to test her learning.

She rubbed a hand down her face, noting the time was 9:02 am.

“Blyat'.” Alexandria cursed. Somehow the time turned from 6:47 am to 9:02 am. Meaning, she slept through her first period chemistry class taught by Hank.

She looked at the dates in her journal that she wrote down to note how long she went without sleeping.

Two weeks and 4 days. Two days away from a record.

The banging resumed as she blearily stood up from her desk to open her door.

She yanked open the door to find Logan standing there, his expression a mix of annoyance and concern. The faint smell of coffee clung to him, suggesting he’d been awake for a while, possibly dealing with his own set of issues.

“Nice of you to join the living,” Logan said, his tone sharp but not entirely unkind.

Alexandria’s face flushed with embarrassment and irritation. “I’m sorry. I lost track of time.”

“Yeah, I figured as much,” Logan said, his eyes scanning her disheveled appearance. “You missed chemistry. It’s not like you to just skip out.”

She shrugged, trying to ignore the sting of his words. “I was working on something else. I didn’t mean to—” She trailed off, her head feeling light. But she was able to brush it off as best as she could to seem normal.

Usually after not sleeping HYDRA would give her some sedatives and put her out for a few days before repeating the process.

Just because she was in a specialized cell doesn’t mean she could sleep. In fact, she suspected that sometimes they toyed with her and shut off the power in her cell so she would see everyone’s dreams.

Those sedatives they gave her were her version of candy. She would have done, and did do anything for those sedatives.

Logan’s expression didn’t soften as he surveyed the scene. “Look, Alexandria, you’ve got to get your act together. Missing classes is not an option, especially when you’re already struggling.”

“I know,” she snapped back, her tone defensive. “I lost track of time. It won’t happen again.”

Logan’s gaze didn’t waver. “It better not. If you’re falling behind, that’s on you. I’m here to help, but I can’t do everything.”

Alexandria bit her lip, trying to quell the irritation bubbling inside her. She knew he had a point, but it didn’t make his bluntness any easier to handle. “What do you want me to do about it? I’ll catch up.”

Logan raised an eyebrow. “You’ve got extra help after school, remember? And I’d suggest you use it. I’m not going to baby you through this.”

She glanced at the clock on her desk, noting the time. “Right. I’ll be there. Just—” She stopped herself, unsure how to finish. Her usual responses felt inadequate, almost childish in the face of his gruff demeanor. And it didn’t help that she had to use her hand to cover up a yawn.

Logan seemed to sense her struggle, though his expression remained stern. “You’re not the only one with problems. But the world doesn’t stop spinning because you’re tired or overwhelmed. You need to figure out how to handle it.”

Alexandria nodded, feeling a mix of frustration and acceptance. “I get it. I’ll do better.”

Logan gave a curt nod and turned to leave, but not before casting one last, assessing look over his shoulder. “Make sure you do. I’m not going to keep reminding you.”

He left her room as she looked around. Guess she was going to have to wear the clothes she wore yesterday to make it to Ms. Frost’s class before she’s late.

---

By the time algebra was done and she had got to English with Ororo, she was more exhausted than when she woke up.

She hates even acknowledging that she needs something, let alone something as simple as sleep, but she was going to have to deal with. There were so many people in this mansion, closing her eyes and getting sleep would be impossible. It was like being a radio station with too many inputs.

Alexandria remembers Scott mentioning something about Guinness World Records. She wondered what the record was and if she had possibly beaten it.

English with Storm went by faster than she thought, and before she knew it, it was lunchtime. Jean, Scott, and Kitty were at their usual spots, and Alexandria quickly took her seat, trying to appear as normal as possible despite her exhaustion.

“Hey, Alexandria!” Jean greeted with a smile. “You look like you could use a nap.”

She gave a small smile, “maybe.”

Jean raised an eyebrow but didn’t press. “You should take it easy if you can. You’ve been running on fumes.”

Kitty nodded in agreement. “Yeah, no need to push yourself too hard. There’s no shame in taking a break.”

Alexandria shrugged, trying to brush off their concern. “I’ll manage. I’ve got stuff to do after school.”

“Extra help with Logan, right?” Scott asked, looking at her with a mix of sympathy and curiosity.

“Yeah,” Alexandria said, not really wanting to delve into the details. “I’ll be fine.”

They fell into a more casual conversation, discussing weekend plans and upcoming tests. Alexandria found herself drawn into the chatter, her exhaustion momentarily forgotten as she engaged with her friends. For a brief moment, the weight of her responsibilities seemed lighter.

They split up once again, Jean coming with her to their US History class.

Jean and Alexandria walked into their US History class, both of them looking like they had just come from a particularly intense discussion. Alexandria still felt the weight of exhaustion pressing on her shoulders, but she managed a small smile as she took her seat.

Logan was already at his desk, thumbing through a stack of papers. He glanced up as the students settled in, his eyes briefly meeting Alexandria’s. He didn’t say anything, just went back to his papers with that ever-present scowl. The usual tension hung in the air, thick and unspoken.

Jean slid into her seat next to Alexandria, giving her a sympathetic look. “You sure you’re okay? You look like you could fall asleep right here.”

Alexandria shrugged, trying to dismiss the concern. “I’m fine. Just a little tired.”

Jean didn’t look convinced but let it go, turning her attention to Logan as he began his lecture. The topic of the day was the aftermath of the American Revolution, and Logan jumped right into it, his voice gruff and unyielding. He scribbled dates and names on the board, making quick, sharp notes as he spoke.

Alexandria tried to keep up, her mind struggling to focus. The material was dense, and her lack of sleep wasn’t helping. Every time she thought she was catching on, her attention would drift, and she’d have to refocus. It was becoming increasingly difficult to stay engaged.

The class went on, and Alexandria found herself counting down the minutes until the bell rang. When it finally did, she packed up her things and glanced at Jean, who seemed to sense her exhaustion.

“Need any help with the material? I know Logan can be a bit much,” Jean offered.

Alexandria appreciated the gesture but shook her head. “I’ll manage. I’ve got the extra help session after school.”

Jean gave her a concerned look but didn’t press further. “Alright. Just remember to take care of yourself, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Alexandria said, giving her a half-hearted smile. “I’ll be fine.”

After history, which was as hard as before, she headed to her last class of the day before meeting Logan. The hours dragged on, and by the time the final bell rang, Alexandria felt like she was running on empty.

She made her way to Logan’s office, her steps heavy with fatigue. When she arrived, she found Logan sitting behind his desk, his eyes focused on a pile of papers.

“On time,” Logan said without looking up. “Guess you’re not completely useless.”

Alexandria rolled her eyes but kept her tone even. “I’m here. What do you need me to do?”

Logan finally looked up, his expression as stern as ever. “We’re going to go over some of the material you missed. I’ve got a few readings for you to go through and some questions to answer. We’ll start with that and see where you’re at.”

He handed her a stack of papers, and Alexandria took them with a nod. “Alright. Let’s get this over with.”

Logan raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment further. He pulled out a chair and started going over the material with her, his explanations blunt and to the point. Alexandria struggled to keep up, her exhaustion making it hard to focus. But she tried her best, determined not to let her fatigue get in the way of her progress.

As the session went on, Logan’s tone remained gruff, but there was a noticeable shift in his demeanor. He was less harsh than usual, focusing more on helping her understand the material rather than just berating her for not knowing it.

After an hour, Alexandria looked up from her notes, her eyes tired but determined. “I think I’m starting to get it. This stuff is just… a lot.”

Logan nodded, giving her a brief, approving look. “Yeah, it is. But you’re getting there. Just keep working at it.”

Alexandria nodded, feeling a small sense of accomplishment. “Thanks for the help.”

Logan gave a curt nod. “Don’t mention it. Just make sure you don’t fall behind again.”

As she packed up her things and headed for the door, Alexandria couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief. The extra help session had been tough, but it had also been a step in the right direction. She was starting to understand the material better, and that gave her a glimmer of hope.

---

A week later

Alexandria learned a way to study better. Since she wasn’t good at reading in English, she found videos online, thanks to Scott’s suggestion, of Russian people talking about algebra, chemistry, and even US History which was surprising.

She still hadn’t gotten any sleep, which meant she passed her previous record and was at 3 weeks and 4 days of no sleep.

But Scott put her onto coffee. Or rather, she tried plain black coffee and didn’t like it, but Kitty and Jean suggested iced coffee which she enjoyed. Her favorite so far was an iced white chocolate mocha. The other thing Scott showed her was energy drinks.

So, thanks to the two new things she discovered, she hasn’t felt tired in days.

She even got a compliment from Ms. Frost about her algebra homework, saying that she did good. It wasn’t a lot, but it meant the world to Alexandria, which was a new feeling.

Alexandria was currently reading a Russian version of the book ‘Brave New World’, which she bought using Tony’s card.

She’s sure he won’t mind, hell, he’s Tony Stark, he’ll probably never notice.

Earlier tonight, Kitty, Jean, and Jubilee came over to her room to help her with some math for chemistry, and they put her onto a few musical artists.

So, at 3:45 am, she had her headphones on listening to a Taylor Swift song, humming along while doing a paper for Ororo’s English class, and drinking a pink can of Monster.

Logan, on the other hand, had noticed that Alexandria hadn’t come out late at night for her nightly smoke breaks for the past week. And while there was a small part of him that was glad she wasn’t smoking, she was eighteen after all, he couldn’t help but be curious as to how she had caught up in all of her subjects.

Even Emma had made a small comment about how she was impressed how Alexandria seemed to have learned all the material she’d taught and more. She had only come by once for after hours and seemed to be doing fine in all of her work in his class as well.

Curiosity getting the better of him, he walked down the quiet hallways to her room, a warm light shining underneath the door.

He knocked lightly and got no response. Logan pushed the door open a crack, peering into Alexandria's dimly lit room. The soft glow of a desk lamp illuminated her focused face, framed by large headphones.

She was hunched over a spiral notebook, her pen scribbling furiously as a faint melody played through her headphones. The energy drink on her desk was half-empty, a pink can with a flashy design that contrasted sharply with the starkness of her surroundings.

Logan sighed softly, his curiosity overcoming his usual gruffness. He knocked again, a bit louder this time. "Alexandria."

She barely flinched, her concentration unwavering. Logan knocked harder, the sound finally penetrating the bubble of her focus. Alexandria looked up, pulling one headphone off her ear and squinting at the doorway. Her expression shifted from confusion to mild irritation.

"What?" she said, her voice tired but sharp.

Logan leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. "What are you still doing up? It's three-forty-five in the morning."

She sighed and took off her other headphone, rubbing her eyes. "Working on some assignments.”

Logan’s gaze flicked to the energy drink and then back to Alexandria. "I thought you were supposed to be resting. You haven’t been out for your usual smoke breaks lately."

Alexandria shrugged, a gesture that seemed half-embarrassed, half-defiant. "I don’t need them anymore."

Logan raised an eyebrow, more intrigued than he cared to admit. "And why's that? You’ve been pushing yourself pretty hard. What's with all the late-night studying?"

"It's not just studying. I’ve got a lot to catch up on," she said, her tone defensive. "And the coffee and energy drinks help. I’m getting through it."

Logan’s expression softened slightly, though he tried to keep it hidden behind his usual scowl. "You've been doing well in class, I’ve noticed. Emma mentioned you’ve been on top of the material. Still, burning the candle at both ends isn't sustainable."

Her brows furrowed, that wasn’t a phrase she had heard before. “What does that mean? Is that a…” she grabbed a different notebook on her desk, flipping through the pages, “an idiom?”

“Hell, if I know kid, it’s just a saying.”

Logan's eyes narrowed slightly as he watched Alexandria flip through her notebook. He could see the strain in her posture, the exhaustion she was trying to mask with her intensity. He wasn’t exactly the nurturing type, but seeing her push herself so hard without any apparent concern for her well-being did stir something in him.

“You know,” he said, shifting his weight, “there’s a limit to how much caffeine and energy drinks can do. Your body needs more than just stimulants to keep going.”

Alexandria gave him a skeptical look, her fingers tapping impatiently on the edge of her desk. “I’m fine. I’ve managed this far. Why are you so interested, anyway?”

Logan shrugged, trying to keep his tone nonchalant. “Just curious. You’re doing better in class, but I’m not about to ignore you turning into a caffeine-fueled night owl. It’s my job to make sure you’re not just learning the material but also taking care of yourself.”

“Right,” Alexandria said, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “Because you’re such a model of self-care.”

Logan smirked. “Don’t mistake me for a role model. I’ve got my own issues. But if I can get you to not collapse from overwork, maybe I’ll sleep a little easier.”

Alexandria sighed, leaning back in her chair. “I’m just trying to catch up. I know it’s not healthy, but I don’t have a choice right now.”

Logan tilted his head, studying her. “Look, kid, you can push yourself to the brink, but at some point, your body’s gonna say enough. You might be able to keep going for a while, but eventually, it’ll catch up with you.”

She rubbed her face, clearly fatigued but trying to stay alert. “I can’t sleep.” She finally admitted.

He snorted, “well, that’s obvious.”

Alexandria didn’t want to add on and tell him it was because of her powers. So, she let him think that it was just pure determination to do better.

Though that sounded fucking stupid. She wasn’t some do-gooder like Captain America. Wasn’t always trying to get everyone to smile. In fact, she wanted to punch his perfect face and teeth to make him look at least a little messed up.

Logan’s gaze lingered on her, his expression a mix of skepticism and concern. “Listen, Alexandria,” he said gruffly, “if you’re not gonna listen to me, at least listen to your own body. You’re pushing yourself too hard, and it’s gonna catch up with you sooner or later.”

“Yeah, well,” Alexandria said, trying to muster a nonchalant shrug despite her exhaustion, “I don’t exactly have a choice. I need to get this stuff done. It’s not like anyone’s gonna wait for me to catch up.”

Logan’s eyes softened a fraction, though he quickly masked it with his usual gruff demeanor. “I get it. But that doesn’t mean you should drive yourself into the ground. You might think you’re managing, but one day, you’re gonna crash.”

Alexandria looked down at her notebook, a frown tugging at her lips. “I know. I just… I don’t really know how to stop.”

“Maybe you don’t need to stop entirely,” Logan said, crossing his arms. “But you should at least try to find some balance. Even if it’s just a few hours of sleep a night. You’re not a machine.”

She sighed, her frustration evident. “It’s not that simple. I can’t just shut it off. And it’s not like I have anyone to help me with this.”

Logan rubbed the back of his neck, his expression thoughtful. “Look, I’m not saying you have to figure this out alone. If you need help, you can ask. But maybe start by taking a break now and then. Just to recharge, even if it’s for a short while.”

“I’ll think about it,” Alexandria said, though she didn’t sound entirely convinced. “But for now, I’ve got a lot to get through.”

