#do be careful with the timer thing like I don't know if it counts as flashing or not

[solardrop]

silver.

aaron hotchner x reader.

summary: hotch really doesn't think getting old is sexy. tags: fluff. a suggestive line here or there but nothing crazy. age gap (reader in their 30s, hotch is 57). jack mentioned. i think this could be read as gn!reader but i could be wrong. just short and cute. word count: 1.0k a/n: last fics rules still apply. be nice to me! when i look up photos of hair dying on pinterest i get rainbow haired e-boys so accept this haircut photo <3 divider creds to @/cafekitsune

Your name echoes across the house when Aaron yells for you from the bathroom. Once you enter the space you're greeted by his hair spiked in every which way, covered in a brownish-black goop. His thick hands are gloved and hold a small black toothbrush-like applicator.

"Sweetheart, can you check if I missed a spot?" Aaron hands you the brush and tray of inky black dye. You make a show of rolling your eyes and pouting back at him in the mirror and you take the items from him.

"I forgot it was that time of month that you decided to cover up all your sexy.." you sigh.

"Really," he scoffs, a teasing smile creeping on his lips, "I thought all the sexy was gone when I shaved.'

You almost teared up remembering the loss of his beard. A case off the grid forced him to grow one out for a few weeks. You understandably jumped his bones upon seeing the new look when he returned. The extra hair provided some out-of-this-world sensations for your softest parts that you would never forget. Only for the wicked man to shave all of it after two days, citing the "professional dress code" of the FBI as the culprit.

You snap a latex glove onto your hand, "Shush and bend over, big guy."

He smiles and kneels to face you, his rough hands gripping the fat of your thighs. You slowly worked around his head, dabbing bits of dye in bare spots. Your fingers rake through the inky black mass on his head, gently massaging his scalp. Aaron hums and thanks you under his breath.

"Do you know why I started dying my hair so consistently?"

"To torture me?"

"No," he huffs," when Jack was about... eight? I had taken him on this trip with a couple of his friends and their fathers, it was fun, but at the end of the whole thing Jack pointed at the grays starting to grow out on my hairline and turned to his friends and said-"

"Baby no...."

"'Guys look! My daddy is sooo old!'"

You clamp your lips shut to hold in your laughter. You didn't want to embarrass him further, especially with the deep red flush rising up the nape of his neck.

"Oh honey Jack was still a baby then... kids are insane you know that"

" I do, and I know. I laughed it off. I know he didn't really mean anything by it, but I didn't know if he felt like the odd one out for having an old dad.." Aaron runs his hands up and down your legs mindlessly. "And now I don't want you to feel out of place either."

You pause at that. In the few years you and Hotch have been together, never has he shown any insecurity about the difference in age between you. And he sure as hell wasn't about to start now if you had anything to do with it. You slicked his hair back with your hands and placed the clear complimentary shower cap in the box on his head, snickering at how silly he looked. Once you slide the slimy gloves off you set the timer on your phone and grasp the face of the man you loved so dearly, forcing him to rest his chin on your stomach and look into your eyes.

"You have less than thirty minutes to explain to me why you think I'd care about you looking old"

"you're young-"

"I'm in my thirties-"

"you're younger," he corrects "than me by quite a bit. All your friends have other young people to share their life and first experiences with. Meanwhile, you're stuck with a sixty-year-old-"

"You're fifty-seven-" Your eyes roll.

"a fifty-seven-year-old with a sassy kid turned angsty teenager for a child." he sighs, "Sweetheart I just don't want you to ever look at me and feel a loss."

You take a moment to scan his face. Despite the stupid shower cap mushrooming around his head, his face showed no amusement when he spoke. The sweet, shy smile he always sported around you was gone, replaced with a grimace and furrowed brow.

"Aaron I have never felt more loved, accepted, and safe than I have with you. I know you know that," you say.

He nods, pressing a quick peck to your belly button before looking at you. His eyes search yours for a moment of hesitation or change in resolve. but you stand your ground.

"The only thing I worry about with you on my arm is fighting off all the homewreckers."

He wheezes a laugh at this. Eventually having to stand up before he smears the dark dye all over you. He always does this. Laughs and acts like he wouldn't have crowds of people stop to fawn over his beauty if he let them.

"Remember that neighbor at the old apartment who would only stop by with cookies when she knew you were home?"

"Or the time Jack's classmate profiled their teacher's crush on you?"

"Don't even get me started on that detective JJ keeps telling me about from years ago in New Mexico. The male detective."

He smiles at you sheepishly, "You've made your point."

"If you want to dye your hair or shave to make yourself happy I think you should," you whisper, "but Aar I love every version of you possible"

You press your lips to his cheek before you continue, "You are the most beautiful, devastatingly sexy old man out. And I will still throw myself at you in public if you decide to finally ditch the box dye."

He smiles at you fully now, eyes shining as he looks down at you. He slides his lips against yours, grinning into the kiss before he pulls away to thank you.

"Maybe after this starts to grow out I'll see how I feel about the silver again." He looks back at his reflection in the mirror. He turns his head every which way to peek at the processing strands under the shower cap.

"Think about the beard too damn it.." you mumble. You begin to wander out of the bathroom when he yells for you again.

"Oh and sweetheart one more thing," you turn to look at him, confused when he stifles a laugh, "will you still think I'm sexy if I start balding like my father?"

[baby-yongbok]

✧ 5 Minutes - Bang Chan Soft Thought

⤷ Content warning - Themes of pregnancy ⤷ WC - 0.7k ✧ Masterlist ✧

 "What does it say?" 

"Chan, it's only been two minutes." You huff, smiling over towards your wide eyed boyfriend on your computer screen. 

"How long does it take again?" You chuckle, picking up the box to the pregnancy test and holding it up to the Webcam. "Five minutes, see. Five sets of sixty seconds."

The boba eyed boy whines, slumping into the hotel chair. "That's too long. I need to know now."

"Patience, Channie." You lean in, getting closer to the camera with your chin resting on crossed arms. "Are you nervous?"

"Of course." His voice is soft as he stares up at the ceiling. "But I want this."

"You want a baby?" You shift your tone to match his, soft and gentle. 

"I want a family with you." His eyes find yours through the lens. "It's been on my mind for a while."

"Why haven't you said anything?" He leans in, sparkling eyes looking into yours from miles away. 

"Didn't wanna seem like I was rushing things. I didn't want you to feel... I don't know, just, didn't want there to be any pressure." You smile at him, blinking away the tears that threaten to fall as the timer counts down the final seconds. "But I want this so badly. I only want it with you."

Just as you're about to respond the timer beeps and Chan jolts straight up in his chair. "It's done?"

"It's done." You smile, sitting up and picking up the test without revealing the result. "I want this with you too, Chan. I can't imagine any of this with anyone else." 

His eyes soften and you can make out a faint glimmer at his waterline. 

"Do you think I'll be a good dad?" You nod, a tear escaping and sliding down your reddening cheek. "I do."

His tears betray him seconds after yours did, following the same path down his cheek. "You'll be an amazing mom." He whispers and you nod, fighting back the sobs that burns at the back of your throat. 

"Ready?" He hums, sitting up and leaning in towards the camera. 

"One." He joins in, counting with you. "Two, three." You turn the test over, observing it carefully with wide eyes before turning it towards the camera. 

It would be silent if it weren't for your sobbing. Chan follows suit, bursting into a fit of waterworks seconds after you. 

"We're gonna be parents." You mumble, sitting the test down and covering your mouth with both hands. Chan stands from his spot. Walking away for just a second, leaving you by yourself. 

"We're gonna be parents." He practically screams, not caring one bit about the possible noise complaint. He picks up his phone, coming back into view swiftly. "I'm coming home. I'm coming home tomorrow and I'm going to hug you both."

You're smiling behind your hands. Tearfully chuckling as Chan smiles at you. "I'm going home to my family tomorrow." 

You're sobbing again, speechless as you watch him. "I love you, okay? I love you so fucking much." He runs his hand through his hair, revealing his red ears to match his even redder cheeks. 

"I love you too." You manage to speak through the sobs. You steal a glance down at the test and a wave hits you again. You've never really felt an emotion like this. It's unrecognizable yet welcome. 

"Can I tell the boys? Can we go tell them?" You nod, mumbling a small ‘of course’ before Chan is rushing off to another room where the rest of the boys seem to be gathered. 

"Woah, hyung, are you okay?" You recognize Felix's voice as Chan bursts through the door. "What's going on?" Minho follows. 

"Show them, baby." Chan turns the phone towards the boys and they all look towards you with fresh confusion plastered on every feature until you hold up the test. "We're gonna be parents." 

"You're gonna- WAH!" Changbin is the first to break into hysterics before the others follow. You can't help but laugh loud and hard at the mess that's unfolding on the screen. They're tackling Chan, coming from left and right to hug him and congratulate him as your boyfriend sobs in their hold. 

You hug yourself, filled with joy as you watch them. Chan is surrounded by his family while you hold the newest addition with you. 

Thank You For Reading! Please Reblog or Comment to let me know how you liked it! It makes my day! 💕

Solid Black divider is made by @rookthornesartistry

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Take What You Give

Pairing: Nightcrawler x Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: fingering, hella dirty talk, pet names, oral (f receiving), multiple orgasms, overstimulation, DP kinda- it's with his tail so there's that, praise praise praise, unprotected p in v, creampie, kinda cockwarming also- I think that's everything lol

Genre: smut with the tiniest bits of fluff

Summary: after a dreadfully boring date you know the perfect way to unwind

A/N: Someone on tiktok called Nightcrawler community dick and this idea popped into my head because of it lmaoo

***

You're bored. You're on a date with the least interesting person you've ever met in your life and oh GOD you are bored. You feel bad, he's cute and seems like a nice person but none of your conversations have been stimulating this whole time. You're trying to give a real and honest chance before you quit on this and leave. Although you'll admit you're already making plans for after this date so maybe you've checked out at this point. When he starts telling a story about a nightmarish party his college roommates held years ago you practically leap from your chair.

"Sorry to interrupt, I need to use the restroom." You tell him. You don't wait for him to respond before you rush off to find the bathroom. You allow yourself five minutes to come up with a plan ultimately setting a timer before heading back to your table. "Sorry about that. Please, continue." You say with a smile.

"All good?" He asks.

"Yes. Thank you." You say and he continues his story. Twelve minutes later, the alarm on your phone goes off. "Hang on let me just- sorry I have to take this." You mutter angling your phone away from his view as you fake a phone call. "Hello? ... No I'm out, why is everything okay? ... what?! ... Do you need me to come and get you? ... don't be silly of course I'll come. I'm on my way, alright? ... See you soon. Hang in there." You pace out your responses to your imaginary call. "Dillan I'm so sorry my friend is- in a bit of trouble and really needs my help. I hate to bail but it can't wait." You grimace as convincingly as you can.

"Is everything alright? Do you need-"

"I'm alright. We'll take care of it. I just have to go now, but tonight has been fun. I'll call you!" You say standing up. You will not be calling him.

"Yeah I had a great time. I hope things with your friend turn out fine." He says standing with you. You leave the restaurant with one more muttered goodbye and roll your eyes once you're down the block. Time to solidify your plans for the rest of your evening. You dial the number you haven't used in some time- a few months you think but no matter.

"Liebling." His voice is a little breathless when he answers.

"Hi Kurt." You say.

"It's been a while." You can hear the smile in Kurt's voice.

"I'm a busy woman Wagner and you have quite the schedule yourself. Are you engaged for the evening?"

"I can make myself unengaged."

"Don't trouble yourself Kurt."

"For you my dear it's never trouble. When do you want to see me?"

"Whenever you can unengage yourself and get here is fine. I'm not in any particular rush." You tell him.

"I'll see you in an hour. Ish. Be ready."

"Already am." You say suggestively before hanging up the phone. You catch the beginning of what, knowing Kurt, was probably a swear and you chuckle to yourself as you make your way home.

At home, you take off your makeup and the dress you wore and change into some pretty lacy lingerie. Kurt is quite fond of your collection, he says taking them off feels like unwrapping a present he's been dying to receive for months. He's quite dramatic, but you don't see him often so it's easy to enjoy giving him that little treat when you call on him. It's not yet an hour later when he materializes in your bedroom where you're reading leisurely.

"Hello darling." He smiles.

"You're early." You match the grin on his face.

"I said 'ish' plus I hate to keep you waiting." He shrugs.

"Always so sweet to me." You hum marking your place in your book and placing it on the nightstand beside you.

"Do you work tomorrow?" Kurt asks.

"No." 

"Good." He says and then he's over you, holding himself up with one hand while his other cups your face. "You smell of cologne."

"Bad date." You mutter tugging him down to connect his lips to yours. The kiss doesn't last long, you feel him smile against your lips before pulling away.

"Happy to help you forget about it darling but you should call on me more often if you're feeling lonely." 

"If you're worried I'm replacing you Kurt don't be. You'll always be my favorite." You wink at him pulling him in for another kiss. This one he doesn't break, his tongue slipping into your mouth, dominating the kiss quickly. His hands are up your sides nails slightly dragging against your skin enough to send shivers through you. You back away from him enough to tug his shirt over his head, sliding your fingers down his patterned chest.

"I'll always be your favorite hm?" He smirks kissing down your neck.

"Of course my shadow jumper." You whimper when his mouth focuses on a spot against your throat, one of your hands sliding into his hair.

"You know you're my favorite don't you liebling?" He hums into your skin.

"Never had a doubt." You giggle.

"Good girl." His lips trail further, kissing the swell of your best just over the edge of your bra. "I think this might be my favorite set on you too by the way." He says sitting back and pulling you with him so he can unhook the lacy number.

"You say that every time you're here Kurt." You remind him.

"Every time I'm here you unlock a new type of perfection." He winks dipping his head to wrap his lips around one of your nipples as he lays you back against your pillows.

"You're such a flatterer." You say jokingly but a moan punctuates the sentence as Kurt's teasing tongue against your chest tugs at something deep within you. Your back arches towards him your fingers burying themselves in his hair again. Kurt's tail slides up your leg, making you squirm even more and he uses the extra appendage to pull your panties down your body. That tail wraps around one of your ankles, keeping your legs spread for the hand that slides down your abdomen. When his fingers reach the apex of your thighs you're breathing hitches before he's even touched you.

"Always so ready for me, pretty girl." Kurt chuckles. He plunges two fingers into you quickly, curling them in just the right way to have you grinding against his hand. His fingers pump in and out of you with deliberate thrusts, stretching you for him. "Heaven help me, you're absolutely soaking." Kurt hisses, your juices flowing over his hand.

"Fuck babe- I'm close." You pant out, arching into his hand as you chase your end.

"That's it liebling, let go for me." Kurt coaxes softly before leaning forward to take your clit between his lips. He sucks harshly on the bundle of nerves and the sudden stimulation sends you over the edge with a whine. He works you through it with gentle licks and slow pumps of his fingers, watching the way your face shifts between the stages of your pleasure. When you let out a long albeit shaky breath he pulls away, knowing that loud unsteady release of air means you're back in your body. "Oh how I love making you do that." He says pressing a kiss to your lips before placing his sticky fingers into his mouth. The groan he lets out at your taste flooding his tongue is pornographic. There's no other way to describe it, and a fresh wave of arousal washes over you at the sound. You watch him clean his fingers with a darkened look that he relishes in. That carnal desire in your eyes focused solely on him, he'll never get tired of it. When the essence of you no longer coats his digits he pulls them out with a satisfying pop.

"Skipping your usual protocol today?" You ask with a teasing smile. You'd have no qualms if he did but Nightcrawler is one of those makes you cum a dozen times for his own enjoyment types who has never passed up the opportunity to eat you out before fucking you.

"And allow the sweetest nectar to go to waste? Don't insult me." He scoffs shifting himself to lie between your legs. He wastes no time pulling you towards his waiting mouth and allowing his tongue to dive into your center. Your fingers are in his ink-colored hair moments later, desperate to ground yourself as he devours you like his final meal.

His tongue thrusts in and out of you, slurping the juices that spill from you, moaning as your arousal washes over every inch of his mouth. The sounds from him reverberate against your skin only furthering your madness as Kurt takes you apart one lick, one slurp, one suck at a time. When your legs begin to shake, he brings his hands up to hold your thighs still, digging his fingers into the flesh there as he feasts. Your first orgasm on his tongue meets you with a loud moan and barely contained thrashing that does nothing to slow Kurt. You jerk against his still seeking mouth, but his hold on your thighs simply tightens as he continues his onslaught.

"God! Kurt- please!" You cry out though you're not sure if you're asking him to stop or continue. As if it matters, Kurt will go until he's satisfied which with him could literally be hours. With Kurt there's no such thing as too much, he can go and go and go shattering you into a million pieces just to put you back together so he can do it all over again. And you let him. You relish in the bite of overstimulation that soon melts away to pure pleasure again as his tongue forces another orgasm from you. This one takes you by surprise as you pull at the strands between your fingers, your body convulsing harshly.

Kurt's eyes meet yours and he winks at you as he pulls you tighter against his mouth. His tongue focusing now on your too sensitive clit. You writhe against him, caught between escaping and searching for more as you squeal from his ministrations. When a scream Kurt would describe as piercing falls from your lips and your third orgasm coats his tongue he finally gives you a break, working you through your release before sitting up.

"When I asked if we were skipping your protocol it wasn't a challenge." You eventually huff at him, once your chest stops heaving so hard you thought you'd never get enough air in your lungs.

"Tapping out already? I've given you much more in one go before. Perhaps I should be checking on you more often liebling." Kurt smirks as he wipes his face.

"Tapping out? Before you've even fucked me? It's like you don't know me at all anymore sweet one." You tease back.

"That's my girl." Kurt chuckles shucking his pants off before sinking into you. Between your breathless moan and the feeling of your walls pulsing around him Kurt can't help but groan when he bottoms out. He holds still for a moment allowing both you and him to adjust to your heat swallowing his length. With a deep breath, his hips rock back, almost all the way, and then he thrusts into you so harshly that he shifts you on the bed. He settles his hands on your hips then and sets a brutal rhythm, his hips snapping against yours relentlessly.

"Holy- fuck." You grit out, tossing your head back against the bed. Kurt always fills you to the point where it's almost too much, you can feel him everywhere somehow but oh how you love it. Your nails scrape down Kurt's back as you cling to him while he fucks you ruthlessly.

