#i have the rest of the summer free i can fuck up my sleep schedule and live in the basement

[prael]

Oranges And Flowers

Kinktember Day 18: Romance

IU (Lee Jieun) x male reader smut

words: 10,517 Kinktember Masterlist

"Can I be honest with you all?" A question for a question, and they all turn their heads, and finally you offer them a real answer. "I didn't really know what I was getting myself into—when I applied to stay here, that is—I just needed a place to stay for the week."

The evening air is humid and still, the sky a flat obsidian black with shining constellations, and underneath it, surrounding a fire, is a circle of maybe the most mismatched group of people ever assembled. There are the stars of course, Hyori and Sangsoon, owners of the house and the famous couple hosting you all—then, Lee Jieun; you know the one, probably the single most famous person in the country, just casually sitting there in her summer dress as if she was nothing special at all. And then there's the guests, an assortment of people you still don't really know. The old couple, the young couple, and the sisters.

And, finally: you.

"So you applied to the TV show, just for somewhere to stay?" Hyori's laughter carries and is as contagious as it is clear and pleasant.

"Honestly," you look around the circle. "I didn't read a lot of the info, and even now I'm not too sure what's actually going on in the show."

This earns a laugh from the group, they're all looking at you, and not in that 'you-fucking-moron' sort of way, no, their faces are full of smiles. Though, one stands out above the rest.

"And you?" Hyori turns her attention to the next person in the circle, one of the sisters who is sitting on your left. All the stares move along with the questions, switching focus to the girl—all except one. Jieun sits directly across from you and her gaze rests stoically upon your face, an unreadable smile painting her delicate lips a plush and radiant pink. Between you, the fire burns. It sends spiralling embers shooting into the night and, behind it, the orange light dances over her skin. It would be so easy to get the wrong idea here. This place is just so beautiful, everything is picture-perfect, and all these postcard-worthy scenes feel even better when Lee Jieun is a part of the composition.

Laughter breaks out in the group again for some joke you never paid attention to. It steals the attention of you both, however, turning to the girl and joining in the laughter with a meek half-hearted chuckle, looking around at them all awkwardly before returning your eyes to Lee Jieun. She returns the look and lifts her drink, taking a long sip through a straw.

You weren't too sure about all this the first day you arrived. On paper it seems like such an obvious idea, you didn't have to pay a penny and the producers even picked you up from the airport, all in exchange for being a bit-part background character that no one who watches will ever really remember or care about. In reality, it has changed the whole holiday. The requirements for guests were rather simple. You just need to be around for a few set activities by the producer, all worked around your schedule, and then you're free to enjoy your time however you like.

That first morning, you were greeted at the house by Hyori and Sangsoon. Introductions were made and then a short tour began, all under the camera's watchful eye.

It was okay, you could handle it, right up until you were taken into the kitchen and standing there was Lee fucking Jieun. Apparently, you skipped over the part that said IU was going to be here. It was like staring into the sun. Of course, Hyori was quick to joke as you stood there stunned and silent with an open mouth that could catch a mosquito or two.

"Why am I being outshone in my own house? Jieun, you need to leave." Hyori playfully poked her friend in the arm, and Jieun just giggled along. And like the world's biggest idiot, you couldn't even muster a simple 'Hello'. Great first impression there.

From then on you were shown where you would sleep and you bumped into some of the other guests. They seemed normal enough. One was nice, one seemed grumpy, and the others—well, you really didn't know yet. When you settled into your room, you yearned to just do something normal, to not get overwhelmed. Making some tea seemed like the perfect grounding activity.

When you got there, the kitchen was empty. The teapot was already out, but everything else was decidedly harder to find. Then came that soft and gentle voice from behind you. "You won't find anything to steal in there; it's all baking supplies." It made you jump, and you snapped around to see Jieun leaning against a fridge door, smiling over a glass of something clear and carbonated.

You pointed at your chest like an idiot. "I'm... not looking to steal."

"Too bad." She took a long and dramatic sip. "It would have made for good television. Plus, you look like a kleptomaniac to me. Brooding and mysterious, travelling alone, all that sort of thing."

"I'm actually just trying to make some tea."

"Oh perfect, let me. Here," She took the cup from the kitchen counter, placed it in front of you, and then moved beside you to open the correct cupboard to pull out some tea leaves. It was funny the kind of thing that can go into making a good impression and the pressure you put on yourself to do so. How many would kill for this chance, to stand close to Jieun in an otherwise empty room? Yet, your mind was swimming, you were trying desperately to not think about the very famous, attractive, woman who stood shoulder-to-shoulder with you—trying desperately and failing horribly as the thoughts of something funny to say slipped out of reach entirely.

She leant in towards you—well, towards your cup—and you jumped back, trying to play it off as a simple 'making way' manoeuvre, but her little side-eye glance and smile told you how stupid you looked.

"This is one of the few things I know what to do. Tea. I can make tea," she was saying as she filled up the teapot. "They asked me to try and bake some bread this morning, but..."

"Where is it now?"

"It's in here," she pointed at the rubbish bin with a free hand.

"I think it bakes better in the oven. Can't tell you much more than that though." Boy did this woman laugh. Like, a lot. As if it was the funniest thing she had heard all week. Her shoulders shook and her whole body swayed, and when the teapot whistled it made her jump, which sent her spiralling back into another fit.

And suddenly, she looked so... normal. 

You know it's unfair to say celebrities are anything other than just normal people, because of course they are normal people, it's not like fame and money change them on a fundamental level. That being said, they can't help but not be normal in the eyes of many. Celebrities are celebrities,  like how someone with blue hair is always blue-haired. But, at the end of the day, Jieun, whether she is IU the singer and TV star or Jieun the disaster of a breadmaker, is just a regular, normal, though very gorgeous, woman.

And she looks that way now, too, across the campfire. Sure, the cameras are rolling and she puts a little extra emphasis and playfulness on her expressions and movements—who wouldn't for the sake of good television—but in this moment, right here, right now, she's a completely normal and likeable human being, one you think you might enjoy being around. Hyori continues to lead the discussion around the fire pit, asking a few probing questions about the guest's hobbies and home lives, then posing riddles to the group and comparing their answers with her husband Sangsoon's.

For you, her questions are answered quickly, giving them a quick thought and little else before letting them fall from your lips.

When Hyori moves her focus along, she doesn't fail to pick up on the way you and Jieun spend the remaining half hour or so, looking at each other, smiling every so often, then quickly pulling your gaze away as if caught red-handed doing something sinful.

~~~

"We're going to pick oranges this morning." Hyori is explaining over breakfast. "I know, it's not the most exciting but it's the Jeju staple activity, so we have to do it. All guests are welcome to join us."

The young couple sat to your right immediately volunteered their services, followed soon after by the older man and his wife. Once their attendance was secure, the rest seemed significantly less interested and all excused themselves for other tasks. As the only person yet to respond, Jieun turned the spotlight on you, "How about you? Are you going to join us?"

You shrugged. "Uh, I was going to meet a friend, actually."

Hyori is quick to follow up, "You could see them in the afternoon right? Come with us, it will be fun." There are a few puzzled looks around the table. See, Hyori didn't push anyone else to go, no, only you. "Your friend won't mind right?"

In all honesty, your friend might very well be livid, though he might very well lighten up if you told him who you were spending your morning with instead. You run a hand through your hair and admit defeat, looking towards her. "Okay, I'll come along."

An answer that produces an immediate, but brief shared glance between Hyori and Jieun.

~~~

The journey there was lacklustre, a short ride, with the other guest, separated from the stars who rode ahead. The staff member with you gave you a basic run down, they are only planning to use the guests in some overhead shots and some background shots, everything else would be focused on the three of them.

But, after climbing the stone steps and passing through the orchard gate, Hyori takes charge of the situation. "We'll split up into pairs. Our two older lovebirds can go together, and our younger couple too. Sangsoon is with me and..." She stops. Hyori gives you a devious grin, one that speaks louder than words. "That leaves you two." She gives a final affirming nod before striding over to join Sangsoon.

And just like that, you find yourself walking through the grove alongside a girl you've only ever seen on TV before. This morning she wore a cute ensemble that accentuated her long legs. Another flowing sundress with a belt tied tight at the waist to show off that lithe, feminine shape. It's a silent first few steps, walking off down between two rows of trees, both waiting for the other to initiate the conversation.

Jieun speaks first, breaking through the tension. "So, you said you know someone on the island?"

"Uh," you brush a loose strand of hair from your eye. "A couple of them actually, old friends. One lives in Jeju and another's been here for work and he said I should visit when I'm in the area."

"What are they like?" Jieun stops, so do you, and then she steps across you, before crouching down to take an orange from the low-hanging fruit. "The friends."

"Uhm..." What are they like? Good friends, obviously, otherwise you wouldn't be making this trip. Where's the drama, where are the fun anecdotes, or the moments of soul searching. Nothing comes to mind. "They're fine?"

It earns a chuckle from Jieun. "Fine?" She stands facing you, dropping the fruit into the basket you're carrying. "Is that all?" She flashes you the sweetest smile, an endearing smile, one that begs you to open up a little more.

"I met them recently, actually, it's been mostly online, to tell the truth." Jieun ducks down to get the next fruit, you bend down too and pluck at another on the opposite side, rotating to turn to her and handing her the basket, standing back up and following beside her once more. "They're funny, one of them is a big foodie. Always posts pictures of stuff like the best bibimbap in Busan or whatever. Has a whole food blog that's fairly popular."

Jieun nods, pondering and popping a new piece of fruit into the basket. "Do you like food?"

"Can't live without it," you joke.

Jieun chuckles, and you laugh with her. It is hard not to, her laughter is so cute. "So can you cook?" she follows.

"Instant noodles is about all I know."

"Somehow I even manage to ruin those," she admits with a fake frown and a laugh. "I think that's part of the reason I'm on this show."

"What's that?" you ask as Jieun reaches for another ripe fruit, she pulls it from the branch and then somehow manages to drop it on the floor, a gesture you couldn't help but find positively adorable. She runs a few steps after it as it begins to roll on the hard dirt ground, and bends over to scoop it up, presenting it to you victoriously with her smile.

"What's what?"

"You said it's why you're on the show."

"Oh, because I'm kind of, useless? Clumsy, not very domesticated, really."

"Those things don't make you useless, you're anything but useless." Is that flirting? A line you spout before the weight of the words and the loaded tone settle in your own mind. Jieun turns to you, eyes sparkling, cheeks rising as she smiles wider than you had seen before.

"And why is that?" There's no escaping her questioning, and maybe she enjoys it a little.

"Well." A fruit, any fruit, grab another fruit. Look away and look at the tree. Breathe. Turn to her again. You can do it. "You just put all your talents into singing and performing and acting and whatever else you do right? You put all your skill points into one tree so to speak, instead of scattering them to fill multiple."

She stops. Frowns. "What?" Her face twists in a confused mess. "Skill points?"

"Oh. It's like, in games, when you earn skill points to improve something and choose what you want to..." You realise how utterly ridiculous you sound. "Never mind."

Her face is one of wonder, there's this mixture of confusion, curiosity, and her clearly fighting back laughter. "No," she laughs. "Continue, please, you were doing a whole thing there."

"I embarrassed myself enough for one day. Thank you."

"Are you a bit of a nerd?" She asks with this teasing smirk before spinning away, her floral dress flowing in the wind, and walking further ahead.

"Hey! No! Not a nerd!" you call after her, following in her wake.

"Look like a nerd to me" She twirls around just before the turn in the row, leaning on the trunk of one of the few taller trees, smirking and playfully twirling a few strands of her dark hair around her delicate fingers.

From then on, the conversation flows far easier and quicker than it probably should. A playful back and forth as she questions your hobbies and quirks, you fire back asking for her own. Things range from the kinds of books she likes to her telling you how she always sings into her toothbrush every morning when she is brushing her teeth. You promised not to tell a soul, as her secret was safely in your hands. She has a quick wit and a slightly goofy sense of humour, the kind of things a magazine spread or a soju advertisement could never communicate or capture.

Despite her charm and charisma though, the thing that shines through the most is the way she listens to you. With genuine care and fascination, and not just for the cameras, no, it felt genuine. Honest. True.

"No. You can not be serious!"

"One hundred percent true." You pull out your phone and show her the photos on the screen. A blurry mess at first before you flip to another.

"That's you? And that's... is that..." She doesn't need to finish, she takes hold of the phone and holds it directly up against her face. "Why did you think that was a good idea?"

"I never thought it was a good idea, I lost a bet, and we had been drinking. Bad decisions were inevitable."

"This might well be the single worst tattoo I have ever seen." She doesn't stop squinting at the photo. "Why is it upside down?"

"I don't think the orientation would make it any better."

"Wait," Jieun says, looking away from your phone and into your eyes. "You have to show me it, I want to see it with my own eyes."

"Absolutely not."

Jieun slaps at your arm, pretending to be upset. "Come on!"

"Jieun, even if I wanted to show you my ass, there would be no point, I had it lasered off like 2 months later."

Jieun's laughter could ring for a day. It's infectious, it's a laughter that communicates how light, happy and free-spirited she feels—and it makes you feel exactly the same. You talk a bit about travelling, too. Places you've been, places you would still like to go. For Jieun, it became a bit of a flex. A concert here and a concert there, movie filming there and a photoshoot here.

"You've seen the world, and met everyone, but here you are picking oranges with me."

"Here I am." Jieun stepped aside as you passed, looking around at the beautiful weather and the swaying tree branches. "I like this more, I think." She stops. You turn, seeing her suddenly shift a bit shy. "It's nice, this..."

"Oranges are nice and all..."

Jieun giggles. "No, silly," Jieun purses her lips. "This. Me and—"

"Hey, you two! Having a nice time!?" Sangsoon calls out to the pair of you from a few rows down. In unison, the two of you turn to him, to his big, smiling face, and then watch as Hyori hits him on the shoulder and admonishes him for interrupting. For a second it looks as though Jieun is blushing as she looks away from his gaze and towards the ground, scratching her brow, hand almost acting as a shield.

"We should get back."

"Yeah, I'm all orange'd out," you say, holding up the full basket.

~~~

You had spent the afternoon away from the house, which was probably for the best, spending some time in reality instead of this strange new world where you're suddenly hanging out with IU. The friend, your old university colleague and Jeju local was eager to catch up. Despite a minor disagreement—or two, or ten—he took it in good sport. Before nightfall though, you had returned and had just taken a shower.

There's a knock at the door, so you quickly pull on a shirt and open it to find Hyori on the other side. "Hey stranger," she follows your gesture and walks into the room before perching on your bed. "How was your time today?"

You close the door behind you. "Fun. I spent some time catching up with some friends."

"And making a new friend?"

A small nod. "I enjoyed myself today, it was all quite... different than what I had been doing. It was..." You weren't really sure how to follow up.

"I get it." Hyori leaned back on her hands. "But Jieun really seemed to have a lot of fun today."

You're stuck in this awkward silence, not wanting to say anything stupid but also refusing the play it down.

Hyori takes mercy on you. "Anyway," she pushes herself to her feet. "We're eating outside again, barbecue, come join us."

A smile appears, an acceptance of the invitation. She watches it come out and nods at it, as if pleased with your decision. And with a brief smile, she leaves the room and you're left alone. You leave the room.

You arrive on the back porch and watch the scene from a distance. Jieun sits by the fire in a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, looking so naturally good it could take the breath of anyone who stared long enough. Her legs look spectacular in shorts, her chest looks perfect through a white t-shirt, and she looks breathtaking right now—in this light and under these circumstances. The fire-pit burns again and as it does, Hyori and Sangsoon stand near the grill, their backs turned and talking among themselves. By Jieun's feet rests one of Hyori's dogs, sound asleep.

As soon as your foot hits the grass to start walking over, Jieun turns to see you approaching and a radiant smile cuts right through your defences, punching into your heart and embedding a spear made entirely out of a whole array of butterflies. "I was beginning to think you wouldn't join us," she teased with a flick of her hand.

"Good to know I'm missed when not around."

Jieun is about to say something but appears to bite her tongue and look back at the fire. There's a space next to her on the little log chair she sits on, though you think it too presumptuous to sit right by her so soon, and take the little wooden armchair opposite instead, crossing your legs and stretching, pulling your phone from your pocket, to check for notifications. None. You stare at it anyway.

There's a solemn silence for a while, the cooking of meat and the playful bickering of the couple by the grill and the occasional chatter amongst the other guests. This leaves you and Jieun, slowly drinking from your glasses, separated by the fire.

After some time, the food begins to come in batches, and you eat with everyone else. The group shares the tale of their expedition to the oranges this morning, like how Hyori claims she found the largest orange of the day only for the young couple to later find and present a larger specimen. Some of the others share how they went into town and saw some old houses, or an old shrine, visited the beach and splashed around in the water and a few others sit and listen quietly, nursing their drinks.

Eventually, you begin to grow drowsy and stifled by the warm heat of the fire, a blanket that draws everyone closer, too close.

You stand, pat yourself off and let your gaze rest on the fire, then speak to no one in particular. "I'm going for a walk, thank you for the food," you say as you bow your head to your hosts.

"So late at night?" Jieun asks from her perch.

"Got a bit too warm is all, fresh air would be nice."

Jieun glanced down at the fire and her eyes shot up at you. "Let me join you, keep you company."

Hyori and Sangsoon share an understanding glance, before Hyori says, "Be careful you two."

Jieun stands up. "Soonshim can come with us, can't you Soonshim? You'll keep us safe." She bends down to stroke her behind the ears, and she lazily raises her head and grumbles in that cute way that animals do. She happily climbs to his feet and yawns.

Off you went, walking the stone path. Up a gentle incline before cutting left towards a quiet path cutting through some trees. For a while, the night is filled with the sound of rustling trees and the snapping of fallen sticks underfoot. That's all until Soonshim leads your party off onto an even more remote dirt track.

"Now where are you going?" Jieun coos playfully, not expecting much of a response.

"She probably knows this area better than we do," you suggest with a smile and Jieun returns it. You seem to bring a lot of smiles out in each other. Soonshim appears to have a destination in mind, the dog bounds along the track and you follow, the path becomes more and more unstable, and the darkness of the evening isn't doing either of you any favours.

Jieun steps up onto a stone in the path and she slips, wobbling from the momentum of the step with a small yelp and you catch her immediately in your arms.

"Careful," you chuckle nervously. She doesn't move, but relaxes into your chest, closing her eyes. You have her. You keep her steady, her breathing is fast and short. It slows and slows, her fingers lightly clasping at your arms. She relaxes and her voice comes at near a whisper.

"Thank you."

And then, slowly, she lifts herself away without looking you in the eye and lets out a small cough. She starts to walk again, this time holding onto your hand—for safety. You smile at the touch and gently squeeze back, taking care as you descend and traverse the difficult ground. Soonshim still leads onward, barking and jumping in her bounding little way and occasionally waiting for the slow, careless, humans to catch up as she heads uphill.

Before long you come to a clearing at the top which blesses you with a view of the rolling countryside, bathed in moonlight, and a peaceful soundscape, far removed from anything but the sounds of nature. Back down the hill, over the trees, you can see the roof of the house, and the glowing of the fire out front.

Soonshim finds a nice place for a rest, and the Jieun leans her head into your shoulder and says quietly, "Tell me something that no one knows."

Soonshim rests. Jieun looks expectant, and suddenly, you're struggling. There must be something interesting. No. Something cute or funny? No, nothing seems quite right. And yet her eyes are searching for answers. The seconds pass and you rack your brain trying to remember, going into the darkest of dungeons in your memories, hoping something would come.

"Something that no one knows," you mutter to yourself. Jieun leans closer. Something that no one knows. Soonshim yawns, laying her chin on her paws as her tail softly hits the grass beside her. "I had this girlfriend, a few years ago. She was kind and sweet and loving."

"What's not to love about that?"

"Ah well." You snickered, a chuckle under your breath. "When she's doing the same thing with another guy it kind of takes the shine off a little."

"Ah... I'm sorry," Jieun reaches out, resting a consoling hand on your forearm. Her grasp is delicate. "It must have been tough. How did you find out?"

"They were bad at hiding it. When I did confront her, she didn't deny it."

Jieun lets out a small breath, something between a gasp of surprise and a grunt of disbelief. "Wow. So did it end, like, there and then?"

"Yep. Walked out and have been free ever since. Never looked back." You smile, looking out across the plains below.

"Do you prefer to be free? Not tied down and always going after adventure?"

"If I wasn't free, I wouldn't be here. If I was tied down I would never make this trip."

"Doesn't answer my question," Jieun jokes then pokes you in the ribs.

"No. Not really." A period of silence follows as you take in the fresh air and the scenery before you. The sound of crickets rings out and the breeze swirls its way through the brush. Jieun seems to ponder on what you had just told her. Maybe it doesn't make much sense, or maybe you just came off a little weird. You can't be sure what she is thinking.

But speaking so plainly is a freeing feeling, and telling her feels right. As though the idea that she may judge you is, not unthinkable, but far more remote of a possibility.

"I broke up with someone too. Not long ago,. It wasn't anything as tragic as yours, but, we just didn't have the time to be together." She brushed at a stray hair, caught by the wind.

"I'm sorry." You turn to face her and she meets your eyes for only a moment before she turns to Soonshim who lifts her head and tilts it with the look that only a dog's can express. "She's beautiful," Jieun mutters softly, nodding her head to the sleeping canine, which wagged its tail at the acknowledgement.

"Yeah. She is beautiful." You say, not taking your eyes off of Jieun.

She draws back her gaze, and looks up, with a little confusion, eyes glimmering like gemstones, searching your own as she draws nearer and nearer to you. "Are you talking about Soonshim, or—"

"You."

Lee Jieun steps into the kiss, onto her tiptoes and lifts herself as high as she can to press her soft lips on yours. Your heart seemed to miss a beat, or five, as you leant into it, capturing her lips with your own. You pull your arms around her, in a tight embrace and her heartbeat thunders against you.

And when Jieun pulls her lips away from yours, you lean in again, capturing her lips once more. You cradle the back of her head and guide the kiss, ever so slightly. Just to be closer to her, only a little closer. But enough. When the kiss ends this time, you sigh.

"We shouldn't," Jieun's whisper sounds so vulnerable, her mouth, too lonely for the words. "We should—" kiss again? "go back."

"I'm sorry, I—" Jieun cuts you off with a small kiss, a peck.

"Don't be." She keeps hold of your hand, leading you towards the path and pulling you gently downhill. "We should just get back."

~~~

It's on the porch of the house, where you stood just a couple of hours ago, staring at her, that she says, "Good night." And there's this look in her eye that screams the words 'I want to kiss you again'. Though you both know that this isn't the time or the place.

"Good night," you give her a smile. "Sleep well."

"You too." And then she's gone, Jieun and Soonshim slip in through the back door and you head to the front to get into your room. The emptiness of the room is a strange departure from the warmth of company you've felt all evening. And as you drop onto the bed, sleep does not come quick—it refuses.

Instead, as you toss and turn in the cool, crisp linen, you imagine Jieun's lips meeting your own again, and again. Soft and pliable, sweet and willing, as inviting as can be. Then you argue with yourself that it was an accident, just a product of the moment rather than anything deeper, but... not really. Not when it happens like this, not with her so eager, as eager as you were, in equal measure. And that has a price. The whole night, turning endlessly.

You wonder if she struggles just the same.

The morning rolls around and so does the bad news. There's someone completely unrecognisable helping prepare breakfast, a change that goes unaddressed by your hosts for what seems like the longest time. It's only when they join you at the table that they make the announcement, "Jieun has a concert, back in Seoul, she'll be returning tomorrow evening." Hyori pulls a chair and sits down at the table, pulling a full plate closer to her.

Sangsoon helps himself and settles next to Hyori, asking casually, "Did you and Jieun go for a walk yesterday?"

You pause, trying not to sound like a blushing teenager. "Uh, yes. Yes we did, it's very pretty out there, with some really nice views. Soonshim led us up a hill."

"Didn't see much of you afterwards," Hyori teases, "did we?"

"I was tired after we got back so I just crashed. Tough work walking those hills."

The two hosts glance at each other and chuckle. "Well, Soonshim will be happy, she loves walks. Thanks for looking after her."

You give a small, simple nod. "Of course."

For the next ten minutes, you pick at some of your food but feel so restless the entire time. By the time you stand up from the table, Sangsoon looks a bit surprised. "Somewhere to be?"

"Just want to use the bathroom," you say, with a hasty smile.

There, you stare in the mirror. And it hits you. Hard, right in the stomach, like a heavyweight boxer throwing a right hook, or a hammer kick from a martial artist. A surge of feeling that cuts through you and shatters any façade of composure. Of control. You're flustered. Nervous, even. Like an anxious teen in a school hall during prom.