Logan nodded, his gaze lingering on her for a moment before he turned to leave. “Alright. But don’t ignore what I said. It’s not just about doing well in class. It’s about keeping yourself in one piece.”

Alexandria watched him go, feeling a mix of relief and irritation. She knew he had a point, but she wasn’t ready to fully acknowledge it yet. She glanced at the clock and saw that it was nearly four in the morning.

With a sigh, she turned her attention back to her work, though Logan’s words echoed in her mind. Maybe she was pushing herself too hard. Maybe it was time to reconsider her approach, even if just a little.

The next day, Alexandria found herself in the cafeteria with Jean, Scott, and Kitty again. Her fatigue was still there, but she was trying to keep up appearances.

“Hey, Alexandria,” Kitty greeted her, her usual enthusiasm tempered with concern. “How’s the studying going?”

“It’s going,” Alexandria replied, taking a sip of her iced white chocolate mocha. “Just trying to keep up.”

Jean gave her a sympathetic look. “You’re still looking pretty tired. Maybe you should consider taking a break.”

“Not really an option right now,” Alexandria said, trying to keep the conversation light. “But thanks for the concern.”

Scott and Kitty exchanged glances but didn’t push further. Instead, the conversation shifted to weekend plans and upcoming events. Alexandria tried to engage, but her mind kept drifting back to her work and Logan’s words.

After lunch, she had a few more classes, and by the time the day ended, she was ready to collapse. But she had promised herself she’d make progress, so she headed back to her room, determined to keep going.

“Sashulya.” A voice sang from behind her. It was a nickname buried deep within her memories. She remembers her mother calling her that, a nickname only she was supposed to say.

“Sashulya, come.” The voice came from a woman wearing a large coat of sorts, draping over onto the hardwood floor.

Alexandria followed, holding her folders to her chest. “Mama has something for you.” She followed the woman to the front doors of the school. The hooded figure turned around, but she couldn’t see her face. It was black, maybe a shadow from the hood.

“Mama is that you? They killed you.” Alexandria finally spoke. It felt almost freeing to speak in Russian again.

The hooded figure opened the door to the school, the sun was setting, casting a pastel glow around them. “Sashulya, everything will be fine. Come with me.”

Alexandra smiled softly at the figure and stepped closer. As soon as she did the figure changed.

“Your mommy is dead, child. Don’t cry. We will take care of you.” The HYDRA scientist, the first one she ever saw appeared in front of her, holding that large needle she hated with a passion.

She suddenly felt cold, “Where is she? Where are they?”

“Dead. Now let's go. The more you resist, the more it hurts, Alexandria.” The scientist tilted her head, “They'll give you a sedative. Makes my job a lot easier.”

Alexandria felt a sting at the back of her head, but it reality it came from her falling down onto the cement, rain pouring heavily around her. “Tili tili bom. zakroy glaza seychas. Kto-to khodit vozle doma. I stuchit v dver'. Tili tili bom.” She felt someone brush hair off her forehead,“nochnyye ptitsy shchebechut. On vnutri doma. V gosti k tem, kto ne mozhet usnut'. On khodit. On priblizhayetsya... blizhe.”

The lullaby brought up old memories, it was the lullaby her mom used to sing to her, because even when she was 3 years old, she had trouble sleeping. That song always seemed to lure her to sleep.

Even though the rain was pouring down around the school, Alexandria fell asleep easily.

The rain, the memory of her mother’s lullaby, and the figure of the HYDRA scientist blurred into a surreal mix that dragged her deeper into unconsciousness.

She hadn’t felt this kind of exhaustion in a long time.

---

Logan found her hours later. The rain had soaked her through, her hair plastered to her face, and her clothes clinging to her frame. She was shivering, her lips slightly parted as she mumbled something incoherent, still half-caught in whatever nightmare had gripped her.

"Kid," Logan growled as he crouched down beside her. He gave her shoulder a rough shake. "Wake up."

Alexandria didn’t respond. Her eyes twitched under her closed lids, and she muttered something in Russian. Logan’s brow furrowed as he tried to make sense of the words, but they were too garbled, too distant.

"Damn it," Logan muttered under his breath. He scooped her up with surprising gentleness, cradling her limp form against his chest. "What the hell are you doin' to yourself, kid?"

Her head lolled against his shoulder, and Logan felt a strange pang of concern. It wasn’t like him to worry about anyone, especially a kid like her, but there was something about the way she’d been pushing herself that gnawed at him.

He carried her back to the mansion, the rain still pouring down around them. By the time he reached the front doors, he was drenched too, but he hardly noticed. His focus was on Alexandria and the way her breath hitched every now and then, like she was stuck in the throes of a bad dream.

"Hank," Logan barked as he pushed through the front doors. "I need ya!"

The sound of Logan’s gruff voice echoed through the halls of the mansion, alerting anyone within earshot that something serious was going down. He didn’t waste time waiting for a response, striding purposefully down the corridor, Alexandria’s limp form cradled in his arms.

Hank appeared in the doorway to his lab, he took one look at Logan and the girl he was carrying and immediately shifted into action mode.

"What happened?" Hank asked, his voice calm but tinged with concern as he stepped aside to let Logan in.

Logan grunted, his face etched with frustration. "Found her outside, unconscious in the rain. She's been pushing herself way too hard. Barely slept in weeks, if at all."

Hank's brow furrowed as he quickly cleared a space on one of the examination tables. "Lay her down here."

Logan carefully placed Alexandria on the table, her soaked clothes clinging to her body. Her skin was pale, her breathing shallow and irregular. Hank immediately started checking her vitals, his fingers moving swiftly and expertly as he assessed her condition.

"Her heart rate is elevated," Hank murmured, more to himself than to Logan. "She's dehydrated, and her temperature is dropping. How long has she been like this?"

Logan crossed his arms, watching Hank work with a tense expression. "She's been running on fumes for at least three weeks, maybe more. I told her to take it easy, but you know how stubborn she is."

Hank nodded, not taking his eyes off Alexandria. "I see. We'll need to get her warmed up and stabilized first. Then we can address the underlying issue." He glanced at Logan, his blue eyes sharp. "She's been pushing herself to stay awake, hasn't she?"

"Yeah," Logan replied, his voice laced with frustration. "Said she can’t sleep. Didn’t go into detail, but it’s clear something’s been messin’ with her."

Hank frowned, his mind already racing with possibilities. "If she's been unable to sleep for that long, it could be more than just physical exhaustion. We might be dealing with a psychological or even a neurological issue."

"Get her fixed up, Hank," Logan said, his tone gruff but underlying it was a note of genuine concern. "She needs help, but I’m not the one to give it to her."

Hank nodded, his focus returning to Alexandria as he prepared to administer a sedative to help her body relax. "I'll do what I can, Logan. But if she's been pushing herself to this point, there may be more going on than we realize."

As Hank worked to stabilize Alexandria, her breathing started to even out, and her shivering slowly subsided as her body began to warm up. Logan watched, his expression hardening as he thought about what Alexandria had been through. He wasn’t one to get emotionally involved, but seeing the kid in this state stirred something deep within him—a mix of anger at her stubbornness and a grudging respect for her resilience.

After a few minutes, Hank spoke up, his voice calm but firm. "Logan, we need to figure out what’s causing this. If it’s a neurological issue, it could be dangerous if left untreated."

Logan nodded, his jaw clenched. "Got any ideas?"

Hank hesitated for a moment, then said, "I'll need to consult with Charles. If there’s something more complex going on, like interference with her mind or dreams, he might be able to help. We also might need to reach out to someone with expertise in neurological conditions."

Logan frowned. "You think it's somethin' like that?"

Hank met Logan’s gaze, his expression serious. "It’s possible. If she’s been avoiding sleep because of nightmares or intrusive thoughts, it could be related to her powers—or something else entirely. We need to investigate all possibilities."

Logan didn’t like the sound of that. He knew Alexandria was tough, but if there was something messing with her mind, they needed to handle it carefully. "Alright," he grunted. "Get Charles and do what you gotta do."

Hank nodded, already reaching for his communicator. "I'll get Charles down here. In the meantime, I’ll do what I can to keep her stable."

As Hank sent the message to Charles Xavier, Logan lingered by Alexandria’s side, his usual tough exterior cracking just a bit as he looked down at her. She was a fighter—he could see that—but even the toughest fighters needed help sometimes. He just hoped they could get to the bottom of this before it was too late.

---

Charles arrived within minutes, his expression calm but alert as he wheeled into the lab. "Hank, Logan," he greeted them, his eyes immediately going to Alexandria. "What happened?"

Logan gave a brief rundown of the situation, his voice clipped. "She’s been pushing herself to stay awake, and now she’s out cold. Hank thinks it might be more than just physical exhaustion."

Charles nodded, his expression thoughtful. "I see. If she's been avoiding sleep, it’s possible that her mind is reacting to some form of trauma or external influence. I’ll need to delve into her thoughts to see if I can determine what’s causing this."

Hank stepped back to give Charles room. "I've stabilized her physically, but if there's something affecting her mind, we’ll need to address it quickly."

Charles closed his eyes, reaching out with his telepathic abilities to gently probe Alexandria's mind. He moved carefully, not wanting to cause any further distress. As he delved deeper, he encountered a chaotic swirl of emotions, memories, and fragments of dreams—some of them dark and unsettling.

After a few moments, Charles opened his eyes, his expression grave. "There’s significant mental strain here. She’s been suppressing her ability to rest due to a fear of her own dreams—or rather, the dreams of others. Her telepathic abilities are interfering with her sleep, causing her to experience the dreams of those around her."

Logan’s frown deepened. "So she’s been seein’ other people’s dreams instead of her own?"

"Yes," Charles confirmed. "It’s likely that her powers have become more sensitive, perhaps due to stress or recent trauma. She’s been overwhelmed by the influx of other people's subconscious thoughts, making it impossible for her to rest."

Hank's eyes widened slightly. "If she's been experiencing the dreams of others, that could explain why she's been so desperate to stay awake. It would be incredibly disorienting and exhausting."

Logan ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. "So what do we do about it?"

Charles looked at Hank, then back at Logan. "We need to block the telepathic interference so she can get the rest she needs. Hank, I suggest you work on a device that can shield her mind from external influences while she sleeps. In the meantime, I’ll do what I can to calm her mind and help her enter a restful state."

Hank nodded, already formulating a plan in his mind. "I can modify a version of the telepathic inhibitors we’ve used before. It might take some time, but I can create a device that will allow her to sleep without being affected by the dreams of others."

Logan exhaled, relieved that they had a plan. "Alright. Do it."

Charles turned his attention back to Alexandria, his expression softening. "I’ll begin now. Logan, would you mind staying with her? Your presence might help keep her grounded."

Logan hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Yeah. I’ll stay."

As Charles began his telepathic work, Logan pulled up a chair beside the table and settled in. He wasn’t the comforting type, but if his presence could help in any way, he’d do it. He owed it to the kid, after all she’d been through.

For the next few hours, Logan watched as Charles and Hank worked tirelessly to help Alexandria. Charles used his telepathic abilities to calm her mind, creating a mental barrier to keep out the intrusive dreams. Meanwhile, Hank tinkered with various devices, modifying and fine-tuning them to ensure they would work as intended.

Finally, as dawn began to break, Hank approached Logan with a small device in hand. "This should do it," he said, holding up what looked like a sleek headband with several intricate components embedded in it. "It’s designed to block out telepathic interference while allowing her to enter a normal sleep cycle."

Logan eyed the device skeptically. "You sure it’ll work?"

Hank nodded confidently. "It’s based on existing technology, but I’ve made some modifications to suit her specific needs. Once we put this on her, she should be able to sleep without being affected by the dreams of others."

Logan sighed, his fatigue starting to catch up with him. "Alright. Let’s give it a shot."

Hank carefully placed the device on Alexandria’s head, adjusting it to fit snugly. Charles, who had been monitoring her mind, nodded in approval. "It’s working. Her mind is starting to settle into a normal sleep pattern."

Logan watched as Alexandria’s breathing evened out, her expression relaxing for the first time in days. She looked peaceful, almost as if she was finally finding the rest she so desperately needed. The tension in the lab seemed to ease slightly with the sight of her calm.

Charles looked over at Logan, his expression softening. "It seems the device is working as intended. Her mind is starting to settle."

Logan nodded, though his eyes remained focused on Alexandria. "Yeah. She looks like she might actually get some real sleep for once."

Hank, busy with the final tweaks to the device, glanced up. "She needed it. The lack of sleep was probably making her hallucinate. It’s a miracle she was still functional."

Charles turned to Logan, a thoughtful look on his face. "You stayed with her the entire time. That’s not like you."

Logan shrugged, his expression a mix of irritation and fatigue. "She’s a kid who’s been through hell. Didn’t want to leave her alone."

Charles nodded, understanding but keeping his comments to himself. "Well, it’s good you were here. Sometimes, people need more than just physical care—they need reassurance."

Logan grunted in response and stood up, stretching his stiff muscles. "Right. Guess I’ll leave you guys to it."

Hank looked up from his equipment. "Logan, you should probably get some rest yourself. You’ve been working hard too."

Logan gave a curt nod. "Yeah, I’ll grab a nap. Let me know if she wakes up or if you need anything."

As he made his way out of the lab, Charles’s voice followed him. "Thank you, Logan."

Logan didn’t turn back, just gave a dismissive wave of his hand. "Whatever."

---

When Alexandria woke up hours later, the first thing she noticed without even opening her eyes was a metal headband around her head.

Immediately she started to panic.

She was back at HYDRA, and they were going to punish her with electroshock. Track her brainwaves while doing it.

Hank noticed her waking up and in a hazy, frantic movement, she grabbed a nearby screwdriver and jabbed it into his shoulder.

Meanwhile, Logan was in his quarters, trying to catch up on some much-needed sleep. He barely managed to drift off when his communicator buzzed. He groaned, rolling over and picking it up.

"Logan," came Hank’s voice, slightly distorted through the device. "Alexandria’s waking up. You might want to come back to the lab." Logan heard a clanking sound coming from Hank’s side. “Now.”

Logan sat up immediately, throwing on a shirt and heading back to the lab. The fatigue from his earlier shift was still heavy on him, but he pushed through, knowing Alexandria’s well-being was more important.

She tried to pull off the headband from her head, but her hands were far too shaky to accomplish that goal. And for some reason, she was freezing. Alexandria was used to the cold, thanks to the HYDRA base being in snowy Russia.

The cold was biting, and her teeth chattered despite the warmth of the room. Her heart raced, the memories of her captivity with HYDRA clouding her mind.

“Hey, easy,” Logan’s voice cut through the fog of her panic. He entered the lab, his expression a mix of irritation and concern. “Put that down. It’s not what you think.”