"So good. You feel so good liebling." He huffs out between his thrusts.

"So do you, god- you fuck me so well. Fill me so nicely."

"I know I do pretty one, this pussy loves taking my dick. Does it so well each time. Isn't that right baby?"

"Yeah- yes- love it so much." You whimper when Kurt's tail slips between your bodies and finds your clit. The extra appendage is as dexterous as his fingers and the swollen bundle of nerves reacts to it the same way, luring you to another orgasm that has you shuddering in Kurt's arms. His tail continues to poke around near where you and Kurt are joined, his hips not slowing even with his tail in the mix. It's something he's done before, not often- but it seems tonight he's pulling out all the stops. The tip of his tail is gathering your wetness, covering itself to prepare for entering you at the other end. Kurt lifts your hips further into him, holding you high enough for his tail to get under you and slowly prod your ass.

"Gonna stuff you proper tonight." Kurt mutters before his tail breeches you. Your gasping whine at the sudden intrusion only fuels Kurt more. His tail quickly matches his hips in rhythm filling you in both holes, clouding your mind. You're a mess of moans and whines as Kurt has his way with you. He pulls one or two more orgasms from you before he's spilling into you with a roar. He doesn't even bother pulling out before lays beside you and pulls you tightly against him. He kisses your forehead softly and whispers something in German that you don't know the meaning of. It's fine he'll be here a while. With Kurt it's never one and done. He'll pull more orgasms from you until you've completely lost count, until all you know is his name and the pleasure he's giving you, until the world has been flipped on its axis and you along with it. It happens every time and that's exactly why you call him when you do.

***

[madelynraemunson]

CALL ME WHAT YOU WANT 𓆩♡𓆪

(Book #1 of the Hellfire Gentlemen's Club series)

𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐍 𝐀𝐔 18+ plz

strip club owner!eddie x fem!exotic dancer!hargrove!reader

Chapter 002: Wing Man

You start your first night of work. Eddie requests a private show. But not for him; for his friend — a rich and lonely bachelor who can’t seem to get over his ex.

* = somewhat smut

** = smut

↳ chapters: 001, 002*, 003** , 004**, 005 , 006 , 007* , 008**, 009, 010, 011, 012* , 013**, 014**, 015, 016**, 017, 018, 019, 020

word count: 7.2k words

NSFW — lap dance, steve creaming his pants, abusive relationships, talks of trauma, steve and reader trauma dumping lol

pairing: lonely bachelor!steve x fem!exoticdancer!hargrove! reader (and lowkey eddie)

author’s note: yes we get with steve before we get with eddie, but we will get there okay??? 🫣🫣🫦 also don’t tell me you guys wouldn’t homie hop in hawkins because these men are SO FINE

tags: @changemunson , @the-fairy-anon , @ali-r3n

“Let me see you dance I love to watch you dance. Take you down another level, and get you dancing with the Devil” -Wicked Games by The Weeknd

♡

A sultry black set.

A hot pink set with bows. Caribbean blue. Army green for the military men. Some cuffs. Personal wet wipes. Sanitizer. And lastly, a stethoscope to play the part.

“I can’t believe you accepted a caregiving job,” Max scoffs as you both make your way out of Scrubs 4 Less. “Do you even have healthcare experience?”

Your stepsister loved to mask her prying with carefully crafted screening questions. Even if they sounded pessimistic.

“Sure I do,” you shrug. “Remember that summer I cared for Great-Aunt Dotty when she had Parkinson’s? Figured maybe it’d be similar.”

“I guess.”

You take it upon yourself to remind Max that you are certified in CPR. And with that cert, you saved numerous people from drowning as a lifeguard. Of course that was for one year during high school, but it was experience nonetheless.

"Well, what about the heavy lifting?"

"Easy. All in the legs." you pat your thighs. Despite being calm on the outside, you are getting nervous now. About everything.

"Takes a lot of core strength too. And upper body."

It's like she knows what you actually will be going to be doing. However, there are parallels between both professions, and you made sure you made a choice like that so you wouldn't have to lie as much about the physicality of things.

"You seemed to have gotten the job pretty fast,” Max notes.

"Nursing homes are really short staffed. Especially with the pandemic and everyone leaving from all the burnout, they’ll take anybody who qualifies."

"Did they even determine if you do?"

"Are you questioning my ability to take care of people?”

You know you’re being manipulative. You can spot a manipulator from a mile away. But this little white lie is for you and Max’s own good. Even if it means selling her a fake story. Even if it means lying. Living a double life.

“An abusive home life and all-timers isn’t comparable.”

“Have you considered that some people with Alzheimer’s are combative as well?”

“And you had to accept the graveyard shift?” she pries further, ignoring all your valid points.

“It pays more,” you answer sharply, readily. “Two dollar shift differential.”

“Oh my god, we’re practically millionaires.”

The sudden change in Max's behavior is really catching you off guard. She was optimistic on her birthday. A little withdrawn when the weekend was approaching. Now the pain is evident it is almost unbearable. Sure, Billy isn't a problem anymore, but with all of his chaos, Max has found solace in using her hobbies as coping mechanisms. Her body needs that adrenaline, and now you have cut off access to all of it.

Max can't go surf. She can't run around freely just yet because she doesn't know good routes and trails. She doesn't have friends in the area besides you, Robin, and Vicky. She misses Donovan.

Max is hurt. You know she is, but you don't blame her. Still, you’ve had it.

“Hey.” you snap.

Max halts. She knows she went too far.

“I know it's sucky... the situation we're in right now," you sigh. "But I'm doing this for us, remember? It’s temporary. We just need a soft place to land, and this is paving the way towards that.”

At least that’s something you didn’t have to lie about: It’s a sacrifice you were making for her.

———————𓆩♡𓆪—————-

Orientation day comes in a blink of an eye.

Eddie is giving you a tour of Hellfire while discussing how his particular ‘system’ works. You’ve got to give him credit. His system makes sense.

“I don’t ask my girls to pay to dance here,” he explains. “I just think that’s bogus. Also, it’s Hawkins. Not that many competitors, so if I let you dance here, you’re automatically staff.”

You two walk down the hall. Eddie shows you where you would clock in and out, promising you your punch-in code by the end of the week. You learn that everyone gets paid out every Friday, because in Eddie’s words, “fuck that biweekly shit”. Tips go home with you every night, but you are expected to help tip out staff members patrons don’t really see or interact with. Therefore: Jonathan’s girlfriend Nancy whose House Mom, Henry, and Argyle. The boys make their money from bussing and serving. Jonathan earns tips from POTIONS.

“I figured as much.”

You graze your hand along the kukris on the wall as Eddie talks. He stops to take note of it and gives you a boastful smile.

“You like ‘em?”

“Yeah, they’re pretty cool.”

“That’s the perk of owning your own business,” Eddie says exuding a lazy stretch to graze the kukris himself. “You choose where the money goes, when it goes, how it goes.”

He ponders for a while longer.

“Most of the time at least.”

Clearly a majority of the money also went to the chicken wings.

Eddie leads you to back of the house where he then proudly showcases his wing menu to you. There’s the Hawkins Hot Chick for Nashville inspired hot chicken. Chicken Strippers for the picky eaters. And the ‘Hot As Cluck’ buffalo wings with spice scales named after Metallica songs: Fuel (mild), Fight Fire with Fire (medium), Creeping Death (hot), and The Unforgiven (Extremely hot). All are served with one’s choice of carrots and celery or crinkle cut fries on the side.

“Crinkle cut fries are the best kind of fries,” Eddie states. “Ain’t that right, chef?”

“Ay ay!”

One chef. For the entire back of the house. Though that seems like the textbook definition of a staff shortage, the friendly Latino man with long, black hair that he concealed with a hairnet and baseball cap most likely had it covered. He flashes you a kind grin with kind, hooded eyes to match, quite possibly revealing to you that he’s likely stoned out of his mind. But if it helps him through the shift…

“Argyle’s the man,” Eddie explains. “Pitched the chicken wing idea to me when we were both blasted.”

Suspicions confirmed.

“Is it just Argyle?” you inquire waving hello to him.

“Sometimes Eds helps out back here too,” Argyle answers for him. “Like when we’re really fucking shlammed, he’ll come back here and help cook.”

Argyle turns to you. You smile at him.

“But most of the time I got it,” he says. “That man’s got enough on his plate.”

“Yeah, Argyle’s a beast,” Eddie confirms. “Don’t know what I’d do without him.”

While Eddie tidies up back of the house, you and Argyle converse with one another. He’s 28, produces music on the side, and learned how to cook from his mom at the age of three. California native as well. By observing the mini station he has set up, you notice that Argyle keeps a stash of Yerba Mate with him at all times, and some bud in his mini gym bag. You also learn that he and Eddie often take breaks together, hot boxing one another’s vans as if it were some sort of competition. But, as Argyle had mentioned, with how much Eddie currently has on his plate, those joint breaks (no pun intended) have been pushed to the backburner.

“It’s so nice to meet you, Hargrove,” Argyle concludes. “Excited to have you on our team.”

“Likewise!” you shake his hand with a smile. “Looking forward to bugging you for chicken wings.”

“You bug me all you want, mamas,” he insists. “I’ll make you allll the chicken wings in the world.”

“You a flats girl or a drumstick girl?” Eddie questions.

“Flats,” you respond instantly.

You receive a distraught gasp from the cook while Eddie cackles.

“Atta girl,” Eddie smirks patting your back. “I knew I liked you.”

“BLAS.PHE.MY!” Argyle screams. “Drumsticks are where it’s at bro.”

The three of you argue back and forth about chicken for the next couple of minutes, Eddie sticking beside you through and through. Though play-fighting with your new coworkers seems meniscal in the grand scheme of things, you reveled in it. It’s the first time in a while you felt a sense of community outside your sister. You wanted to savor it, especially since you know that this is temporary.

“You’re a red flag, Hargrove,” Argyle jokes, clutching his chest. “You were perfect in my eyes until you said you were a flats girl.”

“Well it’s a good thing she’s mine and not yours,” Eddie jeers.

Your heart flutters. Eddie and chicken wings. You’ve GOT to be in heaven.

“Alright, word,” Argyle calls after Eddie as he pulls you away from the kitchen. “Word. I’m still gonna spoil her with food like she’s mine though.”

“He’s such a flirt,” Eddie says to you once you’re both out of earshot. “Endearing and endangering at the same time.”

“All in good nature right?”

“‘Course!” he exclaims. “We’re all about respecting women at Hellfire. Everything’s lighthearted banter.”

And you’ll revel in that too. Especially since ‘respect’ and ‘lighthearted banter’ weren’t things you were able to experience at home.

“Also!” Eddie adds. “Respectfully… Wear something simple but classy on Friday.”

“Ooh,” you chime. “Simple and classy?”

“Yeah, I’m talking neutral tones. Red lipstick also preferred but you can do whatever you want. I’ve got something I need you to do for me on your very first day.”

I’ll do anything for you, Eddie. Your intrusive thoughts are starting to take over.

———————𓆩♡𓆪—————-

It’s Friday night now and everyone is in their respective stations preparing for the rush. Argyle is prepping the fryer while Chrissy flirts with him for nachos. She waves at you with her fingers and gestures that you can have some too. You smile and mouth a, “thank you” to her.

You really like Chrissy. Of all the dancers you’ve seen so far, she is the most memorable. She is charming and sweet, soft but firm with her boundaries. She has regulars lining up for her daily, all with different types of quirks and interests. But Chrissy somehow fits all of their molds, just by how fast she can switch from doe to siren depending on her audience. You want to be just like her.

You and Eddie stop by the kitchen before heading off to finish orientation. There are chicken wings — flats only, of course — on the line waiting for you with a note scribbled on the back of an old ticket order.

“Shy Girl&lt;3”

“Eat up, mamas,” Argyle encourages you. “Gonna need the energy for tonight.”

“Yeah!” Chrissy cheers. “It’s Fridaaay!”

You thank them before heading out with Eddie once again. Eddie steals a flat from you and flashes a thumbs up to the cook before you two leave.

“Mm,” he approves. “Fight Fire with Fire Buffalo.”

You are just about done with wrapping up orientation training and ready to start the first night on your own. That is until Mike Wheeler, Nancy’s younger brother and bus boy, comes along and interrupts Eddie’s train of thought. You walk with Eddie in silence, munching on your food while Mike relentlessly hounds him about bringing his girlfriend into the club. She is 18 but Eddie is refusing.

“But but-” Mike stammers. “The club is already eighteen plu-”

“But nothing,” Eddie interrupts. “This is Hellfire Club. Not babysitting club.”

“Well I’m 19 and you let me work here. Why does it matter if she’s 18?”

“Because you’re a dude, Wheeler,” Eddie hisses in return. “It’s different for the ladies.”

Not willing to risk any liabilities, he leaves Mike with just that. You follow Eddie, fiddling nervously with your hands as you watch him tsk and shake his head in disapproval.

“I can’t have teenage girls in here,” Eddie mutters. “That’s just blatantly obvious right? Or have I lost it?”

“No, right. Totally!” you agree.

Eddie has another rule. No strippers under the age of 20. Anyone under, including ages of 18 and 19 are children to him. He admits that he gets squeamish when guys bring their younger looking girlfriends into the club. You assume it pertained to his colleague’s girlfriends too.

You walk past the bar with Eddie, waving hi to Jonathan as you did so. Dustin is at the bar as well but is too busy to say hello. You manage to glance over and watch him fix his hair, trying to look his absolute best while FaceTiming his Mormon e-girl from Utah, Suzie. After eavesdropping for the past couple of days, you pick up that she insists on video chatting with Dustin every time he is at Hellfire to ensure his fidelity. Suzie wanted to be his “only wifey” to which ‘Dusty Bun’ assures her that she is.

“Uh oh,” comes a voice ever so soft it sounds eerie when it echoes through the club. “Someone’s in a bad mood today.”

Slithering into your periphery is the same tall, lean guy that you ran into earlier last week. Today he's sporting a white tank top that revealed a couple small tattoos scattered around his body, black pants that were tight enough to be yours, a loose wallet chain belt, and chunky work docs. His gorgeous blonde hair looks attainably messy by what you suspect is mousse. He smells of beer and cigarettes tonight, his tired eyes a precursor to his lust-filled gaze. A poster boy for all the men you wouldn’t want to bring home to your parents is none other than,

“Henry Creel,” Eddie says. “Mike’s just picking a bone with me. Have you met Hargrove? She’s our newest dancer.”

It’s seemingly Henry’s first day back. From the first day of orientation to now, you’ve only had run-ins with Jim, the older gentleman who is also a bouncer. Jim spent years with the Hawkins PD, but after a scandal that only Eddie and his peers seem to know about, Jim found a home protecting young women at the Hellfire Gentlemen’s Club. The only place that gave him a chance.

You like Jim. You like everyone here. You are also ecstatic to see Henry again, this time as a dancer. You can see the excitement blooming in his eyes, with a steady increase in his pupil size by the second.

“Well, well,” Henry smirks. “Look who decided to join us.”

You two shake hands again.

“Henry’s my other bouncer,” Eddie explains, but you already knew that. “He’s my right hand man. He’s tiny but mighty. Could snap bones in an instant.”

You peer over at Henry with shocked eyes, to which Henry acknowledges with a dramatic bow.

“You’ll see it,” Eddie hovers a hand over your back. “I sure hope not anytime soon, but there’s always that one douchebag.”

“And they always underestimate me too,” Henry says. “I get a nice kick out of it. It’s a win-win.”

Henry is certainly not beefy, but judging by his muscle tone and sharp upright demeanor, he can put up a fight. Dude seems like he does a lot of the dirty work for Eddie. He can get away with it too.

After bidding ‘see you later’ to Henry, you continue walking with Eddie.

“So,” he starts. “Did you put together a cute simple outfit for tonight?”

“Mhm,” you nod.

“Good,” Eddie says. “I can tell it’s gonna look amazing. I dig the red lipstick and the choker.”

Eddie wanted classy so you gave him classy. Underneath the cloak, you are sporting a lacy black set with a matching black choker and classic red lipstick. Your hair is straightened tonight since beach waves are your signature.

“You want a sneak peak?” you smirk.

Eddie quirks up. “Oh man, do I? Let me at it.”

You take off your cloak to reveal what you have underneath.

Eddie stops in his tracks, taking in the sight in front of him. His gaze is both soft, yet lout. Delicate in the brows, yet carnivorous in the eyes. Slowly, his jaw lowers, uttering a silent gasp as he fully processes the sight of the vixen — you — in front of him.

“Jeez…” he strains. “You look…”

You blush. Electricity whirls through you as Eddie continues to relish in your beauty.

“Showstopping,” Eddie finishes.

He reaches his arms out and you take them, letting yourself fall into his chest as he pulls you to him. During the embrace, he sets his lips beside your cheek, brushing against them delicately as he gives you a verbal kiss.

“Mwah!” he exclaims, leaving you longing for a stronger peck. You feel like you’re on a cloud when he spins you to get a full 360 of your look. “I was expecting like a light color, or pastel…but black — black is your color.”

“Yeah?” you reply. “It’s not too edgy? Choker and all?”

“A lil rough around the edges won’t hurt,” the club owner approves. “He’s gonna love it.”

You follow closely behind. “He?”

Your first client. You had a feeling that’s what Eddie had planned for you today, but reality didn’t sit in until right now.

"Ever given a lap dance before?" Eddie inquires.

"Yeah, but not in this setting."

He seems amused with your answer. Eddie smirks as he gives you a nudge. "Perfect."

You two are walking down the corridor now, down to an isolated room at the end masked by a beaded curtain. You’re unsure if the goosebumps that form on your skin is because of the slight chilliness of the club or because you were walking into a seductive hideout with the boss you had the hots for.

You two stop just a yard short of the curtain. Eddie turns to face you.

"I've got a buddy named Steve. Not short for anything, his parents just... loved the 80s." he chuckles. “You’re giving him a private show tonight. One hour.”

Eddie’s buddy. The pressure is on. The name rings a bell, you believe Dustin was talking about him the first day you set foot in Hellfire.

“Oh,” you say. “I think I heard your friend Dustin talking about him last week.”

As if it were some inside joke, Eddie sighs and rolls his eyes.

“Oh, yeah,” Eddie mutters. “Don’t even get me started on those two.”