It's an alien, almost nauseating, feeling, something like vertigo.

~~~

"Can I get you anything else?"

"No, that's everything." Jieun answers, before pulling closed the divider of her first-class pod, shielding herself from the prying eyes of those seated nearby. She places her headphones on and peels into her orange, holding a large section up to the light, before gently placing it in her mouth.

The flight is short to Seoul, but it's a lonely one—without him. She can still feel him though, the kiss that happened at the hilltop. And all the dread that comes with it. Jieun knows full well just how wrong it was, and yet she also knows just how right it felt. Normally, by now, all of her thoughts are on the performance ahead. All her little anxieties arise from the finer details and how she strives to perfect them. Now, though, is the exception.

The ride from the airport to Yonsei is a little different. Though she had to put on her best actress face in the airport, for all the fans and the cameras, but here, alone and safe, she's given the time and the space she needs, but it doesn't bring the relief she expected. Now her thoughts are just swirling, again. Swirling and storming and churning.

Her manager is talking, about this and that, all probably important—but she'll never know.

'It's just going to go down the same road again, another relationship that takes a backseat to my career.'

Jieun groans internally. 'He's such a nice person though.'

"Jieun?"

It catches her off guard. Her heart pounds in her chest, startled, not so much because she was called upon, but the direction it was in. "Huh?"

"So, what do you think?" the manager asks. "Are you even listening? This is what you wanted right?"

Jieun closes her eyes, bringing her index finger up and pinching the bridge of her nose, running her hands down the contours of her face, then forcing a small, tired grin on her lips, she mutters, "Yeah, sorry, I'm listening."

~~~

It's been a strange couple of days. You spent as much of it as you could away from the house. Out in Jeju doing the most random of things to take your mind away from her. Though that's pretty tough when you're walking the street and she's on poster after poster and then you dip into a convenience store only for it to be playing her music.

Coming back for lunch wasn't any better, with Sangsoon and Hyori often teasing or giving the odd hint here and there. You sat down, not able to enjoy the food properly and excused yourself when your appetite gave out on you.

That afternoon, Hyori sat on the porch and invited you to join her—quiet and away from everyone else.

"You must know it's not easy for someone in Jieun's position to do, to go around kissing anyone like that," she starts and she reaches for the drink, pouring it and handing the glass out to you, and you reach for it, staring down at the liquid and watching the ice cubes swim and then sink.

"She told you?"

"In a sense," Hyori laughs softly and pours the other glass, putting the jug aside and taking up her glass. She leans back on one hand against the wooden board and says, "So, what now, what do you intend to do?"

"Uh, about what?"

Hyori offers a smirk and says, "About her."

"I..." What can you really say here, apart from that you just want her, like probably a hundred thousand other men and women have wanted her since they've first laid their eyes on her. Instead, you sip at your glass.

"Nothing wrong with liking her," Hyori says casually, as if the statement itself isn't fraught with consequence.

"Doesn't matter," is what you offer. "I shouldn't, we're from different worlds."

"Mmmm, yes and no," Hyori sips on her drink. "Listen. People like Jieun, like me, the reality we live in isn't the reality we want. Well, it is, but it also isn't. Because we get what we want but never quite get all we want."

You narrow your gaze in confusion. "Sounds like a riddle."

"Think of it like this. When we're on TV or we're on a stage or at a photoshoot or whatever, it's like we're living in the clouds, are you with me?"

"I think so."

"Well being up in the clouds is amazing, you get to do great stuff, fun stuff. But there's always a danger of floating away. So there's the other half of our life, on the ground. It's what keeps us sane. Balanced."

"So you have this double life," you offer as an interpretation.

"It's not that drastic but, yes." Hyori swirls the contents of her glass, taking a quick sip to wet her mouth. "Don't mistake it though, the ground is the more important half, because, in that part, we meet the people who mean the most to us. But, listen to me, when you date someone like Jieun, you're dating that half of her life. The ground. The clouds are for her alone."

"So you have to let her live up in those clouds without you?"

"Did she tell you about her ex?"

"She said they didn't have the time to be together."

Hyori nods. "If she told you that, then you've confirmed it for me. She likes you. But, now you have to think, this past twenty-four hours, there's going to be a lot more of this. Sitting at home while she's performing in front of thousands, living in the clouds. You have to ask yourself, can you handle it? Are you willing to accept it? All the pros and cons."

There's nothing for a few moments, the pair of you sit there silently, before you mutter, "That's kind of hard," and Hyori laughs under her breath as she tilts her head and agrees.

"Yeah. That's why not every relationship survives. Not in this business. But I'm doing you the favour of warning you in advance."

"Thank you."

"Speak of the devil." The sound of a car draws closer until it stops. Some commotion arises and then slowly, she appears. In all her beauty and grace. Hair blowing softly in the breeze, her yellow jumper and skinny jeans hugging her hips perfectly, her beauty as sharp and clear and as immediate as ever. There's no way to take it all in with just one look, especially with the sun low on the horizon behind her. You're mesmerised, to say the least, and even more so as her shy smile reveals itself.

"Evening," Hyori stands, opening her arms for Jieun and wrapping her in a hug, kissing her on the cheek. They exchange some words you can't hear but you watch the movement of the mouths, the way the body moves. Then you turn back to your drink, pretending to watch the dregs swim at the bottom of the glass. You can feel her now, or at least smell the light fragrance, you don't need to turn, as a shadow descends on the side of your head.

"Hi."

"Hey," you say as you draw your eyes slowly up her body. "How was the concert?"

"Good, thank you." Her smile widens.

"You must be tired after all that," you follow, and she nods in agreement and glances to the far end of the veranda.

"And hungry. Will you come inside for dinner with me?" She's smiling now, an infectious, radiant smile, that grows.

"Of course."

You move indoors, you and her at the table. You use the conversation over dinner to ask her about the concert, and her life as a celebrity. From asking her how it feels to be up there singing to hearing stories about some of the craziest fans, the sorts of weird things they do and the lengths they'll go to.

"Some even claim to know me," she laughed, "and try and ask me questions or say certain things and act as though we've known each other for years."

"It sounds surreal," you say and Jieun leans in with a curious look.

"It's been days and you haven't asked about this before now, not at all, so what's got you so interested?" she teases.

"Well, I guess I just wondered what life is like up in the clouds."

Jieun narrows her eyes at you for a moment before chuckling a bit, and leaning in further and muttering, "Hyori. She spoke to you about this didn't she?"

"Just a little, yes. While you were gone."

"I knew it, she likes this little analogy." Jieun folds her arms, rests them on the table and stares right into your eyes, asking "What else did she say...?"

"Not a lot."

"Oh god." Jieun throws herself back against her chair, she brings her hands up to her mouth, with the sleeves of her jumper over her hands and looking like she wants to bury herself into the palms of her hands. "Ugh, that girl. What else did she say?"

"Really, not much else," you answer.

"Right." She sits forward again, not raising her eyes. "Listen, while I was away, I was thinking about what happened."

"And..."

"And," Jieun lets out a huge exhale, the stresses and fears seem to leave along with that breath. "She told you, and you haven't run away. Or at least, not yet. You're still here, we're here. Now. Just sitting, having a chat and eating some noodles."

"The noodles are really nice," you say and Jieun laughs.

"See, you make me laugh, and it makes me all confused, in the best way possible. And I know this isn't the time or place, but—"

"Yes, Jieun."

"You don't even know what I was going to say."

"I'd really love to see where this takes us," you say as you rise from your seat, rounding the table without breaking eye contact. You gently take her hand.

Jieun looks a bit hesitant, stares at the ground and mutters under her breath, "Where does that road end, you know? Look at everything I'm asking, of you, I don't want you to get hurt because I may not be able to give enough."

"I get it Jieun, the ground and the clouds," you whisper as you guide her up from her seat to stand in front of you. "I'll be on the ground. Sometimes you'll be in the clouds."

Jieun collapses her cheek against your shoulder and releases a deep sigh. "Why are you so nice to me?" Jieun sniffles.

"Because you deserve it Jieun."

Her heart thumped so hard, so rapidly, and tears flooded her eyes, making the world wavy and foggy. She fights the tears. And she finds the warmth of you, she pushes her face hard into your chest, inhaling deeply, and feeling an inexhaustible source of strength flow through her, bolstering her. She presses her body into yours.

She reaches her head up and kisses you deeply. Your hands cup her cheeks and your tongues meet for the first time. She leans in, slipping her hands to your neck, and curling her fingers tightly. Her lips are so warm and soft, her whole body melts, and the two of you press against one another. A fire burns and every nerve thrills in anticipation. Her breathing increases as a raging fire churns within.

When the kiss breaks, you murmur against her lips, "Should we, go somewhere that isn't the kitchen?"

Jieun nods, her hands still firmly clutching the collar of your shirt. "The food can wait."

As the door to your room closes, you begin unbuttoning your shirt, the last of them dropping open as she leaps at you, her lips attacking your neck with soft, wet, urgent kisses as she clutches you like her life depends on it. And you have her back, reaching around and holding her, carrying her, stumbling through the dark and onto the bed. You hit the mattress, and your grip relaxes as she leans back and grabs the hem of her sweatshirt. Jieun lifts it, dragging it up her body until the garment is sent to the floor and there it lay, forgotten.

For a moment she seems hesitant, sitting above you. It's a strange mix of tension and passion, the way her fingers trace lines on your chest, and you sit in awe of this beauty above you. The urge to reach for her, to take her, becomes overwhelming, as your gaze trails up her tight, toned stomach, and lingering over her small chest, clothed in black and wrapped snug. You stare and she shivers at the intensity of that look and bites at the corner of her lip.

"This is okay?" Jieun asks softly.

"I'm here for it if you are," you tell her, reaching and cupping her breast in your hand, as though it belonged there. That sends a new chill through her.

"Okay." Jieun nods her head a little. The word shakes a little with a quiver of breath and she lowers her head to meet her lips on yours, softly brushing at first but gradually more insistent. Her tongue prods and finds yours, and she pushes you down by the shoulders, forcing herself to lie on top of you and hold you there. And the kiss seems endless.

You run a hand up the soft skin of her back, up the divot of her spine until your fingers come to her bra strap, and with a small break in the kiss, you murmur against her lips. "Can I?"

She kisses you while she nods. Your fingers search a little, finding the clasp, you tug, letting the bra slip. And, with one small gentle tug on her shoulders, the strap of the bra slips off and it's only her hand rushing up to cover her modesty that keeps it in place.

You wrap your arm around her and roll her over onto her back, and as she lay against the covers, you're over her, looking down at how she still holds her arm over her tits. "I want you to see all of me," she whispers.

"I want to see all of you."

And with that admission, her arm, drops slowly away, pulling the black bra with it and exposing those two perfect, beautifully formed tits. With the lightest, most delicate touch, you brush your thumb across one and feel it spring a little at your touch. The nipples are erect, Jieun leans and looks to the side as you bend down, taking one nipple into your mouth. You flit your tongue across the little pink pebble of flesh and watch Jieun's face.

The muscles around her eyes tighten, and she lets out the sexiest little whimper. The reaction makes you want her more and you begin swirling and caressing her tit with the soft, flat of your tongue, and sucking her nipple into the warm recesses of your mouth.

She cries out and gasps. "God that feels good..." her hands clawing through your hair and her fingernails scraping through. Her moan spurs you onwards as you plant a trail of kisses, switching between which sensitive nub you suck, tug and tease. "Don't stop," she pleads.

"Not when you taste so good."

"I can't believe we're... that you're here, with me."

Your hand finds hers, lacing the fingers into hers you smile, push her hand into the bedsheets and stare up into her glimmering eyes as you run your tongue once more around her nipple. "You're perfect Jieun, I can't believe I'm so lucky."

Jieun arches her back a little, closing her eyes and exhaling a breath. "Stop it, that's not true," she giggles in between whimpers, "stop it, you know it's not— oh g-god..."

You're moving your kisses up over her collarbone and to her neck, and settling your body down between her legs, resting between her thighs. Jieun clamps her legs tightly around you as you keep sucking and biting at her neck, nibbling ever so lightly on her ear. "And now," you whisper huskily, into her ear, "I have you pinned beneath me..."

"Oh, fuck, yes," Jieun squirms. She desperately pushes your shirt off your shoulders and then runs her hands over your body. "I like this feeling." She's pushing her hands between your stomachs, pulling open your jeans and pushing them down off your ass.

You return the favour, bringing her into a kiss and reaching to pull her tight jeans open. She lifts her hips to aid you, allowing you to slip them off her hips. You don't have a chance to pull them all the way off, too heavy in your kiss and grinding yourself between her legs.

You reach and pull at her and she breaks the kiss with a soft moan as she grabs your shoulder and shifts her hips. The movements press you into her a little more, and her head goes to the pillows behind her head, tilting back. The angle reveals the beautiful soft and slender curve of her neck and you go at it again, kissing and biting, nibbling and licking, running the tip of your tongue over the hot, smooth expanse and smiling as she wraps her arms and legs around you as tightly as her lips when you kissed her.

"I want you," she gasps. "I want you. Now."

You put an arm under her and pull her up until you're on your knees and she's straddling you. She reaches down, hands into your pants and takes your thick cock in her fist. That first touch. Her soft fingers are on your hardness. It's a rush that hits both of you and suddenly you're kissing again as Jieun awkwardly strokes your length, trying to tease you out.

You decide to make it easier and sit her on the bed, still kissing her intermittently as you stand and push your clothes to your ankles. Standing before Jieun, the most desirable woman you've ever been fortunate enough to touch, you suddenly feel a primal sense of arousal hit.

You lay her back again, and peel those jeans off her slender legs. Slowly down her thighs as they spill out of the denim, then all the way off, until she's in nothing but a pair of black panties, and you're stood over her, naked to the air. Jieun sits up to you and brushes your chest, feeling the shape of the muscles and kneeling back on her haunches, you take her mouth again, sliding your hands up her hips and feeling those supple breasts once more. "Jieun, you're so hot."

Jieun bites your lip, and throws her leg around you, drawing you down and gasps sharply as you find your cock grazing across the smooth expanse of her panties and press at her entrance, almost bursting with desire. Jieun pulls at your hips, urging you between them. She grunts with effort, biting at your neck. "You're everything I have ever wanted."

There's a pause that's filled only by your shared, short panting. This is where it happens. It's more than want and need. The quiet acknowledgement, the long silence, you stare into Jieun's eyes, and both of you nod your heads a fraction, agreeing without speaking a word. You push her panties to the side. Then the contact, the softness and the wetness of her opening as the tip of your cock pushes her apart.

"Oh, shit!" Jieun lets out the involuntary profanity as she claws at your back and moans into the crook of your neck.

It's amazing. Unbelievably, spectacularly, amazing. Her tightness stretches with only minimal effort, and you let out a strained breath.

"Oh my god," Jieun has her fingers clasping tightly to your shoulder and mouth open with pleasure. Her chest rises and falls rapidly as she writhes under you. "You feel amazing... holy shit," she curses.

"Jesus Jieun," you grunt as you sink down just that extra inch, enveloping your full length inside her. "You feel perfect, I could stay here forever."

Jieun does the best she can with that compliment, grinning through clenched teeth. "Thank you. I'm—" She cuts her own sentence short by gasping and reaching higher and taking a handful of your hair in her palm, her nails digging into your skull. "Do it." She orders you and the tone is coated in lust. "Please."

And so you do. Pull out to the sound of her sharp expectant inhale, and back in as she moans her lungs empty, the noises making it impossible to remain idle. Soon enough you have a rhythm of slow, measured thrusts, and are gasping in tune to her beautiful mews.

"God, you feel so damn good," Jieun manages, and she follows by adding, "A little harder, I love it."

It's like that for a few minutes. Jieun's pleasure is palpable with every movement of the bed springs and groans. Though it can't be any louder than the voice in your mind. This is actually happening. Fucking IU, of all people, is on her back beneath you, her beautiful body reacting to your every movement. She reaches for her breasts, rubbing them and pinching at the hardened points and begging, "More, please more," and you give.

Jieun brings her leg higher, arching her back and urging you further into her pussy, driving herself into you with equal force. This time her cry is louder, less controlled and broken by the beat of your bodies against each other, the sound of sex becoming a background harmony. Her feet stretch out behind you, her heels dig at the small of your back and her head falls back on the bed.

"I don't know how... how long I can..." Jieun breathes out. Her leg suddenly jerks and her entire body tenses. "Oh, shit."

You know what's coming, that doesn't make the feeling of her tightening around you any less shocking. She's shivering, gasping for breath and squeezing her eyes tightly, her body growing taut like a string pulled between fists.

"Fuck, Jieun, are you gonna—"

"Yes. Yes." Her entire body convulses. Her fingernails ripping lines up your back, Jieun arches from the bed, a sharp keening whimper from between her lips, followed by a series of high-pitched, short cries.

You're falling into the sheets beside her and pulling her on top of you. Seamlessly you move together, and she's riding you now, throwing her head back. You're lying there and she's a sight to behold. Her petite frame rolls and her toned, lithe muscles shift beneath her smooth skin. Every motion carries her hips as she fucks you.

Her breasts rise and fall, her hands flatten themselves on your chest as she holds herself up, bouncing herself on your cock with insistent determination. Jieun slides her palms upward, bringing them to your shoulders and lowering her chest, you reach to cup her tits, squeezing firmly and a sparkle glimmers in her eyes.

"You're so hard," Jieun purrs.

"You look so good on me, feel it too."

A smile flashes across her lips and the muscles clench,. You drag your hands across the perfect curves, feeling her sides, her ass, sliding back to take two, firm handfuls, pulling her into every movement. Your arms and legs beginning to tingle with your release, and you're losing all feeling other than her silken embrace.

Then you see her grimace and twist her body, breaking again for you. She falls against you and grinds out her orgasm. She quivers over you like a leaf in the wind. You hold her hips steady and stroke her skin as she returns from her high.

"Sorry," she moans a drawn-out apology. "Wanted you to cum, but, I can't..."

You hold her, rising from the bed, "Don't worry, Jieun, I've got this." You lift her and place her onto her side, thighs together, knees together, you push them up to meet her chest. Her perfect ass and thighs are on show, begging for you to slip back inside. She twists her body to watch you lean over her and push her knees into the bed.

You thrust into her, slipping under that one ass cheek, past those moist panties and into her pussy again. Jieun moans aloud again, and the sight of your cock slipping into her, the feel, is mesmerising. Jieun squeals a note.

The feeling, after only a few short thrusts, builds rapidly. And while a part of you wishes to hold back for her, make her cum over and over, she's far too sexy to deny yourself your sole need. Jieun moans and clenches again then cries out, "Please!" Her eyes watching you drive in deeper. And you lose it. The pressure breaks within, you bask in the sights, sounds, and feelings, and let it overwhelm you. "Inside, it's safe."

You spasm and with a deep thrust into her, your cum pours. Thick. Heavy, plentiful spurts as you cling to her trembling body. A final, ragged cry slips past your lips. Energy drained from you, into her, and you near-collapse against her sweat-kissed body.

You slip out of her, collapsing behind her and spooning her trembling body close, you drop kisses across the soft surface of her bare shoulder and take a tight grip on her small, perky tits. She whispers, "That was amazing."

"Tell me about it. The best."

She rolls her head and glances at you. "No, I mean, really, thank you. You were..." she sighs dreamily. "I didn't think it was possible to feel like that."

"We fit well, Jieun," you tell her softly. "There's no need to ever thank me. You really are special."

"Saying things like that," she sobs lightly. "You better be careful or you're going to mean a lot to me."

Your breathing seems loud in the sudden quiet, and you say, "I'd like that Jieun, to matter to you. Being important to you. It'd make me happy."

She is silent for a long moment, staring straight ahead. A single, happy tear rolls from her eye, onto the bed, and then sleep takes over. It is like a force sweeping you into the deepest darkness. It seems to happen between one breath and the next. One moment you're lying next to the most beautiful woman in the world, in the most euphoric, blissful post-coital state. In the next, your eyes blink open, and you're sprawled on your back, alone in the bed.

Her perfume hangs faintly in the air. Like a half-forgotten dream. An unintelligible whisper in the corner of your ear. "Goodnight," she had murmured at some point, in that instant between slumber and consciousness. But as your eyes scan around, her absence, her presence, seems like a dream. Like a mirage. As if she's always been this transient figure in your life. You fall into the pillow.

Then, just as sleep begins its second embrace, there's a knock at the door. There's a pause before a quiet voice speaks, "You awake?"

You sit up in a rush. "Come in," you reply, and Hyori enters.

She cuts right to the chase, as seems to be her way. "Last night, did you two? Wait, don't answer. I can feel it. You did."

"We did."

She walks closes the door firmly behind her, ensuring privacy. "I knew it as soon as she started acting shy this morning. I swear sex is the only thing that makes her shy. Funny little mannerism." Hyori takes a deep breath. "But listen, and listen close, okay?"

You nod for her to go ahead, but instead of going on, she sits down, gathering her thoughts.

She looks at you for a long time and says, "If this, whatever this is, is going to continue, you need to be prepared. It's going to be a mess. You need to hide it, and I mean really hide it, from everyone. Think how nuts the press will go."

You open your mouth to talk but she raises a finger.

"Hear me out. You have to remember that. This can't be normal, it will probably never be normal. That girl is special and this whole country knows it. There will always be cameras. And there will be times when you miss her because she's away. Sometimes for days or weeks and it's not the end of the world, because she has her job, and her fans depend on it. And as I'm sure you saw at dinner the other night, she does too, she loves her career."

Hyori sighs and rubs her forehead. "I know this seems a lot. You have known each other barely a week and I'm piling this onto you, but you need to know what you're getting into."

You smile. "I get it."

"You don't. Trust me. Not until you've lived it. Look, Jieun's an amazing girl. I like you, she likes you, a lot. I think you can make this work." She takes a big breath and says, "Welcome to this weird fucking world."

You chuckle quietly and nod in thanks.

"Now, if you're wondering where she has gone, she's out picking some flowers for the side dishes for later. They're recording something for the show right now but you can go out and join her in ten minutes, if you like?"

"That'd be great."

Hyori leaves and true to her word, when you venture downstairs and out onto the garden. Jieun's knelt along the rows. Her hair blows in a gentle breeze, and with the flowerbeds just in front, she is a blessed sight for tired eyes.

You go to her and ask, "Working hard?"

"Hey, you woke up," she beams at you.

"Had a chat with Hyori, too."

"Was it alright?" Jieun's face turns pale and worried, and her voice drops to a whisper. "She didn't try to get in your head, right?"

"It was fine, Jieun, she did give me the talk, though. A warning and a blessing, I think."

"Any regrets?" Jieun asks, timidly.

"What? No. God no. None at all. Actually, the only thought I had was if you would like to eat alone tonight? Just you and me, and then maybe we can go on another walk together, I enjoyed that."

"I'd love that," she says, her voice shaky, before a warm smile grows on her face.

"So, can I help you with the flowers?"

[celestiall0tus]

Tales of Bloody Bug and Chat Noir - Chapter 63 - Commemoration

Beginning || Previous || Next

            Adrien laid curled up on Alix’s bed with Felix beside him and Plagg as a cat on his face. Alix stepped back into the room to see the boys still in a deep sleep. She grumbled as she rolled Adrien over the edge, then Felix. The boys woke up and glared at her.

            “What gives?” Felix barked.

            “Get your asses up. We have a memorial to go to today. Bathroom’s open. Feel free to fight over it,” Alix remarked.

            Felix and Adrien exchanged glances before they erupted into a brief scuffle. Felix kicked Adrien away and ran to claim his prize. Adrien sighed and shuffled over to the guest room while Alix got ready. He flopped onto the guest bed and stared at the ceiling. Plagg jumped up and onto his chest where he curled up and purred. He smiled and hugged Plagg as he closed his eyes.

            It had been a long month since Mayura’s attack. The government had worked tirelessly to settle things down and get the final tallies to organize a proper memorial for the fallen. Chloe had told Adrien about this three weeks ago, and he dreaded it back then, but things have changed.

            Adrien noticed with each day he woke up, the pain was quieter, smaller. How it went from a thunderous roar to a far-off whisper ever since Plagg allowed Adrien to cuddle him. He wondered if it was Plagg that was doing something or that it was genuinely the healing nature of a cat’s purr. Either way, he loved and hated it. On one hand, everything felt lighter than it did three weeks ago. He didn’t have this weight on his shoulders after Sabrina’s death, and so many others. But on the other hand, he didn’t like that it felt like he didn’t care. He felt that he should still be in mourning but couldn’t bring himself to anymore. Even Emilie, who he still grieved, he couldn’t bring himself to mourn anymore.

            Adrien opened his mouth when a knock came. He sat up as Felix walked in.

            “Alright, Adrien, get ready. We’ve got a long day ahead of us,” Felix announced.

            “You’re not going to pester Kagami today, are you?” Adrien asked.

            “How dare you accuse me of such things. I would never pester a goddess such as herself.”

            “Didn’t I hear from Kaalki that you had been stalking the Japanese girl to learn her schedule?” Plagg asked.