Alexandria’s eyes darted around, trying to piece together the situation. Her gaze locked onto Logan, and she could barely make out his gruff features. The familiar face was not comforting; it was just another reminder of how out of control everything felt.

Hank, wincing from the screwdriver jab, was already on his feet, his eyes shifting between Alexandria and Logan. “She’s disoriented. We need to calm her down.”

Logan approached slowly, keeping his hands visible. “Kid, listen. You’re not in HYDRA. You’re safe here. That headband is just to help you sleep without those... dreams messing with you.”

Alexandria’s breath came in sharp, shallow gasps. She tried to sit up, but her body felt heavy and uncooperative. “No... not safe... they’re coming for me...”

Logan sighed, his patience wearing thin. “It’s not them. No one’s coming for you. You’re at the mansion. Hank’s here to help.”

Hank took a cautious step forward, his demeanor calm but his voice firm. “Alexandria, I need you to listen to me. You’re in a safe place. The headband is to block out any external telepathic influences. It’s helping you get the rest you need.”

Alexandria’s gaze flicked to Hank, then back to Logan. Her mind was a whirlwind of memories and confusion. “But... I...”

Logan’s tone softened, “I know it’s hard to believe right now, but you gotta trust us. We’re trying to help you. You need to calm down.”

Alexandria’s hands trembled as she struggled to push the headband away, her vision blurring with tears. “I don’t want this... I don’t want their dreams...”

Logan took a deep breath, his frustration giving way to a rare moment of empathy. “I get it. I really do. But this is the only way for you to get some damn rest. You can’t keep going like this.”

The sound of the door opening caught their attention. Charles wheeled in, his expression serene yet serious. “How is she?”

Hank, still nursing his shoulder, looked over. “She’s awake and disoriented. She’s been pushing herself too hard, and now she’s struggling to accept the help we’re offering.”

Charles nodded, approaching Alexandria with a gentle presence. “Alexandria, I need you to focus on me. You’re safe, and we’re here to help you. Can you try to calm down and listen to what we’re saying?”

Alexandria’s eyes met Charles’s, and she could see the sincerity in his gaze. It was hard to ignore, despite the whirlwind of her emotions. Slowly, she began to ease her grip on the headband, though she still trembled.

Charles continued in a soothing tone. “We need to make sure you’re comfortable and can get some restful sleep. This headband is a part of that process. It’s not a punishment or a trap. It’s a tool to help you recover.”

Logan stood by, his arms crossed, watching Alexandria with a mix of annoyance and concern. He was used to dealing with his own issues but seeing her like this stirred something different in him. “Look, you don’t gotta like it. Just try to relax, alright? We’re on your side.”

Alexandria’s breaths began to slow, her mind still foggy but gradually clearing. She hated the headband on her head, hated the fact that she felt like a lab experiment once again being surrounded by and all-white room and medical equipment.

Charles watched her with a soft expression, hoping to convey reassurance despite the sterile environment. "You're doing well, Alexandria. Just focus on calming down. We’re not here to hurt you."

Alexandria’s eyes met his, though her expression remained guarded. "Why... why are you doing this?"

Charles took a moment before answering, his voice calm. "We’re trying to help you. The headband is designed to block out any telepathic interference so you can sleep without being disturbed."

She shook her head slightly, her eyes still darting around the room. “I don’t want to be a burden...”

“You’re not a burden,” Charles said gently. “You’re part of this team, and we want to make sure you’re healthy. If you don’t get proper rest, it’s going to make everything worse.”

“Listen, kid. We don’t do this for fun. You’re here because you needed help. The sooner you accept that, the sooner you’ll start feeling better."

Alexandria looked at Logan, her expression a mix of wariness and frustration. “Why do you even care?”

Logan’s face hardened, though there was a hint of something softer in his eyes. “I don’t do this for everyone. But you’re pushing yourself too hard, and it’s not gonna do you any good.”

Hank, having finished tending to his shoulder, approached the table with a fresh gauze pad. “I need to tend to this wound,” he said, gesturing to his shoulder. “We’ll be here to keep an eye on you while you adjust.”

Alexandria nodded, though her body was still tense. Her teeth chattered uncontrollably, and she was shivering despite the warmth of the room.

“Hey, we need to get you warmed up,” Hank said, moving toward a cabinet to fetch some blankets. “Logan, can you help me with this?”

Logan, who had been standing by with his arms crossed, grunted in response. He moved closer to the examination table, his eyes scanning Alexandria’s shivering form. “You alright, kid?” he asked, his voice gruff but laced with concern.

Alexandria looked up at him, her expression a mix of fear and exhaustion. “I’m cold...”

“We’re gonna fix that,” Logan said, grabbing a blanket from Hank and draping it over Alexandria’s shivering shoulders. “Just try to relax.”

Hank quickly followed suit, adding more blankets to ensure she was adequately covered. “It’s important that we keep you warm while you adjust to the device.”

Alexandria’s gaze flickered between Logan and Hank, her eyes still filled with unease. “How... how long do I have to wear this?” she asked, her voice trembling.

Hank offered a reassuring smile, though it was clear he was still concerned. “Just until we’re sure your mind is calm and stable. It might take a bit for you to get used to it.”

Charles, still monitoring her condition, spoke up gently. “Alexandria, the headband is designed to block out the telepathic interference you’ve been experiencing. It will help you get the sleep you need without being disturbed.”

She nodded in response before looking over at Hank, “can we make it smaller?” she asked quietly. “I… don’t like the headband.”

Hank gave another reassuring smile, “of course. I can have it done by the time you wake up.”

Alexandria nodded, though her eyes remained wary. The blankets were warm and comforting, but she still shivered from the cold that seemed to seep into her bones.

“Try to relax,” Hank said as he finished adjusting the blankets around her. “It’s going to be alright.”

Alexandria’s eyes fluttered shut, her exhaustion winning over her anxiety. Charles gave a final nod of reassurance before stepping back to monitor her condition from a distance.

Logan, having witnessed the entire ordeal, leaned against a counter, his expression a mix of frustration and concern. “You sure this is gonna work?” he muttered, more to himself than to anyone in particular.

Hank glanced over. “It’s our best shot. We’ve got to get her mind settled and give her a break from all this telepathic noise.”

Logan grunted, his patience clearly wearing thin. “Just hope it doesn’t take too long. We’ve all been running on empty lately.”

Charles wheeled closer, his expression serious. “We need to be patient. Alexandria’s been through a lot. The sooner she can rest, the sooner she’ll start to recover.”

Logan sighed and rubbed his face with one hand. “Yeah, yeah. I get it. Just wish she’d stop makin’ things harder on herself.”

---

A few hours later, Alexandria began to stir. The headband was still on her head, but it felt less intrusive now that she was used to it. Her breathing was steadier, and she was no longer shivering.

“Hey, kid,” Logan’s voice broke through her haze as he approached. “How’re you feelin’?”

Alexandria’s eyes opened slowly, meeting his gaze. “Better,” she mumbled, her voice hoarse. “The cold is gone.”

Logan nodded, looking around the lab. “Good. Hank said he’s workin’ on makin’ that headband smaller for you.”

Alexandria gave a slight nod. “Thank you.”

Logan grunted. “Don’t mention it. You were givin’ us a scare. Figured I’d check in.”

She managed a faint smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I didn’t mean to be a burden.”

Logan’s expression softened just a bit. “You’re not a burden. Just try to keep it together, alright? We’re all in this mess together.”

“Yeah,” Alexandria said, her voice still weak. “I’ll try.”

Charles, who had been observing quietly, spoke up. “Alexandria, you’ve made great progress. We’ll continue to monitor your condition, but for now, try to get as much rest as you can.”

Alexandria nodded, closing her eyes again. “I’ll do my best.”

[jisungsbff01]

.1.

.like i need you. 1.

...pairing…Chan x reader

...w.c... 2.7K

...genre…slice-of-life, college au!

...warnings...swearing, mentions of insomnia, stress

...characters...Y/N, (OC) Lilith, (OC) June, Chan, Hyunjin, (Han and I.N mentioned)

...synopsis...No one ever really knows what they wanna do in their 20s, but Y/N has always known what she was going to do. So, she began the journey to her dream and is so close to reaching it with no distractions at all. Until she is thrown into a project with Hyunjin, a fellow senior in college, and he introduces her to a few of his friends...connecting with one in particular...

Her whole plan is soon thrown off the track she’s had it on for 21 years….

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“So, how many exams do you two have left for this week?” June voiced across from Lilith and me as she sipped on her latte. 

I snort sounded out to my left and my red-haired friend spoke a little louder than she probably meant to, causing a few pedestrians to glance in our direction, “FOUR, and Professor Leslie is riding my ass for my grade…I do have a life outside of college!”

The three of us chuckled to another as we continued to talk about how our classes have been since we last saw another, our trio has been wrapped up in perfecting each of our majors to even think about a time-out. With Lilith having a major final in her choreography class; she has to choreograph her own dance with a person from a producing and songwriting class. This trio-final rests heavily on all three of their grades. June has been up in the kitchen cooking up storms of various dishes for her major final, Lilith and me being her taste testers. Me on the other hand, I’m in a similar boat as Lilith, only…my choreographer,Hyunjin, was short a songwriter.So, I have to both produce and songwrite for this project. I somehow managed to wrap the him into helping me write the lyrics as well, giving the pair of us extra credit rather than just myself. Hyunjin has proved himself competent enough, both of us have spent more time together than I am able to sleep these days. He’s even brought me in to the choreography area of it, letting me add in a few touches of my own. 

I swear I talk to him more than I’ve talked to either of my friends in front of me. Although, the two of them have heard the many stories between the pair of us, and vice versa with Lilith. Whom of which has found herself hating the hell out of my partner, even though her two partners are both best friends with him and roomates as well. So, she sees quite a bit of him…

I have yet to meet any of Hyunjin’s roommates or friends, I’ve only met a couple of his friends, one of them being my brother…the other being their youngest of the group who took us out for coffee since we pulled an all-nighter the other day. 

I let the two of my friends converse with each other about how close each of them are to finishing their major finals…while I feel like Hyunjin and I are so behind. Just then, I get a text from the devil himself:

H: What class block do you have today?

M: I’m done with everything I need done for today, what’s up?

H: I was checking in to see when you wanted to link for the final?

M: I can meet you in about 30, I’m catching up with my girls right now.

H: Take your time, I know you don’t meet them much lately! I’ll meet you at the studio lobby so we can check in our time.

M:Sounds good, I’ll see you then!

H:Tell Lilith I said ‘hi’ ;)

I smirk as I slide my phone into my bag as face the ladies in front of me,”Lils, Hyunjin said ‘hi’, by the way.” 

Lilith rolls her eyes as she takes a chug of her boba through the thick straw, “What is with him? I’ve told him sooo many times already I don’t like him and to leave me the hell alone, I already hear the stories of him getting around, I’m not about to be another notch on his bedpost.”

I look at June and give her a glance through my lashes, a knowing look. Lilith loves to say she won’t give in because she’s heard the stories, but I’ve also heard the truth…Hyunjin has hooked up with one girl and it didn’t go well because he got so nervous that he ghosted her. Since then, he’s just thrown himself into perfecting his craft and he’s definitely been perfecting it. June and I have spoke on several occasions about it, rooting that one day Lilith will let my new found friend in, she’s been hurt too many times by many people and I know Hyunjin would be a good match for her. So, on the down low, I’ve been doing my best to play ‘Cupid’. 

“He’s really not all that bad, I’ve never had this much fun and ease collaborating with another class before and he’s really good at what he does-and a gentleman about it most of all.” I state with a teasing tone. 

“That’s because he has that face…you know, that face…can-make-you-believe-anything-kinda-face.” Lilith struggles to find words as she tries so hard to sound confident letting this out in a quick breath.

I break the blinding silence we sit in for a couple of minutes by suddenly speaking, “Speaking of, I actually have to meet him in a few minutes in the studio, you two, if you need anything just call me-one of us will answer. I love you, get back to the apartment safely please!” 

I give each girl a quick kiss on the cheek as I dash out to the bus stop a couple of blocks down. 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

I get to the studio lobby with five minutes to spare, finding Hyunjin on one of the study chairs with his headphones over his ears-grey hoodie covering his long hair. I check-in with the receptionist on the last studio slot available, grab him and head to the door. Once we get to the door, he drops his headphones to his shoulders and asks me how my time with my girls went. I swipe the entry card as I span through our brief time together with a wistful smile. I sit in the producer’s chair as he makes himself comfortable on the couch behind me, “You miss them, huh?” 

I nod and turn to my counterpart, “Yeah, we always usually eat dinner together at the apartment and every week we usually have a night out or game night where we don’t do much…but lately we’ve all been too stressed or busy. Granted each of those were my ideas, so who knows…maybe they’re glad they don’t have to do those until we aren’t busy anymore.”

He violently shakes his head, “If either of them love you just as much as you clearly love them, then they miss you just as much.”

A hum makes it’s way out of my throat and I turn back to the workstation and begin to run back through our work once I pull it up. 

We are working for two hours before he offers a break, he can tell I am not satisfied with what we have and that I am getting irritated with myself. 

“Hyun, I can’t stop where we are, I have so much to edit, I kind of wanna scrap this section. It just doesn’t sound good. A song should not take as long as I have spent on this one.” I let out as I massage the base of my skull, about to press play for a full run-through of what we have. Hyunjin grabs my hand, restraining it and before I can protest, he speaks, “Okay, I get it, trust me…but we need food at least, yeah?”

I nod in response, “Why don’t you go grab something to eat and maybe I can get somewhere with this?”

He mocks my response, but gives in…takes my order and leaves the room so I can chug this slow-moving train along. I honestly feel so bad that he got stuck with me, I’ve dabbled in a few songwriting classes, but never wanted to commit to them. He swears that I’m a genius with the pen, but I think he was just buttering me up to play nice. After a few edits on the soundboard, I step into the studio and begin recording soft adlibs. My throat starts to feel tight and dry from lack of hydration, so I step out and grab a sip of water before restarting the recording and redo the short clip. Once I hear the music stop in the single headphone I had pressed to my ear, I hear cheering over the mic from Hyunjin, “Yes,” he drags out, “it sounded so heavenly, so lovely…and I hope you don’t mind me bringing in a friend of mine, he’s a couple studios down and I asked for his advice. You know what they say about an arist not seeing the beauty in their work, so I brought the audience, so maybe you will finally believe my words.”

He can be so dramatic sometimes, grabbing his chest and making a pained face like I just stabbed him. I see someone to the side, but am unable to see their face due to the glare in the window. I step out of the recording booth and am met with a wide smile and a handshake from a man that is about a head taller than me. He sports a hoodie similar to Hyunjin’s-just in black-a ball cap, and sweats. I recognize him from my Producing class, he sits just a row in front of me and I’ve had a slight crush on him for a few months now-too scared to approach him. There’s no way he’s single…

I firmly grasp his hand in return and introduce myself, “I’m Y/N, I’m Hyunjin’s final partner.”