Eddie motions you forward, extending his arm to signal an “after you” gesture as you proceed into the private show room. The beads of the curtain carelessly clash into one another as Eddie saunters in.

"Anyway, Steve has been going through it lately. His lady left him for another dude, he lost his job because the city wanted another basic coffee shop instead of a place to rent cheesy B movies…and the last time he worked in the food industry he had to wear a sailor’s uniform, so he’s since opted out.”

You wander around what was going to be your office for the next hour as Eddie aimlessly takes his own path and furthers his lay-down.

“His folks want nothing to do with him because he doesn't wanna be nepotized by them. When he’s not working, he’s babysitting — you guessed it — Dustin and the rest of the boys when they’re not here or playing D&D with me. Oh yeah, and on the topic of girlfriend, he hasn't gotten laid in a fat minute.”

Eddie pauses.

"It's kinda depressing,” he says. “Now that I say it all out loud.”

He makes a sharp turn and walks toward the boombox he kept in the corner of the room.

"That is depressing," you mumble nonchalantly, as if you yourself had not been laid in a fat minute… contrary to your obnoxious brother’s popular belief.

“How do you sleep at night knowing you’re a fucking slut?” Billy’s voice haunts you.

You’ve only had one real boyfriend and Billy knew that. And that boyfriend, shortly after he left you for the girl he told you not to worry about, admitted that you were simply a placeholder for him. They’re happily married now and it tortures you knowing that being the first choice was never in the cards. Billy knew that too and used that backstory to fuel your insecurities. Billy knew you hated feeling used, yet brought it up every chance he got. Making his victims feel small, that was the source of his power. You shudder it off.

You watch as Eddie plays around with the boombox, ensuring that the aux chord was working along with all its other components.

"Tell you what," Eddie begins to barter. "You give him a good show, you can keep a hundred percent of your tips tonight. Consider it a sign on bonus."

“Wow, Eddie really?” you exclaim. “That…helps me out a lot. Thanks so much.

“Of course, doll,” Eddie grins. “Happy to help.”

Eddie finishes up tidying the room before walking back over to you.

“I can’t get over how amazing you look,” he adds one last time. “You’re gonna knock his socks off.”

“Thank you, Eddie,” you thank him one last time.

“You’re welcome, sweetheart.”

He lingers for a while longer before going outside to look for Steve. Meanwhile, heart’s-a-fluttering you try to acquaint yourself with the place, choosing a seductive song of your liking before getting prepped.

Wicked Games by The Weeknd.

More ruckus sounds from outside of the show room. You assume your client has arrived.

“That’s the boy,” Eddie confirms. “BRB-right back.”

You excuse your boss as he makes his way over to his friend. While you wait, your mind begins to race. Does your outfit look okay? Does your breath smell? Do you smell? Despite all the wardrobe and wellness checks you’ve done, your mind is insistent that something else was off. To calm your nerves, you decide to take a quick gulp of Bombay Sapphire, a gin Eddie had provided for the room, before Steve walks in.

Liquid courage. May help with the performance too.

“There he is,” Eddie cheers as the two men greet each other outside. “What took you so long?”

“There was uh, traffic,” a softer voice responds.

“I call bull.”

The two talk a bit more, voices too quiet for you to make out what they’re saying. That, or the sound of your heart pounding against your chest drowned out their conversation. Steve sounds friendly. Timid, but friendly nonetheless.

You listen in on Eddie’s spiel about you. He called you stunning, explained that you just moved from California, and that you are exactly Steve’s type. Whatever that could possibly mean. You then hear Eddie go over the rules. No touching you without consent. No verbal or physical harassment. No sexual intercourse. And to tip generously.

“She sounds lovely. Thanks for the run down, Eds.”

“‘Course. She’s all yours, Big Boy.”

The beaded curtains clash once more.

In walks a man around Eddie’s age, late 20s, early 30s with sleek mahogany hair and slight puffy eyes. He’s sporting a gray North Face sleeveless jacket with a plain black shirt underneath and denim blue Levi’s. He’s a lot more preppy than you thought he would be. Steve’s reaction to you was similar to that of Eddie, despite how different they seem from each other.

“Hi,” he greets you.

“Hi,” you smile. “You’re Steve?”

He nods shyly. “You’re who they call Shy Girl?”

“That’s meee.”

It doesn’t take a body language analyst to see that Steve is guarded. It takes another fragile, sullen demeanor to know one.

“Are you one of Eddie’s shy friends?”

The comment earns a laugh from Steve. “You think I’m shy?”

“Just a little.”

He attempts to mask a gulp. “I’ve just never gotten a lap dance before.”

“You think I’m supposed to believe that?”

You stalk towards him and rest a hand on his chest when proximity and Steve himself grants you permission. You sink your palm in deeper when you pick up he’s receptive to it.

Oh yeah, that’s all gin.

“With your handsome self?”

Steve’s blushing now. “Yeah…strip clubs are kinda not my thing. They’re starting to be though, cuz I always come and support Eddie.”

“What a nice boyfriend,” you joke.

“Eddie and I do have a budding bromance,” he admits with a laugh.

“Boy I’d love to be in the middle of that,” you tease him honestly.

Steve is left stunned and speechless while you grab his hand and lead him to the futon in the middle of the room. He attempts to relax, exhaling the tension out of his shoulders and manspreading as he watches you encompass him. You walked in a slow circle around Steve as the music starts and he peers up at you with curious eyes. Alas, you stop in front of him, cupping his face softly in your hands and synchronizing your hip movements to the rhythm of the song.

Relate to your customers. Talk to them. Build a connection with them, you think to yourself.

“So how’s your day been?”

Steve cracks a faint smile. "Good, how's yours?"

"Good," you chime as you slowly lower yourself onto his lap.

Steve sharply inhales, sucking the tension he had just released right back into his body. You shake your head in disapproval and stroke his face calmly.

“No, no,” you coo. “Just sit back, relax. You’re safe with me.”

“I’m safe with you, huh?” he responds in an is-that-so kind of fashion. “You seem like pure danger to me.”

“Oh, please,” you snarkily disregard his comment. “I’m an angel.”

“In a place called Hellfire?” he challenges you. “I find that hard to believe.”

Steve wants to touch you. So bad. But he refrains. You feel it in his levitating palms, resting just inches away from the small of your back. You start to lightly ride his thigh, hoping to catch his palm in passing as you move your hips about. Instead you’re met with something hard at the base of his pants, an outline and protrusion that wasn’t there before.

Steve looks down and acknowledges it with a shrug.

"Sorry," he chuckles. "It has a mind of its own."

You laugh faintly in return. "It's okay. I'd say it's responding appropriately."

"Yeah?"

"Given the circumstances," you say as you grind slower, deeper. "Yeah."

"Well, that's a relief."

Steve is cute. And a polite man who values your consent was sure to receive it. You two lock gazes before one of you dared to speak again. It all feels like a blind date, and you’re two giddy young adults.

"You..." you start. “You can touch me if you’d like.”

"Really?" Steve asks. "Usually dancers don't let you do that."

"It depends who you ask," you smile. "Consent is subjective...and you have mine. C'mon."

He obliges and starts to graze your ass softly with his hands. You run his hands through his hair, then along his neck without lifting them. A muffled moan is slowly released from his mouth.

"Shit," he sputters. "Feels really good."

He tosses his head back.

"You make me feel so good."

"Aww," you grin. "Me?"

"Yeah you," his voice is deeper now. Huskier. "All because of you."

His hand moves upwards towards your bra and he begins to fiddle with the straps, and then the clasps. You continue your steady grinding, rolling your hips to the beat of the music, tossing your head back for the full effect while Steve holds back the urge to cup your perfect breasts in his kneady hands.

A whimper escapes Steve’s mouth when you find the sweet place to roll, resting a palm over his abdomen for leverage.

“Needy, are we?” you tease him. “Needy for me, Stevie?”

“So fucking needy,” he breathes, a nervous gulp swallowing another sneaky groan. “You’re gonna be the death of me, woman.”

I’ve got my heart right here, I’ve got my scars right here.

Suddenly, you cease the grinding, going from cowgirl to reverse. Grabbing a hold of both his knees with the back of both your hands, you sink down to the floor, knees bent, slightly out turned. Your hands move from his knees to encompass his elbows, accommodating the playful headlock he abruptly decided to have you in, watching you squat down beneath him.

“Mmm,” he hums. “You’re so fucking pretty, baby.”

His arms creep from the sides of your face to the front of your face. You crane your head upwards, peering up at him and refrain from shivering when he brings an arm across your neck. His other hand rests on your face, stroking it tenderly.

“Get up here and, ride my thighs again, please.” he pleads. “It was feeling so good.”

“Okay,” you oblige before standing back up.

“Before you do though, let me get a good look at your ass.”

You stand there for him, bending down ever so slightly so he could run his hands across your back. He grabs a fist full of your hair gently with one hand and strokes your ass cheek with the other.

"Wow," Steve hums as he runs his fingers along the birth mark on your lower back. "I like this birthmark."

"Yeah?" you say. "Some people have said it looks like a tramp stamp."

"It's cute," Steve insists, pulling you onto his lap. “It kinda looks like a bat."

He points to where the wings would be and the fangs and you laugh. No one's admired your tramp stamp-esque birthmark the way Steve did.

"Thanks," you reply. "My brother has a matching one."

You pause.

"Sorry, that didn't sound all that sexy."

Steve tosses his head back and chuckles, hand resting firmly on your ass again. "You look sexy talking regardless, so I don’t mind.”

The chemistry between you and Steve feels so natural. You know if your nurturing heart felt like this with all clients you would be in big trouble. This profession isn’t for everyone and you realize that. But you decide to realize everything else later. Meanwhile, your focus right now is pleasing Steve.

You resume the thigh riding per his request, and chase your own subtle high as you did so. Steve whimpers and whines, seeming to long for you even more with every stroke of his hair, every brush against his cheek, every steady and calculated grind against his—

"Woah, are you okay?"

Suddenly you’re cut off by Steve abruptly pushing you off his lap. When you peer over at him, his face has gone completely red.

Did you do something wrong? Did you violate a boundary? Millions of thoughts race through your head. You can’t get fired on the first day of your new job…

"Y-yeah, I'm fine, I just..." Steve stammers, flushing a deeper red hue with every word. “I... uh, kinda came in my pants."

"Oh..." you begin.

"I am so sorry," Steve sighs. "Embarrassed is an understatement. I’m such a loser.”

You two start frantically talking over each other, one extremely apologetic, another sympathetic to the concerns. Again, it’s like you two are clumsy young adults on a blind date set up by your bold friends.

"It's been a while... so..." Steve stammers.

"Steve," you stop him.

"And..." he cuts out.

"It's okay," you reassure him. “It’s okay, Steve. If you need a break, we can stop.”

“Sounds good,” he agrees with a resigned sigh, the red colored flush migrating to his ears. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

You go to put your cloak back on again and strut towards the gin. Perhaps offering the man a drink would help loosen up his nerves.

"What should we do with the allotted time left?" Steve wonders eyes following you. He’s rubbing his knees anxiously with his palms. “Eddie has this room booked for an hour. He needs to think you're doing splits on my dick or something or else he won't be satisfied."

Laughter erupts from the deepest parts of your belly at Steve's comment. Steve can't help but laugh as well.

"Hm, we can wait a bit and I can give you another lap dance?” you suggest. “Or a strip tease?"

You weren't used to those words coming out of your mouth, so you attempted to make it sound as normal as possible. Wow, you really just gave a lap dance. And someone came from it.

"Do you think..." Steve inquires. "That we can just... talk?"

----

So you and Steve do exactly that. You talk about your families, and your aspirations, your deepest fears, and your core values. Steve Harrington isn’t the loser he thinks he is. He’s a really cool guy. But deeply misunderstood.

“So you and your brother have similar birthmarks?” Steve questions.

“Yeah,” you confirm. “Except his is on his belly. We literally took the term identical twins to a whole new level.”

He laughs.

“Your brother sounds cool.”

“He was.”

Steve gasps in astonishment.

“Oh, my god. I’m sorry. Is he…”

“He’s not dead. Just an asshole.”

The color returns to his face. He exhales steadily and shakes his head. You find his reaction funny, despite how twisted that made you sound.

“Dead to you though?”

“Pretty much,” you giggle. “Dead to me.”

You two do a cheers to that with your alcohol-filled glasses and take another painful sip. It burns.

“Tell me about yourself now,” you prompt him.

There’s a dramatic pause.

“Well,” Steve begins. “I’m an only child. So eyes have been on me for as long as I can remember. What’s Stevie up to? This is what we expect of him and this is what happens if he’s not what we make him out to be. It didn’t take til young adulthood to realize that I have been living in my parents’ shadow. I don’t even know what I like.”

Steve spurs on about how he has struggled with his identity, going back and forth between if what he was pursuing was a desire of his or his parents’.

“And for a while I thought I knew who Steve was. Until I lost myself again in a girl named Nancy.”

“Aw,” you pout.

“A girl,” Steve pauses waiting for you to catch on. “Named Nancy.”

Your eyes widen. “House Mom Nancy?!”

Steve nods as you slowly piece things together.

“So Jonathan’s girlfriend is your…”

“Ex girlfriend,” Steve confirms. “Small world, huh?”

You suppose it wasn’t good that Hawkins is so small. You’d hate for someone to recognize you when you’re taking a casual stroll outside.

Nonetheless, you push that concern to the side and continue your conversation with Steve.

“What happened?”

“Some petty high school shit,” he explains. “But it’s always been her. She made me a better me. The closest to Steve that I’ve ever felt.”

“Wow,” you say. “So you saw a future with her?”

“Marriage, kids, everything,” Steve confirms. “Then she decided I wasn’t what — who — she wanted.”

It’s silent for a while. Steve shakes his head bitterly and downs the rest of his drink. You slosh yours around waiting for him to speak again. Besides, if you did, you’d end up ugly crying about your ex. And no one wants their stripper trauma dumping on them when they’re supposed to be performing.

Thankfully, Steve is the first to speak again.

“Yeah, Nance. She looks… she looks happy,” he turns to you with dismal eyes. “I don’t ever wanna get in the way of that.”

“Do you ever see her here?”

He shakes his head. “Nah, she’s in the back being House Mom, making sure all the girls are taken care of and all that. And I’m sure she doesn’t come up front because she knows Eddie has been trying to play wingman.”

You chuckle. “With a stripper?”

“With anyone,” Steve chuckles. “God that sounds awful. I sound like a loser.”

“Would you stop saying that?” you snap. “You are not a loser, Steve.”

“I know I’m not a loser. Just feel like it sometimes. Especially when it dawns on you that you’ve been living life for other people.”

“I kinda know how you feel.”

You two lock eyes again. Steve rests a hand on top of yours, intertwining your fingers briefly before he begins playing with each of your fingers one by one.

"I guess…going back to the previous topic…” he proceeds. “If I could change anything about myself, I would've done more of what Steve wants to do. Not what Todd and Marsha want Steve to do. Or what Tommy H. and Carol want Steve to do. Because maybe then Nancy and I would’ve been endgame. Or maybe Allison. Possibly Tammy? Who knows? See? Everyone’s world but Steve’s.”

"Steve," you start. "I hope you realize that I have no idea who any of these people are. It’s kinda hard to keep up.”

"And that is such a relief to hear that," he sighs again, this time in exasperation. "I just feel so free talking about them to someone who doesn't know who they are. Hawkins is small, you know. And it’s good that the only bias you can form is in my favor since you only know of me."

You offer him a consoling pat atop the hand, to which he responds by leaning his head on your shoulder. With how tender everything has been with Steve, there’s a temptation to plant a delicate kiss on his forehead. But you stop yourself.

"I'd like to know you, know you, though,” you find yourself saying.

He gazes up at you. You two smile at each other.

“I’d like to know you more too, Shy Girl,” he answers. “If you’d let me.”

“Duh, it’s what I just said.”

He chuckles. “You’re not saying that for the tips?”

“No. Just human to human.”

You stroke his cheek longingly, running your hand along his stubble.

"It's also been a while since I've gotten laid too," you admit. "And I've got a lot of pent up stress I need to release. You seem like a trustworthy person to do that with.”

The energy changes. Steve’s grip on your hand tightens.

"Oh yeah?" He rubs your thumb with his and soon you find yourselves holding hands.

"Yeah.”

“Sounds like we have a deal then, Shy Girl.”

Before Steve gets any ideas, you interrupt him.

“I don't wanna have sex at work," you admit. "Especially not on the clock."

"Oh, yeah I didn’t think it’d be now. Some people do find that hot though.”

"It's my first day. I can’t disappoint Eddie this early in the game.”

"You're kidding."

You shake your head.

"Wow, I would've thought you've been doing this a while."

You blush. "Thank you. But nope, you’re my Guinea pig.”

Steve continues to gawk in amazement. Then he reaches for his wallet, grabbing a huge wad of Benjamin Franklins and handing it to you.

"Tell you what," Steve bargains. "You buy yourself something nice, get your bills paid, and come through in a couple days. The roomie won't be home so we'll have the place to ourselves. We can get takeout or something too. Whatever makes you comfortable, of course.”

You bite your lip. "I'd like that."

“Good. I’d like that too.”

———-

"So, how was it?" you hear Eddie ask Steve.

"Dude...I just about creamed my pants," he says as you hold back laughter. "You got yourself a good one."

"Nothing's ever too TMI for you, Harrington," Eddie says. "But thanks for the imagery."

"Yeah. I gotta get going now. I got laundry to put away at home. It's been piling so much I think it's going to tip over."

“Roger,” Eddie says before bidding him goodbye. “Oh, speaking of which, did you tip her good?”

“You bet I did. Woman like her needs to be spoiled rotten.”

————

You make your way back to the dressing room after saying bye to Steve and finishing the flats Argyle had specially made for you. At your locker, you subtly attempt to count the hundreds Steve gave you for his lap dance and talk session. The man left you 10 of them. A whole band.

You were stunned. What did King Steve do for a living anyways? It didn’t matter to you. You had enough for groceries, gas, and a portion of your rent, all earned in an hour’s work, and all yours to keep as Eddie insisted.

The realization makes your heart skip a beat. You and your sister were good for the next few weeks.

Knock, knock.

“Don’t freak out ladies, it’s just me!” Eddie shouts from the other side of the door. “Put your cloaks on I’m coming in!”