            “What?” Adrien roared.

            Felix shrugged and turned away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

            “Felix, not cool! Can’t you approach this in a way that doesn’t make you into a total creep?”

            “I don’t see what the issue is. How else am I supposed to know when she has a free moment to talk to her?”

            “That’s not how you do this shit, Felix. Fuck, how did you even win Kagami’s heart in the first place if this was what you were doing before?”

            “It was not like this. She at least was willing to talk to me and didn’t question when I randomly showed up to display my affection and admiration for her.”

            “So, what I’m hearing is, she was settling for you?” Alix butted in.

            “Excuse you! I am Felix Graham de Vanily. I am the peak of what any woman would want.”

            Alix smirked. “My, forgive me, but where is this Graham de Vanily you speak of. All I see is a future Kubdel that has to slum it up with the rest of the peasants.”

            Felix recoiled. “Don’t you dare make such wild accusations. My mum is not that hopeless.”

            “You’re right. At least your mom has game and taste, Kagami too if she’s smart enough not to settle for you. Fuck, it took you, what, a few months to win Kagami’s heart before, right? Bet you can’t do it again by the end of the summer.”

            “Oh, I see. A little wager. Fine. I bet you I can win Kagami back by the end of the summer and show you that Kagami isn’t settling and I’m perfect for her.”

            “Fine, but you can’t do it through stalking her. And! If you lose and I win, you get to dress like a commoner with clothes I choose for a week.”

            Felix gasped and recoiled, then collected himself. “Fine. But if you lose and I win, you get to dress like a civilized lady with clothes I pick for a week.”

            Alix glared at Felix. “You son of a bitch. Fine. Deal?”

            “Deal. And be sure to send me your measurements so I can get the clothes ready.”

            Alix crossed her arms and grumbled while Felix strutted out of the room.

            “Hey, you’re not going to sabotage him, are you?” Adrien asked.

            “Don’t need to. He’ll do that himself at this rate. She wants nothing to do with him, and he won’t let go. He’ll ruin things on his own at this rate.”

            Adrien frowned as Alix left. He sighed and looked down at Plagg.

            “Should we do something?” Adrien asked.

            Plagg hummed then turned his head away. “Not my circus, not my monkeys. You want to do something, then by all means, but I won’t. Besides, why worry when you have other things higher on your priority list? Like this commemoration thing.”

            Adrien stiffened, then sighed. “Right. Well, I’ll go get ready.”

            “Adrien, are you ok?”

            “I… I don’t know. I’m just a little worried how today might go.”

            “What do you mean?”

            “Hearing that she’s gone, reminded that she’s gone, perhaps even seeing her as a statue or something, I don’t know how I’ll feel. The past three weeks, I’ve noticed the love I’ve had for her evaporate as it was easier and easier by the day, and I hate it. I want it to hurt. I want to miss her, because it reminds me that I loved her.”

            Adrien glanced back at Plagg to see if Plagg gave any reaction, but Plagg maintained a stoic face.

            “I suppose there’s no point in putting things off any longer. Stay here, Plagg. I’ll be back soon and then we’ll leave.”

            “See you soon, Adrien.”

~~

            Chat Noir stood on a stage with Bloody Bug and the rest of the team. A massive crowd had gathered along with reporters from every station. He scanned the various news crews and saw many familiar faces, but didn’t see Nadja amongst them. A slight stab of sorrow struck him as he assumed she might have been one of the lost.

            “You ready, heroes?” the President asked.

            “We’re ready. Let’s begin,” Bloody Bug said.

            The President nodded and began the ceremony. Chat Noir didn’t listen as he looked around as his eyes landed on the pair of walls behind him. His ears drooped as he glanced over the long list of names of everyone that died during the attack. In between the walls was a large object covered in a tarp. He assumed it was a statue of some sort for the fallen heroes.

            Chat Noir turned away from the wall and bowed his head as he tuned in and out of the President’s speech. He tuned back in when the President mentioned a token to honor the fallen. He watched as the President removed the tarp to reveal a statue of Fennec, Bomb Bee, Badb, and Porcelet. A moment of silence followed where everyone bowed their heads except for him as he stared at the statue of Porcelet.

            Chat Noir’s heart dropped, but not because he missed Porcelet, rather because he didn’t miss her. He forced sorrow up in a desperate attempt to lament the girl he loved, but there was nothing. He hated that he looked at her face and felt nothing for the girl that always made him smile. For the girl that was patient and understanding with him when she had every right to not be. For the girl that he loved with all his heart, there was nothing anymore, and he hated it.

            Chat Noir looked away as he fought the bubbling anger. He wanted to feel something for the girl he loved. He wanted to lament the love they had that was now gone. He wanted to cherish the happy moments, but everything felt dull and lost. Any love, any sign that he cared, was just gone, and it confirmed what he had initially thought: Plagg did something. He knew there was no way he would have let go of Porcelet so easily. It took over a year to mourn Emilie, but barely a month for Porcelet? Something wasn’t right.

            Chat Noir tuned out the ensuing speeches from the President and Bloody Bug. He itched to return home and confront Plagg, but the ceremony dragged on as people took their chances to mourn the dead with the heroes. The crowd finally dispersed enough that they would be allowed to leave, but Bloody Bug pulled him aside with the President. His tail flicked in annoyance, something that the President noticed.

            “I do apologize for taking up your time, but I wanted to thank you both for the part you played in saving us all. I know the death toll may not be something to celebrate, but we’re alive because of the two of you. For your service, I would like to offer you both a boon, so long as it is within my power to grant, you name it,” the President said.

            “That’s generous, but I don’t need-,” Bloody Bug started.

            “The late Mayor Bourgeois was set to release one Gabriel Agreste, the one that was Hawkmoth, into the custody of Amelie Graham de Vanily, his family. I would like to see this done for his son, Adrien Agreste,” Chat Noir butted in.

            “I’m not too sure. He was still a villain, and there is the legal trouble he has found himself in. Even if,-,” the President started.

            “He was a menace, but no more than a delinquent committing small scale vandalism. I’m sure Cat and I can count all the times on both hands the public didn’t even know there was a villain out that he made. It’s why I ask that all the legal nonsense is dropped in addition to Cat’s ask,” Bloody Bug added.

            “Very well, though I will be putting him on house arrest just to play it safe, but I’ll see him released before the end of the week.”

            Chat Noir let out a relieved breath as he fought back a smile. “Thank you.”

            The President nodded, said his good-byes, and left. Chat Noir waited until the President was gone before he cried and grinned.

            “Thank you, Bug. I… I was a little worried with Chloe’s dad’s death, I wouldn’t have a chance to make amends with Gabriel. I just… thank you.”

            “Yeah, well, it’s important to you. You want to set things straight with you and your old man. I can respect that. Well, we better get home, and before Llameri drags us along on his attempts to win over who-know-who.”

            Chat Noir nodded. He and Bloody Bug returned home, de-transforming in a nearby alley before they headed inside. They stopped in the sitting room where Alim and Amelie sat. Alim looked up from his book while Amelie looked up from her phone. Amelie jumped to her feet and ran up to Adrien and Alix, giving them each a big hug.

            “Hi, kids! How was the commemoration for our big heroes?”

            “The same for everyone else. It’s more what happened after that is of any interest,” Alix remarked.

            “Oh? What happened?” Amelie asked.

            “The President offered his personal thanks and offered Bug and myself a pair of boons. We used them both to see Gabriel given a full pardon for his crimes and have him released into your custody, Aunt Amelie,” Adrien explained.

            “You… what? Just like that? No legal anything. He’ll just be released?”

            Adrien nodded and looked at Alim. “I know this is unexpected, but would he be allowed to stay here? Just for however long Aunt Amelie is going to stay in Paris.”

            “Oh, dear Adrien, I’ll be staying in Paris from now on,” Amelie cheered.

            “You are? What about your flat in London?”

            “Oh, that old thing? Don’t even think about it. Mother and Father will sort it out. Though they’ll be a little upset, but they’ll get over themselves, eventually.”

            “I don’t understand.”

            “Remember when I called Felix a ‘future Kubdel?’” Alix asked.

            “Yes? Wait, are you and Alim actually dating? For real?” Adrien asked Amelie.

            Alim joined the group and pulled Amelie close. “We are. And I did tell Amelie that she and Felix were welcome to stay here if they desired.”

            Amelie grinned as she threw her arms around Alim and laid her head on his shoulder. “That’s right. And I wanted to stay here. Besides, I know Felix could use a better father figure in his life that isn’t that miserable man, Colt. Who better than my sweetie?”

            “Baby steps, Amelie. Felix doesn’t seem too keen on this arrangement we have.”

            Alix snorted. “Please. Boy is too busy trying to win the affections of a girl that wants nothing to do with him that he’s basically stalking her.”

            Alim and Amelie looked at Alix. “Excuse me?”

            “Yeah, he basically said without actually admitting to it that he’s been stalking Kagami to get a chance to speak to her.”

            Amelie looked at Alim with fear and concern.

            “Do you know anything else?” Alim asked.

            “Nothing more than that.”

            “Oh, no! Alim, what am I going to do? I’ve never had to deal with this. Have you? What do I do?” Amelie rambled.

            Alim placed a reassuring hand on Amelie’s shoulder. “I’ll help you. I’ve not dealt with this, and I hope not to with my own, but I’ll help you figure this out.”

            “Don’t worry, Dad. Stalking is the last resort of the weak that don’t have game. And low self-esteem it seems too. Anyway, I’m off to my room,” Alix remarked.

            Adrien gave Alim and Amelie an awkward smile before he joined Alix in her room. She plopped down in her desk chair while he sat on her bed. Tikki and Fluff materialized and hovered around Alix. They were joined by Daizzi, who Adrien was seeing for the first time how much smaller Daizzi was now compared to Tikki and Fluff. Before they were all roughly ten centimeters in height, but now Tikki and Fluff were nearly double the height of Daizzi.

            “Plagg, where are you?” Adrien asked.

            A moment passed before Plagg materialized. Adrien’s eyes widened seeing Plagg in his kwami form now the same size as Tikki and Fluff instead of the smaller size of Daizzi.

            “Woah! When did you get so big?” Adrien asked.

            “It’s a side effect of being unbound, so to speak,” Alix answered.

            “Unbound?”

            “Yeah. The Order put a lot of limitations on the kwamis that altered them. I’m still sorting through all these changes, but on the surface, their size, personality, and even concept can change.”

            “That’s right. I’m technically not just Evolution anymore. I’m all of time,” Fluff remarked.

            Adrien paled. “That sounds… dangerous.”

            “Oh, hardly. Well, yes, it can be, but no more than your Creation and Destruction.”

            “She is right, Adrien. Time might sound dangerous on paper, but it isn’t compared to the fundamentals of creation and destruction,” Plagg remarked.

            “Right, speaking of, what did you do to me?” Adrien demanded.

            “What happened? Plagg, what did you do?” Tikki asked.

            “That’s what I’d like to know. I know I should still be mourning Rin. I know I should still be sad and missing her, but I don’t. There’s nothing there anymore when there should be. I know I loved her. I know I cared about her, but it doesn’t feel that way. This didn’t start until you started to help me. So, I ask again, what did you do?” Adrien asked.

            Plagg sighed. “Fine. I may or may not have slowly erased those lingering feelings you had for Sabrina to help you move on faster and stop being all mopey.”

            Adrien, Tikki, Daizzi, and Alix’s eyes widened as their jaws dropped while Fluff didn’t react. Plagg opened his mouth again when Tikki flew up into his face.

            “What is wrong with you? You promised you wouldn’t meddle with mortals like that anymore!” Tikki hissed.

            Plagg snarled and hissed back. “Those feelings were getting in the way, Sugarcube. I had to get rid of them to help my holder.”

            “I don’t care! It’s wrong to erase those feelings from mortals. They are what make everything worth remembering and living. They are what give rise to so much, and you stole it all away.”

            “That’s fine for all your holders, but I don’t like my holders being all sad and boggled down emotions. I cleared his mind, just as I did with Eve.”

            “Wait, you did what?” Adrien asked.

            “Don’t worry about it,” Plagg hissed.

            “Back in the day, Eve deeply regretted what she did to Eden and Adam that she spiraled into a depression. Since Plagg was the first one she used, and was technically her holder, Plagg erased her feelings over it to make her move on and get back on her feet,” Fluff explained.

            “Shut your trap! No one asked you!” Plagg yowled.

            “No one ever does, but that doesn’t stop me from voicing my thoughts,” Fluff remarked as she stuck out her tongue.

            “Enough! Plagg, seriously, you said you wouldn’t do that anymore. You rob mortals of precious emotions and the memories that come with them. Yes, it can help alleviate the sorrow and whatever else they’re feeling, but at the cost of the love and joy they had felt with those memories. You did it to Eve, and you did the same thing to Adrien,” Tikki butted in.

            “Oh, I see how it is. When I do it, it’s wrong, but when Velze did this stuff, everyone praised him. What’s so different between him and me? What makes him the exception and what makes me the one that needs to live up to rules you set up for yourself?” Plagg argued back.

            “Because this age is not the one where Velze lived in. Because Velze didn’t have to worry about being misused and abused like we did. Because when someone tried to put Velze on, they always died. His power was too great for one person to use, however we are not like him.”

            “But we are at the same time, Sugarcube. You and I, along with that annoying cretin, are no longer bound by the morals of mortals. We are allowed simply to be and act as we were meant to. As Velze would have. Isn’t that what you always wanted? Don’t you want to be the Sugarcube you were before we were limited?”

            “I do, but not at the expense of my holders. Why? Because they matter too. They’re living being just like you and I. And even if their lifespans are finite, that doesn’t make any of their experiences any less meaningful than our own. It’s why we should never rob them of those experiences. How would you like it if someone erased your feelings for me, Plagg? Tell me, how would you feel? Because take those feelings and now apply them to Adrien because that’s exactly what you did to him.”

            Plagg glared at Tikki for a moment before he scoffed and turned away. He glanced back at her and then vanished. She sighed and turned to Adrien.

            “I’m sorry for this, Adrien. It’s been a very long time since we’ve been like this. More than 10,000 years to be exact.”

            Adrien’s eyes widened. “Ten-! You’ve all existed that long?”

            “More or less. A lot of it was spent in containment thanks to the Order with us limited. However, without those limitations and back to being like we were that long ago, some are eager to return to what we were like back then.”

            “Or others just returning to the status quo we’ve kept all these years, like Plagg and myself,” Fluff remarked.

            Tikki sighed. “Or that. Some were lucky not to have themselves completely rewritten. Unlike myself. So, we’re… relearning as it were, to find ourselves again in this newer world. One that didn’t leave room for what some of us were meant to be. Granted it doesn’t excuse Plagg’s actions, but there really is no changing him unless he decides it for himself.”

            “Is there a way to restore those feelings he took?” Adrien asked.

            “Not to what they were, no. I can create new ones that mirror the old, but they won’t feel the same. They’d only be a small comfort compared to the ones before.”

            Adrien sighed and looked away. “I understand you’re all changing, but why did he do this? Why did he take them away without asking?”

            “Because he is order to balance the chaos of creation. Part of that order is to maintain a status quo, particularly in his holders. It’s why he erased Eve’s regret and guilt. It’s why he erased your love for Sabrina. He is acting on his nature, for better or worse. And part of that is making sure his holders maintain a status quo.”

            “You’re not to let that cat anywhere near me. I don’t care what he is, he is not to do any of that shit to me,” Alix remarked.

            “He won’t so long as you’re his holder. Though, to be fair with you, he would have dulled you down quite a bit. You’re a little… too chaotic for Plagg’s liking, but that’s why I love you.”

            Alix smiled as Tikki nuzzled her.

            “But what do I do?” Adrien asked.

            “Well, you still have the memories. Even if you can’t feel the love that supposed to be with them, you can at least cherish them. They may not be the same, but hey, at least you still have them,” Fluff remarked.

            Adrien frowned and looked at the floor.

            “We’re sorry, Adrien,” Tikki said.

            “No, it’s not your fault. I just… I didn’t think he’d do something like this, and it hurts,” Adrien whispered.

            Tikki and Fluff exchanged glances and bowed their heads. Alix moved from her chair to the bed with Adrien.

            “Hey, you gonna be ok with this?”

            “I suppose. Maybe, I don’t know. If just hurts right now. I really loved Sabrina, and it hurts knowing Plagg took away that just to return things to whatever he wanted them to be.”

            “I know. And, like Fluff said, you still have the memories. You still have those to remind you that you loved each other. Even if it may not feel like it and those memories may have soured, they’re still proof that you loved each other.”

            Adrien let out a harsh laugh as tears fell from his eyes. “Speaking from experience, are we?”

            “You know exactly who I talk about when I say this.”

            Adrien glanced at Alix, then looked away again. “Right. I’m sorry. I just… this is hard.”

            “It’s going to be, and Plagg didn’t make it any easier, but we’re here for you. In fact, I know you were going to do it anyway, but keep Daizzi for as long as you want. Even if you don’t feel what you did before, keep her around as that reminder of Sabrina until you feel the time for mourning has passed. Sound good?”

            “Are you sure? I… I want to, but I know that we’ll need to find new team members.”

            “In due time. The wounds are still fresh, with a few beginning to heal. Give them all a little more time before we begin recruiting. And when that time comes, you can choose who gets Daizzi. Ok?”

            Adrien nodded.

            Alix smiled and hugged Adrien. “I love you, bro.”

            Adrien smiled weakly and hugged Alix. “I love you too, sis. And thank you.”

            “Always. We’re family, and family stick together.”

            Fresh tears sprung from Adrien’s eyes as he broke down in a sobbing fit. Alix held him tight as she comforted him. Everything hurt in that moment. The loss of his love for Sabrina. Plagg’s betrayal. The empty memories that were his only reminder. It all cut deep, but he just needed time. Time he would take now.

Patreon || Discord || Ko-Fi

[cainightfics]

can we get an update? are u doing ok? u had such crazy output last year and now u so suddenly stopped

hey! ya sorry i went so mia its been a busy year. im still working on fic but its slow. from when i last updated trotw to april i was working 3 jobs, taking a full uni courseload, and writing my thesis. the thesis in particular honestly burned me out on writing really badly but i did manage to write that one oneshot

then summer was just shit honestly lol. i spent the entire summer working at a restaurant to save up money bc i had to move away in september, and the shift i had started at 6am, so i was almost never awake during my peak writing hours (11pm to 3am). i lost 30lbs in 2 months partially because i was broke and partially because my eating disorder relapsed (probably from stress lol). during that time i was only eating one meal a day in the form of my free staff lunch at work, but the restaurant where i worked was INFESTED WITH MICE :))))) so half the time i was too disgusted to eat thinking there might be rodent shit mixed into my food lol. and then on my days off i just ate like eggs and rice and zucchini bc thats what i got from the food bank. in august i started really genuinely and consciously restricting my calories down to like 500-800 cals per day, plus working on my feet as a waitress doing like 20k steps a day as a result of the malnutrition and rapid weight loss my hair started falling out in massive clumps :))) and i started sleeping for like 12 hrs a day. im eating properly now ofc tho

i moved in september for grad school and am now living in one of the most expensive cities in the world lol so i spend a lot of time just financially struggling. i have a job that will last until the end of december but its under contract so i only make like $600 a month and have to rely on my $14k school stipend and meagre savings for the rest. ive been looking for another job but i either get no interview, have the interviewer ghost me, or most recently, get told i have the job and then just never get scheduled. i have 7 cents in my checking account rn lol. my rent is paid until next month and then after that who knows whats gonna happen to me

last years output was definitely a fluke and only happened bc i was VERYYYY financially stable and could fuck around a lot at my part time job, where i wrote most of trotw. those sunny days are gone 🚬🚬 lol but i dont intend to abandon my works and i promise they will come someday. if anyone here feels like paying my rent itll come EVEN faster!!!

thx for checking up tho, its nice to know i havent been totally forgotten by u guys <3

[ezziefox]

That's it. I give up.

I can't continue like this. School just started back and already, they're making sure we'll never get any free time. Before school even started back, my mother is telling me I should'nt be doing anything but studying. I shouldn't even be wearing headphones.

I can't keep battling writing stories and school. It's fucking with me mentally, constantly wanting my free time so I can work on existing projects and new ones, but I can never find the time nor can I find it within me. I spend my time at nights battling myself, trying to prepare myself for school the next day. I don't think I can keep up writing anymore, not this year at least.

It pains me to have come to this conclusion, but if the universe keeps working against me, I have no choice but to concede and give in.

I don't want to keep fighting a losing battle whilst I'm already trying to fight my mental health. I suppose it'll just be me and my imagination until further notice. I truly wish I didn't have to attend this school. They even extended all our days at school now so I'm just pissed off.

I wish I didn't have to attend this school. As a matter of fact, I wish I was in a different country, maybe attending school there instead. But I've been wishing that for four years now. Many false promises have been made, I've only looked like a circus clown keeping up this stupid hope and dream that one day "soon" everything will change. I fucking give up.

I have no means to live for myself. My situation doesn't allow it.

I was doing so well up until recently. I was writing, I was letting time go, I got back into reading without stopping. But as soon as the realization hit me, I can't continue anymore. All of it stopped. I can't write now without even worse anxiety than last time nitpicking at me. And to think I was hoping that this year would be easier on me. It hasn't even started and I already feel like shit at the bottom of the barrel.

I'll probably spend my free time sleeping as much as I can, and just getting some quick form of entertainment in, just so I can feel like the hours are passing by slowly.

I don't wanna hear it doesn't get any easier. At this point I can't care.

It's to the point where I wish mpox would invade my country so we can go back online again. Maybe then I'd be able to multitask and not be punished for it. I'm walking around on eggshells every fucking day and I'm sick and tired of it. So I just decided to give up.

Losing battles are not worth fighting for.

I don't know where this will take me. And it pains me. But I just can't stress anymore. I have no choice. I never had a choice. I don't have the freedom to plan my own schedule. I don't even have the freedom to switch classes if I'm not learning from a certain teacher. I have no freedom to lighten my load. I have no desire for anything anymore. This time it seems my free paper has truly burnt.

It's been fun. But it just seems like the universe has never been on my side in the first place.

I've tried everything. Even "manifesting": listening to subliminals, journaling, affirming. Even "praying to God" who I don't even believe in anymore. I've tried depending on myself, but not even that I can do. I've tried keeping up hope; that my better days will come soon (and by soon, I mean actually soon, not a millennia from now) and I don't even know it. But no. Things only ever got worse, and I'm still thankful for my summer days and Christmas breaks, but even those were filled with turmoil because of family. Hell, I even dislocated my shoulder last summer (not this summer just passed) and ended up in the hospital. I had to go back to school that time in a sling, and find a way to write when it was my right arm that was bound to my body.

Everybody only ever wants me to focus on school and nothing else. Fun is not allowed. Rest is not allowed. Breaks are not allowed. No matter how small of a time they are.

At this point I don't care about school. I've tried my hardest before and it's never worked. I don't plan on making this year any different. When everyone keeps telling you and reminding you of what you should do and what is expected of you, at some point you just give up care for it. It gets tiring. Fucking exhausting. I'm tired of hearing the same things over and over and over again and again and again.

I don't know what method I'm going to use to keep my sanity this time. Last year and the years before that, it was writing. But I'd rather not spend my free time in bliss just to be hit with reality the next second. That shit really blows you mentally. I'd rather wallow in my depression, and watch generic stuff, than get happy again. Because every time I smile, I know, I just know, that something bad is coming.

So I'm gonna try to put down the pen for a while. I don't know what I'll do with me and my life.

And please, for the love of god, do not compare my trauma to others. Everybody deals with shit in their own way and I've heard enough of it. I'm fucking sick and tired of it.

I hate to tell it to myself, but nothing is coming. And don't tell me that it is, I've had enough false promises. Nothing is coming. I dream of better days; they don't exist. Not in my near future, possibly not even in the far future. Stop telling yourself it exists. It doesn't. You've been let down before, stop letting yourself down again. This is your fault. Your fault for believing. Your fault for trying when you knew what the outcome would be. So just deal with it. Nothing will ever change. Not for now. And definitely not the way how you want it. So just quit. Forget it. Relax while you can. Forget while you can. Things will never get better.

Either way... It was fun knowing you guys. You brought me a lot of positivity. But unfortunately, we don't always win. So... Bye, I guess..

I just needed to write this to get it off my shoulders. I'll try to survive. I know I will, even if it's in agony. I don't want to harm or k--- myself. It's just that sometimes I just wish I didn't exist.

I'll keep dreaming of a better life, I suppose. At least dreams can't be disturbed. But that day isn't soon. Even now I wish...