He responds with a squeeze of my hand, “Chris, Hyunjin’s friend and roommate…well one of them.”

I giggle slightly, the sound almost foreign to me, “Nice to finally meet you, Chris, I’ve heard a lot about you.”

If looks could kill, Hyunjin would be dead. My friend holds his hands up, a sign of his innocence and I grab Chris’ attention again, “No, Hyun has only told me who you are to him, you’re actually partnered up with one of my best friends for the final, Lilith.”

That lights up his face, “Ahh, she’s a good one, we cut up well. Her and Han fight like brother and sister so often, I feel like a father.” 

I raise my brows in a not-so-suprised expression, “Sounds about right, I’m gonna apologise on her behalf, I know she can be a handful. You should see how she is about getting up in the morning, I feel like a mom,” I laugh…missing the company of my friend, “granted, she doesn’t sleep well, if at all. Now my other roommate, I swear she sleeps enough for all three of us.”

It’s at that moment,  I realize that our hands were still clasped in front of us. I suddenly let go and turn around, trying not to meet either of their eyes and sit in the chair in front of me as I change the subject, “ So if you’re up to it, I can show you a few seconds of the track.”

Chris brings up the other chair from the corner of the room and sits to the right of me. I press play and let the R&B inspired beat flow through the speakers. Hyunjin and I both agreed, after looking at thousands of dance videos, that his dance style would look beautiful with a sensual r&b vibe and we went from there. I gauge Chris’ reaction and I am horrified by how openly disgusted this man looks about the track. I stop it where it feels right and his face then changes suddenly, “This is so raw and beautiful…why do you hate it? Hyunjin said you thought about scrapping the whole thing-do you realize how good he’s gonna look dancing to this?”

I am stunned for a moment, does he need a mirror? Did he know the face he was making five seconds ago? Before I can get my words out, Hyunjin interrupts me, “Y/N, he likes it, trust me-the face you saw…that’s his “this shit’s really good” face. I know, I’ve talked to him about it, he’s made that face to my dancing before and I almost cried. He’s not lying, promise.”

I spin around, “Hyunjin, it’s not that hard to make you cry.” 

He made a gesture to me and Chris put his hand on my shoulder as he got up, “Trust me, it’s good, I’m not a very good liar-ask him.” He begins to walk away and he leans in my ear, speaking low enough that only I hear him, “Don’t throw it away, if anything, put it out.”

And he walks out the door, closing it gently behind him. 

Hyunjin all but jumps on me, “You like him, yeah?”

I shook my head and begin stuttering, “ Hyunjin, I don’t even know him.”

He cackles for a moment before speaking breathily, “I mean the way he works! You perv!!”

Now embarrassed, I turn and just respond with a short ‘mhm’ and he and I continue working. I strictly speak about the project, but he consistently brings up Chris and somehow I redirect it back to the track. He eventually drops it and we go back and forth for another two hours after we eat.

Being the gentleman he is, he drove me to my shared apartment and made sure I made it in okay since it was pretty dark out and out corner streetlight was out until further notice. I bid my friend good-bye and grabbed my eyes off my belt to unlock the door to my home. Suddenly I am being bombarded by my two friends with so many questions as soon as I walk through the door. Holding my hand up, palm facing them, I take off my coat and my shoes before going to the kitchen in silence to grab a quick drink. Lilith and June stand on the opposite side of our kitchen island and both speak at the same time again. 

“Okay, okay, one at a time please!” I shout, a headache coming on from the chaos.

June gestures for Lilith to speak first, “Bitch, you didn’t tell us you met with Chris today!”

“He soooo likes you, Y/Nnie.” June speaks up.

I look at the two across from me in confusion, “What? He was in the studio for all of 8 minutes…I was in there for about four and a half hours, he doesn’t know me enough to like me.”

They both look at each other with the same expression, then back to me as Lilith begins again, “Really? Because those 8 minutes must be seared into his brain then, because he was late for our little choreo session…I mean HAN of all people was there before him, Chris is never late. And when he got there he was all jokey and smiley. I’ve spent enough time with this man to know he isn’t always like that, in fact, he’s rarely like that unless he is with all his boys, so shut up. You two are made for each other.”

8 minutes. That’s all we spent together and these two lunatics are jumping to a relationship, they truly are crazy…

I scoff, “Yeah, and you and Hyunjin are gonna get together. It was 8 minutes, guys. If the man spends even a fraction of his time doing what I do, then it was probably his first time seeing a girl in weeks, chill.”

The both of them hold their hands up, knowing I’m done with the conversation and they each go to their rooms in silence. Suddenly my phone goes off and it’s Hyunjin:

H: So how do you feel about our friend groups meeting this week? 

M:I’d have to talk to the girls, but I’m sure they’re already down…

H: Good, all three of you need a break and to spend time together again. Also…Chris has mentioned you a total of three times since I’ve been home.

M: You’re funny, Hyun. Go get some sleep and I’ll let you know when we’re all free in the morning.

H: Say what you will, but if anyone else came to compliment your work, it would’ve taken a lot more time to convince you how good it is already.

M: He’s in my Producing class, and I know that he knows what he’s talking about, he’s really good at what he does, so I’m taking his advice.

H:Mhm. Say what you will…I say a month.

M:??

H: You’ll see, I’ll see you in the morning for choreo, angel!

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Let me know what you thought! I was really nervous about posting this one...hoping to make it a series!! Thank you so much for reading!

[knockyasocksoff2022]

Dazai's a jerk when he's sick.

From last year's Sicktember prompts.

Chuuya's Perspective:

Something slams into me and I jolt awake. I sit up and look around but the room is dark and the only other person around is my partner, and he’s fast asleep. Damn brat must’ve kicked me!

The clock says there’s still an hour before I need to be awake, but once I’ve been woken I don’t fall easily asleep again so I might as well get ready, while I can still have my coffee in peace before Osamu wakes up.

Before I can finish it though my stomach starts growling fiercely. Normally as soon as we get up Osamu starts making breakfast, but today he’s still asleep.

Huffing I walk back into our bedroom to wake my husband, I do feel a little bit guilty for waking him early but I need food.

I shake his shoulders, but he stays perfectly still. I do it again, but still nothing. It’s strange, because of his insomnia, he’s always easy to wake up.

Finally, I resort to yanking the covers off. He wakes immediately. 

“WHAT?” His voice positively drips with annoyance and anger, he glares daggers at me. It catches me off guard and I don’t answer. “Oh, so you just woke me up for nothing, is that it?”  He takes the duvet from the floor and begins to lay back down.

At last, I unfreeze, whatever guilt I had before gone, “Hey! Asshole, wake up, I need breakfast, and you owe me because you kicked me out of bed!” The words come out harsh, my tone matching his.

“I don’t care.” is all he says his eyes not even open.

We go back and forth for a while before I end up dragging him out of bed and into the kitchen.

“I can’t cook, it’s too cold in here.”

“It is not! It’s 22 degrees, you’re fine, now please hurry up, I’m starving.”

“I’m not hungry, why should I cook if I’m not going to eat?”

“Osamu, stop being a lazy bastard, we’re going to be late.” The words are exasperated more than angry.

“Hmph!”

With a sigh that sounds suspiciously like the word slug, he starts cooking. Breakfast takes way longer than usual and is a little burnt but I’m hungry so it’ll do. True to his word, Osamu doesn’t eat with me, opting instead to go back to bed. Maybe whatever grumpy monster possessed him this morning will have left his body when I wake him up next.

While he sleeps I dress and ready myself for work, when I look presentable I go to poke the beast.

-

I thought he might be less of a demon after a bit more sleep but, apparently not.

When I shake him this time he wakes immediately.

“Can’t even a dumb Chibi like you see that I’m trying to sleep!”

“What did you just say?” annoyance boils under my skin, I don’t want to do this again.

“I said you’re dumb,” he says curling back up.

I yank away the duvet and extra blanket he added, “Say that again, I dare you?”

“Chibi is dumb, as in stupid, and clearly has hearing problems, now go away and let me sleep!” His voice is cold, it ticks me off.

“You have to wake up. You have a job you know. I mean I don’t know how they haven’t fired you yet, but you at least need to go in.” 

“Leave me alone, Chuuya.” his tone is the same one I use when I’m warning an enemy not to try me. What’s with him today? I mean, he’s always kind of a disrespectful dick but, damn.

I make my tone just as cutting, “Well I can’t leave you here, you’ll probably burn down the house and kill yourself or something. Now get up and get dressed, you’re late.”

“I said LEAVE ME ALONE, CHUUYA!!!” his voice sounds like a roar, so loud it scares me.

“Jesus, Osamu, what’s with you today, it’s unlike you to be this shitty? You know what, don’t answer, it’s fine. I don’t even care, go to sleep and die, that’ll make me really happy. I’m going to go to work like a contributing member of society.” and with that I walk out, locking the door behind me.

—

When I get back the house is completely silent, Osamu must be out in the river or wherever he plans to stage his latest attempt on his life. My words from this morning come back to me, I told him he should just die. . . . No, he wouldn’t, he wouldn’t take that seriously. He knows how much I love him, right? It’s fine, he knows I didn’t mean it. The self-assurance doesn’t work very well.

I start to get up to go look for him when I hear loud coughing and then a thud of something human-sized hitting the floor. I run towards the origin of the sound, our bedroom, and throw open the door.

Osamu lays on the floor, on his back, looking rather disoriented. He must’ve coughed so hard he fell.

“Huh?” he sees me, “Oh, Chuuya, how long have you been here, are you going to help me, or not?” His voice is still bitter but the scratchiness of it cuts down the intimidation factor. . . and then he breaks into a coughing fit, and it doesn’t stop the coughing continues and continues a seemingly endless supply of wet hacking coughs bursting out of him so quickly it even looks painful.

I rub his back, my anger long forgotten.

When the fit finally ends his nose is runny and he scrubs it on his sleeve. I can practically feel the heat from his pale body by just being next to him, but I put my hand on his forehead anyway. He’s burning. 

Guilt sweeps through me, when I shook him and when I yanked him out of bed he’d felt warm but I’d assumed that it was just from the blankets.

“You’re sick.”

“No, really?” he croaks

“Come on, let’s get you something for that cough.”

“No, I don’t wanna move.”

“Fine. What have you taken today? Have you even eaten anything today?”

“You think I’ve been able to get out of bed like this?” his sarcasm remains strong even as his voice slowly crackles out.

I ignore it, knowing an argument is the last thing he needs right now. “Okay, I’ll take it that’s a no. Well, you need medicine as quickly as possible so, I know it isn’t really ‘sick person food’ but can you eat some tonkatsu? It’s all we have in the fridge, and you gotta eat something before I give you medicine. Your stomach’s okay, right?”

He nods, I think his voice must be completely gone now.

He pokes at the breading of the pork, slightly soggy from being in the fridge, and pouts, shoving it away.

“Well, sorry, Your Royal Highness, shopping day is tomorrow and I didn’t have much to work with.” I huff, trying not to get annoyed.

With a scowl, he pulls the plate back towards him and begins to peel the breading off.

-

When he’s finally finished, (I swear he ate so slowly just to annoy me, his hatred for medicine aside) he pouts again.

“You’ve gotta take this. You’re warm as hell, this isn’t just something you can sleep off.”

He shakes his head. His voice is long gone, but I can read his lips: “Nu-uh.”

“Yuh-huh. Open up. And don’t you dare act like this is the most disgusting thing you’ve tasted, I‘ve seen you eat year-old canned crab.”

He narrows his eyes, testing me. At last, he huffs, nodding sharply and holding up a finger. One.

“Yeah, just one big sip. I’ll make coffee after, kay.”

He takes the cup, sniffs it then mock gags. 

“Arse.”

-

Five minutes of convincing later, the cup is empty. I groan, my anklebone sore from sitting on the hardwood floor like that for so long.

“You’re a jerk when you’re sick, you know that.”

He nods again, then waves me off towards the kitchen, muttering, “Coffee.”

-

When I return he’s fast asleep.

I can’t help but laugh. “Jerk,” I whisper to no one.

[uconnposter01]

Chapter 2

Warning:Cursing

4.1K words

  October 2021, Third-Person POV

Nuveah is struggling; she's never struggled this much in her life. The constant thought of saying, Forget this and attempt going to the National Women's Soccer League (NWSL) crossed her mind daily. Don’t get her wrong, the schoolwork is easy, and she loved being here with her sister and friends, but her insomnia has gotten so bad this year that she’s considering leaving it all behind. 

Three major things consistently ran through the soccer player’s mind. If she is even good enough to make it to the NWSL, trying to balance her friends and school. Finally, the person who occupies her mind the most is Azzi Fudd. Nuveah couldn’t get her mind off the girl, no matter how hard she tried. Unfortunately, Nuveah knows she will never tell Azzi how she truly feels, so she will just have to admire from afar. 

Trudging tiredly to her self-assigned seat in the back of the lecture hall, Aniyah puts her head down on the desk, hoping to catch some sleep before the curly-headed girl arrives. Nuveah hopes to get a quick five-minute nap before the basketball player arrives. She is not up for conversation but she doesn't want to ignore Azzi when she does show up for class, so Nuveah is hoping that resting her eyes will help her from being as irritated.

Azzi eagerly approached the soccer player as she entered the lecture hall, Giving Nuveah a light tap on the back of her neck. Azzi's smile disappeared as she saw Nuveah's weary face staring up at her.

“When’s the last time you've been to sleep?” Azzi asks softly.

“Like two days ago, I think,” Nuveah lies while laying her head on Azzi’s shoulder.

 In reality, it’s been three going on four days, but Nuveah didn't want the girl to worry, so she figured a little white lie wouldn't hurt.

“You need to smoke,” Azzi says

“Can't I wanna be sharp for the rest of the playoffs” Nuveah says, tiredly rubbing her eyes.

“But you aren't. You know you can call me if you can’t sleep, right? Azzi says softly.

“I can't do that; you need your rest, too,” Nuveah responds.

“I mean it, Nu. Call me anytime, okay?” Azzi responds just as Professor Flanagan begins her lecture.

Nuveah laid on Azzi’s shoulder, half asleep, the whole 45 minutes of class; it was the closest she had gotten to sleep in the last couple of days. Azzi would have a light dusting of pink across her cheeks if she weren't so concerned for Nuveah and her lack of sleep. She thinks the girl is too hard on herself, an act that causes major anxiety for Nuveah, which in turn causes her to stay up.

Nuveah's movements are sluggish and halted after class. She was not the first person to leave the classroom; in fact, she was one of the last few to leave. To ensure the girl does not fall, Azzi trails closely behind her.