You watch as the girls scurry to get their covers back on. The amount of respect Eddie has for his dancers is insane. Perhaps it’s common decency but it was such a striking difference than what you were used to. It warmed your heart in a way, but also made you sad. You deserved this respect all your life.

When Eddie finds you, he starts towards you, a look of approval spread wide across his face. As deeply as you wanted it to be because he found you attractive, you infer that it’s because you’re bringing in good business — and that you’re good, given a small amount of experience with the pole.

You two are face to face now. Eddie speaks up first.

“Steve, uh,” he says. “Steve really likes you.”

“Oh really?” you smile. “I’m glad.”

“You’re just a natural, Shy Girl,” he compliments you. “Everyone’s just raving about you.”

“Yeah?”

“Based on what I’ve seen so far and what Stevie told me, yeah,” he confirms. “But I guess it’s no surprise. Shy girls are almost always the freakiest, huh?”

You try not to laugh while you’re witnessing the imagination of your boss running in the complete opposite direction of what really happened between you and Steve. Nevertheless, you let him. You didn’t mind taking up space in your dashing boss’s mind.

“You should come to work a little early next time you’re on,” Eddie says. “I’d like to take you to lunch.”

Heat spreads across your cheeks. “Really?”

“‘Course! I do it with all my dancers as a welcome thing. I’d like to know more about you. You’re more than just a pretty face and someone who simply works for me.”

‘I do it with all my dancers.’

Your heart sinks. Back to square one.

Eddie clears his throat.

“Anyway,” he says. “I’m gonna head out now. Gonna go see the lady friend. I’ve got Johnny boy, Argyle, and Henry holding down the fort.”

The tinge in your heart intensifies.

“Oh, sounds fun!”

“Yeah, I rarely see her cuz she bartends. Even though we work similar hours we work opposite days. But she got first cut tonight so I’m heading over.”

“Have fun, Eddie.”

“I sure will,” Eddie says. “Goodnight, Shy Girl.”

“Goodnight, Eddie.”

Eddie soon disappears out of sight and now your shift seems ten times longer. Regardless, you stuff your tips into your tote bag and prepare to meander around the club, enticing other bachelors for a dance.

Without Eddie around, it seems less exciting.

“Doing it for Max,” you remind yourself while fixing your hair in the mirror in front of you.

You reach for your phone to see the amount of time that has transpired since the private show with Steve. But the clock wasn’t your concern when your Home Screen lights up.

Your heart nearly sinks to the floor.

Billy Hargrove

1 Missed Call

Billy Hargrove

iMessage: 1 message

You open it.

What the actual fuck.

[harleehazbinfics]

Learn more about you Cannibal chef! reader m.list | Author profile

Word Count: 512 A/N: Hello, lovies! Been so long since I updated. But hey! I came back to also say I graduated woohoo! Nothing permanent yet, I don't want to get your hopes up with daily updates like I used to since I'll be looking for a job now, omg. But, I'd love to hear requests from you. I honestly don't know what more I should add to Cannibal Chef!Reader. I'm out of creativity lmao. THANK YOU EVERYONE FOR HOLDING OUT THIS LONG! MWAH!

"Good morning, Miss Rosie!~"

"Y/n! Sweetheart! Here to take your order?"

"Yup!"

"Here ya go. Looks like a big order. Did something happen?"

"Unfortunately, yeah. So, Sir Alastor was in a good mood, and we went to eat at a restaurant in the circle, but the food was so inedible that Sir Alastor had to spit it out in public. Something, I've never seen him do honestly. Then after we bumped into the Vees and got into a bit of a scuffle with them. After making it back to the hotel, Sir got splashed with alcohol right in the face," you mutter, awkwardly laughing.

"Well, that's one hard day he had there. You gonna make him something then?" she asks flashing you her sharp teeth.

"Mhm! I was thinking of making hotpot or a casserole. He must be famished after such a tiring day," you smile.

You then hear the bell tower chiming then whipping your head to see the time.

"Well, that's my cue. I'll see you around Miss Rosie!" you called before leaping from building to building.

"Take care, dear!"

You arrive at Alastor's room where you hear the bathroom door close and hear the rushing water after. You nodded to yourself as you walked to the kitchen he conjured just for you and tied your hair back to prep your meal.

After leaving it on the stove with a timer on. You strolled back into the living room and picked up Alastor's drenched clothes into the laundry chute for you to deal later. Of course, not before you took his handkerchief and took a whiff of it. Eyes drawing into hearts that in delight.

Amidst your happiness, the handkerchief got tugged away and thrown into the chute along with the rest of them. Alastor stands behind you, still dripping with water from the bath. Chest bare-naked and red shorts around his waist, and his towel on top of his head as his hair stuck on his forehead.

"Come on now, if you wanted one you could have just asked, sweetheart," he says with a smirk before pinching your pouting face.

He turns away from you and sinks into his favorite chair with a drawled sigh. You compose yourself and slowly walked beside him after.

You pursed your lips and pouted, "You just don't understand the smell fresh from the source, Sir Alastor."

"Oh, believe me. I know the feeling," he chuckles, waving his hand as shadows appear under you and lifted you onto his lap. He embraces you and sniffs from your collar, as you stared at him with shaky heart filled eyes as he stares back with his half-lidded ones.

"I-I never knew you were this cheeky, Sir," you stutter under your breath nervously. Your hands on his chest while he purrs under you snuzzling closer and closer.

"There are many things you don't know yet," he mutters as he grazes your neck with his teeth then his eyes flicker from your neck to your eyes and asks, "Would you like to learn?"

"I'd love to." <3

Cannibal Chef! Reader Taglist 🍴:

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[yelenasdiary]

I had a random idea for a fic and just wanted the share! Basically Florence meets R at a meet and greet type thing and notices the cuts on her arm and reaches out after the meet and greet? Just an idea 💕 Sending love and if your not comfortable with this request that’s okay!

A Little Change

Pairing: Florence Pugh x Reader 

Summary: Meeting Florence at a comic con was a dream come true & being so caught up in the moment, you weren’t aware that Florence saw how much you were struggling. 

Angst, Comfort

Warnings: Mentions of self-harm & cuts, Depression | 1.4K

AC: Please only read this if you are comfortable! My asks/dms are always open for anybody who needs somebody to talk too, even if you just need to scream! I’m sending everybody love and hugs! I used reference from another message Flo sent to a lucky fan and tweaked it a little! I hope you enjoy x 

Nerves filled your body as you waited patiently in line to be the next person to meet one of your idols. You've been counting down to this moment since your local comic con announced the guest line up. 'Florence Pugh'in black bold letters making your heart skip a beat as you make sure to set a timer on your phone for when the tickets went on sale. It was no doubt one of the most stressful 20 minutes of your life when they went on sale, but luck was on your side, and you were able to buy a meet and greet token as well as an autograph token. 

"Please place your phone in the basket" the security spoke kindly to you. Professional photos were being taken and mobile phones weren't allowed in the room, you didn't care though. You were meeting Florence Pugh in a matter or seconds. You placed your phone in the small basket and smiled softly at the security guard. 

"Don't be nervous" he said, catching you slightly off guard. "She's lovely, you'll love every second of it" he added. 

"Thank you" you replied with another soft smile just as the photographer called for the next person, you. 

The security guard spread open the curtain for you as your eyes saw the first glimpse of Florence who was wearing a pink tank cropped tee with denim jeans finished with a white and light pink striped shirt. She smiled warmly at you as you nervously walked up to her. 

"Hi! What's your name?" she asked in her thick, raspy British accent. 

"Hi!" you smiled, "I'm Y/n" you added. 

"I'm Florence! It's lovely to meet you, Y/n" she smiled before embracing you in a welcoming hug. She smelt of vanilla hint of floral citrus, no doubt it was probably one of the many Valentino perfumes. The hug lasted longer than you thought, going into these events you knew the interactions would be short and sweet, two minutes at the most. 

"I just wanna say how much I love you in Little Women, but I will always love Black Widow!" you said once you were both looking at one another again, Florence's hands on your biceps as she smiled softly. 

"Thank you so much, I'm glad you love them" she replied, "I love your necklace, it's beautiful!" she added while eyeing off the gold necklace that had a heart pendant with the first letter of your name on it. "Oh this? it's just an old necklace I've had since forever" you chuckled, "but thank you!" you quickly added so you didn't sound rude.

"Shall we take a picture?" Florence asked, her smile never leaving her lips. Somehow Florence was able to make you forget that you were meeting somebody you looked up to a lot and more like you were just having out with a friend. Your nervous had disappeared and your smile only grew bigger knowing you'd never forget this event. 

The two of you turned to face the photographer, "Do you mind if I put my arm around you?" you asked out of respect. Florence nodded, "you're so kind for asking" she said before looking back towards the camera. "Do you mind if we pull a silly face?" you asked. Again, Florence nodded before the two of you pulled a goofy face as the photography's camera flashed it's bright light. 

Once the photo was taken, you turned to face Florence once more, accidentally dropping your paper token on the floor. As you reach down to grab it, Florence noticed the red cuts on your wrist. Out of respect she didn't say anything, but she couldn't understand why somebody as sweet as you was hurting so much. 

"Thank you so much for coming today, it was an honour to meet you" Florence smiled soft at you once more. "I should be thanking you! Coming all this way, it means a lot and I will remember this for the rest of my life" you replied.

"Oh, stop it! You're too kind!" Florence chuckled before embracing you in one last hug, "have a wonderful rest of your day!" she added. 

"I will! I'll see you again at the autograph table!" you smiled as you were being rushed out for the next person. 

----

Later that night after checking the comic con's website over and over for the uploads of the meet and greet photos, your photo was finally uploaded. Saving it to your phone and making it your new wallpaper, you decided to post it to Instagram. 

"yourusername: It was a dream meeting you today! Thank you so much!! @florencepugh" 

A smile tugged at your lips as you stared at the image on your phone before falling asleep. 

The morning sun warmly kissed your face as it crept into your bedroom through the crack in your curtain, waking you softly with its warmth. You groaned softly before stretching and reaching over to see what the time was. 10:45am in bold stare back at you until your eyes dropped to the notification that made your heart skip a beat. 

You read the notification to yourself a million times thinking you were just dreaming before you unlocked your phone and punched in your passcode. Your thumb hovered over the Instagram app for a moment before opening it. Your mind was racing as to why Florence would be messaging you, or how she even found your Instagram. There it was, 1 message notification and over 20 notifications from people liking and commenting on your meet & greet photo with Florence.

The blue tick next to Florence's name only made your heart beat faster knowing it was actually Florence and not just some poser or a fan page with a similar username. You took a moment to calm yourself before opening the message, curious as to why she was reaching out to you, it just felt like a dream.

-Florence Pugh:

Hey lovely! I hope it's okay I reach out like this…it was lovely meeting you yesterday, you're a very sweet and funny person! I hope to meet you again someday soon! 

I don't mean to overstep anything, but I noticed something that worried me when we met yesterday, and I just wanted to make sure you're okay and that you're not alone. 

I can understand how feeling low and broken can feel. It's so hard pulling yourself out of a pit when you feel like you're sat at the bottom of the pit. I just want to say I'm so sorry you feel this way and that you feel the need to self-harm. 

Sometimes I feel the same as you, I feel weak and broken and I don't know how to look up but I have learnt that the moment you sense yourself falling, you HAVE to kick your mind and body into a different gear. Moving your body will automatically release serotonin and will help your mood!

Make a happy playlist, add music from all around the world that makes you happy. Add to it daily, I do this when I am sad. 

You're human and sometimes we feel extremely happy and sometimes we feel extremely low. Learn to acknowledge that this happens and be kind to yourself. You're amazing, you deserve happiness, you deserve to love yourself, you deserve good friends, and you deserve to be a good friend. All these skills take years to learn about yourself, so I'm not expecting you to turn it around tomorrow! Just do a little bit a day. 

A little change here and there and most importantly, don't think of yourself as a screw up or that you're worthless! The world is at your fingertips! 

Can you promise me something? No matter how low and broken and weak you feel, always try and find something that you know will make you get up and move. Whether its doing a stupid dance to a song in your bedroom or walk around a park and see all the colours around you, cook something colourful, fresh and tasty! 

You're amazing, never forget that! 

All my love, 

Florence xx-

Her message brought tears to your eyes, leaving you speechless. You took a mental note on some of the tips that Florence mentioned. You promised not only Florence but yourself to try them when your thoughts got dark again, when you felt low and alone. You wanted the cuts on your arm would fade to scars, you wanted to be happy and overcome the darkness that had a hold over you. You wanted the next time you'd meet Florence you'd be able to tell her how far you've come and just how much you needed her message without even knowing it. 

All these things you mentioned in your reply, promising her that next time you both share a hug that you'll hug her a little tighter and thank her for being the inspiration and role model she is too you.

Taglist:  @marvelfan98 | @boredandneedfanfics | @marvelwomen-simp | @swaqcenix | @scarlettbitchx | @mallyka-blog | 

If you want to be on the taglist for my work, please click HERE.

[starluvsx]

★𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐚𝐛𝐲 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐣𝐞𝐜𝐭

𝐒𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐨 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 𖦹 𝐏!𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐤

proofread:YUPPP

word count:1.4K

WARNINGS:swearing?thats rlly it

A/N:i wanna do more headannons and stuff like this.this was rlly cute and fun to write.also I look wish the baby project was like a thing at my school but we don't even got working lights in some of the bathrooms soooo.

nick

you guys turned to each other as soon as the teacher said you could choose parameters

y'all were so convinced you would be great at taking care of the kid

you were wrong

You guys didn’t know you were supposed to change the baby until one of your friends told you

the first night nick took the baby too his house and left it on the kitchen table for six hours

he didn't realize he left it there till his mom came home from work and heard crying

you left it in your backpack twice

people said you were starting to look like an actual mom because of how stressed you were over this robot baby

almost set the bay on fire then you guys were trying to make pancakes

"so then I told her I was like why the fuck would you-"you began before you realized neither of you had the baby.you looked around before seeing the babies head dangerously close to the fire coming from under the pan in the stove. "Nick oh my gosh!"you said as you shot up from your seat at the table, grabbing the plastic baby from the counter. “you almost killed her!"you dramatically said as you cradled the baby, touching it's now warm head lightly.you didn't let him touch the baby for the next 2 days.

"y/n I have to hold the baby eventually,I don't wanna fail."He tried to negotiate a few days later.

"only if you promise not to put my baby's head near an open flame again."you asked him to do while rocking the baby.

"bitch im not gonna burn your baby."he joked, making the two of you laugh.you then handed him the baby, still smiling at your best friend's stupid joke. as soon as the baby was in his arms though it began to cry and wail. "Actually you can have your baby back"he said before handing it back to you jokingly.his gesture made the both of you laugh even more.

you guys got a C+, partly because some of the babies' hair was a little burnt.

Matt

treated that baby as if it was real.

literally named it Issac

set timers for every time he had to feed it and change it

The baby had a built-in voice box to make him laugh so he loved to make it laugh and giggle.

wouldn't let the kid go

had to stay on the phone with you on the nights you kept the baby

like the whole night

there was one time where you forgot to feed the baby and he literally freaked out

on the last week of the project he realized he didn't wanna give the baby back

you were already done with it though

everyone at school said you guys were like actual parents by the end of it

you didn't even realize how attached he was to the baby until you walked in on him sleeping cuddled ups that the baby

your phone rang from inside your pocket.the gas station you worked at was empty at the moment so you didn't hesitate to answer it. "Matt" read the caller id, confusing you because he knew you were at work but you still picked it up nonetheless. "Hey baby."he said into the phone.

"hi matt, what’s up,i’m at working right now so I can't talk for long" you explained as you saw a car pull into the parking lot.the headlights standing out in the darkness

"Well i was just wondering if you wanted to come over after your shift, i got some snacks but nobody to share em with." he asked cheekily though the phone.the people from outside stepped into the gas stations mom and her daughter.you laughed at his slyness until faint baby cries in the background.

"Is that isaac?did you forget to feed him?''you asked worriedly through the phone.the mom and her daughter looked at you confused as your young face was talking, presumably, about her baby.

"No I just have to change him" he explained through the phone.shuffling could be heard from the other line before you could say anymore.matt letting out a dad like groan while getting up made you smile to yourself.

"ok yea i'll come over in a little, probably like 9:30, is that okay?"you asked through the

phone.he mumbled a small 'yea thats fine' before we said 'I love you's and 'goodbye's and hung up.the lady and her kid coming up to the register once I put my phone in my pocket.

later

I let myself into the house and was greeted with Mary Lou and Nick watching a movie in the living room. "Hey guys,"I said sweetly, smiling and waving at the pair. They greeted me the same way before I asked "is Matt in his room?"

"Mhm" Mary Lou hummed. I walked down the hall till I made it into his room.i knocked on the door before opening in slowly.i was met with matt sleeping soundly,plastic baby cuddled up to his chest.i giggled a little before taking out my phone to take a picture.

Once I snapped the picture I tapped him on the shoulder lightly to not scare him.he fluttered his eyes open and looked at me tiredly. "oh hey babe" he mumbled out while sitting up and looking around wearily. "Was I cuddling with the baby?" he asked,confused at the doll that was in his now unraveled arm.

"yea you were"I laughed out before moving the 'baby' and climbing into bed with him.

"I was wishing it was you"he said as he pulled closer to him.the little comment making me laugh lightly.

I turned my body to face him before asking "so where are the snacks?" which made him

reach over to his bedside table and grab some chips, candy and 2 sodas.

"right here"he said while smiling and kissing me on the cheek.

you guys got an a+ on the project and your teacher even said you would be “perfect parents one day"

Chris

he actually asked you to be his partner instead of it being the other way around

It was way more stressful than you guys thought it would be

First you guys lost the bottle for a whole day

Literally looked up and down to find it but you just actually could not.

Turns out Chris left it in his locker

He def posts pictures of him and the baby with captions and stuff saying “ me and @youruser babyyyy” and “I think she looks more like me but idk” on instagram and snap

Was actually a very good parent despite thinking he wouldn't be

Dropped the baby like twice though

He also bought like little clothes for the baby so she wasn’t just walking around nakedly

you were so confused when he brought them home

when he would play video games you would tease him and ask him to "not swear in front of the child"

both of you ended up very emotionally attached to the kid

was very committed to being an actual dad after the fact

you guys were tired.watching a movie in chris' bed after a long day at school wasn't the best idea for staying awake.but while you were very tapped into the movie, you could also simultaneously feel his eyes boring into you.you didn't know why but also didn't think much of it.he's always been a bit of a starer.

you decided to continue focusing on the movie until it was abruptly paused. "hey why'd you do that?"you questioned.looking over at the boy who had been looking at you most of the night.