Until then…

[tears-of-boredom]

see, its not just the fact that waking up and meals are on a schedule. its the fact that I've been awake from 3am, waiting for breakfast to start. if i asked real nicely, i probably could make myself bread or something. but im not supposed to. what im supposed to do, is somehow stop myself from waking up too early, and then eat breakfast at the appointed time. like. this is exactly why the routine i "learned" never carries over when I stay at home. because im finally fucking free to do what i want. also is this a silly emoticon <|3{ its a wizard with a mustache. or is it spelled moustache. i forgot. anyway yeah so i have a horrible headache from hunger and lack of sleep. and I fucking hate the fact that society is not going to change fast enough for me to be allowed to keep my sleep schedule natural. im going to have to force it. or kill myself. tbh I hate the fact that summer break is the long one, because if it was winter break, id do much better. like literally, its a nice sentiment to let kids enjoy the summer, but logistically it does not work at all. like it definetly should be in winter, because it gets so dark that your sleep schedule gets messed up. like id so so much better if school was in summer, cuz thats when my sleep schedule really matches what school needs. and actually the transition seasons too. winter is like the one thing that makes my sleep schedule be whatever the school doesnt like. and its so stupid that im expected to just suck it up. its so stupid that everyone is expected to suck it up. to put up with everything they hate about life. if I asked adults why my sleep schedule has to be the way it is, theyd just say "because thats how the world is". and that is so fucking frustrating. just becauae the world is a certain way, doesnt mean it should be like that. it doesnt mean its right. and it does not mean that its an unchanging fact. like I know that im mentally ill. but that does not mean that every single problem i have is related to that. i would like it if all of my problems were met with equal consideration. instead of just dismissing some completely and telling me to suck it up. for some reason its not a surprise at all if i need medication to fall asleep, and its not really a problem if I have to continue to take it because my body never learns to fall asleep when im supposed to. but if I cant wake up when im supposed to? that is entirely my own problem. i need to force myself to wake up at the right time. you know how you are famously concious when youre asleep, and can decide when to wake up? yeah do that. and if keeping up this forceful sleeping schedule is exhausting you and giving you horrible day time fatigue? well suck it up. maybe try excercise. are you eating well? its that darn phone youre always on. you just have to get used to it. it'll become a habit in 5 years and then itll be much easier don't worry. yeah winter does that to you. dont worry, winter is famously a really short time in finland. do you take vitamins? whens the last time you had your iron levels checked?

its always about making my life conform, and never about finding ways to make it more parallel to the rest of the world. you could take daytime naps? but then you cant sleep at night, which is a huge crime and means that something is wrong with you.

why did I agree to this. my depression is going to flare up so fucking quickly.

[llawiletisjesus]

what if i become a hermit and whole up in my basement and watch the death note movies and buy the drama and analyze ever detail through the eyes of a homosexual?

[hourcat]

I’m the sleepy sex anon and omg yes!! That fic you linked is actually one of my all time favourites 😭💕💕💕

I can’t believe you’re even considering writing more sleepy sex piarles 🥺

My heart is so full i could kiss you right now 😘

Ily 🥰

HI HI thank you for sending this requestttttt <3 to be totally honest i think i may have tried too hard on this one BUT ive been wrestling w/it for a couple days and i think its time to just...let it go. bestie i hope u enjoy this. i love u sm. thank u for reading my writing. im kissing u right back.

(word count: 4,871) (NSFW)

Charles is still asleep when Pierre returns to bed after his morning shower.

Which—honestly, Pierre had kind of predicted. It's summer break. They get a chance to breathe, to settle, to go at their own pace instead of frantically running behind their respective teams; it's been a long first half of the season, and he knows the second half won't be much better. So this is important time for them: rest, recovery, relaxation.

Pierre just can't sleep for shit.

Even after a night of drinking, or of keeping Charles up til the early morning hours wringing him dry of pleasure, Pierre seems to always be awake by 6 and alert by 7.

It kind of sucks, more often than not, because if there is one person in the world who's practically built for lounging, it's Charles.

It definitely sucks right now, because Pierre, fresh out of the shower, had gotten a little worked up under the hot water and had been hoping, against all hope, that Charles would be generally awake enough to start their morning off a little rough. If the way he's drooling and snoring softly into his pillow is anything to go by, Pierre's wish has fallen on deaf ears.

"Fuck," he mumbles, rubbing at his half-hard cock from under the towel wrapped around his waist. There's nothing on their agenda for today, really—it's raining this morning, although that isn't exactly an unwelcome thing since it's been so hot lately, so any attempts at beachgoing are, for the time being, tabled. Going out for breakfast is always a hassle because people have been recognizing him lately, and Pierre loves his fans but he knows he can't jeopardize the secrecy of his relationship with Charles by trying to be a normal twenty-something with his boyfriend.

So, technically, he could jerk off this morning waiting for Charles to wake up and not have any real interruptions to their wide-open schedule. He shrugs at the thought as if someone else suggested it to him. In bed, Charles has rolled over onto his stomach, face smushed entirely into the pillow.

He's sweet like this. Pierre wants to pet him, coo to him like he's some little woodland creature that Pierre has taken home. He sinks onto the mattress slowly, so he doesn't jostle his sleepy boyfriend too much, and combs a hand gently through Charles' sleep-mussed hair.

"Mon cheri," he hums quietly. Charles, still out cold, makes a little noise at the contact. Pierre chuckles to himself, wordlessly continues to tussle at his hair again.

And then—

"Mmm, Pierrot." Pierre watches, captivated, as Charles grinds into the mattress. He's not subtle about it—in fact, Pierre is pretty sure he'd done this awake the other day, when they were messing around with a new toy he'd indulgently purchased on the road. Then, at least, Pierre could tell what was going through his pretty boy's head.

Now? He's kind of dumbstruck, watching Charles begin to rub off on the mattress beneath him. The fog of lust is starting to cloud his brain again. Before he knows it, he’s moving on autopilot, falling into step with whatever game his slumbering boyfriend is trying to play without him.

"Mmm, Charlito," he purrs, continuing to pet at his sleeping partner. "Does this feel nice?" Charles moans in his sleep, grinding into the sheets more noticeably. Just to check, Pierre uses his free hand to lift the blankets just a little—and, yes, of course, he can see that Charles is half-hard right now, just from this.

"Fucking hell," Pierre breathes. The idea of jerking off by himself is suddenly not as appealing as having the real thing right beside him, clearly worked up and clearly having a sex dream about him. He tightens his fingers in Charles' hair and tugs, gentle, until another noise sputters from his mouth. This time, as he whimpers, Pierre watches the way his eyelids flutter open slowly, hazy and the most perfect shade of green he could ever imagine.

"Pierre," he half-greets, half-whines. His hips are still on their slow grind. "Mmmgm?"

Pierre chuckles softly despite himself, shifting so that the towel barely clinging to his body has fallen off in the places it needs to. He watches as Charles sees this. The pretty green of his eyes is beginning to get swallowed. "Good morning," he whispers, delicately rearranging himself over the sheets. "You sleep good?"

Charles nods a little, clearly more than half asleep. He's barely conscious, really: Pierre thinks the hand in his hair might be the only thing keeping him from falling back into the pillow. "Mmmmmmgh." Definitely not the response of a man fully awake and coherent.

"You sounded like you were having a good dream," Pierre murmurs, scooting a little closer. The warmth radiating off Charles is crazy. "Like you were enjoying yourself, cheri."

He's awake enough to blush at least. The low whine that comes out at Pierre's words is followed by another, more-conscious movement of his hips. "Yeah," he manages in his sleepy drawl. Charles' first real word of the day. Pierre's brain is startlingly awake in contrast; his dick is throbbing it's so hard, he has to fight every instinct not to beg Charles here and now to wake up so he can get inside, burrow deep in him the way he can never get enough of on mornings like these.

"Yeah," Pierre echoes, tucking even closer. The head of his cock bumps against Charles' thigh through the thin sheets, and he can see by the way the color in his cheeks gets darker that he'd noticed.

"Mmmm, Pierrot," he moans softly, hips jerking a little again.

"Does that feel good, Cha?" He's really burning up all of his self-control here and now, huh, in the first hour of being truly awake. There's nothing he wants more than to rub up against Charles until he rolls over and spreads out the way he always does when he's so good with Pierre. The restraint he's clinging to is quickly dissipating.

"Mm," Charles nods, breathy. When he speaks again, his voice has gone a little higher, thready with pleasure. "Yeah."

"Yeah," he repeats back. It's not even 8, he doesn't have to be good at talking dirty right now. Charles doesn't even seem to mind; he ruts into the sheets again at Pierre's utterance, mindless in the way he's trying to get off before even being fully awake. "Easy, calamar, easy—" he rests his free hand on Charles' lower back over the sheets and gets a slightly-louder noise in response. "Hey, let me—can—do you want—?" Do you want to fuck is the question, but Pierre doesn't need to actually finish his sentence. Even in sleep, Charles knows how his mind works. Hell, considering the fact that they're both this turned on so early, it's like they have the same brain.

Beneath his hand, Charles squirms. "Mmmmmgh," he answers after a beat, entirely unhelpful.

Pierre huffs a laugh, although he's so turned on it's a little less than funny right now. "Bebe, that is not an answer." He shifts, sucking in a sharp breath at the way Charles' hot skin feels even through the sheets against his shaft.

"Mmm, Pierre," he starts, and there are the words. "Yes, I—if you do the work, yeah." He grinds down again. "I am so tired, I don't understand how you can be so awake right now."

Pierre hums, satisfied, and shifts even closer so that he's nose to nose with his boyfriend for a moment. "You have no idea how you look right now," he says lowly. "You could wake the dead." He earns a whine in response. "I will take care of you, cheri, I promise." Pierre drops a gentle kiss to his nose, then one to the not-smushed cheek currently in view. "Roll over for me, love? I want to see your pretty face."

Charles makes a breathy little noise at his words. “This does not count as you doing all the work, you know,” he mumbles, although there’s a little smile curling on his face. Pierre just thwacks him in the shoulder gently. Charles whines again, but eventually obliges Pierre’s request—he’s graceless as he rolls over, drool dried at the corner of his mouth to make him look all the more disheveled. Pierre can only chuckle at the sight, even with the way his cock is hard enough to start aching a little at this point. When he peels the sheet away from over his boyfriend, he gets another whine. “Cold,” Charles mumbles.

Pierre just tsks at him, pushing up from his sprawled-out position to get a proper look. “Pushy,” he murmurs, and Charles chokes on a little laugh as Pierre ducks down to catch him in a kiss. It’s easy like always; Charles opens for him immediately, even half-awake at best like this, and Pierre takes no time in using it to his advantage. His boyfriend hadn’t been exaggerating about not wanting to do the work—Pierre is entirely in control, tongue in Charles’ mouth, teeth sunk into his bottom lip, swallowing down every little noise that comes out of him. Charles hasn’t even lifted his arms from where they’re laid up in bed; it’s all Pierre, it’s entirely Pierre.

Which. He won’t complain about by any means, really. Charles putting up a fight is always fun, and Pierre does love to wrestle, but a loose, pliant Charles does just as much for him. “I was thinking about you,” he mumbles against the younger’s mouth, breath coming sharper than he’d wanted it to. “In the shower.” Charles moans at the little confession. Pierre swallows it whole with the next kiss, exchanging it with a low, pleased noise of his own. “Thought about how—how loose you are, like this, sleepy and careless and ready for me.”

“Pierre,” he gets in return, and Pierre grins against Charles’ mouth, the short little huffs of breath indicating that Charles is a little more awake than he’s letting on.

“Charles,” he replies, dotting one last kiss to Charles’ now-reddened lip before shifting to get to work. “Are you loose for me, calamar?”

“Mmmm,” Charles breathes. He doesn’t seem capable of forming any words, really, just these lovely little noises and Pierre’s name. (Again, not that he’s complaining—it’s like music, a symphony composed just for Pierre, every sound he’s ever loved strung together and spilling from his best friend’s mouth all at once.) Pierre brushes his hand against Charles’ cheek, traces the swell of his pretty lip with a finger that Charles, intuitively, sucks into his mouth. He’s not mouthy with it, no: just allows Pierre’s finger to sit on his tongue for a few beats, pressing into it just enough to get it slick with saliva.

Satisfied, Pierre eases it back out; the accompanying noise is wet and filthy, forcing him to swallow down the muted noise of pleasure now curled in his throat, ready to come roaring out just from the way Charles looks like this. “Good boy,” he murmurs, using his thumb to pet affectionately at the curve of Charles’ cheek. His face gets pink at the praise. For a half-second, Pierre flies out of his body and watches the way Charles settles more heavily into the bed beneath him—the way his legs spread a little more, the way he arches his neck just so in a way that gives Pierre all the access he needs. He keeps blinking his slow, sleepy blink, and he’s just.

He's just.

Pierre is going to use lube, of course, but he’s a little bit out of his mind with the way Charles is just going with everything right now, so entirely boneless that Pierre might think he’s already been fucked to completion today. He’s got to just—with a low noise, he slips his saliva-slick finger into Charles’ hole, more exploratory than insistent. How loose is he still? Pierre had fucked him pretty good last night, but there’s no guaranteeing he’d stayed that stretched overnight, especially with his tendency to stress-dream. They’re about a week into summer, Pierre thinks he’s done a good enough job at keeping his boyfriend’s mind off of their mutually-aggravating job, but he can’t know for certain.

It takes all of one finger to figure out, though, that he’s doing that off-track job of his well. Charles is almost exactly how Pierre had left him last night; all but gaping, loose enough that Pierre could probably lube his cock up and slide in without too much work at all. Charles likes it like that, sometimes—rushed and heavy, frantic in a way that doesn’t quite allow him to swallow Pierre up inside him the way he’ll do if given the opportunity. He can’t fight the groan of pleasure that claws its way from his throat at this discovery.

“Charles,” he says through his teeth, “you are so fucking—”

“I dreamed about you,” Charles interrupts, voice still weighed down from sleep. He clenches around Pierre’s one finger for a hot second, sending a spiral of insanity up Pierre’s spine and directly into the front of his brain. His cock throbs. Whatever praise that had been on his tongue dies immediately. Fuck. “You were so, your hands, you kept me open when you—” Like he’s reliving the dream all over again, Charles moans pitifully.

Pierre can’t believe he didn’t already grab the fucking lube so he doesn’t have to miss out on Charles’ heat for a single second. Unfortunately, it’s on his side of the bed, which means there is ground to cover that will require him to leave here. Stupid stupid stupid. “What did I do, cheri,” he whispers, then catches Charles in a biting kiss for a hot second just to alleviate himself of the guilt that comes a second later when he slips his finger out, clumsily leaning across the mattress to get a hand on the bottle he’s after. “Tell me what I did to keep you so—open.” He closes his fingers around the bottle and immediately returns to where Charles is now squirming more actively, one knee tucked up towards his chest.

He's so ready he’s not even making Pierre do this part. Fuck.

“You—Pierre, your mouth was so, it was—” he cuts off with a sharp whine as Pierre, with a properly-lubed finger, presses back in and languidly crooks it forward. “Pierrot, oh my god—”

“I fucked you with my tongue, eh?” He’d probably be more effective in talking back if he weren’t so ready to get to his favorite part of all this, feeling how hot and tight Charles is for him every single time, even when he’s worked open all the way. If he were more poetic, he’d call them puzzle pieces; perfectly fitted, designed to be slotted together always. “I am sure you loved that, Charlito, you are very noisy when I eat you out like a fucking girl—” He slides a second prepped finger in and scissors lazily, wrangling another noise out of Charles’ now-parted mouth. The dried drool of sleep has been glossed over by the wet drool of mindless arousal, dribbling down his chin ever-so-slightly. "Fuck, I don't even have to—" Adding a third finger goes so quick Pierre almost swallows his tongue. Charles is ready. He's ready, he's half-awake and writhing under Pierre's touch and he's ready to get fucked after being awake not even, what, ten minutes? "Charles, fucking hell—"

"'m ready," Charles whines like he can read Pierre's mind. "I—Pierrot, I am ready, I need you—"

"Shhh, sweetheart," he purrs, leaning forward so that Charles' leg can properly hook over his shoulder. When he finally pulls his fingers from Charles' hole, his boyfriend whines pitifully, just this side of bratty. (Pierre's second favorite part, a very close second, is that little sound—petulant Charles, how demanding he can be when he's not all-the-way full all the time. Toys can only do so much.) "Easy, cher, easy, I'm going to take care of you." Pierre rubs at the back of Charles' other thigh like he's trying to soothe a wounded animal. He responds easily, leg lifting so Pierre has an improved angle, and ducks forward for one last kiss, one that's definitely less of a kiss and more of a clumsy-mouth-collision. "Are you ready for me, sleepyhead?"

Charles rubs his cheek against Pierre's, catlike. "Yeah," he manages faintly. It may be the best Pierre will get—he can tell already that Charles is lost in the experience from the way his eyes, lidded from sleep, have now gotten even heavier from the way Pierre has finger-fucked him open. He’s saturated with pleasure. He doesn’t even have to look to know that his dick is weeping precome just from how blissed out he is. (A little tingle crawls up his spine at that—at the reminder that, yes, Pierre is the one who gets to have him like this. Who gets to do this to him, who makes him feel this good.)

"Good boy," the Frenchman repeats, nuzzling at Charles gently. And, with one final kiss nestled at the faint crease of his boyfriend’s dimple, Pierre finally gets what he’s been after all morning.

“Pierre—” Charles’ voice is high and thready as Pierre eases in, slow like always even despite his ceaseless desire to thrust right in all the way. Charles can handle it, he’s done it before—but this morning, Pierre wants to keep Charles the way he is right now. Easy. Pliant. Sleepy. “Pierre, oh my god, Pierre—”

“You are taking me so good, cheri,” Pierre murmurs, rubbing at the meat of Charles’ thigh soothingly. “So good, sweetheart, you are so—fuck you are so tight, even with all that work we did, yeah?” Charles seems to be beyond words; he nods, eyes screwed shut, lips parted so pretty Pierre wishes his phone were closer so he could capture the moment. “You feel so good, Charles, fuck. Fuck, cher, fuck—” every second has Pierre closer to bottoming out, and Charles’ voice keeps breaking with every bit of Pierre he’s taking in.

“Pierre,” he manages with a soft whimper. His arm finally lifts from where it’s been draped across Pierre’s pillow, fingers sinking into the flesh of Pierre’s shoulder. Even with dull nails he can feel it like a branding iron. “I want all of it, all—please, oh my god, Pierre—” The words have broken off into half-formed noises as Pierre finally, finally bottoms out inside him. He’s dizzy with it, to be honest—there’s no getting used to how good Charles feels, like he’s made for Pierre and Pierre alone. They’ve done this a thousand times before, Pierre has had Charles a thousand different ways, and yet: he’ll never be used to this. Not ever.

“There we go,” he finally says, unable to keep the grunt of pleasure out of his voice as Charles clenches around him tight. “Fuck, there we are, calamar, all in. You have all of me, sweetheart, you did so good.” He thumbs at Charles’ cheek again with the hand not currently keeping him balanced, humming quietly at the way Charles leans into it even here and now. “How do you feel, mon cheri.”

Charles moans, the sound so familiar to the noises he’d been making in his sleep not too long ago. “Full,” he whispers, eyes still shut tight. The fingers dug into Pierre’s shoulder press even harder for a beat. Then: “Feels right.”

Pierre laughs lowly, ducking forward to kiss the place his thumb had been attending to. “Yeah?”

Charles nods, a quick and dramatic little thing. He looks a little silly. Pierre would laugh if he weren’t buried so god damn deep in him. “I feel—” He inhales sharply as Pierre has to re-balance on the mattress and jostles them a little. “I want to be like this always.”

The words are quiet but slap Pierre across the face open-handed. “You do, huh,” he says after a moment, aiming for teasing but knowing he’s missed the mark from the way his voice has gone ragged around the edges. He really isn’t going to last long at all the way things are going now. There’s no recovering from Charles’ lust-driven earnestness, especially now that he’s got his eyes open again. They’re so dark. Pierre knows he could get lost in them if he’s not careful.

“Fuck me, Pierrot,” the Monegasque breathes, lashes fluttering, and Pierre can’t do anything but oblige, drilling a singular thrust to send Charles skittering beneath him. The sob that wrenches from his throat is anything but soft. Pretty boy, pretty boy. Pierre sinks into him again, presses a clumsy kiss to Charles’ begging mouth, catches his teeth just right to draw another stuttering whine from somewhere at the back of his throat.

“Charlito,” he gasps as Charles meets his next thrust. “I am not going to—you—fuck, stay down, sweetheart, let me—”

Charles’ moan cuts him off. “Touch me, touch me,” he’s begging between shuddering gasp-sobs. Still clinging to Pierre’s shoulder with one hand, he rests the other over Pierre’s hand and lingers only for a moment before closing loosely around his wrist. “Pierre, please, please Pierre.”

A wrecked laugh spills out of Pierre’s mouth, somehow. “Eager,” he says, the rest of his thought utterly lost on his tongue at the way Charles continues to work with him thrust for thrust. He’s definitely awake now. “Yes, cher, yes, I—touch you, yes, fuck, of course,” so inelegant and clumsy as the words come out. Charles moans at them anyway, tightens his grip on Pierre’s wrist. “I have you, I have you.”

“Please,” he repeats, nodding frantically. He doesn’t release his hold on Pierre. (Maybe he’s not planning on it. The idea makes him dizzy again.)

He’s normally more controlled than this—although, lately, he’s been making that excuse to himself a lot when it comes to Charles, the way he’s been out of his mind every moment he gets alone with his best friend. There’s something gnawing at his gut, something he can’t quite shake: the fear that Charles will realize who he is, what he is, and see Pierre for what he actually is under the years and years of fond memories.

But he’s not going to psychoanalyze himself now, not as Charles has started bucking into the hand currently loose around the hilt of his cock.

“Pierrot,” he choke-sobs, drool spilling from the corners of his mouth like a waterfall. Charles is entirely lost in this, entirely; head thrown back, chest heaving, looking like an absolute painting of lust incarnate. Pierre is the one in control, here, doing all the work even if Charles is now trying to meet him halfway on it. It’s a very Charles thing of him to do, really—unable to fully let go even when he says he wants otherwise.

Admittedly, seeing Charles nestled in bed had triggered something in Pierre’s brain—something quiet. Something domestic. Something private. A summer just for them, not Instagram or anybody else’s eyes.

Fucking Charles until he’s wild might be a bit of an obstacle to this.

So he figures he’ll just have to take matters into his own hands. “Easy,” Pierre murmurs, slowing his thrusts but keeping the force behind them as best as he can. Charles keeps clinging to him. “Easy, Charles, I—” he shushes instinctively, thumbing at his boyfriend’s cheek again. “I have you, I promise.” His free hand wanders through Charles’ sleep-flattened hair, tsking quietly. “Be good for me, mon amour.”

Charles, to his credit, seems to settle at Pierre’s touch and words, especially as Pierre’s nails scrape a little at his scalp. The way his eyes roll a little at the sensation makes something warm in Pierre’s gut curl. “Pierrot,” Charles repeats, voice low and hoarse.

“Charles,” he answers with a soft look. “Close your eyes, cher. You trust me, yes?”

Charles’ eyes flutter closed immediately. “Always,” he answers.

“Then let me make you feel good.”

Charles moans softly, and Pierre can see the way he visibly relaxes again, once more pliant and sleep-soft. A surge of affection swells in his chest at the sight. He’s known Charles for most of his life—knows that he gets so quickly worked up about so many things, knows that he holds on to things even when he says he doesn’t. So to get Charles settled so quickly again like this… “Okay,” his boyfriend whispers.

“Okay,” Pierre echoes, then steals a fleeting kiss from Charles’ just-open lips. “Okay, cheri. Okay.” He closes his hand around Charles’ cock, strokes him once slowly. “There we go,” he says, distantly hearing how he sounds—choked, hoarse, barely hanging on by a thread. “What do you want, bebe.”

Charles whimpers. “You,” he answers, and Pierre hears this clear as day, like his lips are pressed right to Pierre’s earlobe. And—well—they might be, they really might be; Pierre can barely tell where he ends and Charles begins, which also feels like it’sbeen happening more these days. The lines have always been blurred for as long as Pierre can remember, but this—this is new, almost. Maybe it’s just summer.

Maybe it’s just Pierre realizing that he’s capable of wanting things outside of the track.

He’s been moving on autopilot, he realizes vaguely, as the noises of pleasure spilling out of Charles finally register in his ears once again. He’s quick to lock back into the task at hand, of course, working to align his hip and hand movements so that Charles is being barraged with the sensations the way he loves. Pierre, he’s begging, Pierre Pierre Pierre like it’s the only thing he knows how to say, and it’s—

“Fuck,” he groans, the resurgence of his self-control collapsing at the way Charles’ voice breaks on his name. “Charles, fuck, I am going to—”

“Please,” he interrupts, already sure of what Pierre is going to say as he thrusts up into Pierre’s hand. “Please, I am—yes, Pierre, I need—I want to feel you—”

That’s it. Graceless, he comes still buried deep in Charles, body once again completely disconnected from his mind as he thrusts helplessly. Pierre burrows into Charles’ shoulder as he lets go, mouth open and breathing wet against the freckled expanse of skin he loves so dearly. Charles, of course, comes right after him, streaking his stomach and Pierre’s still-working-him-through-it hand and even towards the glittering silver chain sitting heavy around his neck, but Pierre doesn’t move from where he’s slotted himself. He still feels like he’s wading through his own desires—like somehow, fucking a half-asleep Charles in his apartment in his Milan apartment has unlocked something new within him, something complicated and heavy and easy all at once.