“Do you want me to walk you to your dorm?” Azzi questions 

“Nah, I should be good,” Nuveah mumbles.

“Let me know if you have trouble falling asleep,” Azzi says

“Az, I can't do that to you,” Nuveah says.

"Yes, you can. I made my mind up already, and I'm preparing to stay up if you need me to, so like I said, call me if you can't sleep, okay?” Azzi says once more, cutting her eyes over at Nuveah.

"Okay,” Nuveah mutters, relenting.

“I’ll see you later,” Azzi says, hugging Nuveah.

After departing, from Azzi, Nuveah slowly walks back to her Dorm. Hopefully, she can take a quick nap. Her eyes burn, and she's hallucinating a bit because she could've sworn she heard her roommate Gia talking when she first came in, but after looking around the dorm apartment, she's not even there.

Laying down in her bed, Nuveah prays she can catch a few hours of sleep. Unsurprisingly, she doesn't fall asleep, but resting her eyes feels excellent; the burning, aching feeling coming from them has finally stopped. Hearing the front door slam, Nuveah sat up in a panic. Hopefully, it’s Gia.

Nuveah walks towards the living room, checking to see if Gia or Aniyah came in. Checking the dorm apartment, Nuveah notices that it is empty. 

“I need to go the fuck to sleep,” Nuveah mumbles. Making her way back to her room and lying down.

Closing her eyes, Nuveah rests her eyes once 

more. She's unsure how much time has passed but hears the door slam again.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Nuveah grumbles as she gets out of bed.

"Wassup,” Gia says, eyeing the girl before her.

“Nothing; I just heard the door slam earlier, and I'm trying to make sure I'm not going insane,” Nuveah says.

"Dude, you look like shit. When's the last time you've been to sleep?” Gia Questions.

“I don't know; I think it's been three or four days,” Nuveah said, rubbing her face.

“You need to get some sleep, Nu,” Gia says softly. 

“Don’t you think I fucking know? Don't be dumb, Gia; I would if I could,” Nuveah snaps.

“My bad,” Gia mumbles.

Nuveah instantly feels awful; she didn't mean to yell at her best friend. She's just so irritated and tired of people telling her she needs to get some sleep. If she could, Nuveah would be knocked out right now. 

“I’m sorry, G. I didn't mean to snap at you. I‘m just really irritable, and I'm kinda hallucinating, and I'm so tired, but I just can’t go to sleep, and it's fucking sucks,” Nuveah explains.

“It's okay, I get it, Pook. I just want the best for you,” Gia says, smiling widely.

 “Okay, you wanna do anything?” Nuveah says, changing the subject.

“I mean, we can play Back 4 Blood; I heard it's pretty good,” Gia said 

“I’m down,” Nuveah says, yawning.

The duo ends up playing the zombie game for three hours. Azzi stayed on Nuveah's mind throughout the entire time. She wonders what the girl is doing—if she ate or was busy—and honestly, Nuveah wishes she was there with the girl right now.

Nuveah knows Azzi said she can call her whenever, but she’s nervous. What if Azzi is only being nice because they have class together? Nuveah refuses to let her feelings sabotage their budding friendship. 

“What’s on your mind, dude?” Gia asks, looking over at Nuveah.

“Azzi,” Nuveah shamelessly admits.

"You down bad for real," Gia teasingly remarks.

“I know,” Nuveah groans, running her hand down her face 

“Why don’t you just tell her?” Gia questions.

“You sound like MoMo. Speaking of young bul, lemme call her. I wonder if she gonna go food shopping for us. We don't got shit, bro.” Nuveah says she is trying to change the subject 

“Don't try to change the subject, Pook,” Gia says, rolling her eyes.

“I ain’t ever gonna tell her; you and Niya know this,” Nuveah responds.

  “Wish you would. Shawty may like you,” Gia said.

“I can't risk it.” Nuveah quietly says.  

 Personally, I think she likes you, so you should go for it. Gia says, glancing over at Nuveah.

“Sometimes I think so, but Azzi is flirty with friends, so I genuinely can’t tell if she's just playing or not, so I’m not saying shit,” Nuveah explains.

“Write her notes,” Gia suggests

“What you mean?” Nuveah inquired, slightly confused.

“Be her secret admirer or some shit,'' Gia says.

“GG, that’s smart as fuck; I'm mad as shit I didn’t think of it, but ion think imma do it,” Nuveah admits.

“Why?” Gia asks, rolling her eyes

Nuveah didn't respond; she had no reason other than being anxious about the outcome, and she knew that was not a good enough reason not to write the anonymous love notes.

“Bro, why?” Gia asks once more, only to be met with silence.

Gia quickly realizes that she’ll have to use alternative methods to motivate Nuveah to write to Azzi.

"Yo, bro, I just peeped some shit,” Gia said, looking over at Nuveah.

“Wassup?” Nuveah asks, not looking away from the screen.

“You low-key a bitch,” Gia says.

“You sound dumb right now,” Nuveah says 

"Yeah, you are; that’s why you don’t wanna write her,” Gia says.

“You know I ain’t no bitch,” Nuveah says, sucking her teeth.

“Matter fact, shawty pretty as shit; I know niggas and bitches are gonna try to talk to her if they don't already, so don't write her letters and let one of them scoop her up. Ya, ass would be sick,” Gia says, laughing slightly.

"Aight, stop dick-eating; I know what you doing, and imma do it. Just chill.” Nuveah pleads.

Gia smirked, glad that she and Nuveah were both from the Philadelphia area. She’s unsure if that would’ve worked if Nuveah was from anywhere else.

“Azzi knows my handwriting, so I must type it, Nuveah says.

“Aight, you need help with what you gonna write?” Gia asks 

“Nah, I should be good. But put Mortal Kombat on; I wanna whoop your ass real quick,” Nuveah says, smirking.

“You stay talking shit” Gia says, sucking her teeth.

The duo played the fighting game for the next hour and a half, with Nuveah winning 75% of the matches.

“Aight, I’m done; I’m starving,” Gia complains, rubbing her stomach.

"Yeah, me too, where you wanna eat?” Nuveah questions.

“I’m feening for some Chick-fil-A; are you cool with 

that pook?” Gia asks  

"Yeah, that’s cool, but can we doordash that shit? Ion feel like leaving,” Nuveah admits.

Her body feels so tired; Nuveah’s not even sure if she can move from this spot on the couch. Even though she feels extremely exhausted, Nuveah’s mind can’t stop her mind from racing. She wasn’t even thinking of any in particular, but she couldn’t stop thinking. Honestly, Nuveah feels like she is going insane.

“Aight, the food will be here in like 30–35 minutes. Imma play some Fortnite. You wanna play?” Gia asks.

“Nah, imma watch,” Nuveah says.

"Aight,” Gia says, turning on the game.

Nuveah watches Gia win the first two rounds before there is a knock on the door.

“I'll get it,” Gia says, standing up.

"Wassup, Azzi,” Gia says once she opens the door.

“Azzi” Nuveah repeats sitting up.

Nuveah anxiously rubs her sweaty hands on her pants. She isn’t prepared for Azzi to come over, which makes her incredibly nervous. Being as sleep-deprived as she is, Nuveah isn’t sure she can contain her feelings for the girl now.

“Sike, gotcha dickhead. Look at ya face. I wish I took a picture of that shit.” Gia says while bringing in the food. 

“That shit was not funny. I should smack you.” Nuveah grumbles angrily.

“Ah ha, that was for earlier,” Gia says, handing Nuveah her food.

Nuveah stayed silent. She couldn’t blame Gia; she had yelled at her for basically no reason earlier. So Nuveah just munched on her tenders and scrolled through her phone.

“You tryna watch some shit?” Gia asks, looking over at Nuveah.

“Like?” Nuveah asks.

“Hunter X Hunter cool?” Gia asks.

"Yeah,” Nuveah responds.

Gia smiles to herself as she turns on the anime. It's only 8 p.m., and she's hoping that around 10, she can convince Nuveah to fall asleep. Gia is absolutely concerned for her best friend. As long as she's known Nuveah, the girl has always had issues with insomnia, but the soccer player has never been up for four days straight before.

After two hours of watching the anime, Gia decides it's time to call it a night. She's not tired yet, but she knows Nuveah needs the rest, even if she doesn't go to sleep. She's worried about her eyes; she needs to rest them.

“I’m getting tired,” Gia fake yawned.

“Aight, my eyes are starting to burn again, so imma try to go to sleep; I'm scared to be up for another day,” Nuveah admits softly while standing up.

“I love you, Pook; try to get some rest,” Gia says softly.

“I love you too, G,” Nuveah mumbles, walking into her room and lying down.

Nuveah stared at the clock in annoyance after trying to fall asleep for the last 4 hours. The clock 1:30 AM, the time stared back at her like it was taunting her. Azzi’s words ran through her mind again; surely Nuveah couldn't call her right now. 

Even though Azzi gave her the go-ahead to call her at any point, no matter the time, she couldn't bring herself to do so. In Nuveah's opinion, she felt as if she would be incredibly selfish. Even though Nuveah thought Azzi’s voice would help lull her into a peaceful sleep, closing her eyes, Nuveah tried to fall asleep again but was unsuccessful in her efforts. 

“Fuck it,” Nuveah mumbles, calling Azzi.

Azzi stayed up way past her bedtime today; it’s a Friday, so she knows she can do so and not completely regret it in the morning. She hopes Nuveah calls her soon or at all. Azzi wants to be here for the girl; hopefully, Nuveah will let her. Drifting off slightly, Azzi is startled by the sound of a Facetime call coming through.  

"Hello,” Azzi answers.

Nuveah’s breath caught in her throat. Azzi looks so beautiful, her glasses perched on her nose. A pink bonnet covered her thick, curly hair. She looks gorgeous. It makes Nuveah feel somewhat self-conscious; Azzi is a queen, and Nuveah isn’t sure if she is good enough for the basketball player, which is another reason for her hesitation in revealing her feelings for Azzi.

“Did you hear me?” Azzi says, bringing Nuveah out of her thoughts.

“Nah, can you repeat it?” Nuveah says, clearing her throat.

“I asked if you were okay,” Azzi repeats.

“Yeah, I’m good; it’s cool that I call, right?” Nuveah asks.

“Yes, I told you earlier that it was okay,” Azzi says her tone is light and teasing.

"Right, uh, I ain’t gonna hold you ion know what to talk about,” Nuveah admits this while rubbing the back of her neck.

“We can talk about anything; it doesn’t matter to me,” Azzi says, smiling. 

“What did you eat?” Nuveah questions cringing.

The conversation feels awkward, and the silence is deafening; she’s unsure what to say or do. Nuveah is starting to regret calling Azzi, feeling as though she’s bothering the girl.

“Nu, where did you go just now?” Azzi says this once again, bringing Nuveah out of her head.

“I’m not bothering you, am I?” Nuveah quietly asks.

“No, of course not, I promise; I just want to talk to you until you fall asleep,” Azzi quietly explains.

“My bad for being so awkward,” Nuveah mumbles.

“You are sleep-deprived, Nu. I’m not expecting you to be able to keep up a full-on conversation. I promise everything is okay,” Azzi says, smiling. 

“I really appreciate you, Az,” Nuveah says, also smiling.

“Aw, I appreciate you too,”  Azzi answers, her smile growing wider.

“How was your day?” Nuveah questions. 

“Good, what did you do today?” Azzi inquiries

“It was okay; I just played video games, you? Nuveah says, glancing at the camera.

"I went to the gym and then worked on my shooting and just relaxed,” Azzi mindlessly explains.

“Sounds eventful; glad you had a good day,”  Nuveah grins.

 “Got any plans this weekend?” Azzi cordially asks.

"Tomorrow, no, but I have a 1 pm game on Sunday against Villanova,” Nuveah explains. 

“On campus?” Azzi questions.

"Yeah,” Nuveah said, closing her eyes.

The shooting guard makes a mental note of the game and time, knowing that she won’t miss the game.

“Do you wanna hear about practice? Maybe it could help you fall asleep,” Azzi offers.

Nuveah opens one eye and glances at the screen, making eye contact with the basketball player.

Of course, she always wants to hear Azzi talk, knowing that Azzi’s soothing voice could help lull her to sleep.

“Yeah, of course, Nuveah said, closing her eyes.

"Okay, so Geno isn't as bad as Paige said he was gonna be, he yelled, of course. But it wasn't awful; overall, it was a pretty good practice,” explains Azzi.

“Mhm, sounds good,” Nuveah responds, half asleep.

"Nu, you can go to sleep,” Azzi says, removing her glasses.

“But I'm listening to you,” Nuveah says, pouting slightly.

“You’ve been up for two days; I wasn’t expecting you to stay up,” Azzi says.

"Yeah,” Nuveah mumbles out.

“Go to sleep, Nu,” Azzi softly states.

“Are you leaving?” Nuveah asks softly.

“When you go to sleep, I will,” Azzi says 

“Okay, keep talking,” Nuveah says after about five minutes.

“I did pretty good in practice; Nika is a monster on defense-,” Azzi trails off.

Hearing the soft snores coming from the other end of the phone, Azzi smiles to herself, feeling extremely proud that she helped Nuveah fall asleep. 

“Good night, pretty girl,” Azzi mutters softly, hanging up.

Nuveah slept most of Saturday, only waking to use the bathroom and eat. On Sunday, she woke up feeling refreshed at around eight a.m. After showering and putting on her practice gear, the soccer player walked to the kitchen to make herself a protein shake.

“Yo, wassup, sleeping beauty,” Gia says, coming out of her bedroom.

"Wassup dude,”  Nuveah says, finishing up her shake.

“I’m glad you finally got some sleep,” Gia says, smiling.

“Me too; I was going insane and getting sick as fuck.” Nuveah admits.

“True, don’t tire yourself. I know how important this game is to you, but don’t do too much.”  Gia advises.

“I’m not; I just have to win today,” Nuveah says.

Gia can see the hunger in Nuveah’s eyes. She knows how important this game is to her and how determined she is to win. 

"Aight, bro, I’ll see you later at the game,” Gia says, dapping up Nuveah.

After finishing her shake, Nuveah leaves and walks the 10 minutes over to the Riazza Performance Center to see if she can get a ball and some cones to warm up with some shooting and dribbling skills. 

"Waasup, coach,” Nuveah says

“Hey, kid, I just got done setting up the pitch for you,” Susan says.

“Thanks; I'll see you soon,” Nuveah responds, smiling.

Susan will never be impressed by the raw talent that oozes out of the girl. Her dedication to the sport is so impressive that it doesn’t matter the weather; Nuveah will be practicing and working on her craft, rain, snow, or shine. The girl has the potential to be one of the greats; Nuveah just has to believe it herself.    