"Wanna have a kid?"he asked.the question leaving you stunned and confused at the sudden idea.kids had always been a possibility in both of your minds but it never something that could manifest into a real physical thing.

"Right now, like at this age?"you asked him to clarify.

"well now, in a years, five years, i don't really care"chris answered

"definitely not now, maybe when we're older with a house, a steady paycheck and you know, a high school diploma."you attempted to explain.

"I can't wait that longggg."he whined

"Well I definitely can,"you sassed. "Now turn the movie back on, I wanna see how this ends."

"probably with them having a baby."he joked under his breath as he reached for the remote to do what you asked

"chris you've seen this movie before you know how it ends"

[glupikrol]

uhm.... sekaistuck

Here's my analysis of n25's classpects, I also made art of them, and changed the godtier designs a bit to fit them better, made it a bit more personalized.

Kanade - Sylph of Time

Sylph is a class that heals with their aspect, or creates the aspect in others.

One of the symbols of the aspect of time is music.

So you probably know where I'm going with this, Kanade wishes to save as much people with her music as possible, no matter the cost, even if it takes a toll on her physical and mental health. She spends as much time as possible on composing, to get more time she consumes energy drinks and eats instant noodles.

Sylphs have natural understanding of their aspect - Kanade is a composing prodigy, at the age of 10 she was making better music than her father, and in area conversations it's revealed that she's a living timer, she knows exactly when the light will turn green because she counts the seconds and never misses.

When she promised Mafuyu to keep composing for her, it made Mafuyu keep trying to look for her true self. So in classpect terms, she literally created more time for her. Her music also brings comfort to thousands of n25 listeners, keeps them going. Kanade is a patient person too, she has no problem in giving Ena more time to work on her art if it means it'll be better, in this case she's the most understanding in n25.

Mafuyu - Maid of Void

Maid is a class that is burdened by their aspect, and is also 'made' of it. It's often interpreted as a class that creates their aspect for themselves.

The aspect of Void symbolises emptiness, nothingness, the unknown, shadows, secrets, lack of meaning, but also infinite potential and hidden talents. It's an aspect of people lost in the dark.

So the Maid of Void creates nothingness, is made of nothingness, and is burdened by nothingness, which sounds weird but actually fits Mafuyu very much. She literally created empty SEKAI from her true feelings - how cold and empty she feels. She also keeps n25 and her true feelings a secret from her mother. And regarding the burden of nothingness - she is tired of not knowing who she is, she is tired of coldness and emptiness she feels in her chest.

But I don't think Mafuyu hates what void represents, she likes the calm and quiet of empty SEKAI, she cares about her empty aquarium, she does find some comfort in nothingness, it's just the fact that there's too much of it.

But it's not all sad and gloom, Void is hidden potential and talents, which Mafuyu has tons of, to the point it makes Ena jealous.

Ena - Prince of Space

Prince is someone who works hard and relies on outside validation. Basically Ena.

Space is associated with arts and crafts, it's about creating material stuff you can touch.

I don't have a coherent analysis here, just trust me bro. I really can't explain my thought process here as well as I want, so I'm just leaving you the short classpect description, check out the sources if you wanna know more about the classpect.

Mizuki - Knight of Heart

Knights are people who put up a front to hide their weaknessses and insecurities. They're also the guardian of their aspect.

Heart is an aspect of identity, Heart players live rich inner lives and are invested in self-discovery, they tend to be dramatic and often struggle with being misunderstood.

Mizuki does everything they can to hide their problems under their bubbly personality, they don't want to be too bothersome to others. When Ena is worried about them, Mizuki feels like they're a bad person. They've been hurt in the past, and struggle with anyone getting too close, essentially, guarding their Heart.

It may be hard to notice at first, but Mizuki is one of the most emotionally intelligent characters in the cast. They did self-discovery, they do self-retrospection, and in turn they understand other people better. They're quick to pick up when something is wrong, or when someone feels down - they see the little things. Mizuki was the first character to notice mafumom's weird behavior too.

Sources:

@classpect-navelgazing - My main source, I recommend checking them out because their theory is different than the classic view of the classpect and is pretty interesting. Very well made too! I think their aspects descriptions are better than the canon ones lmao.

@dahniwitchoflight - I used some of the elements of their theory too - most notably the bits about Maid and Sylph class. Good to check them out if you're interested!

The extended zodiac quiz - It has a lot of problems and I don't consider most of it canon, but the moons description and time's description are fine imo.

These sources are condtradictadory, yes, and while reading them you might notice that I didn't stick to some of the descriptions that much, but doing this little analysis I kept in mind that in the end the classpects are more about the vibe than anything else (but also not really, you see, it's complicated)

[psychedelic-ink]

𝐀𝐫𝐭 𝐃𝐞𝐜𝐨 - 𝐁𝐨𝐧𝐮𝐬 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐲 𝐈𝐧 𝐁𝐞𝐝

pairing: pre outbreak!joel miller x f!reader, one sided tommy miller x f!reader

series summary: After your grandfather’s passing, you find yourself moving into his home in Texas. You meet the Millers; Tommy, his older brother Joel and his daughter Sarah. With time, you and Tommy become close friends and Sarah visits you often. But Joel…Joel keeps his distance. The reason for this is due to one crucial fact you don’t know but he does; Tommy has a crush on you. Which means you’re off limits no matter what. But as your own feelings for Joel grow, things start to get more and more complicated.

word count: 2k

chapter summary: if you were wondering how Joel took his spicy picture for Asha, this is how.

warnings: male masturbation, use of a mirror, nipple play, spitting, very explicit, a tad bit of joel putting himself down, you're not there physically but you're definitely there in spirit, brief thoughts of rimming, lil bit of self ass play

a/n: this is a little gift for all of you guys who love SIB, and it's also an apology because it looks like I won't be able to get the new chapter out this week but believe me, I'm working on it 🧡 This takes place between chapters four and five, if you don't mind getting spoiled feel free to read. and yes those are pedro's hands in the moodboard jfc look at those veins

“Do you like it?” 

Joel looks down, a bit shocked, but not unpleasantly. Between his fingers, he holds a photo of Asha, naked as the day she was born. Her lean hand covers her sex, leaving it to his imagination and her breasts were glistening—he presumes she used an ointment of some kind— and her nipples were hard, indicating that she played with herself before taking the picture. 

His cock twitches and he swallows thickly around the knot forming in his throat. 

“ ‘Course I do,” he groans, shifting on the bed. “And you want me to take one too?” 

“If you don’t mind.” 

“I don’t but I ain’t as pretty as you are.” 

With a grin, Asha traces a hand above the expense of his bare chest, the tips of her fingers dipping over his sternum. 

“You’re prettier than you think.” 

Joel stares at the window, his jaw tight and fingers tense around the small shot glass that he holds. A breeze comes through the window and rustles the curtains. He can hear crickets. With a deep sigh, he throws back his head and swallows the amber fluid. It burns as it goes down. 

He closes the windows, then the curtains. He’s hoping the liquid courage would take its effect soon. The bottom of the glass hits the bedside table and he falls to the bed, staring begrudgingly at the camera. He decided to place the tripod right in front of the mirror, which now he realizes wasn’t a good idea. He’s not that thrilled in seeing himself being so unsure. He drags his palm down his face, eyes falling to the drawer where Asha’s picture lays. He’s still not sure why she asked for it—well, he knows why, he just doesn’t understand why him. 

Joel’s aware he’s not the worst looking out here, he’s definitely caught your gaze once or twice lingering on him whenever he’s out fixing the truck. And Asha surely seems to be infatuated with him. But that had only happened now. Not when he was young. Not when he was attending high school and working full shifts to take care of Tommy. And when people did approach him, it was mostly to get closer to The Tommy Miller—his younger brother was always the one with the charm and charisma. 

Suddenly Joel’s heart feels lighter, hints of joy warming his chest. Asha wants that picture. She wants to see him, wants to keep him close.

Licking his lips, he walks up to the camera and adjusts the timer. His mind wanders to the moment he shared with you at the bar. He’d acted impulsively, kissing your cheek like that. The only thing granting him relief was the fact that it seemed nothing more but a friendly gesture from the outside. 

It sure as hell hadn’t felt friendly from the inside. It felt more than that. 

Before pressing the shutter, he sits back down on the bed. The old furniture creaking with protest. He peels off his shirt, throws it to the floor. He thinks about what kind of pose to do, and about how naked he should be. He’s not that comfortable showing his dick. He’s not that comfortable showing his face either—so what the hell is he supposed to do? 

He cups his cock and rubs his palm through the denim. An immediate burst of heat rolls up his spine, his dick twitching with need. He breathes out a soft exhale and repeats the movement. Grinding his palm against his growing erection. 

Oh, that definitely feels nice. 

A smile tugs at his lips and his pulse quickens. Without much thought, he swipes his thumb over a nipple. A hiss elevates from the back of his throat, his hips stuttering into the air. With a sudden desperation, he unbuckles his belt and cheats his hand down his jeans. He’s rough with himself. Grabbing his cock and tugging at the head until he’s hard and dripping. Joel sinks his teeth into his bottom lip, the pain also adding to the heat growing between his legs. 

“This should be good,” he murmurs, walking back up to the camera. He clicks the shuffle and stumbles back, he tries to strike something similar to a pose. He stretches a bit, sucks in his stomach, and decides to leave his hand lingering down his pants. 

His chest heaves, but he’s excited when he hears the click. He’s genuinely surprised at how aroused he is, thick drops of precum heavy over his knuckles. 

Joel had never considered himself to be a kinky person. As far as he knew, he was into the same things as most guys his age. But maybe he had more going on in this thick noggin of his than he thought. 

Joel definitely doesn’t mind the camera now. 

The picture pops out and he yanks it away from the device. He wags it in the air a bit, a form of a body slowly appearing on glossy paper. He takes a good look at himself. Half of his face is out of frame, which pleases him. There’s a slight blur to the background that he kinda likes. Thanks to the way his hand is hidden underneath the front of his jeans, his forearm looks quite nice and strong. 

With a pleased smile, he places it between the pages of a magazine. Then he allows himself to fall back to the bed, his legs hanging off the side. Joel grunts as he kicks off his jeans, not wanting to feel restricted anymore. It’s not often he’s alone in the house. He plans on taking advantage of it. 

He pulls a pillow down to where his head is, getting comfortable, he glances at himself through the mirror. A flush darkens his cheeks. He never watched himself before. Never saw the faces he makes. Some part of him wants to ignore the sudden interest and just take care of his…situation, but the other part of him wants to experiment. It almost feels like someone is watching him. 

He remembers seeing a mirror in your house. Have you ever indulged in this way? Get naked in front of the mirror and fuck yourself with a toy that wouldn’t be nearly as satisfying as his cock could be? 

I’m fucking losing it, he thinks. But he can’t stop thinking about it now. 

Joel's hand moves down to his cock, his fingertips brushing over the sensitive head. His breathing becomes shallow as he starts to stroke himself, the soft moans escaping his lips filling the quiet room. He closes his eyes and imagines you there with him, your fingers tracing along his body, your lips pressing against his skin. 

His fingers trail down his chest, gliding over the curves of his nipples, each touch sends a shiver, his tighs going taut and stiff. His eyes flicker to the mirror, he catches a glimpse of himself - naked, a flush of pink creeping up from his chest to his neck.

He hesitates, wondering what he's doing, and why he's doing it. But then he remembers you, the way you looked at him at the bar, the feeling of your skin under his fingertips, the way you leaned in close when you spoke. Your scent; a sharp inhale of blooming flowers mixed with the suffocating scent of the paint that you use. You’re a ghostly presence, something that’s always with him, but not in the way that he wants. 

Joel squeezes his cock and moves up his hand, swiping the head with the flat of his palm. He wants everything to be wet, messy, and tight. With a sudden impulse, he pushes his upper body off the bed and goes to spit on his cock. A soft tremor burrows in his stomach. A rather indulgent moan coming alive in the back of his throat. 

Pursing his lips, he spits again, the wetness instantly being spread out with his hand. He watches the way his cock glistens through the mirror. Joel wants to believe it’s your slick instead, making him warm and wet. You’d be so eager to take him, so needy for him to fuck you. His teeth sink into the inside of his cheek. He’d make you beg a bit for it first. Joel would want to hear your voice getting high and squeaky, but he wouldn’t let the game go on for too long. He doesn’t want you to think that he’s not appreciative of you and your perfect pussy. 

His strokes speed up, wet sounds getting louder. Joel allows his imagination to run wild. A string of sultry images flashes in his mind. 

You, on your knees, struggling to take his cock down your throat. 

You, bent over, asscheeks spread, begging him to fill you up. 

You, asking for him to fuck you harder, faster. 

And him, eager to follow every command. 

Fuck, and you’d look so good too. Moaning his name, soaking his cock and fingers. He licks his lips, imagining how you would taste like. Something sweet, he bets, sweet and maybe a bit bitter. Just like you. 

Jerking himself, a visceral whine crawls out of his throat. His eyes flutter shut for a brief moment and he swears he can feel you. Your weight, your heat—all of it crashing down on him and bringing him near the peak. He loosens his grip, traces the throbbing vein that curls around his cock with the blunt of his nail. With a shallow breath, he slips his fingers lower.

Joel’s mouth floods when he cups his balls, rolling them in his palm, he gives them a gentle tug. The coil in his stomach tightens, a tremble overwhelming him. With his tongue between his lips, his fingers brush the skin right underneath. His eyes snap wide open, liquid, molten, lava-like pleasure boils his veins—he gasps and his hips stutter into the air, his dick painfully hard, drips over his stomach. 

His hand dips further down his legs. Very gently, Joel circles the puckered hole with the pad of his middle finger but doesn’t dare to go further. He never has. This is as far as he’s gone, discovering that the little tease was enough to get him riled up at a young age. He imagines your tongue teasing over the hole instead of his finger. 

“Fuck.” 

His own voice sounds estranged to him. It sounds so deep, and raspy. Like he’s been sick for days. A shudder overwhelms him when he wraps his calloused fingers around his cock once more. He’s so fucking close. His breathing comes in short, shallow pants, the head of his cock a dark red. He fuck himself into his fist harder, faster, tightens the gap, thinking that it’s you. 

His eyes move back to the mirror, his other hand teasing at his nipples, pulling and twisting them until he moans out loud. The sight of himself, of his own arousal, is a heady aphrodisiac. He’s wrecked. It never felt this good before. There’s a buzz in his veins, an itch that can’t be scratched. His cock is drooling all over himself. His breath catches in his throat—He’s about to—shitshitshit—

Joel fixes his gaze on his reflection; he looks so out of it, lips swollen and parted, hair a mess and eyes glazed over. Fuck, he’s starting to understand now what Asha meant by calling him pretty. 

A long whine leaves his lips as the first string of pearly white cum splashes over his stomach. It’s followed by another one, and then another. His eyes roll back into his skull. He feels it on his chest, stomach, knuckles….a growl rattles in his chest. Pleasure rakes his body from his toes to his head. He strokes himself harder, loosening and tightening his grip around his cock to mimic the feel of your fluttering cunt might be. Joel’s eyes flutter closed, heavy pants leaving his lips. He feels dizzy, disoriented. 

When he opens his eyes again, he smooths his hand over his stomach, spreading the stickiness all over his sweaty skin. He cheats another glance at the mirror. 

God, he wishes you were here to clean him up.

I hope you guys enjoyed this little interlude ♡ I do realize that some parts of this might be a bit out of character for Joel but I just love thinking of him as someone who always wanted to experiment more but just never had a chance to do so, a bit of a guilty pleasure of mine. He's just looking for that person he can trust to have some fun with 🤭 I also think of him being a bit self coincidence which we will be seeing more of in the future.

Wishing everyone an amazing weekend, new chapter will be coming soon!

[thebiscuiteternal]

Could you explain more about the WIC shrinkflation issue? I was advised to apply for the program and now I'm worried about the complications.

Sure thing.

For starters, while WIC is a national program, states can and do implement certain aspects of it differently, so disclaimer that this is coming from a Tennessee viewpoint.

Okay, so.

WIC (Women Infants Children) vouchers are designed to help make sure that babies and toddlers are getting enough nutrition during early development. It usually runs alongside food stamps, but sometimes someone might be eligible for food stamps, but not WIC, or vise versa.

For infants -> pre-solid-food toddlers, it covers formula and baby food, and for pregnant mothers and/or toddlers eating solid foods, it usually covers fruits, vegetables, and certain staple foods.

WIC vouchers are very specific about what you can get with them, especially when it comes to baby food. They will label

Brands (Usually Gerber, Beech Nut, or other approved affiliate brands)

Formula varieties (usually high-vitamin)

Food type (Typically no mixed flavors, i.e. you can get jars of spinach and jars of turkey, but not a jar of blended spinach and turkey. This also trips up a lot of first-timers.)

Age (Baby foods typically come in development stages, so the vouchers will usually say whether you can have Stage 1, stage 2, etc)

Packaging (Whether it has to be glass jars or you can substitute with the mini plastic tubs. Usually pouch foods are not allowed)

Number (i.e. 12 jars of pureed meats or what have you)

Weight (boxes of baby cereals like oatmeal or rice, the size of the formula cans, or the size of the jars)

Some foods will specify whether or not it has to be organic

(Note: The local WIC offices used to send a pamphlet with the vouchers that included pictures of particular packaging to help ESL recipients, but with companies changing the look of their packaging too frequently, this has stopped in a lot of places.)

So, already a lot to look out for, yeah? And weight is usually where things get fucked. As I said in the previous post, companies (especially Gerber) have a really irritating habit where they will up and change the actual weight of the product without informing the WIC office of the change in time for the next round of vouchers (if they bother to inform them at all, instead of the WIC office having to contact them due to complaints). But of course the store knows about the change due to their inventory programs.

As a result, you'll either get:

A: The parent who has already been through this shit and now tries to verify the labels and is upset because they can't find the box with the correct ounce amount anymore (because it no longer exists).