And, well, maybe it has.

He’s still breathing heavy, a little dizzy from coming down so quickly from his high with so little air getting to his brain from his spot. Pierre slowly lifts off of him—face first, then hand, then cock, all departures that draw little noises of disappointment from Charles as he’s exposed once again to the cool air conditioning of his apartment.

Charles, who is so effortlessly beautiful like this, filthy with sweat and cum and blissfully riding the little aftershocks of his own orgasm. The sheets look sharp against his tanned skin. He does look like a painting, everything about him—Pierre’s eyes flicker over his body and see, with a little overstimulated pang of hunger, that his own cum is leaking from Charles’ puckered hole. He moves like a man possessed—still working on autopilot, Pierre’s action feels instinctive, to use two fingers and press the filthy mess back inside him. “Mine,” he murmurs, almost to himself. Charles whines again at the contact. His breath is warm and strong against Pierre’s cheek.

“Yours,” he murmurs against Pierre’s lips, voice shredded. He lifts a hand to rake through Pierre’s hair. “Yours always.”

Pierre hums, the weight of the morning suddenly heavy on his limbs. He collapses beside Charles, whose eyes are glittery and once again heavy looking with sleep. “I hope I lived up to your dream,” Pierre says after a beat, reaching over to touch Charles’ glowing skin again.

Charles chuckles softly. “Eh,” he answers, trademark catlike grin splitting his face in two. With a soft grunt, he scoots closer to Pierre (like they were even really that far apart) to rest gently on his shoulder, nuzzling him once again. “Perhaps I will dream of you again, Pierrot, and you can try once more.”

Pierre snorts softly. “You are insatiable,” he murmurs, unable to keep from pressing a formless kiss to Charles’ head. He gets a muffled noise in response. “Maybe I will, huh.”

“Mmmmmgh” is the response he gets.

Pierre’s never been one to nap—especially not this early in the day—but with Charles’ weight tucked into his side, pleasure still covering him like a blanket, maybe he’ll consider it.

The shower’s not going anywhere, after all.

[lululawrence]

Can u please be nicer on ao3? Maybe you should try answering people's comments

when i read the first line i was honestly flabbergasted and wracking my brain trying to figure out when in the world i wasn't nice on ao3 ever. because i honestly truly try to be nice to everyone always, even when i'm angry or frustrated or people are going after those i love and want to protect. if there was a time i WASN'T nice on ao3, i wondered if it was maybe because my comment had been misunderstood or someone saw me razzing an author i'm good friends with and they didn't get that we are close and i said what i did with so much love and appreciation, you know? like what??? did i do???

but then i read your second line. and please forgive me if i come off as rude in my response to this, because honestly i'm in a pretty bad spot mentally and emotionally in general right now, but PARTICULARLY today, and this ask triggered an anxiety response in me. so. i'm trying really hard to word this in a way to educate without being condescending or mean, but i might not succeed.

firstly, thank you for your comments i'm assuming you've left. i'm also assuming they were nice comments, in which case extra thanks. i'm sure i'll send you effusive responses on ao3 when the time comes.

secondly, please understand that sending an ask like this, on anonymous no less, is incredibly entitled. writing is not my profession, i receive no compensation for my works that i post for free online, and as a part of that it is not required of me to respond. i do my very best to reply to every comment i receive, but it is not always in a timely manner, because i have other priorities in my life. all of which leads us to my third point, which is:

writers do not owe you a reply to your comments. end of. there are no other qualifications or quantifying modifiers to be added to the statement. is it nice to be acknowledged and know your comment was seen? sure. but do they OWE you one? hell no.

in fact, i'd like to offer you a suggestion. a way of tweaking your thinking about the comments you leave on fics. instead of looking at comments you leave as being something that deserves a reply from the author, think of your comments as your way of paying the author for the gift of their time and talents that they have shared with you by posting their fic. that's how i think of the comments i leave for authors. i'm giving them my thanks for the words they've shared! i want to help THEM feel as amazing as they have made ME feel when i read their fic. in fact, my hope isn't necessarily a response from them, but instead my hope is THE GIFT OF THEM SHARING MORE FIC WITH ME. i'm a selfish bitch in that way and i always want all the fic to read. i never want that well to go dry. one way i can ensure that doesn't happen is by supporting authors and being kind to them and spreading all the love and excitement i can about their writing in the hopes that my words will inspire them to share more.

because whether they reply or not, i GUARANTEE they are seeing your comments. i PROMISE they are. and for all you know, your comment might be the one that keeps them writing even when their words aren't coming easily or when they are tempted to give up.

but, again, please remember that no matter what, these authors (including me) don't actually owe you anything.

the rest of this is going under a cut, because honestly my reply is already far too long and i have a LOT more to say now that you've gotten me started.

now, all of this in mind, i'll explain to you why i'm not great with keeping up with comments made on my fics the last couple of years. i don't owe you this explanation any more than i owe you a response to your comments, and i'm honestly not sure you deserve this explanation either, but i'll still offer it anyway. it'll help me feel better knowing i at least put this out there, whether you care or not, mainly because if i don't do that it will cause me greater anxiety having you possibly think i am not responding to people because i feel all high and mighty or that i think i'm better than the comments or whatever the fuck kind of motivation you're attributing to me to see my lack of a response as something "not nice" towards the commenters.

i'm not sure if you've noticed, but i put out a lot of fic. like a lot. a lot of words and shit. i love writing, it's often my therapy and a way for me to help keep my anxiety and depression and ptsd at bay.

now, more personal shit for you, i've got three kids ages 9 and under. the oldest has adhd which we have yet to find a med for that helps to the extent she needs without side effects that aren't healthy for her to continue with, she also has anxiety, AND she's extremely gifted and starting a new program at a new school, all in the midst of a pandemic. and all of those situations exacerbate her anxiety! huzzah! she's also dealing with the beginning of her tween growing up shit, which is great fun because it means where she used to be pretty damn understanding of her younger brother, she is finding it much more difficult to. because the second oldest? he's autistic with some pretty significant gross motor, speech, and socialization delays that have only been exacerbated because of the previously mentioned pandemic. PLUS he transitioned from his special needs preschool to a fully integrated elementary school for kindergarten last year and then had to deal with all the ups and downs of the switch from e-learning to hybrid to all in schooling when everything in him screams for a normal schedule he can rely on to keep his own anxieties and fears and struggles at their minimum. and that youngest child? he was born in january of last year. he STILL barely leaves the house and has only met other children in close range a couple of times because, once again, pandemic!

add onto all of this my own mental health issues, the fact that my husband ALSO battles major clinical depression, adhd, and anxiety, AND we live with my parents who have their own health issues, both mental and physical. i run the home for our house of seven. i keep this place functioning, fed, clothed, clean, and everywhere we need to be for all of our five million appointments every. fucking. day. there is a REASON i've been borderline burnt out for the last fucking year and a half.

now, for fun, i have fandom shit. i love it here, even if it is a dumpster fire on the best of days, and getting to be a part of the writing community is so very lovely. i adore it. honestly, it's because of those friendships i've built with other writers that i have been able to keep writing and have found just how helpful it can be for my mental health. but i'm REALLY. INCREDIBLY. BUSY. i hardly have time to get on tumblr for just a quick swipe through my dash most days. i put off asks so long i forget i have them. i don't have the mental and emotional capacity to talk to people on here or interact fully a lot of the time. but i do my best to do so and be kind while i'm at it even when i don't want to be.

then, on top of that? i also run fic fests like @wordplayfics and help friends run their own. because not only am i a writer, i'm a reader. i LOVE fic. fic has saved me soooooo many times over the past seven years that i've been here. i want to do what i can to support other writers the best way i can, which is to provide a space for them to create their works that welcomes and helps promote them, but also by doing my monthly fic lists and pocast highlighting what i've been able to read, reblogging their fic posts, and then commenting and kudosing their fics too.

sometimes i get really fucking down on myself because i'm so behind on replying to comments, but my brain is very much a "if you start this, you have to finish it" kind of a brain, and i feel even WORSE sometimes if i reply to comments on some fics and not all of them. but i do my best and reply when i can. i was actually really fucking proud of myself because i had a couple days to myself in june, and i spent hours replying to comments on 20 of my fics. when you have almost 150 fics (i think? i don't even know how many fics i've posted by now), that is only scratching the surface. but i tried and i was so so happy i did that many fics at once. it's exhausting, though, and takes a lot of spoons for me to reply to them in mass like that plus time consuming. so i tried to be happy with those 20 fics and the comments i responded to there and told myself that when i ha a moment to breathe, i'd go and work on replying to some more.

but see, that again causes anxiety and guilt. because i haven't replied to all of them. and that anxiety and guilt can cause me to put it off further OR to put off important things like feeding my children or getting sleep in order to finish it, so i have to make myself put things into perspective and ensure i'm doing the important things, like taking care of myself and my family, first.

and then, i have a moment where i CAN go ahead and reply to comments... but i also have MANY fics that are on deadline and i actually have a schedule. a SCHEDULE. for when i'm going to focus on which fics. i can spell it out for you if you really want. i made it back in APRIL to make sure i didn't sign up for too many fic fests because there are so many going on right now that i want to participate in, but i know i can't do all of them so i had to pick and choose. and when you are SO overscheduled and busy that back in APRIL you had to figure out what fics you would focus on at what time to ensure you got everything written when you wanted to through THE END OF THE YEAR, more choices have to be made.

for example. my writing time and time for myself came down to only one evening a week for ALL fandom things i'm doing and a part of right now once the kids were out of school for the summer. it quickly became apparent that for my own self care i needed more time, so i worked with my husband to find two other days i could carve out at least 30-60 minutes to myself to write every week. and i did. but if i'm already only getting that much time and have committed to those fics and fests and things that you're running etc, you have to choose am i going to use this time to try to squeeze in some comment replies? or am i going to write? and i choose to write. simple as that.

so yeah. see it as selfish if you want. see it as mean. you can honestly see it as whatever the fuck you want, but for me? i know that as soon as i possibly can and i can breathe freely for once and not feel like i am constantly drowning in my day to day life and am doing pretty well when it comes to my fic deadlines and getting started on those christmas cards i'm once again going to be making by hand for everyone on tumblr who chooses to sign up for one this year out of the KINDNESS of my heart and the love i really do feel for so many of you, then i promise i'll be on ao3 catching up and commenting. my friends laugh and make fun of me for it sometimes, because they will sometimes get 10-12 replies to their comments in a single day. they know that's how i work. i WILL reply to every single comment i get, no matter how old it is. but for the love of all that is holy, do NOT add to the anxiety and guilt i already feel over it. the only place that will get you is the ask/comment getting deleted if it's a good day, a fucking long rant like this one if it's not, and a block if it's a REALLY bad day.

if you're asking me to be nice on ao3, then i ask in return that you also be nice by not demanding things of people that they are not in any way obligated to give.

[mypoisonedvine]

Can u pls write something like dark!reader x steve rogers high school AU , where R is rich spoil brat & she always had a crush on steve but she always bully him by calling him skinny and all and Then yrs later, time changes her family discarded her from will and she becomes poor and need job, got hired for PA by dark ceo!steve rogers who she bullied her all school lifee😈😈

okay this is a lot for a headcanon but I don’t have time to do a whole oneshot BUT I also really like it so we’re gonna just make a longass headcanon here we gooooo

warnings for heavy dub con, choking, slapping, degradation (by steve), bullying (by the reader), abortion mention, brief mention of/implied assault.

“heyo pipsqueak” you called out to get steve’s attention, laughing when he frowned.  “looks like you grew a whole inch over summer, be sure to have your mom draw a line in pencil on the doorframe.”

he just rolled his eyes and got back to chatting with his friend.  not friends, friend, cause he only had one: bucky, who snarled at you as well.

“pick on someone your own size, if you can find somebody with as big a head as you,” bucky shot back, making you scoff.

“you know, it’s a shame you hang out with this deformed freak, you could’ve been popular.  you’ve got the looks for it.”

“I’d rather keep my brains, thanks,” bucky explained as you walked away with your posse of fellow popular kids.

you didn’t used to be so mean to steve.  it was sort of a comedy of errors, really.  you two had been friends in elementary school-- you, him, and bucky were the rambunctious trio up until middle school.  

things change for boys and girls in middle school.  guys just get along with each other and don’t think about it much.  girls, though... girls need to be sharp.  it’s eat or be eaten.  and you wanted to eat.

you were lucky that you developed early.  it meant that girls respected you and boys feared you-- not just for your attractive features but for the fact that you loomed a foot over most of them.

you started to take advantage of it.  and by the time you realized you had feelings for your best friend steve, it was already too late-- he was at the bottom of the food chain and you were at the top.  

you told your new girl friends that you wanted to take steve to the sadie hawkins.  they laughed at you.  for a moment, you felt what it was like to be outcast and you never wanted to feel it again.  so, you told steve and bucky that you’d grown apart.  and you were happy to just be former friends...

it was steve that started it.  he called you out.  he told you that you were nothing like who he used to know-- you had become vapid and cold and narcissistic.

“you’re so busy worrying about what other people think, you never take the time to think for yourself.”  that was what he said.  and it fucking hurt.

“saw you talking to your boyfriend steve the dweeb,” your friend tanya announced at lunch just a few minutes after that conversation.  and you were angry, and hurt, and truly friendless despite being surrounded by other popular girls.  so you said some things you could never take back.

“steve?  as if.  did you know he still sleeps with a security blanket?  and he has his friend bucky fight for him every week cause if he took a punch he’d crumble to dust?”

and so, mortal enemies were formed.  it only got worse in high school, as you fought to secure your title at the top while steve and bucky’s presence filled your heart with guilt and your gut with anger.

if only you’d known how quickly you could fall from your high horse.

it started when you dated tanya’s ex, brock.  she was made so she spread a rumor that you would fuck any guy on the football team, even all of them at once.

apparently, a lot of people believed it since tanya had been your sidekick since 6th grade.

two football players believed it.  and when you wouldn’t follow through on it, you got yourself a black eye.

that meant you missed school for a week because you couldn’t possibly show up looking like that.  tanya told everyone it was because you got grounded and sent away to church camp after your parents caught you in bed with one of the neighbors.  so now your reputation was ‘sleeps with football players and old men.’

only brock had been there for you.... but it turned out he had motives of his own.  you had originally planned to wait until college, but brock was clearly wanting something in return for putting up with dating pariah #1... so you let him take your virginity.

the condom broke.  when you dashed to the trash can to hurl in the middle of history class, you knew something was wrong.  (and lost that many more social points in the process.)

brock dumped you the second he found out you were pregnant.  didn’t even help you pay for the abortion.  he got back together with tanya and told her the real reason for your ‘medical absence’.  and that was the last straw for the former homecoming queen.

the humiliation drove you to some.... poor choices, for the next few years.  you tried not to think about them now, but it was hard not to when their consequences were staring you right in the face: no money, no job, nearly homeless, and desperate.

over a hundred job applications later, only one had called you back and scheduled an interview.  and you only needed one.

so there you were, waiting in the chilly lobby area while the receptionist typed away and chomped her gum, tapping your toes and glancing out the window occasionally.

you were surprised when you had been told your interview would be on the 51st floor.  you sort of assumed it would just be some random manager interviewing you, not somebody important enough to have a waiting room like this, or a view like this.

when a man stepped out from the nearby hallway, your eyes went wide.  he was tall, and handsome, and obviously muscular underneath the exquisite suit.  you suddenly felt underdressed in your hand-me-down business clothes.

then he called your name.  and you realized he was going to interview you.

you stood up and nodded.  “you can follow me to my office,” he instructed with a smile, leading you down the hall to the corner office.  you were in awe of the grandiosity of it all.  you were dumbfounded when you saw CEO on the door.

“there must have been a mistake,” you explained as he shut the door behind you.  “I... I’m just interviewing for an entry-level position.”

“no, there’s no mistake,” he shook his head, “I have you exactly where I want you.  take a seat.”

he circled his desk and sat on the other side of it, resting his elbows on the desk and giving you an oddly smug smile.  an awkward silence was finally broken when he realized, “you must not remember me.”

“I... have we met?” 

“I don’t blame you, I look pretty different,” he shrugged.  “I must’ve grown a whole inch this summer.”

you gave him a confused look before realization dawned on you, along with shame, and fear.

“oh... oh my god, Steve?!” you squawked.  he just grinned.  “you look... you look...”

“taller?”

sexy.

“you look great!” you said aloud instead.

“yeah,” he agreed, “wish I could say the same for you.”

you swallowed dryly.  “so that’s what you want,” you sighed, “to get back at me.  I understand.  I deserve it...”

“I don’t want revenge,” he denied.  “I’m just sorry to see you haven’t been... thriving, since high school.  your job history--” he scanned your resume briefly-- “well, you don’t have one.  have you been slumming it all this time?”

“without my parents’ money?  yeah,” you admitted.  

“surprised you applied here, instead of turning tricks on 5th and Columbus.”

your back straightened and your eyes went wide at that comment.

“I mean, you’re already dressed for it,” he smirked.

you stood up and crossed your arms.  “if you’re just going to insult me, then I’ll leave now.  I’m sorry for everything I did to you, steve,” you announced, voice shaky with oncoming tears.

“can you really afford to leave?” he pressed.  “if you have a chance at a job?”

that, unfortunately, got your attention.  “you... you might actually offer me something?”

“I will offer you something,” he corrected, “if you just sit down and listen.”

you relented, returning to your seat.  you could stand a lot more insults if there was money on the line.

“to be honest, there’s no way I can hire you for the position you applied for,” he sighed.  “you’re just underqualified.  but I think I can create a position for you.”

you liked the sound of that.  “what kind of position?”

“well, that’s tricky, seeing as you don’t have any skills,” he frowned, “except one.  so that’s the one I plan on using.”

the look in his eyes made it all too clear what he was referring to, but as you shrunk into the leather chair he went ahead and clarified.

“I’ll pay you whatever salary you saw in the ad.  but you won’t be doing data analysis or office management or anything like that.  all you’ll be doing is spreading your legs for me whenever I fucking want.”

fear shot up your spine; his eyes were devouring you, pinning you to the chair, and you tried to process that.  “I--”

“before you say anything,” he interrupted immediately, “let’s just be perfectly clear that this might be your only shot at a real job.  what I’m offering has better pay than stripping, and better benefits than hooking.  and unless you have any education or experience I don’t know about, you’re totally fucked.”

“seems like I’m fucked either way,” you mumbled, making him laugh.

“see, you’ve still got that sharp tongue,” he grinned.  “can’t wait to put it to better use.”

maybe it was just desperation for cash.  maybe it was because he was good-looking and you could do a lot worse.  maybe it was because, on some level, you felt like you deserved his punishment after how horribly you’d treated him.

“I’ll do it,” you sighed.  “when do I start?”

he stood up and reached across the desk to grab your neck, glaring at you.  “right now.”

his free hand was already fumbling with his belt, the one on your throat guiding you downwards.  “on your knees,” he instructed, and you slipped out of the chair and onto the floor.

he let go of your neck and you figured he was going to come to you, but instead he stood still and demanded: “crawl.”

debasing as it was, you crawled on your knees to his side of the desk, and he laughed at you bitterly.  when you reached his feet and popped back up, you gasped at the sight of his hard cock right in front of your face. it was bigger than your face.  and it was dripping precum.

“don’t get so bug-eyed, you can handle it,” he grinned.  “if your mouth’s as big as I remember...”

you didn’t want to hear any more.  you just wanted to get this over with, so you quickly took his head between your lips and started to suck.  you were shocked when he slapped you, hard enough to knock his length from your mouth and to make you reach up and clutch your stinging cheek.

“fucking whore,” he grimaced, “did I say you could put it in your mouth?  god, you’re so fucking desperate.  just open your fucking mouth and I’ll show you what I want, okay?”

you nodded and stammered an apology, looking up at him with watery eyes and an open mouth.  he swiped the latest drop of precum on your tongue before gliding his cock over it, grabbing your hair to keep you steady as he pushed himself to the back of your throat.

“fuck, that’s better,” he sighed.  “so much better when you just do what you’re told.  I remember how you used to be so cruel with this mouth.  now you’re being so welcoming...”

you just sat there and let him use your mouth, trying not to gag when he hit your throat.

“look up at me,” he instructed, “yeah, that’s it.  can’t have you forgetting who’s doing this to you, now can we?”

that went on for a bit longer until mascara-stained tears streaked your face, which he seemed rather proud of.

“damn, wouldn’t mind having you swallow my come right now,” he admitted, “but I have bigger plans.  get up, bend over my desk.”

you coughed briefly when he pulled out, but did as you were told.  he instantly yanked your skirt up over your ass and spanked you several times roughly, making you sob and whine.

“wanna see this ass all bruised up in the shape of my hand,” he explained.  “so we can both remember how hard I fucked you.”

he tore your panties like they were paper, chuckling when he found you already wet.

“dripping already, just from choking on my cock?  poor baby...”

you spread your legs slightly, though you were sure nothing was going to adequately prepare you for his size.

“you figured out how to use birth control since graduating, right?” he asked, and you nodded quickly.  “good.  cause I’m not using a condom,” he continued as he let his cock glide over your folds, groaning slightly, “and there’s no way in hell I’m pulling out.”

he pushed forward in one brutal stroke, making you cry out loudly.  you really hoped these rooms were mostly soundproof.

“shit, you’re tight,” he hissed, already pulling back and thrusting back in.  “clearly you recovered from your years of slutting it up in high school.”

“that-- that wasn’t true,” you defended.

“oh, just shut up,” he growled.

he fucked you fast and deep, his hips pushing yours into the edge of his desk with each thrust.  his hands pinned you down at your shoulders, another reminder that you were entirely at his mercy.

“fuck, this is just what you needed... somebody to put you in your place.  makes sense that it should be me, since you hated me so much.”

“I didn’t h-hate you,” you hiccuped. 

“yeah, you wanted me, didn’t you?”

“always,” you admitted.

“wanted my fat fuckin’ cock to tear up your pussy?  is that it?”

“yes,” you moaned, “yes, steve, wanted to be yours.”

“even when I was skinny and short?”

“even when you hated me,” you added.

he growled slightly and you felt your walls tighten around him suddenly.  he chuckled, clearly aware that you were enjoying this.

“you want more, baby?  want me to fuck you harder?”

“whatever you want,” you answered instead.  “just use me however you want.”

he moaned and leaned down to cage your body in with his.  “fuck, baby... you’re taking this better than I thought you would.  such a good girl for me, huh?  such a good little slut.  want me to use you, baby?  take all my anger out on you?”

“yes,” you whispered, sobbing when he began to fuck you more brutally than you thought possible.  but it felt good.  so good that your legs were shaking, so good that you felt even better when he tugged your hair.

“yeah, gonna come on my cock, aren’t you?” 

you nodded and bit your lip.

“m’ close too,” he admitted, “you’re gonna be so full of my come, it’s gonna be dripping down your legs when you walk out of here...”

your orgasm made your body shake and your eyes roll back.

“fuck, I can feel you coming,” he groaned, “fuck, just like that-- fuck!”

you felt his warmth fill you as his cock flexed against your walls.  you were busy trying to catch your breath when he slumped down on top of you and pushed the air from your lungs.

“damn... didn’t think I was gonna come that fast,” he sighed.  “see what you do to me?  fuck, I knew this was a good idea.”

sure, it felt good, but you were sure he was only going to get rougher and meaner the longer this went on.  you couldn’t imagine how you were going to get out of here without somebody noticing your wrinkled clothes, messed-up hair and, as he’d pointed out himself, come all over your thighs.

“guess I’ll see you at 8am tomorrow, huh?” he chuckled, giving you an unexpected peck on the cheek.  you couldn’t answer, though, interrupted by the phone on his desk ringing.  “oh, sorry, gotta get this.”

he reached for the phone and picked it up, bringing to his ear all without pulling out of you or even lifting his body from on top of yours.

“bucky, hey,” steve grinned as he spoke into the phone, looking down at you and stroking your hair, “you’re not gonna believe who I ran into today...”

[kneelesssharks]

How to Lose the Lottery

Hi! This is my first actually story post on tumblr so please give me feedback! :) 

George Weasley X fem!Reader (Muggle!au)

Inspo: this song

Summary: You’re remembering the night that you broke up with George Weasley. Looking back at your relationship you’re missing the good, but you can’t forget the last day you were together.