The weather is still warm for the middle of October, so Nuveah strips out of her hoodie and begins her drills, weaving in and out of the cone Nuveah kicks the ball and it flies into the back of the net. She does these drills a couple more times, sinking the ball in the back of the net from every position on the soccer field. 

Pausing for a bit, Nuveah down some water and scrolls through her phone. It’s already 11:45, and seeing that the game is only an hour and fifteen minutes away, Nuveah is becoming anxious. Nervous butterflies began to erupt inside of her stomach. Her team desperately needs to win, and Nuveah is determined for them to do so. 

“Dude,” Her teammate Hailey said, running over.

“Wassup dude,” Nuveah says.

“How long have you been out here?” Hailey asks in astonishment.

“I think like two hours,” Nuveah said while drinking more water. 

“Damn,” Hailey mutters.

“You wanna do some drills with me?” Nuveah asks

“As much as I would love to, coach asked me to come and get you so we can regroup before the game,” Hailey explains.

“Aight,” Nuveah says as she gathers the equipment.

“You can leave that there. We still gotta warm up, remember?” Hailey says, laughing.

“Oh right,” Nuveah says, embarrassed.

As the duo walks towards the Performance Center, Villanova’s team gets off their bus, and their players immediately start glaring hard at the pair. Confused, Hailey looks over at Nuveah and sees her grimacing at the players.

“You good?” Hailey questions concern in her voice.

“Yeah, I just don’t fuck with them no more,” Nuveah grumbles. 

“No more?” Hailey asks, her eyebrow raised. 

“Let’s not get into that shit right now; it’s a long story,” Nuveah complains, picking up the pace. 

Hailey, confused, trails behind the girl back to their coach and the rest of their team.  

The team gets geared up and ready for the game; Nuveah has a chip on her shoulder, which all her teammates have picked up on. The usually awkward girl isn’t cracking jokes or laughing; she’s sitting, listening to music, and ignoring the world around her.  

Soon, it’s time for the game, and Nuveah will be more than locked in. This is a must-win for Nuveah; this is a chance for her to prove herself.

The game starts very physical; the entire Villanova team is trying their hardest to injure Nuveah. Azzi nervously watches as Nuveah goes down again, this time even slower to get up.

“Why are they going after her so fucking hard? They need to chill.” Azzi nervously says.

“They got beef,” Gia vaguely answers.

“Why?” Azzi questions.

“Cause she chose Uconn over them, they heavily tried to recruit her too. She gave a verbal yes, but obviously, she didn't go”, Gia reveals.

“Well shit,” Azzi mutters 

Nuveah is growing extremely frustrated. Her defender is actively trying to break her ankles, which is tiring. Nuveah hopes she can get a free kick or a goal soon. The score is 0-0; she believes her performance today is not good enough for her standards.

Finally, Nuveah got fouled badly enough that she earned a free kick. Walking up to the ball, Nuveah nervously wipes her sweaty hands on her shorts. Noticing Azzi after looking around and making eye contact with the basketball player, Nuveah gained brand new confidence. Twenty seconds are left in the game, and Nuveah is determined not to let the game go into OT. Nuveah aims the ball to go left, but at the last second, she kicks to the right, which confuses the goalkeeper; the ball hits the back of the net, causing the entire stadium to break into loud cheers. The Villanova players hung their heads down in defeat, getting beaten by the player they needed and wanted the most.

Nuveah honestly didn’t care about any of the cheers and chants of victory. The only person’s cheer she cares about here is Azzi’s. It makes her feel prideful and happy to see the girl cheering loudly for her.

After the game, Nuveah didn’t want to party or go for drinks; she just wanted to write this letter to Azzi and sleep. 

“Nu-Nu, I'm so fucking proud of you,” Azzi said, hugging Nuveah tightly.

“ Thank you, Az. How did you get back here?” Nuveah questions, not wanting to let go.

“I got my ways,” Azzi says, smirking. 

Hugging Azzi again, Nuveah ushers the girl out quickly. She showers and gets dressed in under thirty minutes so she can go home and write the secret admirer letter. Azzi showed up to a game that Nuveah talked about to her once, making her feel special. Hurrying up and leaving, Nuveah returns to her dorm in record time. She sits down at her computer and begins typing the short message.

After finishing, Nuveah makes her way to Azzi’s dorm, slipping the note under the door and ringing the doorbell. She runs like hell so no one from the basketball team can catch her in the act. 

Azzi got home feeling disappointed. She wanted to go out and celebrate with Nuveah, but after leaving the locker room, she waited for the girl, only to realize she had disappeared and hadn’t responded to a single text from Azzi.

Hearing frantic buzzing, Azzi opens the front door, only to see no one there but a letter. Confused, Azzi sees that it is addressed to her, so she opens it and begins to read. 

                                       Dear Azzi,

        You are the most beautiful girl I have ever had the pleasure of laying my eyes on. You are the most generous and selfless person I have  ever met. There’s so much more for me to say, but I don't think I can begin describe how wonderful you are. You simply light up every room you walk into. And you put a smile on everyone’s face, especially mine.

                    Love, Your Secret Admirer, 

Azzi read the letter repeatedly, wishing she knew who this was. It’s sweet, and it makes her feel so special. However, she wouldn’t put aside her feelings for Nuveah; this letter is sweet, and all but the shooting guard is determined to make the soccer player hers. For now, she would just appreciate the letter and not focus too much on who it’s from.

[juliwuzhere]

Got any Max headcannons?

I think one of the headcannons I often include in my daydreams or writing is the idea of his parents, before camp had been something they could sign up Max for, making him do a TON of other activities. And it didn’t stop after Max meet the age requirement for camp Campbell. When Max isn’t at camp, he’s doing all the other activities he is forced to do after school or on weekends. Sure, most of them his parents probably signed him out of due to them being too expensive or because Max complained too much, but for the most part, he has done an extensive amount of activities. The first activity that came to mind after reading this post? He’s probably done it and mastered it.

I mean seriously, this kid has only been doing gymnastics for a couple months. He had from august all the way to June to practice gymnastics, and he’s already so good at it the show writers had to make him do the obstacle course off screen?! (Actually it was probably because of the budget, but you get my point.)

And not just that, did you see the way he wielded that spear back in season 1 when Ered took over camp? I’m sorry, but that kind of skill with a spear isn’t just built into baby’s from birth.

Im also of the firm belief that most, if not all, of Max’s clothing is either too big or too small. Listen, I don’t think his parents are extremely abusive, physically or mentally. I think, like Max said, they don’t care. They give him the bare necessities a kid needs, food, clothes, a roof over his head; however, they do just that, the bare minimum. Let’s be frank here, they probably don’t know his size in any piece of clothing. A hoodie is actually a pretty good nod at that fact. Hoodies aren’t very tight like a t shirt, so they could get him an Medium or large and it’s not that obvious how big the hoodie is.

This also leads to my third head cannon. Of course, his parents give clothes and food, but most of the time it’s leftovers or just ingredients. Which means that Max most likely cooks really well.

Another one I have, and this one may get me burned at the stake, is that Max’s hair doesn’t look that bad in the morning. Now, hear me out! I get it, imagining Max having a birds nest in the morning is pretty funny. But I honestly think that after the events that occurred at Spooky Island, Max, Sasha, and Pikemen, whether they want to admit it or not, did grow a friendship. Sure, it isn’t a very nice friendship and Pikemen still attacks the camp, but they are a lot more friendlier towards each other. Because of this, I know that Sasha definitely helped him develop a skin and hair care routine. (The skin routine is more eye bag related since they’re like 11) Before the events of season 4, yeah he probably looked like shit most days, but the year after that? You could give Max shit about his attitude, but definitely not his appearance. For all I know, Sasha bought him some cologne or some crap.

He definitely has insomnia, I mean cmon. This kid has saved the camp from a cultist, the woodscouts, etc. I’m sure he has at least SOME issues sleeping. I sure would if I knew the guy who had brainwashed me and my friends and tried to kill us was still OUT THERE. (In Antartica possibly, but still.)

This technically applies to my previous head cannon but whatever. He can play guitar, just doesn’t want David to know because he will 100% force Max to play at the campfire. Max would thrust himself into the bonfire before you saw him agree to do that.

Max is really good at sports and in term is very competitive. But like, he’s both of these things but…terrifyingly so. Sorry, gonna go on a tangent to explain my thought process but hear me out for a second. I’m actually planning on writing a fanfic about Nerris learning hypnotism (they think it’s the closest thing to real magic) and accidentally actually doing it to Max after failed attempts on all the campers while at a sleepover. David catches them because it’s past there curfew and, to get out of trouble, Nerris decides to compromise with him. They tell David that if he lets all of the campers go without having to clean the messhall or whatever punishment he’s going to give them, Nerris would make Max actually participate in the camp activities. One thing leads to another and Max ends up actually doing all the activities with no complaining. But turns out, he’s way too good. None of the campers can actually beat him in anything, not even there own activities. Soccer, basketball, tennis, pickleball, archery, rock climbing, he can do it all. But like, imagine playing with someone who beats you every time and in less than a couple seconds. Obviously, everyone is mortified and decide to never give Max crap for not participating.

TLDR, Max doesn’t participate in activities because a) He doesn’t feel like playing games with people who can’t serve a volleyball, because you have to remember that most of these kids are probably really un athletic or nerdy, and b) Although he doesn’t want to admit it, he doesn’t want to be that kind of dick. After the events of the last summer, he’s not as rude. But of course, he still talks shit about their skills.

Sorry it took me so long to reply, if you couldn’t tell I got too excited writing this. Thanks for asking! I love answering and talking about story ideas and camp camp headcanons. Especially Max since he’s my favorite character (basic, I know, shut up imaginary hater.)

[kaminocasey]

Dream A Little Dream of Me (Part 1)

Summary: Your reality is different than theirs. But hopefully, you can use that to your advantage and help put a stop to the Clone Wars. If catching the eye of a certain captain is also in the mix, then that's also a plus, right?

Pairing: Eventual Captain Rex x F!Reader

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI; Insomnia, Angst, alternate realty type of thing

WC: 2.1K

A/N: This is a bit different than what I normally write. But, hopefully in a good way! Also, it’s been a hot minute since I’ve written for Rex. Can you believe that????

Part Two

You hear your cell phone ringing from the living room as you make pasta in the kitchen. It’d been snowing all day so you’d had the lights in the living room off so you’d be able to see the snow fall over New York City. It’s your favorite thing living in a highrise in the Upper East Side. You’ve also had The Clone Wars playing all day. Your favorite show. The show that brought you the most comfort.

You sit the spoon down in the dublé and go grab your phone, bringing it to your ear and answering as you return back to the stove, turning slightly toward the tv in time to see Captain Rex tell the men of the 501st and 212th that they need to take down Pong Krell.

“Hello, mom.” You sigh, just hoping she hasn’t called you to fight with you.

“What are you doing up so late?” She chides you. It’s more lighthearted than critical this time. 

Honestly, you’ve not looked at the clock all afternoon. But you glance at the time on the stove. Surely, it’s not that late- Oh. It’s 2:30 in the morning. 

“You’re the one calling me.” You roll your eyes. 

“Because I knew you were up.” Her voice sounds tired on the other end. 

“How would you possibly know that?” You stir the pasta one last time before tucking the phone between your ear and your shoulder, going to strain it. 

“Because I know you.” She chuckles. “What are you making?” 

You sigh again. “Pasta.”

“Finish making it. Put it in the fridge and go lay down, sweetie.” Her voice softens.

You don’t sleep much… and when you do, it’s not restful sleep. You’d been diagnosed with insomnia at an early age of ten. The doctors had said it stemmed from your anxiety and ADHD. Now, you take all sorts of medication, but you’d stopped when the last one knocked your ass out for over 24 hours, causing you to miss an entire day of work and they fired you the next. You’d rather not sleep and have a job than let that happen again.

“Fine.” You murmur, grabbing a box and putting a bit of olive oil in with it and shaking it up once you close the lid. 

“Do you want me to sing to you?” She asks as you click the tv off.

When you and your mom get along, which isn’t often, you really get along. She’s sweet, caring, kind… but if you’re fighting… well, let’s just say, you’d rather deal with Lucifer, himself. 

“That would be nice. Thank you.” You murmur, putting the phone on speaker before going back to your bedroom and plugging your phone in, crawling under your fluffy comforter. 

You try to get comfy, closing your eyes. “Alright. I’m in bed.”

“I remember when you were little and you would come crawling into-” She starts but you interrupt her.

“Mom. Sing.” You smile with closed eyes. 

“Right, right. Sorry.” She chuckles before starting the tune that she would sing to you as a child. 

Stars shining bright above you

Night breezes seem to whisper "I love you"

Birds singin' in the sycamore trees

Dream a little dream of me

You think of the warm glow of the moon. A comfortable bed of sheep carrying you away into dreamland, counting them as they pass by you in your mind. 

Say "Nighty night" and kiss me

Just hold me tight and tell me you'll miss me

While I'm alone and blue as can be

Dream a little dream of me

There’s no way this is going to help you go to sleep. You made peace with never being able to sleep peacefully again a long long time ago. 

Stars fading but I linger on, dear

Still craving your kiss

I'm longing to linger 'til dawn, dear

Just saying this

You yawn slightly, turning over to face your phone, getting comfier as you focus on the coolness of your pillow against your warm cheek. 

Sweet dreams 'til sunbeams find you

Sweet dreams that leave all worries behind you

But in your dreams, whatever they be

Dream a little dream of me

“I’m sorry, mom. I don’t think it’s working this time.” You open your eyes to pull your phone back up so you can end the call but are met with the unfamiliarity of a different bed than yours. In fact, it can barely be considered a bed. You realize it’s a bunk and when you turn to see the rest of your surroundings you’re met with… clones?

You know these men… You’ve seen them before. 

“Morning, sleepy head.” The clone you know as Tup smirks. “You’ve been out forever.” 

What? This can’t be real. You know this is just a tv show. 

Oh. You’re dreaming.

Of course. Duh.

“Yeah, welcome back to the land of the living.” Hardcase chuckles. 

You’re still not able to form words. This is a little too freaky. Why are you so aware?

“Hello???” Jesse waves his hand in front of your face.

You blink twice, feeling your lips move to say something. 

Say something, dummy. 

“H-hello.” You murmur, sitting up to look at the near identical men around you. 

“Why are you being so weird?” Fives asks you, curiously.

“This can’t be real.” You stand up, suddenly feeling slightly panicked. 

“Are you alright?” Fives comes over, putting his hand on your shoulder.

You can actually feel it. You pull away, even more freaked out than before.

“Hey, let’s get Kix down here.” Fives turns toward Tup, who nods and takes off out of what you now recognize as barracks.

Fives turns back toward you and as you look around at all the men, they all seem really concerned for you. Which is somewhat sweet, when you think about it. 