B: The parent who hasn't been through this shit yet and grabbed the same box they got the month previously and is unaware it's now the wrong box until the register refuses to apply it to their monthly voucher.

C: The cashier who has to deal with this day in and day out and is just as frustrated as the parents, especially if they don't have enough experience to know this is the companies' fault, not the parents'.

I should also note that this has been a problem for a long time. It was already happening back when I was still working. But at least back then, you could count on at least 8 months (or even a couple of years) between sizing incidents, whereas Post-Covid, it's accelerated to practically a fuckup (or more) a month. If this month, it's the cereal, next month, it's the formula, etc. A neverending carousel of corporate bullshit. And the companies don't care, because they've already gotten their government subsidy for participating in the program at all, and if the parents have to pay out of pocket for the things the vouchers no longer cover that month, that's just more profit for the company.

[snowgsf]

Wednesday Addams

Warning: I don't think it's anything important

Summary: You want your girlfriend to take a Christmas photo of you, there is only one way, you can convince her, she just didn't know that you made this proposal because you were going away.

English is not my first language 👍👍

- LEAVES.

Wednesday Addams screams when his extremely colorful girlfriend tries to put a Christmas hat on his head.

She wanted to strangle the girl he called his girlfriend, but she wouldn't, why? Regardless, she didn't dislike that extremely colorful girl like her sister.

— Little sister, better give up. — Enid says as she finishes placing a small, extremely bright red hat on top of Thing.

— Never, come Wednesday, our first Christmas together, and I'll never ask you for anything. — Wednesday looks at his girlfriend with a raised eyebrow. — Okay, I'll ask for one or two things. — Addams continues with her serious look with an expressionless face. — Okay, maybe five or seven.

—Five or seven? — You feel someone look at the ground.

— Okay, I've already asked you for several things, but just this once, just for the Christmas photo. — Without caring, Wednesday turns her back on you and heads towards part of her room. — Go, I promise it will be the only thing I ask for, Il mio demone. — Without being convinced, the girl with dark circles begins to write her novel.

Slowly you walk towards your girlfriend, her mouth closes to your ear.

— Desist S/a. — You would never give up.

You still remember Enid telling you to give up on your great mission to win over the Crow girl.

— Sweetie, I promise I'll do whatever you want. — She wasn't convinced. — I don't bother you for two hours straight. — Wednesday's fingers begin to press quickly on his typewriter, when you look at the sheet, the word NO, was very explicit there. - 1 day. - Silence. - two? - Silence. — 4 and we don't talk about it anymore. — 1 week of peace in your life, without my happy vibe around you.

Wednesday quickly takes the hat and puts it on his head.

— Let's take this photo soon. — You open your mouth in surprise.

— Aaaa, but now I'm the one who won't take this photo, whoever has seen each other, wants to stay away from me for a week? Start with today.

You were going to leave, but Wednesday pulls your arm towards that Christmas tree that she considered horrible, there were no dead animals there, that was strange.

With a sulky pout you stood next to your girlfriend, Enid still a little surprised by Wednesday with the hat and in position to take a photo she runs putting her cell phone there to take the photo, positioning herself next to her sister she opens a smile.

Thing presses the button to take the photo and "runs" over to Wednesday and jumps on his shoulder, the timer starts counting, you quickly smile and strike a pose even though you're not even a little upset about your girlfriend agreeing to stay away for a week from you.

The photo is taken, with Wednesday with a frown. When you realize you took the photo you turn away from Wednesday.

Your girlfriend looks at you, she watches her steps taking off her hat and then her Christmas sweater and leaving the room, Enid makes a face.

— She's mad at you.

Without caring Wednesday goes to her room. Thing leaves her shoulder and goes to Enid who was looking at the photo that the 4 of you took.

— I give S/her 3 days to complain that she misses Wednesday. — Totally ignoring your roommate Enid starts to bet with Thing that you would come back in 3 days, missing your girlfriend.

It had been exactly 4 days since you simply disappeared from Wednesday's sight, she was disturbed, not in a good way.

She needed peace to write her novel, but she knew that the peace you promised her would leave her disturbed.

"Go after her"

Thing gestures, but Wednesday just ignores it.

— I'm fine without her disturbance. — Thing gestures mockingly.

"If you were well you wouldn't write her name like a mantra and wouldn't even agree to date her"

It was pure truth, Wednesday wrote her name on her pages so many times that she had finished, it was like a gesture for you to come back soon.

— Are you on her side?

"You wanted 1 week of peace, it seems like you're having 4 days of misfortune, not in a nice way like you like."

Another truth, you were the colorful part of Wednesday's life, even though she didn't admit it, she liked your colorful vibe that spread throughout her room.

Looking at her trash full of crumpled paper, Wednesday observes all the papers she wrote her name on without realizing it, whenever she started writing her novel, her mind was dominated by you, the worry that you would just disappear, made her wonder so many things. about how you were that she started writing your name without realizing it.

— If she wants, she'll come after, and you know, Y/n can't go another day without attention.

You didn't come back, you didn't come back for 2 days, it was exactly 1 week, 2 days, 33 minutes, and 30 seconds, now 31, now 32, now 33, now 34.

Yes, Wednesday was counting the seconds that you didn't talk to her again, again Addams buried her own head in her pillow again, the door to her room opens, totally ignoring the presence of her roommate Wednesday lets out a grunt irritated.

“Enid, if you're thinking of a way to piss me off, I swear I'll rip her face and her teeth out, one by one. — Her threat caused a laugh to appear in the room.

A laugh she knew very well.

With an abnormal speed that Wednesday gets up to see a corpse, she gets up and looks at the door, seeing you there, with your skin slightly whiter and your lips purple from the cold.

— Hey, I see that even with me away Enid was irritating you. — The girl observed you closely, thinking it was an illusion. — Hi my lilith.

You take light steps towards Wednesday's bedroom, throwing your own backpack on the wooden floor, a loud noise was heard when the backpack hit the floor.

Without caring, you throw yourself on your girlfriend's bed.

— Is this how you welcome your girlfriend after 1 week and 2 days away?

— 2 days, 34 minutes and 29 seconds. — A beautiful smile appeared on her lips.

— Did you count the seconds? — You mock.

Wednesday realized that it wasn't an illusion, you were just loose enough to throw yourself on her bed and still lie down with shoes on.

Turning her back to you, Wednesday didn't look at her face, without caring about how tired she was, you closed your eyes.

— Tomorrow I'll put an end to your drama, now I'm very sleepy, it's not easy to walk in the snow. — Wednesday's eyebrows came together in a surprised expression.

— Snow?

— Snow. Enid didn't tell you? — Without the strength to get up, you pull your girlfriend's pillow to hug her and smell what she smells. — Mom and Dad traveled, they wanted someone to take care of my brothers for 5 days, the journey from here to there is 2 days. — You mumble as you feel your eyes close. — Let's do it like this, you'll be mad at me tomorrow, for now I just want my girlfriend to hug me for a quick 2 seconds.

With no response you close your eyes, realizing that Wednesday wouldn't give in you sit on her bed.

— I brought you a gift, it’s in my backpack. — It was Christmas Eve. Without hearing a response from your girlfriend, you were getting up from her bed, but her arms wrapped around her neck, and her small body forced you to lie down.

—Tomorrow I will be angry with you.

A smile appeared on his lips. Wednesday wouldn't admit it, but he was almost killing himself missing his daily disturbances.

— I'll miss you too, my love, I almost came running on the third day. — His voice is low.

Playing Wednesday next to her head rests on her girlfriend's shoulder. Her eyes get heavier.

— I will kill you tomorrow.

Wednesday utters, but you just nod as you fall asleep with your girlfriend's body beneath yours.

[trainsinanime]

I know I'm a bit late to this debate, but I just want to say:

The Bubbler is the pilot episode, not Stormy Weather

I don't care about production order or which one aired first in France, that stuff is unreliable anyway, especially so in the early seasons. No, what matter is that the episode is clearly written like a pilot.

The opening of the episode introduces us to Marinette and her initial defining characteristic: She's in love with Adrien, whose birthday it is today. We also get introduced to Sabine and get shown Marinette's relationship with her, which, true to form for any pilot, is a bit off—Marinette has to clean up her room, else her mom will do it and snoop around for hidden journals. It's playful, but it's not something we ever see again. That's the way it goes with pilot episodes sometimes.

Then we also see Adrien and his relationship to his dad and with Nathalie, and the defining things here. Again, it's a bit off. This Nathalie, who either didn't know or forgot that she has to buy Adrien's birthday gift, is clearly not the same woman who hunted for the Miraculous as part of a doomed love triangle while trying to create him from magic.

We also get Nino (considerably more child-like here than later on) and his relationship with Adrien; Alya and her relationship with Marinette; Chloé and her relationship with both Adrien and Marinette. It's all very basic setup stuff and that's the point.

This still applies when we see Ladybug and Chat Noir, and are introduced to their dynamic. The episode even takes the time to have Ladybug do something selfish and pointless (switch the record) just so we get an opportunity to talk about the five-minute timer and recharging your Kwamis.

And most importantly, the akumatisation is also all about Adrien, Gabriel and Nino and how they relate to each other. Season 1 is full of one-off akuma characters whose personal pain is only tangentially relevant to us, but Bubbler is absolutely not that.

Stormy Weather has none of that. It's main plot is about characters (Mireille and Aurore) who we don't know, who don't matter and even don't get a proper introduction. The B-plot is a bit about Adrinette, but also a lot about Marinette's relationship with Manon, who hardly counts as a core part of the group. Characters like Gabriel (in normal form), Nathalie and Chloé don't even appear. It's still a fun episode, but it doesn't do anywhere as much setup as Bubbler did.

The Bubbler was written like a pilot episode, and that's why I will continue to treat it as such. And no, you're right, this does not matter at all, I just wanted to say it anyway.

[heavenhealy]

genre: smut, a bit of angst, porn with a bit of plot, professor!matty x grad student!reader, dom!matty x sub!reader, fem!reader

word count: 5.8k

summary: As a final year graduate student, its not always easy to come across people outside of your department who care about your research. When the handsome new philosophy professor takes interest, it seems too good to be true. And when he expresses his interest in you, you can't comprehend how lucky you are.

warnings: this is mature content so please do not go below the cut if you're uncomfy or under the age of 18! specific warnings include: swearing, discussion of an age gap but not a huge one, public sex (in an office w a locked door but still), unprotected sex (literally just don't be like them), spanking, hair pulling, praise, degradation, dirty talk, stereotypical professor things, multiple orgasms, oral (f receiving), handjob (m receiving)

an: I had a dream about professor!Matty once so here we are. also as always be aware that this was not proof read so there will likely be typos at some points lol also I know the ending is lame but I'm sleepy and couldn't think of anything better

You click through the slides of your presentation: all 45 of them in the same dull academic black and white format. The graphs and charts you've spent hours creating and perfecting are the only splashes of color. It's another day in another empty classroom with no windows, the slate grey tables and ergonomic chairs devoid of any sign of life as you clear your throat up at the wooden podium.

For as many times as you'd rehearsed this presentation you still get nervous, stuttering over your introduction slide as you start the timer to track how long it takes.

Your voice sounds monotone even to your own ears as you zone out, eyes unfocused as you gesture at the table of data derived from your near year of research. You're so dissociated that you think maybe you're seeing things when you catch a glimpse of dark hair edging into the door frame. You frown but keep talking, explaining your research methods the way you advisor has suggested makes the most sense even though everyone who will be listening is within your department anyway.

When your eyes skirt back to the doorway, you know you aren't sleep deprived enough to be hallucinating an entire man, leaning against the frame of the door, eyebrows scrunched in concentration as he scans your slide. You stutter over your words, stunned to see anyone there, let alone someone who seems so interested in your research.

"Uh, um, can I help you?" The mans eyes widen, snapping to your face, scanning you up and down quickly. You shamelessly do the same: skirting your eyes down the chunky knit sweater and loose fit trousers as you try to decipher the lines of the body they're hiding.

"Yeah, sorry, I just happened to be walking by-" the timber of his voice makes you shiver and you feel your heart flutter, spit becoming embarrassingly thick in your mouth.

"Anyway, this is really interesting, Miss..." he quirks an eyebrow as he waits for your name: and that's when it hits you. He must be a professor from another department, and a fairly new one at that.

"Y/N. Just Y/N. I'm not old enough to be a 'miss' yet." You feel your face heating as you speak and the mystery man inches further into the room so he's only a mere few feet away from you. It's still a respectable distance, but now you can see the streaks of gray running through the edges of his curls and you feel like your feet have been swept out from under you.

"Okay then, Y/N." He runs his tongue over the top row of his teeth and hums thoughtfully. "I'm Professor Matty Healy, I just started over in philosophy." He jabs his thumb over his shoulder and you nod, vaguely aware of where the building is. "And this is clearly out of my depth-" he gestures at the big screen, "I nearly failed my basic science courses. But this is really something."

You flush, not only at his attention but at the fact that he's complementing your research- that someone in a completely different department finds your work fascinating.

"O-oh, thanks, a lot of it is only good because of Professor Cannari, my advisor."

"I'll be sure to pass along my admiration to him, then." He stalls, hands rubbing down the fabric of his pants. "Well, I've got to go. Good luck practicing, Y/N." He salutes you as if he were in the army as he leaves and you can barely suppress the giggle until he leaves the room. Your heart swells, presentation suddenly forgotten as you scramble for your phone, scrambling to text your roommates about the sexy new philosophy professor.

----

The high from meeting Professor Healy had worn off by the next time you were set to meet with Professor Cannari. You had debated even canceling this meeting since you were up to your eyeballs in other course work and job applications; but the idea of the sweet elderly man and his bowl of candy waiting for you to show up made you cave. You trudge up to his office, the musty scent that permeates the building making your nostrils flare. Cannari is waiting, as he always is, behind his large desk. His old laptop whirs loudly but his boisterous voice booms over it as he welcomes you in.

"Ah, Y/N! I'm happy to see you!" You sit without being prompted. "Do you have anything specific you want to go over? Any issues with your presentation?" You shake your head, suddenly exhausted at the talk of your research again.

"Not really. I haven't changed anything since the last meeting, I've just been practicing the presentation." Professor Cannari nods, seemingly pleased by your work.

"Good. I do have something that I think will interest you," you cock an eyebrow, curious and a bit scared of what the old man could have cooked up. He clicks a few times on his laptop before squinting and leaning into the screen as if to assure he was looking at the correct thing.

"I've got an email from a Professor...Healy?" Your stomach bottoms out at the sound of his name. "Anywho, he tells me he saw you practicing your presentation and was very impressed," your advisor smiles to himself, "and he says that he'd like to offer you some philosophical theories that may help your presentation do better. Is that something you'd be interested in?"

You swallow hard, mind spinning as you try to decipher what was happening right now.

"Yeah, sure, but I don't know where his office is or-" Professor Cannari is already writing something down on a post it note in his scratchy hand writing. He hands you the neon green paper with Professor Healy's office number on it. Your advisor provides you a warm smile and waves you out of his office.

You hover in the hallway of the office, paper trembling in your hand. Do you go now? Do you go in a few days? Do you go at all? There's nothing inherently bad about going; in fact it will likely be super beneficial to your presentation as a whole. And is that not the whole point of going to grad school? Being able to gather information outside of your discipline to make your research stand out?

Dumbly, you look down at your outfit- a pair of well worn jeans, a simple black cropped tank top overlayed by a gray zip up hoodie. Fuck it. There's no point into deluding yourself into thinking this would be anything more than an office hours meeting. Your feet move before you can second guess yourself.

Before you know it you're crossing the threshold into the philosophy building, wandering dumbly until you find a stairwell to lead you up to the correct floor. You check the number obsessively once you're in the long, eerily empty hallway, and at the very end, wedged into an oddly shaped corner of the building is his office. You can tell he's new just from the lack of decorations on the door and bulletin board just outside of it. Simply just a name tag is displayed underneath the room number. You feel stupid for how fast your heart races as you knock.

It only now occurred to you that you didn't know his office hours, and it was possible he was teaching or not even on campus at all. You almost turn your back to leave as the realization hits you, but the door gently swings open. Professor Healy peeps through the crack in the door, seemingly afraid of what he would see on the other side. When he sees it's you his face softens and the door swings open wider.

"Y/N," he breathes your name and you shiver, eyes falling down to his chest, where the top two buttons of his silky button down shirt are undone. You swallow harshly and force what you hope is a comfortable smile.

"If you aren't busy...I heard you wanted to meet with me?" You try your best to curb the smile creeping onto your face as he gestures you in, hair falling around his face like a halo. His office is everything that you'd expected-even though he was newer to the job, his oak bookshelves are teeming with philosophy texts and a few plants half-dead in their pots. His desk takes center stage as it's surprisingly grand and tidy, the shiny wooden top reflecting the light from overhead in oblong circles. Only one notebook and one stack of what looks like exams exist neatly next to his desktop computer.

"Ah," he clears his throat when he sees you staring, "feel free to sit, I'm afraid it's not the most comfortable chair but the one I want is on backorder." You sit anyway, charmed just by the easy drawl of his voice. He takes his place directly across from you in a cushy, high-backed chair that genuinely looks fit for royalty. Your stomach stirs with arousal when he shakes his curls from his eyes and leans forward, elbows on the desk.

"Can I ask you something?" You shiver, involuntarily shaken by his question. He doesn't wait for you to respond before continuing: "Why do you seem so disinterested in your research?"

You're stunned at how forward he is but a piece of you loosens, suddenly relaxed when you realize the academic front you put up in front of everyone else can be dissolved here.

"I'm just tired of it," you slouch into your chair, matching his soulful gaze. "I've spent the last 5 years of my life researching and refining this presentation and all I ever do is present to people within my field who already know all of this shit, or even are cited in my paper anyway, and it's just so exhausting to say and think all the same things over and over. And what do I get out of this other than a job?" You catch your bottom lip between your teeth, suddenly self conscious at how forthcoming and unprofessional you're being with a professor.

"Sorry, that was a lot. And you clearly liked my stuff enough to contact Cannari and ask to meet with me, so, sorry Professor Healy." You shrug and offer him what you hope will be a soothing smile. He doesn't retreat from his spot but actually leans further toward you and only then do you realize that you had leaned closer to him as well. "You can just call me Matty, please." He offers a sweet smile that makes you agree, and the amount of familiarity just being told to use his first name gives you makes you giddy.