Warnings: Angst

If you have to go on one more ridiculous date you’ll scream. Ever since you and George broke up your friends had been insistent that you find someone else, or at least try and break out of your slump. 

You had been with George since your second year at university. He had already graduated and was working on becoming a computer sciences professor. He was in grad school, and you were a beautiful, fresh faced sophomore. It seemed simple, he had a decent enough job that he had a nice apartment close to campus. You were just nineteen, he was twenty-three. It made sense, guys your age were focused on partying, rather than being responsible young adults. 

Your first couple dates were fun, he’d taken you on the London Eye, and taken you for some really amazing food after. He was really sweeping you off your feet. A couple weeks into your relationship you started to spend more and more time at his apartment. You’d stay over on weekends and spend the week at your dorm to get your work done. Every Saturday morning you’d make pancakes in one of his old shirts he’d let you sleep in. You always woke up before him, used to your classes being earlier in the day, while he scheduled his for after ten am. He told you how much he loved waking up to you making breakfast in his shirt while playing music quietly as to not waking him up. 

Every morning he’d walk up to you half asleep without a shirt on and wrap his arms around your waist, placing a light kiss on your temple before nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. He used to love hearing you giggle. Used to. 

About a year into your relationship he’d asked you to move in with him. Obviously you were excited. This is the first long term serious relationship you had ever been in. You really felt like George was the one for you. You really loved him.

Then everything sort of... stopped. The hugs from the back, the sleeping in his t shirt, him waking up to drive you to class. Being together all the time made all the niceness of being together fall to the wayside. There wasn’t any excitement in your relationship, even when you’d tried to surprise George with dinner and a tight dress, with a beautiful and delicate lace lingerie on underneath, he’d be working late at the library. You’d changed out of your dress and into one of your pj sets and packed up the food into the fridge by the time George got home.

Then Angelina entered the picture. She was a transfer from Oxford that George had been assigned to show around the Comp Sci department. She was brilliant and beautiful, and closer to George’s age than you were. You were a little jealous of how perfect for George she seemed. She was tall and into computers too. Her and George even started to work on their projects together. Your first reaction was to worry, but you’d convinced yourself that you were being paranoid. That it was good for George to have a friend outside of Lee and his brother Fred. That you and George had built a relationship on trust, that there is no way that he would ever be willing to throw what you had built away.

Then it happened. One night in the heat of the summer, he came home really late. You were awake, waiting for him. Sitting in your pjs watching one of your favorite movies. You had already eaten your dinner and put his in the fridge to reheat if he was hungry when he got home. So when he came back at two in the morning, you were surprised to say the least. 

“Hey babe, are you hungry? Do you want me to heat up your food,” you asked tiredly. 

He dropped his bag on the ground and huffed, causing you to look over at him. He looked utterly defeated. You immediately stood up and went over to him. Your hands went to hold the sides of his face, but he gripped your wrists before you could touch him. 

“George what the hell is going on,” you asked in a quiet worried voice. His face looked so guilty, he wouldn’t look into your eyes, your worry dropped, replaced by a sinking feeling in your stomach. “George, what did you do,” your voice was eerily calm as you pulled your hands from his grip.

His eyes finally meet yours. He looks teary, but not sad, not sorry for whatever he doesn’t want to tell you. “Y/N...” he started. 

“Don’t bullshit me George just tell me what happened.” Your eyes started to fill with tears, dreading what he would tell you. He stayed quite as you quietly yelled, not wanting to wake the neighbors. His back slid down the door until he sat on the floor. 

“I found someone else,” he said barely above a whisper. But you heard him. You wished you hadn’t.

Your jaw dropped and you backed against the wall that sat across from the door, the one that separated the kitchen from the living room in your shared apartment. You slid down as your throat felt like it was closing. You tried to blink back the tears, not wanting George to see them fall, but they slide down your cheek silently.

“I’m sorry,” he says, finally looking up from the floor to look at your stunned and hurt face. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“Is that supposed to make it better,” you ask, your voice betraying you and cracking. “Is that supposed to make all of this shit better? That you didn’t mean to ‘find someone else’ after we’ve been together for almost three years? When we live together,” your voice starts to raise, as tears fall down your face with reckless abandon.

“You have to know I didn’t mean to hurt you,” his voice is raised a bit now, his head squared as he finally has the courage to make eye contact with you.

“Oh,” you ruefully laugh, “well then it’s all better then isn’t it? I’ll tell you right now that it’s a little too fucking late to say that. To say that like you haven’t been hurting me for the last year of our fucking relationship.”

“It’s not my fault that you stopped trying for us,” he stood up. 

“I stopped trying,” your feet launched you up. “I’m the one who cooks for you every single day. I’m not the one who won’t even get up to take my girlfriend to school when it’s five minutes away. I’m not the one who spends all of their free time away from their house as to avoid their girlfriend. No George, that was all you.”

“Oh don’t blame all of our issues on me. We both had a hand in the end of this relationship.”

You stormed into the bedroom to start packing some of your things to leave. You can’t stand to look at him for one more second, much less to stay in the same apartment with him for one more night. 

“What the fuck happened to betting everything on us? You swore to me that you wanted to be with me for the rest of our lives. You told me that meeting me felt like winning the lottery. What happened to that? What? Some girl comes all the way from Oxford and all of a sudden all of that was bullshit?”

“Don’t bring Angelina into this, you know we were falling away from each other before she ever came into the picture,” George grabbed your arm to get you to look at him. His face morphed from his angry excuse making mug to something much softer, showing the small part of him that still cared at all for you. When he saw your tear stained face and the pure and painful hurt in your e/c eyes.

“Get the fuck off of me George,” you shoved him with all your strength. He didn’t even fight back as he fell to sit on the bed behind him. “I’m getting as much of my stuff as I can right now.” You wipe the tears from your cheeks. “I’ll stop by tomorrow when you’re in class and get the rest of it. I’ll leave my key on the counter. Then I never want to hear from you again. I don’t want to see you if I even hear your name anywhere close to me I’ll walk away.”

“You don’t have to do all that. It’s three in the morning you have nowhere to go. I’ll leave and you can stay here for tonight,” George sighs.

“I can’t stand to be anywhere that reminds me of you right now,” you glare at him over your shoulder. “I can stay at Cedric’s for the night and figure things out from there tomorrow.” George scoffs. You roll your eyes and turn to him. “What?”

“Of course you’re running to Cedric,” he bites.

“The hell do you mean by that?”

“Nothing,” he rolls his eyes, “just seems convenient that you know you could go over to his place at this time of night. He always had a thing for you and you know it.”

You finish zipping your suitcase and stand up, looking at him. “Well it doesn’t matter now, does it? Because one of us already chose someone else.” You felt too calm. You knew you shouldn’t feel as relieved to leave as you do. That you should feel a little more crushed by the ending of your relationship. That you should be screaming and begging for more of an explanation. That it shouldn’t be as easy as it was to walk out on what you thought was going to be the rest of your life.

“Whatever, just go,” George’s eyes looked just as detached as you felt right now.

God, this is really ending, isn’t it.

[whileyoursleeping]

Here

Hello all, I wrote a lil oneshot post-canon for the season 4 finale. Shameless fluff. You’ve been warned. This has also been posted on AO3 - link HERE: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31520699

TW: Mentions of the shooting; mentions of PTSD.

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

Buck wears socks to bed.

It’s disturbing in a way. Eddie doesn’t know anyone above the age of ten who still wears socks to bed – except, apparently, Buck.

Buck is also still sleeping on his couch.

Eddie’s been home for a week. He’s mastered the on-off motion of his sling for the shower, he’s sleeping okay – as okay as anyone can while being literally fucking shot for no good reason, and not even in Afghanistan, at that – and he’s not in significant amounts of pain, anymore. The meds have taken care of that, and he’s taking them dutifully, because he might not like them but Chris needs him. Chris needs him more a little stoned than he does bedridden from pain.

But it’s been a week, and Buck is still sleeping on his couch.

It’s not even comfortable. Buck’s not small enough to fit on there without cramping up. And Eddie just – kind of hasn’t told him to go home, and Buck just kind of isn’t going home, he’s more or less just ferrying his things back and forth between Eddie’s coffee table and his own apartment, studiously avoiding eye contact each time, as if Eddie is going to catch his eye and say – well, say what? “Go home? Thanks for taking care of my son and carrying my lifeless body to the fire truck and risking your fucking neck again to save my life and keeping a vigil – but go home?” Not fucking likely.

So he’s sleeping on Eddie’s couch. And Eddie’s not sure how to approach it – or if he even wants to approach it. Buck was scared. He said as much, and other people said as much, and Eddie remembers Buck picking him up and putting him in the ambulance. Fire truck? He doesn’t remember the details, he just – remembers Buck picking him up.

If he’s honest with himself – and he’s trying to be after that whole “follow your own heart” crap Carla pulled on him – he doesn’t particularly want Buck to leave. Buck saved his life, and Eddie feels weirdly safer with him here. It’s nice to have him around in the mornings – even if he looks tired. Even if Eddie’s couch has not been useable as a couch in over a week now.

He wanders into the living room that morning to find that Buck is already rubbing his eyes, sleepily, looking totally worn out and like he’d like to go back to sleep, but can’t. He sits when he hears Eddie enter – a dog standing at attention.

“Okay?” he checks worriedly.

Eddie smiles drowsily. “You know the pain meds keep me pleasantly high almost all day, right?”

“Yeah.” Buck doesn’t look soothed. “But you’re okay?”

“Yeah, Buck. I’m okay.” Eddie pats his shoulder on the way past, yawning. “Breakfast?”

“I’ll make pancakes.”

~*~

Buck is exhausted.

Eddie knows this because Eddie wakes up a lot at night and goes wandering. He does this because despite the pain pills, he’s just not moving enough to be tired, and his normal army sleep schedule never really left him. He’s like a fucked-up, traumatised meerkat – awake every two to three hours, patrolling the perimeter, looking for enemies.

Just so happens that his perimeter is the length of his hallway between Chris’s room and the couch, where Buck is decidedly not resting peacefully. His enemy, at the moment? The Roomba. Chris has stuck several dozen googly eyes to it and, at one point, had armed it with a butter knife. It’s mildly terrifying. Butter-knife-less at the moment – but terrifying. Eddie squints at it as he moves towards the kitchen.

(“Because it’s funny, Dad,” he’d giggled. “Maybe it’ll make Buck laugh.”

Buck had laughed, but in a strained, I’m-so-tired-I-want-to-cry kind of way. Eddie’s dreading coming off his pain pills for the pure fact that it’ll probably be him next. PTSD is a bitch.)

He was going to get water, but that requires moving through the living room. Buck is crashed out on the couch – his duffel is spilling over on the floor, his phone facedown on the coffee table. Eddie can see him relatively well with the street lights and moon lighting up the smallish living room – he doesn’t look like he’s sleeping peacefully. In fact, even as Eddie watches, Buck twitches.

He goes ramrod still, abruptly not thinking about his heavily-armed Roomba or meerkat analogies. He is suddenly, painfully, sober – the pain pills feel burned out of him as he watches Buck twist, his fingers twitching and then curling into the duvet, face scrunched.

A nightmare. Buck is having a nightmare. Eddie’s not high anymore. The pills are no longer filling his head with cotton and fuzz – every single sense feels alight like it hasn’t in two weeks, tuned in to Buck, struggling, on the couch.

What’s he supposed to do? What can he do?

He watches, alarmed, as Buck gasps and jerks – his stupid socked feet flail and kick into the arm of the couch, and the duvet goes flying back. Buck’s upright, at least semi-upright, on one elbow, panting and scrabbling against the thin, shitty mattress – for what? Purchase? A hand to hold? A memory to cling to, something to soothe him through the remainder of the night?

The room’s quiet. Eddie’s frozen, unsure of what to do. Is this what it was like after the tsunami?

After a moment, Buck makes a sound – a whimper, or a cry, or some awful hybrid of the two – and collapses back, rolls onto his side, away from the TV, and curls up, not bothering to adjust the duvet. His feet – he’s wearing white socks tonight – flex, toes clenching.

Buck drags the corner of the duvet up over his face. The next noise he makes is very clearly a quiet sob and Eddie – oh, he cannot stand this. He’s not going to watch it any longer.

It’s not like he doesn’t know Buck hasn’t been sleeping, at least not well. He did the first night – eleven hours, actually – but every night after that has been plagued with nightmares. He’s heard Buck rustling around or pacing and watched him try to put on a brave face every morning at breakfast, and he can’t do it anymore.

His feet cross the floorboards. He sits on the edge of the couch – Buck flinches – and puts his free hand on Buck’s shoulder, rubs gently.

Buck sniffles. He doesn’t move for a long time, keeps the duvet up over his face. He doesn’t make any more noises, but his shoulders shake, and Eddie remembers – I kinda lost it when I told him you got shot. I’m sorry, I should’ve held it together.

Eddie wonders when anyone reasonably expected Buck to hold it together.

Buck moves suddenly – his fingers grip at Eddie’s, and they’re shaking. He holds on and – well, if Buck wants to hold hands, it’s not like they haven’t done it before. Eddie held his hand for an hour or more while they were getting him out from under the ladder truck two years ago. Eddie’s happy to hold his hand.

He doesn’t know how to help. Buck’s still sniffling, his face angled away from Eddie’s. He’s happy to take the comfort, but not happy to let Eddie know he’s crying, apparently.

They sit like that for a while. Eddie’s helpless and almost angry for it. It’s not like he hasn’t suffered – he has. It’s going to take therapy, physical and mental, to get past this. But Buck – Buck watched it happen. Watched him almost die. Buck’s not stoned and he wasn’t shot and there’s no buffer between him and the memories. For the first time, Eddie is angry at the team – how has no one noticed? How has no one cared?

Buck drags a hand across his eyes. “Sorry,” he whispers, his voice cracking. “Bet you’re sick of me crying.”

“What?” Eddie asks. “No, I – I am, but not for the reason you’re thinking.”

Buck nods into the pillow. His legs flex – he has to be cold; the air is definitely cool and Buck hates cold weather with a passion. He’s wearing socks and boxers and a hoodie and all of that thoroughly confuses Eddie – he wants to arrange the duvet properly but he can’t with Buck clinging to his hand. That’s fine too.

He thinks about it for a moment. Problem – Buck is sad; Buck is scared. Buck is clearly traumatised. Nobody appears to have addressed that last one.

Solution. Well, Chris seems to help a lot. But Chris is asleep, and Eddie can’t really properly address the trauma thing.

But he can maybe make Buck feel less alone.

He removes his hand from Buck’s shoulder, clumsily adjusts the duvet, and then climbs under it, adjusting until his side is pressed to Buck’s back and he can feel Buck trembling horribly against him. His legs twitch; his socks brush Eddie’s bare feet.

“Why do you wear socks to bed?” Eddie asks.

There’s a long pause. Then, “That’s what you want to know?”

“Sure.”

“I… don’t know?”

Eddie makes a face at the ceiling. Buck hasn’t rolled over. “You don’t know?” he asks dubiously. “Are your feet cold?”

“Not particularly.”

“Do you wear socks to bed in summer?”

“I… sort of do it all year round – Eddie, what’re you doing?”

He doesn’t know, truthfully, beyond trying to cheer Buck up. Although, maybe he just – needs to cry? Sometimes when Chris is upset he just needs to cry. No solutions, just… comfort.

He pushes against Buck’s back more, and, because he can’t reach Buck’s hands like this, links their ankles together. Buck shifts – but only to stop the knobs of their bones rubbing uncomfortably. He sighs, shakily, but when breath finally leaves his lungs entirely, he almost feels steadier.

“Thanks, Eddie,” he whispers.

~*~

Buck rolls during the night, a soft breath leaving him. Eddie’s only aware of it because it ghosts across his throat – Buck’s rolled towards him.

The mattress shifts. Buck is deliciously warm against Eddie’s side – his socked feet brush against Eddie’s shins, a few times, almost deliberately. Buck sighs again, settles.

The air goes still. Eddie can smell something new and different, faintly – the couch bed smells like Buck, like the woody, fresh scent of his aftershave and a little spicy and like Buck’s own shampoo. There’s something indefinable about it – something that’s just how Buck smells.

Eddie yawns. His jaw cracks. His shoulder, at the moment, doesn’t hurt, even when he shifts and looks for Buck’s hand, clumsily – he finds it, pulls it up until he can link their fingers together and rest their joined palms on his own belly. He squeezes. Are you there?

A second passes before Buck squeezes back. His palms are rough and hot and his thumb nervous where it brushes Eddie’s knuckles.

Yes. I’m here.

Eddie yawns. He goes back to sleep.

~*~

The sunlight punching through the living room window wakes him up.

He blinks. He’s on his back still – his feet are cold. When he turns his head to the side, the first thing he sees is Buck’s face – buried somewhere in the vicinity of Eddie’s shoulder, eyes closed, mouth slightly open.

He’s drooling. It’s a little cute. Eddie raises his head – his shoulder twinges unhappily – and looks to the end of the couch.

Yep. Buck’s still wearing socks. His legs are curled up, almost like he’s trying to keep warm, and he’s more or less pressed to Eddie’s side, but not quite on top of him.

Eddie’s struck with the sudden though that if his shoulder wasn’t injured, he’d roll over – put an arm over Buck and let Buck hide as long as he needed to. He can’t do that right now, and the impulse is frightening if only because it doesn’t come from the so-called brotherly love he’s continued to tell himself is what he feels for Buck.

It’s not so frightening he can’t deal with it though. Quietly. And he might not be able to hug Buck right now – but Buck slept through till morning, the first time in more than a week in all likelihood. He even looks peaceful.

If Eddie does pursue this – whatever this is, this little, fledgling, hopeful thing in his chest – he can only hope that Buck reciprocates. It’ll take time, of course. Plenty of it. But – Buck is already Chris’s other parent in the ways that matter and he’s kept bedside vigils and they slept here, last night, holding hands for the majority of it. Is there a lot left to think about? Eddie doesn’t think so.

He raises his head again. Looks down.

Except those socks, maybe. He’s not sure he’ll ever get used to that.

[sunshineandaisies]

Cabin Fever (Part One)

Cabin Fever Masterlist

Summary: What was meant to be a weekend at the cabin with Peter, Pepper, and Morgan very quickly turned into a weekend alone with your best friend and your recently acknowledged feelings for him thanks to a certain assumption made by your step-mother.

Pairing: College!Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

Words: ~1.6k

Warnings: language, sexual suggestions, angst?, too much overthinking

“So Pepper just called,” you announced, staring at your phone with a confused expression. “Her and Morgan aren’t gonna make the trip up here this weekend.”

Your travel companion popped his head around the door of the open fridge, staring at you with his big chocolate eyes that never failed to send your heart racing. Not that you’d ever tell him that, though. Nope, there was absolutely nothing between you and Peter Parker but good ol’, super platonic friendship. Absolutely zero non-platonic feelings. Nope. Nada.

“They’re not coming?”

You shrugged, tossing your phone onto the couch before you sank down into the cushions beside it. “Nope.”

“Did she say why?” Peter asked as he shut the fridge. 

You bit your lip nervously, your gaze sliding to Peter as he walked around the couch and sat beside you. Pepper had told you why, but you weren’t really sure if sharing that reason was the best course of action. Your step-mom’s reason had been a little presumptive, to say the least. 

“No, not really,” you lied, and you smiled at him reassuringly. “Maybe something came up at work.”

He nodded, but the skeptical look he sent you when he thought you weren’t looking told you that you hadn’t gotten any better at lying to him in the six years since you first met as high school freshmen. But, Peter being Peter, he let it go. He let you have your secrets, just as you let him have his.

The only problem with that was that you inevitably always ended up telling him your secrets, just as he always told you his.

Peter spoke up beside you, pulling you from your thoughts. “So if Pepper and Morgan aren’t coming, what’s our plan for the weekend?” He nervously played with his fingers, and your attention was drawn to the action. What did Peter have to be nervous about? “Should we just go home?”

“No!” you said more abruptly than you had intended. You averted your eyes and cleared your throat before turning back to Peter. “No, Pepper would feel bad if we just scraped the weekend altogether. We can still swim and play games and relax. You know, enjoy the first week of our summer break and celebrate surviving finals for another semester.”

The corner of his mouth twitched into the barest hint of a smile. “Yeah,” he agreed. “We should definitely celebrate the end of finals. This semester was kinda the semester from hell, wasn’t it?” 

You huffed. That was an understatement. Both you and Peter were double majoring - him at Columbia, you at your father’s alma mater, MIT - and it was slowly but surely draining the life out of you. Your only saving grace was the few weekends you returned to New York, splitting time between being home with Pepper and Morgan and staying with Peter in his far too small dorm room. Unfortunately, the workload for your courses during the past semester had made it nearly impossible to find a free weekend to go home, and you wanted nothing more than to enjoy a weekend with Peter. 

Pepper seemed to think the same thing, though her reasoning was slightly different than yours.

“At least I’ll get to graduate a semester early,” you answered. You closed your eyes and rested your head against the back of the couch, finally letting the fact that you had zero responsibilities for the next three months sink in. “If it weren’t for that, I definitely wouldn’t have overloaded my schedule like that. Do you think you can overdose on coffee? I think I nearly overdosed on coffee last semester.” 

His responding laughter made your eyes flutter open, and you drank in his appearance - cheeks flushed from the early summer heat, messy hair beginning to curl from the humidity, his muscled arms on full display in his tight t-shirt, and his chapped lips curled into the most adorable smile. You ached to reach out to him, to run a hand through his curls, to drag your fingers over his arms, to press your lips against his. 

You moved away and clasped your hands in your lap. “I, uh- I’m gonna go unpack, I think.”

If Peter noticed your sudden distance and change in demeanor, he didn’t say anything. Instead, he let you go, dragging your suitcase behind you to the bedroom that your dad had set up for you years ago in the hopes that one day he’d get you back after Thanos had turned you to dust alongside Peter. 

Tony got you back, but he never got to see you in the cabin he had built for his family, never got to see you in the room that he had set up just for you.

The first time you came to the cabin with Pepper and Morgan after the Blip, you hadn’t even been able to stay in the room for more than five minutes, and you had ended up sleeping with Morgan in her tiny bed. The only exception to that was the night of your dad’s funeral, when both you and Morgan had crawled into bed with Pepper, anchoring yourself to what little family you had left. 

The second time you came to the cabin with Pepper and Morgan, it had been for a weekend getaway before you left for college, and Peter and May had joined the Stark family. You’d only managed to sleep in your room that weekend because Peter had crawled beneath the blankets with you and held you close after he found you sat against the wall, your eyes bloodshot and wet from your tears. He’d slept with you in your room every weekend you’d spent at the cabin since.

And this weekend would be no different, even though the feelings that you felt for him were very drastically different than they had been all those other times you’d shared your bed with him. You were absolutely sure that sharing your bed with Peter Parker all weekend was slowly, but surely, going to kill you. Even the thought of  laying in bed with him, close enough to touch him, to kiss him was sending your heart racing. 

Fuck, you wanted to kiss him so bad and it confused you so much. He was your best friend, he was nerdy Peter, he was...he was so adorable and- and when did you stop seeing him as just Peter and start seeing him as so, so much more?

“You okay?” 

You jumped, startled. You spun around to face Peter, your eyes wide as they latched onto his concerned expression. You blinked, twisting the material of the sweatshirt that you held in your hands. “Um, yeah.” You cleared your throat and dropped the sweatshirt into your dresser with the rest of your clothes you’d brought along for the weekend. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just kinda...I don’t know. I’ll give you some time to unpack. I’m gonna get some fresh air.”

You slid past him in the doorway before he had a chance to protest, and after grabbing a random bottle of wine from the wine rack, you found yourself sitting on the dock, your shoes beside you on the wooden surface and your feet dragging through the tepid lake water. 

Drinking directly from the bottle, you thought back to the phone call with Pepper earlier in the day that had sent your thoughts haywire in the first place. 

‘You haven’t seen each other in months, Y/N,” she had said. ‘You deserve to have some time together. Alone.’

That in and of itself had been innocent enough. There hadn’t been any suggestive undertone to her words, no incorrect assumptions. It could easily have been interpreted as Pepper urging you to have a relaxing weekend with your best friend.

Except that’s not at all what she had meant, and that became abundantly clear as the call went on. 

‘Just be safe, Y/N. You and Peter are both adults, and I trust you to make good choices. I know your dad would have been over the moon to know how close you and Peter have gotten, but I don’t think he’d be too eager to be a grandpa if he were still around.’ You had nearly choked on your own spit when she said that, and before you were even able to respond she continued, ‘There are condoms under the sink in my bathroom if you didn’t bring your own. Seriously, Y/N, be safe. Enjoy your weekend with Peter.’

You had been too tongue-tied to say anything more than a quick goodbye, and the entire conversation had been playing on repeat in your head ever since. It was torturing you, slowly driving you mad in the same manner that your sudden change in feelings for Peter were driving you mad.