“Hey, doll. Why don’t you sit back down?” Fives tries to guide you back down to the bunk and kneels in front of you, searching your eyes. 

Unable to help yourself, you reach out and poke him in the cheek and he gives you an amused smile that you know so well from all the times you’ve watched him. His skin is warm and soft and you let out a breath that you’ve been holding in since you “woke up”. 

“F-fives.” You look at him. 

He nods, grinning. “That’s right, mesh’la.” 

You look around. “Hardcase. Dogma. Jesse.” 

They all nod when you say their names, the sweet concern never leaving their handsome faces. 

And then you hear the doors open and all the breath feels like it’s left your lungs. The man you’ve loved since your first watch. 

Captain Rex. 

God, he’s even prettier in person… How is that even possible? 

He murmurs your name and your world stops spinning just for a moment, your heart pausing with it. He knows your name. 

Of course he knows your name. This is your dream.

“Tup said you might not be feeling well?” Rex asks and Fives moves so that Rex can kneel down in front of you.

The breath in your throat hitches and you get slightly dizzy. You notice that he smells like warm vanilla with a hint of the ocean, as he gives you the softest look any man or person has given you. It’s nearly intoxicating. He looks into your eyes and suddenly, you want to thank your insomnia for giving you this moment. 

“Are you alright?” He’s still searching your eyes and you realize you need to get it together and play along with this dream or these men are going to think you’re crazy.

You rub your eyes and stretch. “Yeah, sorry, Captain. Just woke up from a weird dream.”

He lets out a sigh of relief, looking up at Fives who also seems to be okay with that answer. 

“Good. Glad to hear that it’s nothing serious.” He pats your knee as he stands up and immediately you stand with him. 

He looks to Fives. “We’re shipping out to Umbara in the next hour. Meet Generals Skywalker and Kenobi down in the hangar in 30.”

Umbara…? Umbara… Oh no. 

“Um, Captain? Captain R-rex.” You stutter over your words, still not able to get over the fact that this man is standing in front of you.

You follow him out of the barracks. You feel like you need to say something. If you can warn them about Umbara… about General Pong Krell turning toward the dark side… maybe you can help them win this battle, right?

“What is it?” He smiles down at you.

Oh, wow. That smile really still has quite the effect on you, making your heart feel like it’s melting right through your body and you have to remind yourself to breathe. 

“I need to tell you something. About Pong Krell.” You fidget with your shirt, nervously.

“Alright. What about the general?” He stops walking to give you his undivided attention.

“Um… He’s… He’s not who he says he is.” You struggle to find the right words, knowing that if you just outright say the general is a Sith, you’re going to look crazy. 

You need proof. But you don’t exactly have any. 

“What do you mean?” Rex asks you, tilting his head in confusion.

“Rex! There you are.” A familiar voice is behind you and you spin around to find Anakin Skywalker walking toward you and the captain. 

“General.” Rex greets him.

“Are your men ready for the briefing?” Anakin asks.

“Yes, sir.” Rex nods. 

“Good. Walk with me.” Anakin smiles then looks at you and greets you by name. 

Does everyone here know you?

“H-hello… uh, general.” You give a weak smile.

Rex starts to say goodbye but you try to speak up again. “Dude.” 

Then, you remember that you’re speaking to a general and a captain and that’s probably super disrespectful. 

“Uh, apologies captain.” You try to keep up with them as Anakin’s commlink goes off and he steps away to answer it.

“We’ll talk about it when we get back.” Rex gives you a reassuring smile and you shake your head. “General Skywalker is the one on the mission with us. There’s nothing to worry about.”

“No. Krell is going to lie and send Anakin- the general away so that he can try to get the clones killed.” You tell him, firmly.

Rex looks over at Anakin and then back at you, clearly confused. “W-what… How do you know this?” 

How are you even supposed to explain your knowledge of these things? You can’t just be like “Oh yeah, I know this because none of this is real and you’re actually just a tv show.” right? 

“I’m someone you trust, right?” You murmur, looking up into the brown eyes that you’ve daydreamed about plenty of times. 

“Of course.” He nods.

“Then, Rex… I’m begging you to trust me on this… please.” You sigh. 

Even though you’ve technically just met this man, you feel like you’ve truly known him for so much longer. Does he feel that way about you? 

“Alright.” Rex murmurs, glancing toward Anakin again. “I trust you. But what can I do?”

“Leave it to me.” You nod, smiling up at him. “Good luck. Be safe.” 

“You’re not coming with us?” He asks, confusion painting his face again. 

“Oh… Am I?” You still don’t know what your role is here. 

“Kix is gonna need all the help he can get.” Rex winks, your stomach flipping at such a simple gesture as he joins Anakin once he gets off the call. 

You’re a medic? Oh no… You don’t know the first thing about being a medic… What if you can’t help and these men get killed because of you? You’ll just have to stick next to Kix for the time being… Hopefully you can sort of learn as you go? Maybe you’ll get lucky and they won’t actually need your help.

When you wake up, you’re still not exactly well rested. If anything, you feel even more tired. But man… What a dream. You got to see your favorite clone captain, got to meet the clones you spend countless hours a week watching. Hopefully, you’ll get lucky and dream of them again.

Then, you remember that you were going to try to help them… and you’ve been pulled from their reality a bit too soon, your chest tightening at the thought. 

Rubbing your eyes as you sit up, you pull your phone off the charger and shoot your mom a message: 

You: Thank you for singing to me. That actually helped a lot. Think you could do it again tonight? 

She answers almost right away.

Mom: Of course, sweetheart. Have a great day!

As you climb out of bed to get ready for work, you can’t help but think about what your next dream could possibly hold tonight.

TAGS: @twistedstitcher27 @rebel-finn @grievouus @madameminor @dumfanting @rain-on-kamino @corona-one @tecker @ladykatakuri @brynhildrmimi @the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamond @zoeykallus @maulslittlemeowmeow @littlemousedroid @arctrooper69 @rexxdjarin @agenteliix @padawancat97 @hated-by-me @sleepingsun501 @quigonswife8 @idlenesses @redheadgirl @dnxgma @themcuwriter @ashotofspotchka @sunshinesdaydream @crosshairsimp73 @ariadnes-red-thread @rosmariner @heyitsaloy @starstofillmydream @high-ct5555 

[thestarkerisobvious]

What No One Tells You About The End Of The World

What No One Tells You About The End Of The World 

Is

…you still have to eat once in a while.  You still have to shit.  You still have to lay down and sleep and then, eventually, you have to get up the next day.  You think you will just stay in bed forever - but I promise you can't.  You will have to get up.  You’ll get bored.  You’ll realize you haven’t bathed in a while.  And eventually, you’ll have to eat.

At least he has something to eat.  Peter reminds himself, sometimes, that he still has electricity and hot and cold running water.  He may live completely alone in a world where the human race has forgotten his name, but at least he has something to eat, and someone to eat with.  Not everyone does.

And Peter does have someone to eat with.  And someone who, on occasions, asks him if he’s eaten today.  Asked if he was getting enough rest.  “Not that I’m one to judge,” that someone would joke mildly, and then some conversation about night-owls and insomnia would follow, but still.  It was nice to be asked.  Such a tiny little kindness that really hit home when the whole planet has magically forgotten your existence.  

Although his older lover might be amused if Peter ever described him as “kind.”  “Infuriating” would be more accurate.  “Maddening.”  Both by day and by night.  Maddening by day (that ego was NOT an act, and sometimes difficult to live with behind closed doors.)  Maddening by night (that scrape of beard on the back of his neck, making Peter crazy…)

What no one tells you about the end of the world is that you will still wake up with morning wood. And that maybe… even though you are sure you don’t deserve it… maybe you still get to feel good.  Sometimes.

(And sometimes… maybe  more than just good.  Maybe a lot more than good.  Like when he strongarms you to face the wall and presses it in inch by inch, forcing you to take it slow, forcing you to wait.  You’re stronger than him, obviously, it’s not like he’s wearing all his fancy clothes right now but how are you going to fight him?  Not when your cock is in his expert hand and the scrape of that damn beard against your neck is making you insane…)

He apologizes for being an asshole sometimes.

Which… kind of hurts.  Because he never apologizes to the world for being himself… he just is.  That’s what Peter admires about him.  He is completely and utterly himself… doesn’t seem to doubt himself.  Not like Peter at all…

(Also, he never referred to himself as an asshole until they went to bed together.)

Not that Peter can complain.  Having this older man for a lover… this older, arrogant, infuriating man… well…

It gets lonely at the end of the world.  Especially when you’re surrounded by people walking past you, walking to and from work every day and every night, not knowing that your world just ended.  You think you won’t need companionship after your whole world falls apart but, oddly, you do.  Existence has ended, but you’re still human.  Apocalypse is now and passed, but it’s still good to have a conversation about that crazy thing you saw on the street today.

And if you have that conversation while laying side by side in this ridiculous bed, letting the sweat dry off your bodies as you catch your breath and marvel at what you’ve just created together, well…

…who knew you could still laugh after the world has ended?

Laugh, or chuckle, or maybe roll your eyes or maybe even growl a little in frustration at the one man in the world who knows your name.  Maybe even fight a little… maybe even quarrel.  You think you don’t care about anything any more… what else is there to care about at the end of the world?  But you are still a human being.  You still have edges.  And sometimes yours bark up against his and you feel yourself bristling…

…but all of that melts away at when Peter finds himself melting in that man’s iron arms.

His lover is an older man  - he never lets Peter forget it - and he loves to point out that, as an older man he is just not as interested in his own climax as he is in other things.  Peter’s lover is a scientist at heart.  And he is often at night he seems more interested in certain scientific experiments on Peter’s willing body than he is anything else. 

How many times can Peter come in one evening?  How long can he wait, held gaping there on that silver razor edge, waiting for release?  

Who knew, here at the end of the world, that you could still be surprised?

And so Peter does just that.  Gets up in the morning.  Eats.  Shaves.  Shits.  Teases his lover gently about how long he spends looking in the mirror every morning, meticulously plucking his face to maintain that signature facial hair.  There’s more and more gray appearing in that hair now than ever before, but Peter just uses the term “silver fox” and kisses his lover before going out into the world.  Out into the world to try to find some kind of meaningful thing to do.  Then comes home (he gets to think of it as “home” now - that is such a relief) and lets his older lover take control again.

And you might as well.  Let him take your jaw in an iron grip and turn your head back for a demanding kiss as he slowly moves inside you… holding your breath in hopes to hear those tiny sounds that he makes, those noises that mean he can’t hold back much longer.  No matter how much he brags about not caring about his own climax.  There, on the edge, if you can keep from keening and begging, you can hear him too.  Those sounds he makes when he’s no longer able to remain dignified…

And that's when you realize the hard ugly truth - the world has ended, but you are still alive.  And you DO have a few blessings to count.  You have a place to sleep.  You have hot and cold running water, electricity, and food to get out of bed for.

And someone to go to bed with.

Someone you are actually starting to care about.

And that is the problem.

Because, much to your surprise, here at the end of the world, you are not alone.  And now you’re almost feeling like you might want to get up in the morning?   like you might want to go out into the world and see what’s in it? because you know when you get home at the end of the day, there will be someone to… to talk to about it?

And yes, okay, that someone is a little hard to live with… yes okay maybe he is the best in his field and maybe it isn’t pride if you know you are the best but still…

But maybe… maybe that man is being a little different now.  Maybe he’s making a lot more references to things that happened “before you were born” or even “long before you were born”  which you KNOW is a subtle way of reminding you that the gulf between your ages is huge, and it won't exactly get smaller over time.   

But there’s no point in thinking about the future.  Why think about the future when the world has already ended?

And maybe that's the key to it all.  There is no future.  There is no past…

…okay there is a past.  There is a whole hell of a lot of past… but now days it feels, to Peter, like it all happened to someone else.  Some other kid, someone he had been close to.   Someone who also had lego sets and also had one close friend that shared his obsession.  Some other kid who got the quiet anti-social girl to become his best friend and share a million crazy life experiences, including that first kiss, with each other.  Some other person that saved the  world alongside Tony Stark.  

Some other person that watched him die.

That other kid would never have… well he certainly would have dared to go to 177A Bleecker Street and demand to talk to Stephen Strange.  He would have done that.  When he just couldn’t take it any more.  Couldn’t stand to live in a world that had no idea who he was.  That kid would have dared to explain it all to Stephen Strange.  That other kid might have even accepted the apology, and offer of accommodation, from Steven Strange.  

But would that other kid have gone to bed with Stephen Strange??  Would he have even taken that risk?

But he did.  THIS Peter Parker did.  This Peter Parker had taken that risk because, let's face it, what else did he have left to lose?  

And now, whatever else Peter had, he had another man to talk about the End Of The World With.  Another man who, kind of, understood.

Another man who just might have some good advice.

“Look out there, kid,” he said one evening, bringing Peter, clad only in his boxers, to that large ornate archaic window at the far end of Stephen’s large ornate archaic bedroom.  The window of the Sanctum Sanctorum  was currently looking out over the street of Hong Kong, not Greenwich Village, but still, Peter got the point.

“The world ended out there, too.  I guarantee you - someone out there on that street is watching the people walk by hating them.  How can they keep walking, how can they keep going back and forth, how can they keep going to work?  Don’t they know it’s the end of the world?  I guarantee you’re looking down on the end of the world right now.

“The world ends for people every single day…” Stephen was murmuring now.  He was standing close behind Peter, his strong hands on Peter’s hips.  Peter resisted the urge to close the distance between them, to press his ass against Stephen’s erection, to distract him and end this conversation.  It wouldn’t be the first time, certainly.  Sometimes a cold part of Peter complained that he wanted Stephen Strange for distraction, NOT for advice.

“But you, you keep going out there.  You  KEEP going out there and you KEEP helping other people.  Because you know the truth.

“What no one tells you about the end of the world is that - enhanced or not - magic or not - special or not - 

“You are still human.”

“And humans keep going.”

   amazing moodboards by @mrstarksbaby

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

This has been a #MrStarksBabyIsObvious production. Follow the tag #MrStarksBabyIsObvious Production to see what else we've cooked up together.

[littlesislovesyou]

It's okay. Not something anyone can control...I just wanna pull myself away as fast as possible into my safe space. And I'm sorry you understand that if it means you've went through similar before. But the relation does help. I'll be okay I hope. I'll do my best and that's all anyone could ever do. And trust me you're already helping me feel better sweetheart. 🖤

Thank you I really appreciate that. Part of my self care however speaking to people who make me feel happy or comfortable for my own mental health my doctor said so >:3 so it must be true and I'll be keeping that by talking to you here.

Once my brain is a little less scrambled and overthinking... I'll see if I'm in the mood and can actually use my brain to respond to the other ask and if not sorry but I'll do it tomorrow. Wouldn't do me or you any good to write these if my heart, soul and cock wasn't in it yk?