"What..." he swallows, "What do you want? From your life?" You catch a whiff of his cologne with him this close and you can do nothing but scan his face stupidly: eyes flitting between his plush lips and his eyes. Arousal stirs in your stomach the more you stare at him, and you force yourself to look away before you melt into the chair. You start to piece something together in your mind when Professor Healy shakes his head, inhaling sharply.

"It's okay if you don't know, Y/N. I don't know what I want from my life either, even though I have the big fancy job.” He stops, fingers drumming against the top of his desk, just inches away from your body. "But I know what I want right now."

Your stomach lurches with sudden nerves and you’re sure that your face is flushed red as you watch the mesmerizing way his tongue darts across his lower lip, wetting the pink flesh. Surely letting your mind run away to all the nasty places it wants to is going to do nothing to soothe the heat but you can’t find it in you to stop.

“Y/N?” Matty’s voice cuts through the fog in your brain like a knife. Sheepishly you glance back at him and just seems so large that your reply dies in your throat, mouth hung open.

“I asked you a question. Cat got your tongue?” He smiles slyly as he glances down to your mouth and you feel an unbidden rush of arousal in your stomach.

“S-sorry Professor Healy, I- just. Um." His steely gaze cuts you as you slowly realize your mistake. "Matty. What do you want right now? I’m not sure how much help I can actually be, but I can-“

“What I want right now-“ he speaks over you and you still, fingernails digging into the leather arms of your chair. “Is for you to look at me.” He pauses and you realize he means for you to obey him now, so you do. His chocolate brown eyes bore into your own, his intense gaze flicking between your pupils and your lips. Satisfied, he speaks again. “Good. And now I need you to be fully, completely honest with me. I’ll know if you aren’t.” You nod automatically, all thoughts except how purely sexy he looks right now abandoning your brain. A smile splits his face and a surge of joy at making him happy runs through you.

“Are you aware how badly I want you?” His voice thickens and you shiver, the confusion and elation rushing in. There was no way this was real, there had to be someone testing you or playing a trick to expose your most depraved desire.

“You do?” You hate how surprised you sound but who could blame you: the new professor with his bouncy curls and tattooed chest interested in both your research and also apparently you?

Suddenly he’s moving, standing from his grand chair to lean against the desk on your side, just inches from you. He cocks his head and that deadly stare penetrates you as he shamelessly looks you up and down, eyes focused just a second too long on the place where your breasts swell out of your tank top.

“I do.” He nods as if he’d just agreed with your assessment of a news topic, but the way his hands flex on the top of his thighs draws your eyes right to his crotch: the telling bulge of the beginning of a hard on just there. All inhibitions rush out of you at the sight, you calm the shake in your hands and grasp at his own, resting just inches away from his cock.

“Is the door locked?” Your voice is husky but he seems to appreciate it as a breathy exhale passes his lips while he nods. The noise sparks arousal between your thighs, the seam of your jeans teasing your clit just enough to make your head spin a bit when your thighs press together. You stay locked into your chair, sincerely afraid that if you stood your knees would give out, but you trail your fingers up to the waistband of his trousers.

“Is this okay?” His pretty curls crowd around his face as he peers down at you and nods, moving his own hands out of the way to allow you all the room you want. You ignore the way your fingers tremble with the button and unhook it, the sound of the zipper startling in the otherwise silent room.

His cock is straining against his boxers and you can't help the pride that washes over your body.

"Fuck, you're so gorgeous." His voice grits out as you trace your fingers over the outline of his cock, enamored by the heat radiating from his body. His hips jump, pressing further into your touch with impatience.

"Fucking take 'em off." Your eyes flit up to his face, scrunched with concentration as he undoes the buttons on his shirt until it's completely open, torso bared to your hungry eyes. All of his hidden tattoos come to light and you feel yourself salivate. He gives you a pointed look and you spring into action, pulling his boxers down to his thighs. Your breath leaves you as his cock is bared to you, hardening by the second as you take in the sight of him.

"You're fucking huge," the words fall out of your mouth before you can even think about filtering them, but all he does is laugh, smoothing a hand over the crown of your head.

"And you're fucking sinful." The praise goes straight to your head as you cup his cock, immediately tracing the vein along the bottom with your fingertip. The urge to have him in your mouth is insane but you stick with what you've started: the feather light touches across the smoothed, warm skin in addicting patterns until Matty snaps, grasping your wrist.

"I'm glad you're having fun, love, but if you don't start getting to work I'm gonna have to do it myself. And I don't think either of us want that, do we?" Your face blanches at the idea of him leaving, and you shake your head, redoubling your efforts by adding your second hand into the mix. Stroking his cock quickly becomes addicting, as all of his pretty moans and whines bounce off of the walls in his office and you can gaze up at him despite the hand in your hair to see the way his neck flexes as you pleasure him. His cock twitches and swells in your hand and a fresh wave of arousal sticks to your underwear, making you drive a hand between your legs in a desperate attempt for some relief. Matty's hand in your hair tightens as he sees you make this move and he tuts.

"Off of it, now, pretty girl." Matty's voice shakes as he extracts himself from your touch. You whine at the loss of his cock but soon your line of sight is full of his handsome face. Matty has crouched right in front of you, lips bitten raw from his efforts of trying not to cum. You feel your eyes soften at how pretty he looks with rosy cheeks and you lean forward on pure instinct, seeking the press of his lips on your own. Matty catches on easily and matches your eagerness by capturing your lips ferociously; tasting faintly like minty gum and coffee and you moan at this fantasy come to life. You cling to his bare shoulders like your life depends on it, fingernails digging into the planes of his back as he licks between your lips, tongue dancing around your mouth as he steals your breath.

Matty nips at your bottom lip, and then one of his hands is diving between your thighs to press up against the heat at the seam of your jeans. You gasp out a moan at the feeling of finally being touched even if through the thick barrier of denim.

"Fucking soaking your jeans, love," Matty growls against your lips, his dextrous thumb pressed directly over your clit. You squirm in the chair, chest heaving as your nerve endings light up, feeling so hot that you could crawl out of your skin.

"F-fuck, Matty." You take matters into your own hands and strip yourself of your sweatshirt. He chuckles darkly, eyes darting up from between your legs as he licks his lips sinfully.

"Feeling a little hot there? Should I take these jeans off of you and help you cool down?" His fingers are already at the button but you keen and agree with a vicious nod. The brief touch of his fingers against your stomach makes you whimper, impatient beyond belief for him to rid you of the restrictive denim.

"I've got you, don't worry, 'm right here." Matty soothes you as he shimmies your jeans off. He places a gentle kiss against the inside of one knee, then the other, and you feel anticipation bubble in your stomach as he digs his thumbs into the flesh of your thighs, dragging them apart. His eyes widen at the visible confirmation of your wetness slicking your underwear in a dark stain.

"Please," you find yourself begging already even though Matty shows no sign of slowing down as he rids you of your underwear as well. Already kneeling, Matty simply leans forward until he's mere inches away from your pussy. The ends of his strands of hair tickle the tops of your thighs and goosebumps erupt. Matty parts your thighs until your knees are hooked over the arms of the chair and you remain fully exposed to him.

"Look at that..." his fingers trail your inner thighs and your body twitches. "Prettiest pussy on the prettiest little slut I've ever seen." He eyes you carefully to catch your reaction to the nickname and you feel your whole body glow at the filthy words. Matty grins before swiftly returning his thumb to your clit, this time bare. The shock of his sudden touch sends you spiraling toward pleasure, mind blanking of all coherent thought as he draws tight circles around the bud. You grasp onto his hair for an anchor as he doubles down, pushing his face between your thighs. His nose bumps against your clit and his tongue parts your lips, lapping up the wetness with a pattern you can't figure out how to track. His stubble scratches the inside of your thighs as he laps at you, flitting his tongue between your folds. Your hips buck forward and your legs clamp around his head, desperate to be sure that he wouldn't go anywhere. Matty chuckles against your pussy and you can feel it radiating through you. You shiver, stomach contracting as you pull his hair so hard you feel like you might take some of it out.

An oncoming train of pleasure barrels towards you as Matty returns his lips to your clit, sucking ferverntly until you cry, warning him that you're coming. Your mind soars as you come, surely soaking his face as he makes no attempt to slow down or pull back as your hips stutter against his face.

Tears collect at your chin as your body settles, overwhelmed and satisfied. Matty resurfaces, chin and lips soaked with the sheen of your release. He licks his lips as he sees you refocus onto the real world. Matty helps to ease your legs down from the arms of the chair and the simple intimacy makes you dizzy with glee.

"You taste so good, by the way," Matty drones as his eyes sparkle with mischief. He stands, cock bobbing along with his movements and your pussy throbs in spite of the fact that you literally just came moments before. You can't tear your eyes away from it, the reddened head leaking translucent rivulets of precum. Images of his cock pulsing while he ate you out invade your mind and you whine, launching yourself off of the chair with the need to be closer to him.

Matty chuckles as you latch yourself around him, pressing your body into the heat of him, feeling the press of his cock against your stomach. Your forehead sticks to his chest with the perspiration and you're slightly surprised that Matty places a kiss to the top of your head, crossing his arms around you and massaging your lower back in big soothing circles.

"Are you done for the day? All worn out?" His voice is soft and gentle despite the way his cock stirs as his hands drift to your ass, gently massaging the flesh there.

"You're too sweet," you lift your head until your chin is resting on his chest, looking up at his flushed face. The softness of his eyes makes your insides liquify. "Thought you'd be some big, scary, dominant professor..." you distract him with your words as you slip a hand between the two of you to brush the head of his cock. Matty groans, squeezing your ass harder at the confirmation that you certainly were not done for the day.

"Well I am quite big, as you said before, and as far as scary and dominant..." a sly grin splits his face and before you can deliver a new quip he's maneuvering you until you're bent over the glossy top of his massive desk. It's cold even through the fabric of your cropped tank top that you still had on, and your nipples pebble immediately. You can't see Matty so you still and try to focus your ears to hear any signs of what he was up to.

Matty's fingers ghost over your ass again, tracing over the curve that connects it to your thighs. Shivers wrack down your spine as you anticipate his next touch.

"You'd like me to be more dominant? Harder on you?" Matty's voice ghosts over the shell of your ear and you whine, hips squirming as you feel him pressed up against your back. "Need to be put in your place by a fucking professor at your school?" You nod vigorously, arousal making you pliant to his whispers.

His body heat leaves you and you whine, begging for him not to go.

"Fuck, needy little slut, huh? I'm not going anywhere, don't worry. Can't quit this pussy and I haven't even been in it." His voice has thickened even more than you thought possible and its enough to make you spread your legs, exposing your pussy to the cold air and his hungry eyes.

You're going crazy not being able to see him, so you lift your head and turn toward him. His face tightens when he sees you, and with no reluctance he rears back his hand and smacks one of your ass cheeks. The shock makes you still and silent, followed quickly by a body wide tingle of arousal that has a long loud moan falling from your lips.

"I didn't fucking ask you to move, did I? All you've got to do is lay there and take it and you can't even do that." He tuts but at the same time soothes the pads of his calloused fingers over the handprint he left behind.

"S-sorry, I just wanted to see you." The words come out choppy and stunted as you feel his hand leave you, anticipating another slap.

"Take this like a good girl and then you can see me all you want, okay?" Just moments after your agreement slips into the air Matty is landing twin spanks on each cheek, harder than the first. Your body reacts astronomically, your body heat soaring as you wiggle against the desk, surely leaking onto the pristine wood.

Matty praises you even as you wiggle, admiring the movement of your ass while you try to chase the friction you're looking for. Your legs spread wider as you hear him mutter curses under his breath.

"Please, Matty, please-Ineedyouttodomore, please," you feel like your brain is running away from you, maybe it was back in the entrance to the philosophy building, waiting for you to pick it back up when you're done. Emboldened by your begging, Matty spanks each of your cheeks again in a new spot, sure to cover your whole ass in his hand prints.

Matty shushes you, petting over the surely reddened marks on your ass-your newest and most prized possessions. "You've done so lovely for me, enjoying letting me spank your cute little ass." Matty sounds slightly farther away but you pay it no mind as your body goes onto pleasure autopilot. Your clit throbs, eyes glassy and unfocused as you listen to the whispered affirmations falling from Matty's lips.

"Hey, pretty girl." His voice is suddenly very close, and you finally realize that he's rounded the desk to be next to your head. He's crouched down to your level again, one hand pushing sweaty strands of hair away from your temple. You feel lucky just to be seeing his face this close.

"There you are." He smiles and the skin around his eyes crinkles charmingly. His demeanor shifts back rapidly when he sees your clarity come back. "Need you to listen to me now, love. I'm going to sit down and take a break, and you're going to come get yourself off on my cock." Your heart thrums at the idea of finally having him inside of you, and the excitement has you launching off of the desk as soon as Matty has planted himself into the grand chair. His entire body is flushed with exertion and covered in a sheen of sweat that you wanted to lick off. Matty spreads his legs in invitation, arms placed on the arm rests as if he was just lounging. His cock is incredibly hard and red, and you can only imagine how wound up he is from not having come a single time since you began.

You finally right yourself and get off of the desk, immediately taking your place in Matty's lap. Your pussy immediately makes contact with his cock and you both moan at the simple touch. The wetness between your legs soaks him completely as you take an experimental rock over him. Matty's hands clasp onto your tank top and in a moment the top is finally gone, tits spilling out of your bra as you rock against him, breathless and keening.

Matty pulls down the cups of the bra to expose your tits and he groans at the sight, hungrily grabbing the newly revealed flesh. His eyes roll back into his head and he growls at the onslaught of sensations.

"Fuck, put me cock in you or you're going back onto the desk." His voice is strained and you have to hold back a laugh at his desperation but you obey, grabbing his cock to line yourself up. The intrusion is slow despite how wet you are as his cock stretches you to be completely full. Matty devours your tits as you sink onto him, licking and biting the sensitive flesh and muffling his moans into your skin until you're fully seated on him. You feel dizzy and lightheaded at finally being full, the pressure inside of you phenomenally perfect.

Your head lulls into Matty's shoulder and you squeeze your eyes shut as you begin small movements against him, grinding your hips the smallest amount as your body adjusts. You bite into Matty's shoulder to ground yourself and he moans, head falling back against the chair and his hair tickling your cheek. He presses a kiss to your temple as you lick the bite you left on him.

Matty's hands leave your tits to clasp at your hips, guiding you along in the rhythm he desires. Your thighs burn but the pleasure outweighs the discomfort as Matty builds a faster tempo, bouncing you on his cock.

"You've got a perfect pussy, love, holding onto me so tight, yeah?" Your walls flutter at his words and he moans throatily, bucking his hips into you in deeper strokes. Eyes shuttering closed, you relish in the pleasure you had stumbled into as Matty smacks your ass again, spurring your hips back into action as you move against him with renewed energy as pleasure sparks through your limbs.

"Open your eyes, love, you wanted to see me so bad and you got your eyes closed anyway." You struggle to get them opened again while your veins flood with pleasure but you manage it, zeroing in on the satisfied look on Matty's face. He moans as you bite your lip and bear down on him harder, feeling the twitch of his cock inside of you that spurs you on further.

"You're gonna make me fucking cum, shit, you feel so god damn good." Matty groans and strums his thumb over your sensitive clit. "I'm about to fucking fill you,such a good girl coming with me, yeah? Need you to come with me, love." Your eyes roll at his words and you feel your high just seconds away, squealing as pleasure makes your toes curl and you finally come, exploding on his cock, walls pulsing. Matty is close behind, curses and moans of your name spilling rapidly as he comes, filling you until cum is leaking back out around him. Your stomach clenches in an effort to keep it all in as your body sags into his, exhausted and sweaty.

"That was fucking perfect, good girl. You did so fucking well riding my cock." Matty kisses over every inch of your face he can reach with you attached to his neck. A weak thank you leaves you as your mind catches up slowly. Your sweat dries and you shiver, pressing further into his body heat and whining when his cock dislodges and more cum rushes out of you.

You groan at the mess in his lap, suddenly embarrassed in the aftermath. Detaching from him, your head starts to pound when you realize where you are, who you are, who he is...

"Stop that," his hands are on your cheeks, thumbs running over the apples in a steady stroke. "You're okay. I'm not going anywhere just yet." The earnest tone of his voice soothes some of the panic, but you're still teetering on uncertain territory.

"I just, I need to process this, I think. Like who we are, and what just happened and-" more cum leaks from you and you grimace. "And...that." You feel small and defeated, emotions running all over the place. Surprisingly astute to your feelings, Matty begins a low, melodic hum that settles your heart rate. Its a song you don't know but it calms you enough that your mind slows as Matty carefully extradites you from his lap and digs out a bottle of ibuprofen and water to take it with. When your head stops pounding he smiles at you, annoying charming, and you suddenly remember how you even ended up here.

Matty had replaced his boxers and brings you your scattered clothes before he sits himself on the floor in front of you. You avoid his gaze, still feeling slightly awkward and unreal as his choclately eyes examine you while you redress.

"Look at me, please." The edge in his voice is commanding and your stomach stirs with arousal again but you tamp it down. "This doesn't have to be anything else than this. I admit that some of this wasn't our best judgment...but I do genuinely really like you. And I do want to help you with your research. And like, take you on a normal date or something." His cheeks flush and its aggressively endearing to see him get flustered. You can't help the giggle that escapes you.

"Actually help me with my research? Because that's what this was supposed to be too." Your giggles break the tension and Matty rolls his eyes and crowds back onto the chair, pulling you into his lap as he bats at you playfully.

"Fine, maybe next time I'll refrain from fucking you in my office." You pout playfully in spite of yourself, enjoying the good natured sparkle in his eyes. "I said maybe, woman. You'll have me as much as you want me."

[sexygirleverlovingit]

'Just smile and wave.'

HIII, My name is Moxie or mox whatever you want to call me tots I got this blog page because well why wouldn't Im famous! Well was. I was a model for lots of things 😍😘 if you get what I mean. I am 19 years old nearly 20 I don't have any lebal on my sexuality I like what I like at the time. I'm a female she her all the way but whatever you are I don't care you could be a pig if you want still wouldn't care!

#livingthatlifeeee😜😜😜

Backstory and trap story below!