The wooden dock creaked, and without even turning to look, you knew that it was Peter padding down the length of the dock to join you at the end. He was silent as he pulled off his shoes and socks, silent as he sat beside you, silent as he plunged his feet into the water and nudged your foot with his big toe. 

You pressed the wine bottle to your lips and tilted it, drinking deeply and swallowing thickly. “I lied to you earlier,” you admitted. You held the wine bottle out to him in silent offering, and once he took it from your hand you twisted your hands together in your lap nervously. “About why Pepper and Morgan aren’t coming this weekend.”

[princecharmingmendes]

Heart by Heart | Chapter IV | Raul Mendes

                                                 *secret agent AU*

Y/N and Raul have been friends ever since they could remember. And falling in love with your best friend can be pretty tricky and messy 99% of the times, add that to the fact they're constantly risking their lives side by side on the field since they're both secret agents, and the best team that's ever existed. Perfect recipe for disaster.

Hi, this is the fourth chapter, you can find the first one here. This one's a bit shorter but I still hope you like it anyway. Please read the warnings on this one, if you don't feel comfortable with the contents listed on the "warnings" section, please read something else, there are a lot of other works on my masterlist and on the "fic rec" hashtag on my blog. Please give me some feedback and I hope you guys like. Happy Reading! 

                                              previous chapter | masterpost | next chapter 

*Word Count: 2.9K+.

*Warnings: cursing, jealousy, mentions of weapons (barely any), slight angst (if you squint). 

Please don’t read it if any of this subjects make you uncomfortable, feel free to check my masterlist for other writings. 

*Posted: July 22nd, 2021.

                                                  -*-

Raul was fucked. 

He learned that ages ago, but every passing day, it just seemed to get more and more fucked. 

Y/N was the most beautiful girl he’s ever laid eyes on, he knew that the day he met her all those years ago, while she was still a kid like him. And as the time went on, she proved him wrong every single day, every time he looked at her, in his eyes, Y/N surpassed her own beauty and taking her own title as the pretties one. Raul knew he was a goner the first time he made her laugh, truly laugh, throwing her head back as she almost lost her breath, he knew he would have to do it all over again for the rest of his life just to hear the most beautiful melody ever created. 

And maybe he was a fool, and obvious one for not even holding back whenever she was hurt or needed him. He would give Y/N anything in the world and he could be pretty reckless about it. Sure, Raul was capable of keeping it to himself all these years, even from his spy family and her, but Peter was slowly catching onto it and he knew it. There was a reason why Peter wasn’t a field agent and his not so subtle approaches only proved that right. But he honestly didn’t care, as long as he got to have her as his best friend and best girl, he didn’t give a fuck about what the rest of the world thought. He only cared about Y/N. 

So watching her progress on the ring (hell, having his ass kicked by her was probably the best thing that’s ever happened to him), watching Y/N taking part of such an important role as to plan the mission that would take down one of the biggest criminals on the world left him so proud. He couldn’t even describe it. Watching her sleep peacefully among his bedding, the glimmer of pure and utter happiness whenever she watched one of the marvel movies or ate her favorite cake made butterflies go wild in his stomach. 

And as Aaliyah would say, he was probably a simp for her. As sappy as that sounded, it was probably true. 

“Still with me, champ?” Y/N’s voice ringed on his coms.

Raul had to hold back a smile as Jack smirked at him on their watching point across the street “Always, doll, see anything?”

“Not really” she muttered annoyedly “think the package is late” 

“Oh, sorry the bad guy didn’t show up on the perfect time according to your planner”

“Fuck you, darling, before I forget”

Raul huffed a chuckle as he changed channels on the surveillance system she hacked the night prior. 

He was with Jack sitting on his apartment watching Y/N from the perfect window. The initial plan was pretty simple, Y/N would be dressed in casual common clothes, going through her computer on Genoff’s favorite coffee shop, to possibly catch him after coming back, so he could be used to some of their faces on his absence justifying new people around. Her undercover role was as a graphic designer that pretty much had a home office, which would justify her always being around that area. Tommy was the local barista trainee, summer job to pay for his scholarship, and this way he could hear some stuff and also be ready to jump and protect whoever was undercover there that day.

Celine was working on the front desk on Geonoff’s cover up business building, she was replacing the other girl that just left due to maternity leave, so it wouldn’t look suspicious at all. James got the work as an executive driver on a company that often was hired to transport Geonoff himself and his people, and Raul would also be on home office as a free lancer photographer, he’d be in an untitled relationship with Y/N which would be a good cover for them always being out and about together.

They would all be living in the same neighborhood, Peter and Celine would be living in the same apartment complex, which was just next doors to the one Jack, Y/N and Raul were placed. This way it would still be safe and pretty low profile enough to not draw curious eyes. And since the mission didn’t exactly have a precise deadline, they didn’t have a precise date to actually leave, so their flat was poorly furnished and decorated, filled with the ultimate basic things they could need in a month period. And of course, heavily armed in every corner and drawer anyone could think about.

“He just left his car two blocks away, think he might be just a bit behind your schedule, Y/N” Jack called from his place behind the screens she had set up the night before “Tommy, grab the cash register as soon as you can”

“Yes sir” Tom mumbled under his breath.

Raul inched a bit closer to the window on a spot no one could see him from bellow, watching as Geonoff himself entered the shop with two other man right behind him. Probably security team. He had to hold back his breath once he noticed the way the man had his eyes fixated right on Y/N’s table, before quietly muttering something to the other with him.

“Hm, excuse me miss?” a deep slightly hoarse voice caught her attention from the fake project displayed on her computer screen, Y/N looked up to find Geonoff right next to her booth.

“Oh hi”

“Why is he talking to her? He wasn’t supposed to just approach her!” Raul practically growled to Jack as the other just shrugged in response “fuck” 

“Dude, calm down, Tom is literally just across the bar and she’s a fucking spy, chill, she knows how to handle this” Jack said shoving Raul’s shoulder playfully, to which he just rolled his eyes huffing in annoyance.

“I know, I know that” 

Jack arched his eyebrow at him, a knowing smirk playing on his lips “Is this your way of admitting you love her?” 

“Shut up and pay attention to their conversation, you idiot” Raul said pushing his friend off of his sit. 

“I'm sorry, I just had to ask, I haven’t such a pretty girl like you around in a while, are you new in town, darling?” Geonoff asked leaning his hip against the sit across from Y/N.

“Oh no, not new in town” she responded with a giggle, trying to ease the nerves and slight nausea from talking to him and his half attempt of flirting “I moved to this neighborhood last month though, used to leave on the other side of the town” 

“Oh, was it for work? How are you liking this place so far?”

“It’s nice, I thought it was going to be quieter but it doesn’t really bother me” she said with a soft smile on her features “I moved here because I work from home, so I needed to get out of my last place cause my roommate was not exactly quiet, and my boyfriend said there was an available apartment on his floor, so it just seemed like a great opportunity” 

Raul’s heart raced a bit more on his chest when she referred to him as ‘boyfriend’, which was completely stupid. Y/N was his best friend and this was only for a cover. But sometimes his feelings got the best of him.

“Boyfriend? Is he here?”

“Oh no, I think he’s at work now, he’s a photographer”

“It makes sense, he has the prettiest muse at home” he added with a wink, which made Y/N’s stomach twirl in her tummy, this man is absolutely gross and she just wants to find a way out of this conversation “is he joining you today or should I keep you company?” 

“Tell him I’m on my way, sweetheart, don’t want this man any closer to you” Raul said through coms, Jack already grabbing his backpack with the material they had separated to be Raul’s cover as he threw a denim jacket and a pair of glasses.

Y/N gave Geonoff a gentle smile as she shrugged before adding “he told me he’d be coming here, something about the cupcakes being the best he’s ever had”

“Oh shut up, this is the worst excuse to get me to buy you cupcake ever” Raul muttered through coms as he jogged across the street and Y/N had to cough to hid a little giggle that threatened to escape at her best friend’s comment.

“Yeah, they’re really good, I think you’d like the chocolate one” 

“Okay, thank you for the tip” she said, quickly noticing the mop of curls clumsy coming into the shop, a big grin blossoming on her lips as she waved at the heaving figure of her best friend “oh, there he is!”

Raul’s eyes found hers and he could only smile, forgetting only momentarily that one of the most wanted man in the country was just beside her, he shook his head to gain a bit more focus as he shortened the distance between them with every step “hi baby” 

Y/N got up from her sit and was quick to throw her arms around his neck, as he did the same with her waist, planting a kiss to the crown of her head “Hi, honey this is… Oh my, just realized I never caught your name, I’m sorry, that was so rude”

“Geonoff, darling” he said with a smug smile on his lips, probably waiting some sort of reaction and proud of it.

And to Raul’s amusement, Y/N didn’t move a single muscle, didn’t give a single reaction, only offering a polite smile “Oh, nice name, I’m Y/N and this is my boyfriend, Raul”

“Beautiful name, suits such a gorgeous girl like you” he said, eyes on Raul waiting for some sort of response.

“Oh yeah, she doesn’t like it but I’ve always found it beautiful” he said softly.

“Well, I’ll leave you guys alone now, nice meeting the two of you” Geonoff said as his guards approached him with a paper bag “and Y/N, let me know if you need anything, I’m always around”

“Thank you” she said before pulling Raul to sit by her side on the booth as Geonoff walked out of the little shop “how was your day, honey?”

“Good, angel, got a couple of photos I think you’d like to see whenever we get home” he said throwing his arms around her shoulders, pulling her closer.

“You two are gross to watch” Jack grumbled through the coms making them both laugh.

Y/N turned her head to face him “you wanna go home to show me or you want to grab a cup of coffee first?”

“I think I want a bit of coffee, but we can order it to go, yeah?”

“Sure, whatever you want” Y/N said before sliding off the booth and pulling him with her, before stuffing her computer on her little backpack, which Raul promptly took from her.

“Come on, baby, can’t wait to lay down a bit” he ushered her to the register, where Tom waited patiently for them “hello there, I’d like an espresso please” 

“Sure, anything else?” Tommy asked as he clicked on the little screen.

“Do you want anything, baby?”

“A red velvet cupcake to go, please”

Tom nodded looking a little nervous before speaking up “the other man with the security guards left this note and cupcake for you, ma’am” he then grabbed the little pastry and a fancy business card alongside it.

“Oh, I- are you sure it was for me?” she asked in disbelief as Raul tightened his arm around her.

Tom only nodded in response “positive, do you still want the red velvet one?”

“I- yes, please” Y/N let out before almost chocking on air, gently grabbing the card that contained the business information from his company (that she already had) and a little handwritten phrase next to a phone number, the note read ‘if you’re ever looking for a real man, let me know’. 

“Someone’s got a crush on you” Raul teased trying to mask the anger bubbling up on his throat, but he knew she saw right through his facade. After all, Y/N knew him better than anyone else.

“Well, I feel bad for him, because I’m already taken, yeah?” she giggled at herself, lightly poking his chest to try and loosen his nerves a bit.

“Yeah, since I have you, know that I’m never letting you go” Raul pressed a kiss to her head huffing a small chuckle.

“Here it is, sir” Tom cut Raul out before handing him the paper bag, and he placed the money on Tom’s hand.

Raul offered a smile as he lead Y/N back to their place “Thank you, take care, kid” 

As they were crossing the street, Y/N dropped the cupcake from Geonoff on the sidewalk, making it look like an accident as she cried out an ‘oh no, I can’t believe I dropped it!’ before tossing it on the bin. On the elevator to their apartment, Raul still seemed tense and too quiet for his normal self, but Y/N decided to drop it, maybe give him some time to deal with today.

Just as they opened the door, Jack was quick to pull them inside, grabbing the card from Y/N’s hand and tossing it into a special bag and running downstairs, probably to deliver it to a team so they could take it to the lab to run some tests. Celine was stretched on the couch, a knowing look in her eyes as she signaled for them to join her. Raul went to the kitchen to grab a glass of water in complete silence as Y/N sank down on the soft cushions with Celine.

“What’s wrong with him?” she muttered quietly, since there were no walls separating the rooms on this flat, only the bedroom and bathroom and Raul was standing pretty close.

Y/N sighed with a shrug “No clue, maybe just didn’t expect the interaction to go like that, I don’t know”

“By the way, you did great, he even got interested in you” 

“Ew, no need to remind me, seriously that man is just gross, there’s something about him that’s just creepy, and I’m not even bringing up his criminal record” Y/N added grabbing a bottle water that Raul tossed at her after she nodded at him.

Celine nodded in understanding “Don't blame you, I think I would’ve punched him five seconds into talking”

“You wouldn’t last a single second with him talking” Jack said as he closed the door behind him.

Y/N and Celine laughed as Raul joined them on the couch, sitting on the armrest right behind Y/N as she leaned her weight on him. He threw an arm around her. 

“I think we should order a pizza and have some beer, yeah? This was a successful day, Tom’s gonna be here any minute now and Raul didn’t die out of jealousy in 24h, only reasons to celebrate!”

“Don’t start celebrating now, Jack, he might combust at any second now” Celine said with a laugh and Y/N giggled shaking her head, looking up at him only to see his serious expression and a light pink tinting his cheeks.

“So, pizza and beer it is?” Jack asked pulling his phone.

“I think it’s a great idea” Tom said as he climbed through the back window.

“Okay, Jack, order the pizzas and grab us the beer” Y/N decided and Jack stared at her in shock.

“Why me?!”

“So you can do something useful for once instead of gossiping” Raul said playfully and Y/N smiled at that as Jack feigned hurt with a dramatic gasp. 

“Well, there’s that and the fact that this genius idea belongs to you, doesn’t it?” Y/N asked 

Jack stared at her and nodded “Well yeah but-“

“Then make it happen, darling” Y/N only threw a wink at him and he shook his head, but grabbing his phone to start ordering. 

“Hey Tom, can I see the piece you brought back?” Celine asked without moving from her place on the couch. 

Y/N took the opportunity to properly face Raul since the others were seemingly busy, so she cupped his face gently bringing his attention down at her “are you okay?”

“Yeah, of course I am, doll” he said turning his face to place a kiss at the palm of her hand before looking back at her. 

“Are you sure? You didn’t seem fine five minutes ago”

“I just didn’t think he’d take such an interest on you so soon, I mean, you’re insanely gorgeous so it was obvious he was going to notice you, I guess I was just unconsciously hoping he wouldn’t” Raul sighed leaning his head against her hand and she let it slide on his face until she was able to curl her fingers on his hair “it’s stupid, I’m sorry, I was just being stupid yeah? Let’s focus on something else and relax”

“Are you sure?” she asked tugging on his hair a bit as he closed his eyes, nodding his head softly and she sighed “okay”

                                                  -*-

*Please reblog or like this post if you liked it so I’ll know.

*I’m sorry if there are any spelling mistakes.

*Please do not repost this without giving me the credit, this is a completely original piece and I do not give permission to copy this!

*Hope you guys enjoyed it!

*xoxo

-🌙

[btsinwonderland]

A Drop of Poison - Ch. 16: Questions

A Loki fanfiction!

Previous Chapter --- Next Chapter

Full Chapter List

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

Hungry. Blood. Flesh.

Hungry. Blood. Flesh.

The mantra circles in your mind as you prowl the forest, searching for your next meal. It has been days since you found something good. The creatures of the forest were now keen to your presence, so they found better spots to hide.

You stalk the forest floor, smelling the scent of flesh in the air. Nothing but carcass and dead meat until you catch the scent of a sweeter meat. You run in the direction and give way to the chase. The creature runs from you and you snarl, laughing. There are few things in this forest that can outrun you.

You pounce and look into the eyes of a doe. It lets out a gargled yelp as you snap your jaws around its throat.

Hungry. Blood. Flesh.

You awoke with a start and felt bile in the back of your throat. You tasted blood in your mouth and nearly vomited from the thought of eating flesh. Inspecting with your finger, you realized you had bitten your cheek in your sleep. You took a minute to settle back into reality while the nightmare faded away, though the stench of blood was hot in your mouth.

The bed was empty save for you, and you looked around. Your school clothes were neatly folded and ready for you at the end of the bed.

“Hello?” you said once you got clothed and felt a little more like yourself again. Fatigue still coated every one of your steps, but you stood by his desk and glanced around the room. He popped out from the closet and gave you a tight smile. He was holding a briefcase.

“Ah, you’re awake,” he said. “I left breakfast on the nightstand there,” he said, gesturing to a plate of toast, eggs, and bacon.

“Where are you going?” you said, sliding over beside the nightstand and taking a bite of bacon.

His jaw tightened. “I must tend to some business, I shall return in a week.”

Your eyes narrowed. “What business?”

“I did not realize that I was to run every meeting in my schedule through you, Miss Eves,” he said. He looked irritated, though it seemed like a faraway sort of feeling.

Your heart hitched at his words. “I just want to know why you’re leaving when Hogwarts was attacked again, it will look suspicious.”

He chuckled humorlessly. “Ah, so you think I was behind this, too. You didn’t care to mention that last night,” he said, looking away.

Anger flared up within you. Anger and embarrassment. “I didn’t mean to insinuate anything. I’m just saying that it will not help your case if you cut and run after another attack.”

He glared at you. “I do not ‘cut and run’, Miss Eves. Nor do I care what the rest of the school thinks. You may do what you wish, as will I.”

You dropped the half eaten bacon on the plate and got up. “Why can’t you just talk about things like a normal person? Did it ever occur to you that sometimes you have to earn trust than just expect it blindly?”

He was wearing the icy shield that he usually surrounded himself in. It was impenetrable, and you knew you would not get anywhere with him now.

“If you do not trust me, Miss Eves, then you are free to leave. And be sure to stay out of my way,” he said coldly.

You felt the sting of tears in your eyes but refused to show him your weakness. Anger boiled your blood, along with a maddening frustration. You stormed to the door and just before slamming it shut, said, “this is why you’re always alone.”

***

After about an hour of being a tearful mess in your room, you decided it was enough. He said things that hurt you and so you retaliated and were ashamed of what a low blow you had given him. You had not bothered to see him afterwards, in order to apologize, and by now you assumed he was off conducting his ‘business’. You sighed and went to wash your face.

This was no time to be crying or taking things personally. You knew he acted angry whenever he was hiding something or wanted to throw you off. He was a man that smiled and joked around but kept everyone more than an arm’s length away. He was not going to shake you that easily, if that’s what he thought would happen. You promised yourself that you would not let him die, and you would sooner die yourself than go back on your word.

You thought about the first vision you had of him. It seemed like a dream of a dream now. It had been weeks since you had any sort of vision. Ever since your encounter with Fenris, you were haunted. Infected. Looking in the mirror, you reached up a hand and caressed the skin on your face, observing the sallow quality it had taken on, getting used to the black half moons under your eyes.

You tied up your hair in a ponytail that was all business and went to the Great Hall for lunch. Valkyrie was there, and she jumped up and embraced you as soon as your eyes met.

“Freya!” she said, giving you a bear hug. You had never heard such intense concern in her voice before. “I knew you’d make it, but for a moment I thought...”

You pulled away and looked at her face; it was creased with anxiety. “What’s wrong?”

She sighed and pulled you into a corner, away from eager ears. “It’s Thor - Professor Odinson. He’s still in the infirmary. That...thing that attacked you was a serperus. And there were more of them in the gardens. Odinson went to fight them off and was lashed by three of them before he went down.” Valkyrie ran her fingers through her hair and shook her head. “I should have been there with him...but those bloody leech things that popped out of the balloons.... We lost each other in the ball from all the chaos.” She sighed. “Volstagg says he’s a fighter, that he’ll make it. But there was so much venom Freya...his legs turned purple.”

You concealed a cringe that went through your body. Recalling the pain of one serperus was awful enough, but three? You would have surely died. “Professor Odinson is one of the strongest wizards I know. He’s going to recover.” You squeezed her hands.

She nodded, the sparkle of determination returning to her eyes. “Who’s doing this? First Rattowl, then the Quidditch game gets fucked up, then you find Pom’s brother mutilated in the forest, then that bloody message about some heir, and now they set off these disgusting creatures at the ball? What the fuck is going on?” Her jaw clenched in rage. “The teachers are all buffoons; a fat lot of help they’ve been!”

“That’s why we need to find who’s doing this,” you said. “ And I think I know where to start.”

With that, the both of you headed to Professor Bjorn’s hut just outside the castle. Hogwarts was now under strong guard and you had to sneak back and grab the invisibility cloak before going outside. Professor Laufeyson was the only one who could tell where you were when you were cloaked since he had the marauder’s map, though you doubted he would keep watch of anything during his trip; a fact which both relieved and irritated you.

“Why are we going to Bjorn’s? You think he’s behind this?” Valkyrie said, confused.

You scoffed. “No! But he’s the expert on magical creatures. How could someone transport that many blood slugs and serperus’ into the castle undetected?”

As you walked, Valkyrie caught you up on everything you had missed in the last couple days since the ball disaster. During the ball, at midnight, the students and teachers knew there would be some sort of prank as per annual custom, but when the first of the balloons burst, and a young second-year student screamed his lungs out and thumped to the floor, chaos ensued. Apparently, Mo had to pry a slug off of Nila’s neck and she was bleeding profusely. Pom and her date were helping others as well until a slug took her date down by the ankle and he had two feasting on him before Valkyrie came over and helped Pom pry them off.

“Goddamn, leeches bite hard. Tearing them off was a nightmare,” Valkyrie said.

You shuddered and almost preferred the fatal venom to having slimy leeches attached to you.

The infirmary was overloaded once again, and much worse this time. Students and teachers were called to volunteer and assist the infirmary staff since there were so many injured. The Ministry Blood Bank had to bring in a special order for all the students and staff suffering from major blood loss.

“The Ministry is pissed off,” she said. You thought about Odin and the image of him in Professor Laufeyson’s memories. He always looked angry, though you would imagine that his entire administration was now going to be up in arms.

The hut was cloaked in fog, with only the thin lamplight from the windows guiding you towards it. The edge of the Forbidden Forest was dangerously close to his home, and you wondered how he was comfortable with it. You and Valkyrie walked down the hill and approached the house, concealed underneath the cloak. There was a crash and bang from inside that made you both jump.

You took off the cloak and rapped on the door. The wood was cold and cracked; it stung your knuckles.

“No guests till tomorrow!” shouted Bjorn’s raspy voice. You heard another sound from inside, a mewling sort of sound that was almost like a mixture of a bird and a cat.

“Come on, Professor Bjorn, what’s goin’ on in there?” Valkyrie said, pounding her first on the door so hard that it shook.

The door swung open and slammed against the inside wall. Professor Bjorn stood there, towering over the both of you. He smelled funny, like a fish market in the summer, and his beard was singed at the tips, as if he leaned too close to a fire. “No students on the grounds! Get back to the school before I dock ya,” he said with a growl, and slammed the door. Valkyrie put her foot out just in time and shoved the door open, entering the hut.

You were always impressed with her fearlessness and lack of hesitation. You had expected Professor Bjorn to fight back, but in fact, he backed up into a corner and tried to conceal something behind him. Something that was moving.

“I-it’s not what it looks like, I swear,” he said, his tone dropping.

Valkyrie pulled out her wand and pointed it at him, “you bastard!”

“Wait, Valkyrie!” you said as you moved closer to see what he was hiding. Five tiny heads tilted towards you with forked tongues slipping out of scaly mouths. It was a serperus, though it was about half the size of the one you had remembered seeing before you passed out. You pulled out your want and pointed it at Professor Bjorn. How could he?

“You did this?” you said, disbelief in your words.

Professor Bjorn was terribly sweaty and distressed. He frowned as if he might cry and shook his head. “No! Please understand, they were killin’ all of them. I found this one hiding in the corner, so confused and lost. Serperus’ don’t attack people, ‘tis not in their nature!”

Valkyrie took a step forward and clenched her jaw. “What - so we’re supposed to believe you were just rescuing the monster that almost killed us? Freya nearly died! Professor Odinson is lying unconscious ‘cause of this thing! How can you sit here, protecting it?”

“It’s just an animal! It’s scared and I don’t know what dark enchantments were used to control these things, but they’re not harmful,” he paused when both you and Valkyrie scoffed at him, implying they were not dangerous. “I’m not saying they can’t be harmful, but they eat rabbits, mice and fish! Everythin’ else is a defense mechanism. These beasts are like cats.”

You and Valkyrie looked at each other. “Cats?” you said incredulously.

The small serperus slithered out of the corner, its scales glimmered with a bluish sheen from the lamplight. The barbs on its tail were red coloured, but they were not fanned out like the one in your memory, but tucked in like a feline’s claws. One head moved towards you while the others looked at Valkyrie. The creature slithered over to you, and when you took a step back, its tail twitched and Valkyrie was about to shoot a spell at it. You raised your hand and silently stopped her. The creature slithered across the floorboards and moved through your legs, like some sort of monstrous cat.

“It likes you,” Bjorn said with a smile.