And my cock should be in you, my sister's cunny~ With my heart and soul connected to yours...after all we've always been close and tight knitted ever since we were kids and you're always there for me...there's no one I'd be able to resist giving it all to than you. Even if I was married and you lulled me in after visiting for the first time in years and us catching up...your hand in mine and suddenly you're in my lap and asking me if I'd do anything for my sister and I'd respond to that by forcing my lips against yours and hearing you yelp and gasp into the kiss as you relax and begin grinding in my lap and kissing me back. There's no one I'd sacrifice anything for more because I know you'll be there for me at the end of time...no different than my own wife <333

I'm happy you're feeling better and I appreciate you more~ And that's fair work sucks LOL and it's nice to get into your safe space. At-home where you can unwind and do whatever you want with the remaining time in the day.

Well...it's a safe space until a masked stranger like me shows up but who's counting~ 🤭🔪

But it's that thought alone that keeps me going and waking up in the morning no matter how much I struggle to get up or how depressed I feel. Better days will come. And there's no gain without struggle (even hot struggles 👀)

I'm sure you would if you knew who I was...the price I pay for being a mysterious, fucked up stranger behind a mask ready to ravage you at a moment's notice...! The things I do to ruin your panties and make you unbelievably horny...worth it lmaoooo

No amount of kindness I've shown do I believe you to not deserve. Same for the depraved, fucked up things I've whispered into your ear that I know you secretly enjoy~ <333

You always make my day better and I really appreciate you alot too. Thank you so much 💕 It means alot to me and I'm glad if I can brighten your day even a little bit...

And fuuuuck how do you effortlessly slide in with your teasing flirty nature as smooth as butter 😩 my mood is changing rapidly in the horny direction and this is your fault.

Now I can't get you helping me destress in bed late at night out of my head. Seeing your head in between my legs while you wiggle your hips in a hypnotic manner that has me fully entranced 🥴 Seeing that ass sway that I need sat on my face immediately would do unspeakable things to my mind. 🖤🖤🖤🖤 Like wanting to do anything make you ride and cum on my face and tongue~

It’s easy to want to do that, I understand, if you have to you have to🖤🫶 no judgment here, I am really glad I can help though, and hey just take your time<3 I also have insomnia so I don’t sleep a lot, so I’m here especially if you need someone to talk to!

Hehe I’m glad I can help with your self care then🫶☺️ I definitely don’t mind at all<3 and hey I really understand, sometimes you just have things going on so I won’t push you to do that if your hearts not in it hm? 🩷

Also I completely get it, sometimes it is a tough thing to do but it is worth it🖤 I hope whatever you’re struggling with right now passes, just try not to be too hard on yourself🩷🩷

Aghhh if only I knew who you were so I could keep teasing you in dms~<3 hehe I’m only teasing;’) but seriouslyyy, I think you’ve already ruined multiple pairs of mine already🥺🫶

Ahhh hey🥺 you started it! I can’t help itttt, I think I just like making you horny, you mysterious stranger<3

And agh why did you have to say thatt;’) now I’m just imagining sitting on your face<3 making it all wet, would you grip my thighs hard, pulling me into your face more?🩷🩷🩷🩷

[hebuiltfive]

Just in case the last ask failed:

Sickness prompts:

snoozeville: [character] falls asleep somewhere that isn’t their bed. With Scott please

Thank you @janetm74! I hope this suffices!

Snoozeville (feat. Scott Tracy)

Scott was undoubtedly an early bird. He preferred sunrises over sunsets, and he found something refreshingly cleansing about early morning air. Whenever duty wasn’t calling him, Scott often found himself down in the gym, purpose-built on the island to cater to all their needs and to save the residents trips to the mainland every time they wanted to pump some iron. 

This morning was no different. 

Nor were the bags that he carried under his eyes, the dull throb of a headache just beginning to form or the feeling of limp muscles.

Perhaps burning the candle at both ends wasn’t the best idea these last few weeks. Rescue call after rescue call, a mountain of work for the business that kept everything afloat and then general insomnia on top of it all because God only knows why… Scott was tired. 

Of course, he could have slept through the morning if he really tried, but he had things to do, and a Scott who hadn’t managed to fit in a morning work-out was like a Virgil who had gone without coffee. So, yes, whilst he was beginning to feel sleepy now the birds had started their tweeting, Scott actually getting some sleep didn’t seem like his most favourite of options. Thus, the gym.

It was the aching, dull muscles that had Scott choosing the bench press over the treadmill once he’d limbered up as his first work-out of choice. The weights would help his body wake up, right? Somewhere in the depths of his mind he heard a voice, that sounded a lot like Gordon’s, telling him that his choice was a dumb one, but Scott chose not to listen. He was too tired to listen.

He loaded up the barbell, choosing weights that were just under his normal tolerance (because he wasn’t a complete idiot, give him some credit), and laid himself down on the bench. The lights of the gym were set to a soft glow, bright enough to light up the space but not too bright to blind him, though that had been considered as an option to help him wake up. 

Now, lying there, he was thankful he decided against that. Scott breathed deeply as a pain shot across his forehead. Perhaps he should have taken some painkillers before coming down here. Perhaps he shouldn’t have come down here at all. Ugh, whatever. He was too tired to care. Besides Scott was certain the aches would pass in a moment and then he could start his work-out… in a minute… he just wanted to close his eyes for a second first…

“Scott! Are you insane?”

To his credit, Scott did not jump up and hit his head on the barbell that was still cradled on the stand above him. He did, however, jolt awake.

Awake? Hold on…

“Actually, don’t answer that.” His brother continued, coming to to a stand beside the bench. Virgil hovered a scanner over him as Scott blinked his eyes into focus.

“… Virg…?”

“How many times have I told you not to use the gym unless you’ve had a proper rest before?”

Scott’s brain had a hard time catching up. Had he… fallen asleep? Impossible. Surely he hadn’t been that tired. “I was only resting my eyes for a few seconds.”

“Under the weights?”

“He’s been in here for over an hour.” The unmistakeable tone of EOS echoed through the hall from Virgil’s handheld monitor. “I told you he was acting recklessly again.”

“Hold on, you used EOS to spy on me?” Scott’s attempt to sound offended fell flat due only to his still sleepy head.

“Not spy…” Virgil quickly clarified, his eyes darting to the weights on the end of the bar in guilt. “She woke me up after seeing here and… This isn’t about me. Stop deflecting, Scott!”

Scott sighed, carefully sitting himself up despite his body’s protests to just stay there for a little longer. He didn’t dare chance a glance at his brother, who’s eyes Scott could already feel were staring him down.

“Bed. Now.”

“It’s seven in the morning, Virg…”

“I don’t care if it was midday.”

“Virg, I am fine.”

“These readouts don’t back up your theory. You need to sleep, Scott.”

Scott knew when to pick his battles, especially with medic-mode Virgil. Denying the evidence that was now being put before him — ouch, those are a lot of red areas — he knew that this was not a battle he would win. 

“Fine. I’ll… try and get some rest.”

But Scott didn’t move.

Virgil waited a moment. “Now, Scott.”

A sharp intake of breath and Scott was back. Had he almost just fallen asleep sitting up? Yikes. “I’m fine, I’m fine, I just.. need a minute.”

“Do I have to carry you?” Virgil lightly swatted at his shoulder. “Do not fall back to sleep. You’ll fall backwards and hit your head on the bar.”

“I thought you wanted me to sleep.”

“Scott.” Virgil pinched the bridge of his nose, clearly exasperated. “Do not start. Get your butt to bed and, for the love of God, please stay there until you’ve had a decent amount of sleep.”

[chrisevansonly]

Waves

Chris Evans x Female Reader

Summary: After a long few weeks, your anxiety had built up which only contributed to your lack of sleep, so when you try and get some much needed rest, your brain doesn’t help and sends you into a panic 

Warnings: anxiety, talks of mental health, insomnia, soft ending

A/N: I wrote this for my sweet bean @chrisevansdaughter I did change it a little since I usually don’t write Chris fics with a younger sibling, I tried to make it as comforting as possible so I hope this helps. I am always here to talk to anyone whenever you need, I want to provide a safe space for you to seek a friend or just some comfort! <3

Word Count: 849

The past few weeks had been absolute hell, from working piling up, your mental health taking a decline due to the cloudy grey days that January brought with it, you were exhausted, physically, and emotionally. You’d never had an easy time sleeping, but now it was even worse due to the constant battle your brain gave you every day, it’s almost comical how you hadn’t been able to catch a break for a while. I guess that’s why you opted to bury yourself in blankets on the couch in yours and Chris’s living room, calling off work for the next two weeks in an attempt to get a hold of yourself. 

The fire was on under the TV and a few reruns of your favourite show were on which helped to give you some level of comfort as your anxiety picked up. The more you watched he TV, and the warmer your body got, you felt yourself start to drift off. You desperately needed sleep, but having nightmares often followed the rest you begged for, so after fighting it for a little bit, you eventually fell asleep. 

All you could hear was constant screaming and loud noises as you looked around frantically, it was like you were paralyzed in your nightmare and couldn’t move. It must have been a few hours of sleep you’d managed to get before you shot up, gasping for air, a pair of hands finding your cheeks and holding you steady 

“Hey, hey, hey…breathe honey…it’s okay, I’m here”

“I-I..s-so loud”

Chris looked at you with concern as tears started to fall down your cheeks, his thumbs catching some of them as they fell 

“You’re okay, you’re safe…did you have another nightmare?”

You nodded your head, hands moving to hold his wrists almost as if to check if he was really right in front of you, closing your eyes to take a few deep breaths, Chris sending gentle praise your way until you opened your eyes again to look at him

“It was the same one…I just wanted to s-sleep, and i’m so tired”

He nodded listening to you as you spoke 

“I even called off work for two weeks because they w-won’t give me a break, I just need a break Chris”

Chris could feel his heartbreak seeing his girl so exhausted, the sound of pure burnout evident in her voice, wishing he could snap his fingers and make everything better, so for now he opted to get up onto the couch and cuddle in beside you, bringing you to his chest and letting you lay your tired body against his

“Okay sweet girl, tell you what, the next two weeks we’re gonna spend some time just you and me, we’ll figure out how to help you sleep easier, maybe take a trip with Dodger up to the cabin for a few days to get away from the city? Whatever you need to feel better, I’ll support and help you in any way I can”

Before you could answer, Dodger had shown up obviously hearing his name, and took his place on the couch, opting to lay on your lap, the pressure helping to ease some of the anxiety you still felt 

“Hi bub…you heard your name huh?”

The pup looked at you with his big brown eyes as you rubbed a hand over the fur on his head, no doubt sensing your discomfort and wanting to help in any way he could 

“I like the sound of that…I think just spending time the three of us will help”

Chris pressed a few kisses to your temple while his arms tightened around you, adding another layer of safety for your mind that had now begun to quiet down 

“Alright, so you let me figure everything out, and I’ll take care of it all, we’re gonna get you feeling better in no time, I love you, I hope you know that, and I am so proud of you”

Blinking back another round of tears you lifted your head away from his chest to place a kiss on his lips

“I love you too, always, thanks for taking such good care of me…”

He smiled tucking you back against him and pulling the blankets up over your shoulder, Dodger moving to get more comfortable too

“I will always do whatever I can to help you feel your best, no matter what life throws at you, no matter how high the waves get, I will always be here to help you through it.”

For the first time in a few days, you were able to feel nothing but the calm and quiet your boys and home brought you. It was going to be a long road of getting you the support and help you needed, but Chris was going to be there every step of the way. He wouldn’t leave you stranded, and he sure as hell wouldn’t leave you to face these challenges alone. As long as he had you in his arms, he’d do his absolute best to keep you safe, and protected…and Dodger would too.

[butch-corvid]

I want to have a roommate that’s just terrible. Absolutely repulsive politically and personally. Not even in the hot way just. Genuine hatred. Calls me a cuntboy when she introduces me kind of awful. Asks me invasive questions about my body kind of awful. Keeps setting me up with chasers kind of awful. And I want her to make a bet with me: that I’ll beg for her to fuck me by the end of the month. That without touching me I’ll become her eager fucktoy. If I win, she moves out. If I lose, she gets rights to my body. And fuck it, I really need her out.

I want her to slip me some sleeping pills every night, either subtly crushed in my drink or just. A friendly suggestion to help with my restlessness and insomnia. I’ll be fast asleep no matter what she does to me. It starts off slow, just groping me, feeling up the body I usually keep hidden under layers of clothing. Accustoming my body to her touch so that I’ll ache for it. I don’t really get wet from that, but that’s alright. She can just keep trying. This time, she holds a vibrator to me and watches my cock get hard underneath it. Edging me, pausing every time it looks like I’m going to wake up. My body is more eager now, enough for her to fit one or two fingers inside me.

I’m unbearably horny in the morning, but I’m still able to get off. For some reason, it’s not enough. She’s slowly been conditioning my body to respond to her touch, to wake up dripping wet surrounded by her smell. Every time I have a sex dream, she edges me more, getting bolder, fingering me properly. She smears her cum on my lips so that I wake up craving her taste. Eventually she gets brave enough to slip her clit past my lips and get off into my mouth. One day, she takes one of my cocks, cums on it, and fucks me with it, using her cum as lube to fit it all the way inside me. I wake up feeling empty, and the only thing that sates me, if only temporarily, is when I lick my fingers clean after fingering myself.

I haven’t woken up once, so she gets bolder, cumming inside me and taking pictures of my fuckhole dripping with her load. She cleans me up the best she can before leaving, not wanting me to catch on just yet.

I know something is wrong. I accuse her of slipping me aphrodisiacs, and she swears on her life she isn’t, that she’d never cheat like that. The end of the month is coming up, and despite my near constant desperation, I still can’t fathom giving up the rights to my body to someone like her. But every night, if I sleepily moan a name, it’s hers.

After another night asleep, she cums inside me twice, pent up from edging herself to videos of her using me. And she invites some of her friends over to mount me too, until their cum is getting pushed out of me with every thrust. She’s gotten accustomed to me never waking up, so she has someone else fuck my face. Once they’ve all sated themselves with my helpless body, she decides to fuck me one last time. I’m so wet, an absolutely wrecked cumdump, pushing my hips into the air because I’m so hard and I haven’t cum and even if I’m not conscious, my body still loves the feeling of getting bred. She takes pity on me, rubbing my cock while she fucks me, making me cum in my sleep for the first time. She’s recording every moment, still stroking my overstimulated cock, when I whimper out her name. “Please. Please let me be your fucktoy” She cums inside me just as my eyes flutter open to her lowering her phone. She got every bit of my humiliating confession on camera.

She soothes me back to sleep. Since I’ve already lost, I don’t have rights to my body anyway. And she’s not quite finished wringing orgasm after orgasm out of me.