You sighed, your palpitations decreasing now that you knew you would not be stung. Glancing at Valkyrie with a pleading look, she reluctantly lowered her wand. Since the entire room released tension, Professor Bjorn pulled out two chairs and put on a kettle of tea.

Once you were all situated around the table with a cup of tea, you spoke. “Professor, how could someone control these creatures? And the blood slugs, how was someone able to get them into the school?”

Valkyrie wrinkled her nose at the smell of raw fish that sat in the bucket beside Professor Bjorn. He reached inside with an ungloved hand and pulled out fish guts, feeding it to the serperus, who happily slopped up its food with each of its five mouths. He then stroked his beard with the fish stained hand. “That’s the question, ain’t it? The only curse that can control a beast to that extent is one of the forbidden curses.”

“The imperius curse,” Valkyrie said.

Bjorn nodded. “That’s the one. As for the blood slugs,” he said, scratching at his head. “I have no clue how those would have been brought into Hogwarts without us knowin’. We got charms here, you know, all sorts of protection spells.”

“How does someone even get blood slugs? I can’t imagine this person spent a week hunting and collecting hundreds of them in the forest,” you said.

Bjorn shook his head. “Nah, Freya, blood slugs live in the swamp, not the forest. But you got a point. There are...certain folks who are in the market of selling strange and exotic creatures.”

You straightened in your chair. “Can you find out who it was?”

The serperus mewled, and Bjorn took another handful of fish huts and held out his hand for it to eat. “I-I don’t know anybody like that. I’m completely above board, kids,” he said, looking down at the fish bucket.

Valkyrie raised a brow. “Oh please, save us the lies. You know someone in the market, and you’re going to find out who was exporting blood slugs and to whom.” She glanced at the serperus. “Or else we’ll have to tell the teachers about your...pet.”

You raised your brows at Valkyrie, impressed. Exploitation was not something you enjoyed, but this was important.

Bjorn balked. “Don’t tell them, please! They’re goin’ to kill ‘im!”

You folded your hands on the table. “Then help us, please, sir. People are getting hurt,” you said earnestly. He looked at you and sighed.

“Alright, I’ll call my old buddies and see wha’ I can get.”

Once you returned to the castle, you snuck Valkyrie into your room and stuffed the cloak under your bed. She jumped onto the bed of your estranged roommate and stared at the ceiling. “I smell like fish guts,” she said.

Perhaps it was the fatigue or the despair. Regardless, you both immediately burst out laughing to the point of tears. You slid down the bed and onto the floor, holding onto your stomach and trying to contain yourself. It was partial hysteria, but once you settled down you appreciated the moment of levity.

“I’m going to use your shower,” she said, staggering up and wiping tears off her face.

“Want to stay the night? I’ll grab some food from the kitchen,” you said.

Valkyrie smiled at you and nodded. It had been a while since you two had time to catch up. You also didn’t want to be alone. There was too much happening and in all truth, it frightened you. So you headed out of the common room and ventured out to find some grub.

The halls were strangely vacant as you headed towards the kitchen. You saw Skurge mopping up the stairs from across the hall and recalled that time in the library when you first saw Professor Laufeyson. He was having sex with Professor Sif, trying to get information out of her. You thought that you would be jealous, but in fact the memory reignited your desire for him. What if it had been you in Sif’s place? You shivered at the thought of his length inside you. Your imagination transformed your memory and now it was you splayed on the table, with him pounding into you. You bit your lip and shook your head. A sigh escaped your lips as you crossed your arms and tried not to think about him.

“Freya!” a small voice called from behind. It was Pom. She stuck her head out from a set of doors.

You had not realized that you passed the library and walked in to see Pom. “How are you?” you said.

She widened her eyes and blinked several times. “I don’t know, Freya. I was one of the lucky ones. But I need to show you something!” She pulled you by the hand to the area she was working in. Piles of books sat atop the tables labeled as “The Era of the Dark One”.

Pom pulled out one labelled Volume IX and opened it. “Okay, so remember when we were freaking out about that message on the wall? Everybody wondered who was the heir and of what? And before the ball, I started reading about the magical war and history about the Dark One. There is so much to read through, it was going to take me nearly a week! Then the ball happened…” she collected herself, then continued, “so I came back here since I had nothing better to do. And I found something.”

You leaned closer to her. “Found what?”

She smiled, proud of herself. “The Dark One,” she said, lowering her voice. “He had a child.”

Your stomach sank, wondering if she would unveil that Professor Laufeyson was the mastermind. “Everybody knows that Professor Laufeyson was the Dark One’s son, but it can’t be him…”

Pom shook her head. “No! He had another child…”

You felt a headache settling in, right between your eyes. “What do you mean? The one that died with him in battle?”

She nodded. “Yes! And no! There’s almost no information about his second child, as if it’s been wiped from all records. But...I think I may find something in one of these books!”

“How’s a dead wizard going to help us?”

Pom’s face fell a little. She scrunched her nose. “I know there’s something more here. I have a hunch. I’ll let you know when I find something!”

You nodded and left her to keep scouring through the old texts. The thought crossed your mind to write in the magical notebook you had found and ask Leah if she knew anything. Though you could no longer recall where you kept the book. Unless it had switched away from you, which would be unfortunate.

The headache split your head in two as you flinched from the pain. He would have something useful, a draught or pill that would make the pain go away. Your heart yearned for him, not just for the use of his potions skills. It was going to be a long week until he returned and you prayed that nothing else got destroyed along the way.

[palbabor-writes]

hullo there

question, question. 

i got a WIP idea & i did a little world building to spark some joy - so now i have these bullet points, and i’ll likely write this, but i wanna see if anyone is interested in me doing a post... cuz it’s... levi... again... 

*insert sweat emoji*

and a, uh, college AU...

anyway, more under the cut. 

lemme know what you think? pwease?

Teaches Real Analysis for Graduate students

It’s a tough class to slip into; only offered in Fall and Summer & only available the first three days of Senior and Graduate registration

You’ve looked over the class schedule - asked around the campus - got your advisor on speed-dial - you’re determined to get in this Fall

Come hell or high water - you’re walking the fucking stage in December 

But there’s a snag

Apparently the professor you want, the one you’ve known for the last three years, and have a great rapport with, is taking this semester off

Something about over work? Or maybe it was a time share that was about to expire?

Whatever it is - it’s a goddamn wrench in your finely tuned plans

At 7am, Monday morning, you’re at your desk, mug of coffee in one hand, fingers of your right diligently poised over the trackpad

Click, click, return, one final strike of the keyboard, and you’re in

Registered for MAT 8811 Complex Analysis & Number Theory (Fall:1) MWF 8am - 10:45am

And with professor…

Who?

One Ackerman, L.

Huh, you ponder, stiff legs stretching under the table as you cup your steaming mug to your lips. Never heard of him.

As a rule, you usually don’t bother with those professor aggregator sites

It’s all bullshit. 

You should know, you were an adjunct last spring, and the reviews you got were middling at best.

Who cares if anyone thinks he’s easy

This is a graduate math class for fucks sake - nothing is easy when you’re working on a masters

But your dawdling keystrokes have another idea in mind, and before you can blink you’re clacking their name into the search function

Oh. 

He’s… got some good reviews. Fair. Easy to understand, and… bite-sized? Okay

A strange adjective for a math professor but whatever… guess time will tell

August 22nd 

It’s too hot for this, you think, adjusting your backpack straps as you dash up the last flight of stairs. Why can’t we start in September? It doesn’t even feel like fall when the temps are hovering in the mid 90’s (32 for my celsius babes)

Thankfully, Professor Ackerman is in one of the older classrooms - so it’s spacious, cool, and blissfully dim - what with recessed fluorescents that likely haven’t been changed since their installation in the mid 1960s

You take a seat toward the back, flicking on your laptop and arranging your materials 

Not that you’ll use them today

Syllabus day is always easy - a waste of time, really. If there’s one thing that should be compiled into an email, it’s this

So you open up a few windows, poke around on a couple of websites, order some shoes, and, oh, looks like two of your favorite shops have a sale on. Maybe today won’t be so bad after all

You’re just about to toss another item into your cart when the overhead projector starts up that low pitched whine 

Blinking, you look up from the brightness of your screen to the front of the lecture hall

Odd. You didn’t think… you saw the professor even come in… and… why are the light still dimmed?

Was he sitting in one of the seats?

You look around at your peers, but most are simply tugging out binders, notepads, one is clicking on a recording device, no one is acting like anything is out of the ordinary so you shift your focus back to your screen - adding an additional pair of shoes to your already overburdened cart

Treat yourself, right?

You’re so engrossed in your rapid fire clicks and the frantic recitation of your card number that you don’t see the powerpoint flicker to life

Or the sharp eyes of the man who’s taken a seat on the bottom lip of the raised platform

There’s always one, he muses, tapping his electronic clicker against the heel of his booted foot

They think they’re slick; what with all that engrained tech, the subtle narrowing of their gaze, a distracted pass here, a well timed question there - well, we’ve all gotta learn things the hard way sometimes, don’t we?

“That’s all I have for you,” a deep voice calls out, making you jump in your poorly padded seat. “Textbook is for sale at one of those kiosks the school bookstore sets up. But the link I provided on the slide should take you to a free to use PDF. Stick it to the man and all that jazz. Any questions?”

Yes, you think, slamming your laptop closed. Like when did a presentation start? And where the hell even are you?

Finally, you spot him. He’s perched on the steps, legs haphazardly crossed, elbows resting on his raised knees. There’s… an intensity to him. Maybe it’s that jet black hair, or the cold look in his sleep weary eyes, but something about this man just oozes a loud and clear, “don’t fuck with me,” vibe

And you, idiot that you are, just missed his entire… lecture? What the hell even was that? Did he just toss some slides up and call it a day?

As the class filters out he remains where he is - but when you step up beside him, he graces you with a bored stare

“Yes?”

Best course of action… be… honest?

“Hi,” you blurt, molars gripping indentations into the side of your mouth. “I… I’m in, uh, your class.”

He blinks dispassionately. “You don’t say?”

Crap. “Yeah, and, er, I didn’t… I think I missed some of your presentation. With the lights half off I didn’t… see you start it.”

“Half?” he questions, knocking a few rogue strands of onyx hair from his brow. “That’s odd. Cuz from where I’m sitting, it looked like you missed all of it. Lemme guess…” And here he pauses to give you a swift once over with his pewter eyes. “Online shopping?”

What a… a… your outrage dies in your throat when he swivels back to your widened gaze

Something about this… feels...

He waits for your reply, untangling his legs and bracing his hands behind him as he peers up at you. “Go on,” he taunts, a black brow arching sardonically. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

notes: (ᓀ ᓀ)

[halcyonstorm]

my contest submission for LH drabble week! @levihan-drabbles

Fandom: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Relationships: Levi Ackerman/Hange Zoë, Levi Ackerman & Hange Zoë Characters: Levi Ackerman, Hange Zoë, Kuchel Ackerman Additional Tags: Sick Levi Ackerman, Leukemia, Childhood Friends, Friends to Lovers, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - College/University, Car Accidents, Doctor Hange Zoë, Angst, Slight OOC, sorry Series: Part 9 of Short Fics Summary:

Hange and Levi were separated for several years for reason they couldn't help. They finally found each other.

At just 18 years old, Levi received the worst news of his life. He was sick. Extremely sick. If someone even coughed or breathed on him, he could die. He had leukemia, a disease which attacks the body’s white blood cells. Our white blood cells are our guardians, protecting us from any infection that dares to enter. He had one friend he wanted to tell the most: his best friend Hange. She had been his friend since the beginning of high school. He didn’t like her at first, but she kept showing up, eager to be his friend. He eventually warmed up to her, allowing her to sit with him at lunch, hang out after class; soon, they were inseparable.

Levi’s heart was in his throat as he mentally prepared to present the life-changing news to his best friend. “Hange, I have to tell you something,” he said, his voice trembling. Hange looked at him funny. He never spoke in such a strange manner before. Hange hesitantly sat in front of him at the empty desk, turning around in the chair to face him.

“What is it?” She asked, concerned. She was starting to get nervous.

“I’m sick,” he began, almost inaudibly. “I have leukemia… I am gonna have to leave school to be in the hospital. I get so weak, and my immune system is absolute shit… I can’t even risk getting a cold, otherwise I can die.”

Hange’s heart sunk into her stomach. She took a deep breath and looked into her lap. She had to be strong for Levi, and she knew that. 

“I’ll be here with you. We can text, call, facetime…”

“Yeah, we can,” he replied.

“We will! I’m your friend,” Hange said, grabbing his hand. “There’s no way in hell I’m leaving you behind.”

-

At first, Levi thought he’d be strong enough to withstand the chemotherapy. That he’d be the rare case to have no side effects. Boy, was Levi wrong. After his first two weeks, his health was tanking. It tanked so bad, in fact, that no one was allowed in the room except the doctors and nurses. Hange was one of the only people to call him daily besides his mom. Hange would Facetime him after class, telling him all about her day. Levi never had much to share from his monotonous days of drug infusions and immobilizing fatigue, but he enjoyed listening to Hange’s voice. Over time, Hange began to notice her friend change: His skin became ghostly pale and his words were mumbled. She would show him the blooming flowers in the spring, the fallen leaves in the autumn, the snow in the winter. She would show him anything to distract him from the excruciating pain he suffered each day. 

After a year of chemotherapy treatments, the toxins started to take a toll on his body. He’d find clumps of black hair on his pillow every morning, until one night he insisted his mother shave it all off. Each clump of hair reminded him of the life he should’ve had. Going to class in-person instead of online for the rest of the semester, graduating through a computer screen. He fucking hated it. His physical and mental state began to worsen each week. He was like a walking corpse, sleeping about 16 hours each day. When he was awake, he was wishing he was asleep. Each day he withered away in the hospital bed. He would miss Hange’s calls frequently due to his concerningly deep slumbers. If he managed to pick up, he would fall asleep on the phone with her. Despite her busy school schedule, she found time to text him every day. That is what kept him going.

Every day turned into once a week, which turned into once a month, and soon not at all. He had officially lost touch with the only friend in his life. He felt it was his fault: he had no energy to ever respond to her texts. He couldn’t blame her. She did try. Alone in his hospital room staring at his old texts from her, his heart ached and tears spilled down his face.

Another year had passed when his doctor came into his shabby hospital room with a look of hope. Levi felt his heart begin to race. 

“Levi, we have some good news and some bad news,” He began, shutting the door behind him. He wore a bright yellow gown with a blue face mask and latex gloves. “The good news is, your white blood cell levels are elevated. This is an improvement compared to last month’s tests. Since they’re higher, you’re well enough to receive a bone marrow transfusion from your mother, who’s a perfect match. The bad news is, there are many risks to having this transfusion. Your body can reject the bone marrow, which may cause massive complications. However, I think it is best for you to get the transplant. It is your best hope for overcoming this disease.”

With no hesitation, Levi agreed. Let’s do this thing.

He tried to reach out to Hange to tell her the news, but after a week with no response, he was disheartened. A part of him hoped she would respond. He had his family, and for that he was forever grateful, but who would he have once he left the hospital? Who would he talk to? Who would he be? He completely lost the miniscule amount of social skills he had. He did make friends with some of the patients on his floor. Unfortunately, he outlived most of them. 

Fortunately for Levi, the transplant was a success. Within the next few months, he began to regain the color in his face, and hair started to sprout on his head again. He was sleeping less frequently, he was finally able to do a lap around the hospital floor without getting too tired. He was still on chemotherapy, but he was regaining his strength, and more importantly, he was getting his life back.

Levi was in (and rarely out of) the hospital almost four years. The day he was discharged for good was a beautiful spring day. The stale air became fresh as he exited the hospital in a wheelchair. He heard the bright green trees rustling and saw some beautiful pink flowers that reminded him of Hange. He took everything for granted until he was cooped up in a hospital room for years. He was grateful to Hange for being his eyes to the outside world. He felt a breeze run through his buzz cut. He took a deep breath, tears helplessly streaming down his face. He was finally free. 

It wasn’t long before Levi started searching for his long lost friend. He hated himself for forgetting how to spell her name. Was it Hanje, Hangi, or Hange? He couldn’t quite remember. He searched her name and was shocked to find out Hange was a medical student practicing at Shinganshina General Hospital. Shinganshina General wasn’t far, so she must still live in the area. He couldn’t, however, find any of her social media accounts. She was off-the-grid. Great… he thought. She was always difficult. He was one to talk, though. He hasn't used social media in years.

Throughout the summer, Levi was able to land a job as a mechanic and he worked endlessly. He had to repay the debt he placed his parents in. His mother especially hated the idea of him working just as he finished his treatments, but Levi was persistent. Eventually, he saved enough money to send monthly deposits to his mom and move out. He couldn’t have his mom taking care of him anymore after all she sacrificed for him. He had made enough money on his own to afford a cheap apartment two blocks away from her house. 

After getting settled, Levi told himself he couldn’t begin college without knowing about Hange’s whereabouts. He decided maybe if he drove to Shinganshina city, he would be able to find her somehow. Someone ought to know her… He got in his car one evening, punched in a diner’s address in Shinganshina, and started to drive. As he drove, he started to realize his plan was stupid. What, am I gonna stalk her at the hospital?

 After finishing a 10-hour shift at the shop, he impulsively drove past his block and hit the highway. The highways were ruthless that Friday night. He had never been to Shinganshina before on his own. He drove, hovering his head over the steering wheel with his elbows tightly tucked to his sides. The speed limit signs read “65 MPH''; however, everyone was quickly steering around him, going way over 75. He was very tempted to turn around in spite of his impetuous road trip; but he couldn’t find an opportunity to do so.

On the other side of the road, the two lines merged into one. One of the drivers did not recognize this, and suddenly swerved onto the other side of the road where Levi was driving. Perhaps if Levi didn’t work so hard that day, there was a slight chance it could’ve been avoidable. The last thing he saw were bright fluorescent headlights before he was knocked unconscious.

-

“We checked his driver’s license. His name is Levi Ackerman, age 22, victim of a head-on vehicle collision. He was wearing his seatbelt and had an airbag. He may have suffered a SCI and concussion. His heart and lung sounds are normal although his sternum and ribs may be broken,” A paramedic announced as they wheeled the unconscious man through the glass doors of the emergency room. 

“Get him up to imaging. We need to do a MRI, CAT scan, and x-ray STAT!” the doctor replied, taking her stethoscope to listen to his chest. She recognized the man right away but allowed her feelings to be suppressed for that crucial moment. Of course she recognized this man. He was her long lost friend, after all.

After finishing the tests, Levi was brought to a hospital room where he was changed into a hospital gown. Dr. Hange Zoe and Dr. Erwin Smith discussed the results: MRI showed signs of a concussion; CAT scan showed no signs of hemorrhaging; x-ray showed a cracked sternum and ribs 4 and 5 were broken. No signs of broken extremities, however he presented with ecchymosis on the bony prominences, such as his hips, knees, and collarbones.

As Levi awoke about two hours later, groaning loudly.

“My chest!” he complained, finding it hard to move. The two doctors turned around to find the patient had regained consciousness.

“Hello, Levi,” Dr. Smith began. “You were in a car accident. You’re at Shinganshina General Hospital. I am Dr. Erwin Smith, and this is my intern, Dr. Hange Zoe.” Levi’s eyes widened when he announced her name. 

“H-Hange…” he whispered, attempting to sit up but failing. Dr. Smith placed his hand gingerly on his shoulder.

“You don’t have to sit up. Just relax. How is your pain? We can give you some medication.”

“It’s fucking horrible. Please,” He whimpered, grimacing. Dr. Smith nodded, leaving the room. Hange immediately grabbed a chair, sitting next to her patient, but more importantly her friend.

“Levi, dammit what happened?” She said softly, looking at him. His face was not scratched, it was just the rest of his body that was injured.

“What happened to you?!” He retorted, looking her in the eyes. She could tell he was hurt, not just physically. “So much for not losing you...” 

“I was texting you as much as I could, Levi,” she explained, feeling guilty. “I had lost my phone and got a new one, but I couldn’t remember your number. I tried to find you online but I couldn’t… I am so sorry.” She hesitantly grabbed his hand. He didn’t flinch or pull away, but he squeezed her hand.

“I was too sick to reply,” he said. “I’m sorry too.”

“It’s not-” A knock rang on the door and Hange stood up almost on cue. 

“On a scale of 0-10, 0 being no pain and 10 being the worst pain you’ve ever felt, how would you rate your pain?” She asked, switching the topic.

“A big fat 10,” he groaned. Dr. Smith wheeled in an electronic machine with a wire and handle attached.

“This is a patient-controlled analgesia pump. You can push it as many times as you’d like to help alleviate your pain. You will not overdose since it has a set amount of medication you can receive per hour. Also, we have some acetaminophen for you.” Levi downed the pills as soon as it was handed to him. Dr. Smith hooked the tubing up to his IV and handed him the button.

“Hange, gather your information on your patient and then meet with me in the conference room.” Dr. Smith left the room, Hange hesitantly looking at her friend again.

“Let me just do a quick physical assessment,” she muttered to herself, grabbing her pen light. As she did her assessment, he admired her. Being a doctor really did suit her. She was wearing a white lab coat with her name embroidered into it. As she would move his gown around to assess his heart and lung sounds, his breath hitched when he felt the tips of her fingers touch his bruised chest. He looked at her face as she worked. She simultaneously looked the same and different. Different in how she wore her hair, in the shape of her glasses, and she stood taller, more confidently. Same in her eyes never losing their sparkle, her focused pouty face, as well as her smile. That breathtaking smile never changed.

Once she finished, she cleaned off her materials and tucked them away.

“Levi, you’ll be kept at the hospital overnight to monitor your heart on the EKG. If you are able to walk in the morning, you will be discharged. Do you have anyone you can call?”

He thought of his mother. He thought of the burden he crushed her with. He decided to deal with this on his own.

“I live alone,” he replied, looking towards the foot of the bed.

“I can stay with you,” She offered instantly. Levi’s face flushed as he met her eyes. “I-I mean… if you want! You have a concussion. You can’t drive yourself or be left alone.”

“Isn’t that like… against the rules?”

“...I am not working tomorrow. I can pick you up and we’ll go from there. Since you won’t be in the hospital for long, I don’t think it’ll be an issue.” The corners of Levi’s mouth curled upwards.

“That is fine with me. Let’s do it.”

The next day, Levi was able to do a lap around the hospital floor. He walked around with one of the nurses to make sure he didn’t collapse. He was ready to go home. Correction: He was ready to go home with Hange.

Hange went to his hospital room in her normal clothes. Her style changed. She used to wear baggy t-shirts and jeans. She looked more mature in her white button-up top and black slacks. He had to prevent his mouth from opening when he saw her. She was beautiful, but of course he would never mention it. Hange walked down to the entrance of the hospital with the nurse and Levi. She went to get her car. A few minutes later, she arrived in her dark red Honda.

“Levi, you just have to direct me to your house…” She began, tapping at the car’s GPS. He gave the address and she punched it in.

“Hange? Why are you doing this for me?” He asked, almost by accident. She shifted the car into Drive.

“I… never stopped thinking about you, you know,” She began, driving away from the hospital. “Even though we lost touch, I still hoped to meet you again someday. You are the reason I wanted to be a doctor… and whenever I lost hope, I thought of you. Whether you know it or not, you pushed me to keep going.” He looked at her blushing face.

He was shocked by what she said. He felt the same. “Me too,” he confessed, looking in his lap. “Your calls saved my life. You were the only one who stuck around. I will never forget that.”

He was never one to say what he meant, but knowing he had the courage to speak those words to her, Hange felt a strong urge to kiss his lips. She always had feelings for him. Her feelings never changed, despite their time apart. In fact, it only confirmed her feelings for him even more.

“Even before I was hospitalized, I took everything for granted…” Levi said. “I have been wanting to tell you something ever since my diagnosis…” Hange felt her heart skip a beat as he spoke. 

“Thank you for being there for me.”

At the red light, Hange looked at him and squeezed his hand firmly. She noticed his cheeks were dusted with a red blush. 

“I’ll always be here for you.” 

He met her eyes, those radiant hazel eyes. He took advantage of the long stoplight to kiss the woman’s lips. He couldn’t contain his feelings anymore. He swore he’d tell her how much he meant to him one of these days. And God, her lips were soft and velvety and everything he’d imagined they’d be, but ten times better. She was shocked at first, but kissed him back. His lips were a little chapped from his rough night, but they were warm. She dreamt of this moment for years (as did he). It was better than how she thought it’d be too. She was intrigued by the quiet boy in school ever since she met him. Maybe she thought he’d lack passion, but it was the opposite. The kiss was full of passion and relief; after years of being in love with each other from a distance, they melted into each other. Suddenly, there was a beep behind her; the light had turned green. Hange chuckled, starting to drive again.

“You don’t even know how long I’ve been wanting to do that.”