Backstory: Growing up moxie was in a broken home her father was just a drunk man all the time and her mother was the type to only care about herself and go gambling. She grew up just with herself and learnt how to take care of herself so took pride in her looks when she went to primary school so got praised for it and her mother did to so her mother put her into modeling as a child she loved it all eyes on her. In highschool she became a bully and selfish making fun of girls or boys or anyone who didn't look like her. She became a famous well known model on magazines.

Trap reasoning: duo to her bullying others and doing things that put her life at risk, she found herself among those who been trapped. She was a horrible girl growing up making others feel down about their looks but really she didn't appreciate her own looks she wanted to get plastic in her face. When she already had that natural beauty.

HER TRAP:

"hello moxie, I know you but you may not know me. But I want to play a game. You must be confused but soon you will not be. Remember all back in high-school. Those girls you bullied for their looks. While you where just feeling all those things. Every girl you bullied back then it affected them bad making them take away their natural beauty. You were willing to do dangerous surgery's to yourself to make fake beauty that could of cost you your life. You will cherish your life now. You will notice you tied to a board and you can't talk because of a wire that's in your mouth but you can see to your side. Many scarples are there. You must take them and at least make many new beautiful scars for yourself in every part of your body. If you do not the wire will move back in your mouth till your jaw is off. Will you finally appreciate your life or will you perish. Good luck you have 3 minutes."

Moxie eyes widened and dart around she could see the timer counting down she tried to move but all she could move was her arms she tried to get the wire off her but she couldn't she felt it slowly pulling back hurting her mouth she cries out in a panic and then slowly picks up the scalpel she first started with her thigh she cried out in pain making wounds to herself as the timer goes down she goes faster her arms her stomach chest and all but she didn't go for her face. Never. The timer was nearly out and she still wasn't free she cries out knowing the last part of her body was going to be her face. She shaken lifts her arms up to her face slowly cutting into it letting the blood spill like the rest of her wounds all over her body.

When the wires stopped pulling at her mouth and the things that tied her drops she falls to the floor coughing her hands going to her mouth feeling the sides of her mouth all cut up. She survived but at what cost.

This is an oc saw blog!!

[mariaofdoranelle]

Look at Us Now — Ch. 3

Fic Masterlist

Sorry I ghosted last week! This chapter is (unintentionally) twice the usual size, though, so I’m forgiving myself. It’s a bit of a rollercoaster, just remember that it’ll get worse before it gets better.

Warnings: NSFW, cursing, mentions of bullying, anxiety attack, bitter exes.

Word count: 5,9k

Aelin’s whole body startled before she gained consciousness of what was going on.

She didn’t know what woke her up, her classmate’s hurried taps or Rowan’s intense eyes on her.

The last thing she remembered was one sergeant telling their next instructor couldn’t make it, so they’d have an hour free. Aelin had woken up at 3 am to study Military Law today, so she thought it’d be a good idea to set a timer for 50 minutes and take a nap.

Rowan‘s class was scheduled for later, what the fuck was he doing here this soon?

His gaze lingered on her for a beat that felt like a month. Maybe like the month and a half since that night. Then it landed on the guy in front of Aelin.

"What happened with your beard?" Was the first thing he said. His voice alarmed the whole class, it sounded like a threat one is barely trying to hide.

Aelin couldn't see the recruit’s expression, but she had a good view of the way his shoulders tensed. He looked around. "I- um-"

"Don't look around, look at me!" Rowan shouted, making many eyes go wide. "What the fuck happened to your beard!?"

"The- the razor was a little dull, so I-"

But Rowan wasn't listening. Probably because he didn't care.

No, he was slowly, threatengly walking around to examine each person in the room and pointing out the ones with something wrong about their uniform. Anything, really. He must have a hawk eyesight to notice some of the mistakes he pointed out.

He looked angry, she thought. Aelin didn’t know which state was the class when he walked in, since everyone was already frozen in place when she woke up.

When the people he selected were out of their perfectly aligned rows, Rowan crossed his arms and roared, "ON THE FLOOR, NOW!"

A few jumped to a plank position, ready to start. Others just stared, gawking.

Rowan rested his hands on his hips and stood face to face with one person who didn't move.

"Did I fucking stutter? ON. THE. FLOOR. NOW!"

Everyone followed suit this time, so he started to count.

"One, two, three, four..."

He stopped counting when he noticed someone in the wrong position. He was not in a straight line, so his butt was sticking out. Aelin held on a grimace while Rowan was going his way.

"Do you call that a push-up?"

On the man's side, Rowan's boot pressed against his low back to correct his position.

"How do you expect to be in the Air Force if you can't to a fucking push-up!?" He barked at no one in particular. "The body stays in one line." He poked at someone's arm with his boot, only enough to bring attention. "And watch those elbows! You're not a frog!"

He was still looking around, searching for any flaw in those push-ups. "Pathetic," he spat. "Spineless and pathetic." Rowan rested his foot on another person's back and announced, "I'm starting again! Until y'all stop training like teenagers! One, two, three..."

Aelin could only blink, trying to process this.

Then she forced herself to snap out of that shock. Her great-uncle was a brigadier, for Mala's sake. She knew better than to be surprised. Besides, what did she expect? A little love letter from hot lieutenant saying that he also couldn't forget their night together? Absolutely not.

If Aelin was there to learn the basics of military life until she could work at the hospital, so be it. She was going to kick basic training's ass.

"But we can't keep all the fun to ourselves, right?" Rowan snarled. He looked around the ones with the correct uniform, that kept only watching chaos unfold. "Everyone else on the floor!” He restarted counting, ”One, two, three..."

She was so ready for this. She'd absolutely nail this.

Except that it didn't take long for her to grow annoyed at Rowan's voice counting and barking orders non-stop.

And after Mala knows how long, Aelin came to one conclusion.

She was so fucked.

That was the only thing in her mind as she trained. Even when she felt like her lungs would give out or her legs would soon turn to ashes, Rowan’s scolding was still flawlessly echoing through her ears.

When he wrapped things up, her shoulders almost dropped in relief. They would, if Rowan wouldn’t give her a hard time about posture. This class was longer than usual because he was using the missing instructor’s time along with his own. Also because she started feeling like dying around the fourth minute of so, so many.

“Who’s today’s class leader?” He asked before dismissing everyone.

Aelin’s spine went rigid. Every day, a different recruit was picked to be the class leader. They said it was to learn about leadership and how to cooperate together. In practice, it basically meant she’d lead the class while marching.

Everyone looked at Aelin, and she raised an arm. “It’s me, sir.”

Rowan sighed, as if he couldn’t believe he had to deal with her more than he was obligated to.

“You have 15 minutes to show up at my office.”

Which meant she had 15 minutes to get her things, take a shower, get in another uniform and find his office.

She did it in 13 minutes, though.

Rowan’s office was simple and neat, but at least the chairs were comfortable. After she knocked and he told her to come in, silence took over. They sat one in front on the other, the only sound in the room being Aelin testing the squeak of the chair by repeatedly leaning against it. Annoyingly, by the stiff expression Rowan wore.

“I think you already know what I’m going to say to you.”

She shrugged. “You’ll tell me to pretend it never happened?”

“Excuse me?” His tone was sharper than she predicted. Was he that eager to fuck her again?

Aelin leaned back and suppressed a smile when the chair squeaked again. “I mean, I wouldn’t mind a round two, but I understand that things just got complicated.”

Oh, she definitely wouldn’t mind hitting that again. Besides, she’d work at the hospital in ten weeks. It’s not like they’d need to see each other every day after.

He sighed. “I’m talking about what just happened, Aelin. You were today’s class leader.”

Aelin frowned. “Which means I’m in charge of the drill commands while marching—“

“It means you have to lead them throughout the day. When there’s no instructor, you don’t just take a nap and let everyone run wild!”

When she crossed her arms and glared, trying to think of a retort, Rowan looked up for a second and took a deep breath.

“I know you must struggle being one of the few women in your class, but—“

“Struggle?” She cut in, eyebrows raised. ”Why would I struggle?”

“It’s a common issue among female officers—“

“That’s not an issue, sir.“ Aelin leaned closed and lowered her tone of voice. “I’m more alpha than most of these men, you probably know that already.”

“Then act like it.“ He didn’t look impressed.

Aelin got up and slowly rounded his desk, until she was standing on Rowan’s side. “You’d really like that, wouldn’t you?”

He looked at her up and down, swallowed, then looked away a second too late. “That’s inappropriate behavior, Galathynius.“ 

Positioned between him and his desk, she tilted her head. “And what? You’re gonna punish me?”

“I’m not afraid to,” he immediately answered, but his tone had an edge to it.

Aelin’s eyes sparkled. She had no idea if he was answering to her innuendo or talking about her relations to his superiors, but she was horny enough to jump to conclusions. She knew he was hesitant, though.

Anything happening between them wouldn’t be exactly against the rules, even though it would be frowned upon.

But having sex inside a military base? They’d be fucked if anyone found out.

Aelin was beyond caring by now, and she had a suspicion Rowan was holding tight to whatever shreds of conscience he had.

She held both hands on the desk behind her, thrusting her chest out. Rowan’s gaze was shameless as it burned through her, his eyes darkening every inch. He looked at her as if he remembered everything she had under that uniform, and just the thought of it made her press her legs together.

“You know, I thought it’d be easier to get you to fuck me after you got your cock that deep into my throat.”

When Rowan finally looked into her eyes, she knew she’d won. He placed a hand on her knee and caressed the inner part with his thumb, but it was enough to send a spark through her body.

“Can I touch you?” He quietly asked. However, the intense look on his green eyes betrayed the strained politeness on his tone of voice.

How gentlemanly of him. Didn’t even sound like the man who climbed her uncle’s fence to fuck her until dawn.

“Oh, you definitely can’t.” Aelin had a triumphant grin on. “But I want you to.”

Rowan’s eyes combusted into hers, and her smile grew. In that millisecond, Aelin knew she had just ripped off his conscience with her teeth.

He got up from that chair in a swift motion, standing just one breath away from her.

“Let’s see how much you want me,” he taunted before taking her pants and panties down all at once, so roughly one button flew away.

Without wasting a second, he inserted two fingers between her folds and plunged in, making her choke a sob. Rowan’s thumb started working on her clit to soothe her from that sudden move, but he scooted closer and whispered, “You were already soaked when I started, baby. I could put a third finger and you wouldn’t even feel it.”

Aelin whimpered. He made her taste herself in his fingers, then kissed her when she licked his index and middle finger the way she’d to another member of his. Rowan cradled her head in a commanding, bruising kiss. He kissed like he could unravel her whole with his lips. He kissed her like he thought he’d never see her again. Aelin pressed her hips against his, moaning, and he moved his mouth to the shell of her ear.

“Were you thinking about me?”

Aelin nodded.

“Use your words, baby. Were you thinking about me?”

She looked deep into his eyes, smirking like the devil. “Yes, sir.”

Rowan’s gaze burned into her while he brought his hand to her neck, squeezing just enough to make her ache for him even more. “Is that why you came to my office begging for my cock like the little slut you are?”

“Yes, sir,” she whimpered.

Before she could think, he turned her around and pressed her against his desk, laying on her stomach with her ass up. The sound of his zipper was the only warning she got before Rowan pushed himself inside her all the way, stretching her whole in one swift motion.

Aelin cried out, cursing. It was the most delicious kind of pain.

He gave her a few seconds to adjust and muffled her cries with his hand, probably afraid someone would hear from the outside.

She bit his hand to speak when he started on a languid pace, but Rowan spanked her ass before she could open her mouth. The pain from that smack spread under her skin, making her wiggle her hips against him even more.

“Don’t bite me,” he warned.

“But you loved it last time.”

He gave one ruthless thrust as a warning, and that sweet ache made her sob. God, she loved Rowan’s punishments.

“Condom,” she rasped, finally remembering what she was going to say.

He grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her head back until he was close to her ear. “I don’t bring condoms to work, baby. You think I fuck every slut that comes into my office?”

Rowan started thrusting in a merciless rhythm, making Aelin’s legs shake.

Aelin did a mental note to see on her period app if she needed to take a Plan B pill. These things were hormone bombs, but she wasn’t on birth control. She had mostly stopped sleeping around after uni, and Dorian has a vasectomy. These days, the only reason Aelin even used condoms was to prevent STDs.

When Rowan hit a spot that made her see stars, Aelin relaxed on the desk and let herself be fucked senseless by him, relishing on the sound of their hips snapping together and his low grunts.

Of all the times people had reckless sex, how many actually led to a baby?

Exactly.

And knowing Aelin’s luck, she knew things would turn out her way. They always did.

***

The shade of Rowan’s hair never let Aelin know which strands were in its natural shade, and which ones were grayer because of Maisie. Or work. Maybe Aelin herself.

The dark circles under his eyes weren’t that static, though. Over time, she had seen them go from almost invisible to a purplish shade that didn’t sit well with his tan skin. Aelin always thought it was a shame seeing a face like his looking so worn out. But today? Today it looked like exhaustion itself had beaten him up from the outside in, not the other way around.

Aelin knew she should keep their interactions to a minimum, but she couldn’t help herself.

“You look like shit, Rowan.”

”Gee, thanks.”

Aelin wriggled in her seat, knowing she should keep her mouth shut. It did nothing to stop her.

“Elide was grouchy today. She said you’re ruining her sex life.”

He laughed, but there was a bitter edge to it. “How so?”

Aelin fully turned to him from the passenger side. “Were you really watching a recorded livestream about ADHD until late with Lorcan last night?”

He opened his mouth to retort, then closed again. A moment later, he said, “In my defense, now I’m convinced she doesn’t have it. And Lorcan thought it was enlightening.”

“Ellie’s a psychiatrist, Rowan. If any of the kids were showing signs of it, she would tell—“

“Is she willing to give me an hour-long lesson about it? Because the Instagram doctor—“

“Rowan, are you listening to yourself?”

“What?” He snapped.

“Do you know what I do every time you send me an article about diabetes in children?”

“You read it?”

“No. I give her ice cream.”

He gripped the steering wheel tighter. “You’re joking.”

“I’m not. I fill her pink unicorn bowl with chocolate ice cream, and I enjoy it.”

He clenched his jaw. “You know damn well my dad’s diabetic—“

“You’ll drive yourself fucking insane if you keep this way, Rowan,” she barked. “This is my weekend with Maisie. Do you at least have plans to take fucking a nap?”

Rowan stopped at a red light and narrowed his eyes at her. “I have walls to fix.”

Aelin sighed. “You can’t let her draw on every wall you own.”

“She’s expressing herself through art.”

“You did not just say that.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing! You’re just an engineer who traumatizes young people for a living, of course that line came out of your mouth.”

Rowan rolled his eyes. “Okay, I heard it from a pediatrician. Happy now?”

When she saw the school’s front, Aelin knew she had to wrap this up quick.

“And not Maisie’s pediatrician, because—“

“Because it was from one of the pediatricians I follow online! What is your point?”

“My point—“ Aelin stopped herself when her voice got too loud. She took a deep breath and started again, in a calmer tone. “My point is that you can’t know everything about every specialty child-related just in case your one kid needs it. You can’t be Maisie’s dad 24/7.”

“But I am Maisie’s dad 24/7.”

“When was the last time you talked to Lorcan about something that wasn’t kid-related?” She tried a different approach. When Rowan opened his mouth, she added, “Doesn’t count if it happened while you were watching the kids.”

He shut his mouth and didn’t answer.

She knew it.

When was the last time you went on a date?, was on the tip of her tongue, just to finish proving her point, but Aelin didn’t dare say it out loud.

Her guess would be at least last year, from one time she caught Fenrys trying to play cupid, but it probably wasn’t serious. Their rule was that they’d have to meet the other person before Maisie, but it hasn’t happened yet. For neither of them.

Rowan parked his car, quiet as a mouse. Deep down, he knew he was overexerting himself. And it wasn’t Aelin’s job to worry about him, but she had learned the hard way how important it was to take care of herself so she could take good care of Maisie. Their daughter was the only reason she was concerned. It’s not like Aelin would care about her ex-fling from five years ago. Absolutely not.

Aelin frowned when Maisie came their way with a different change of clothes. It was the second time since starting preschool, and she never peed herself at home. She remembered her daughter always complained about going to school, and wondered if she should start sending Maisie with pull-ups until she finished adapting to that new environment.

After Maisie greeted them both, Rowan crouched and asked, “What happened to Fleetfoot, Mais?”

Aelin’s eyebrows shot up. Fleetfoot was a golden plastic dog Maisie made Rowan buy at a 99 cents store, but she loved it more than many of the expensive toys her family showered her with. She took that miniature puppy everywhere.

Maisie raised her hand and looked at Fleetfoot. Half of its plastic tail was missing, and just the sight of it made her lips wobble and brought moisture to her big green eyes. Rowan immediately hugged her and started soothing his daughter, but Aelin looked around, searching for the teacher’s assistant that always stood outside.

Something was off, and Aelin would find out no matter what.

The TA looked frightened all the time and followed the teacher like a puppy, so it wasn’t hard to get information out of her.

And when Aelin did, she saw red.

She stormed through that school until she found the teacher, Lieutenant Maeve Valg, in a corridor close to the entrance.

“Inside,” Aelin growled and pointed to the empty classroom near them.

The only response was a raise of her eyebrows, somewhere between surprise and scorn, and entering to sit behind the teacher’s desk.

Aelin followed her and banged the door closed. She rested both hands on the table and leaned to get closer and look deep into Mrs. Valg’s eyes, her own slightly bulged. She could feel her blood pumping through her veins like her heart was on steroids, and if looks could kill, that fucking teacher would be on her grave already.

“Tell me why my daughter’s toy is broken.”

She leaned back in the chair, and Aelin felt like that woman’s dark eyes were reading into her soul. “Looks like you already know.”

“I want to hear it from your mouth.” Aelin’s nostrils flared.

The teacher tilted her head, assessing. “I see where Maisie gets that terrible behavior from.”

They were interrupted by the door abruptly being opened and slammed closed. Rowan stood there with crossed arms and eyes darting between the two of them. His glare was so sharp it could cut ice.

Lieutenant Valg sighed in what looked like relief. “Mr. Whitethorn, could you please make—“

“It’s Captain Whitethorn to you,” he commanded in a taut tone.

Aelin didn’t know if the TA told him what happened as well or if he just read too much into the room’s energy, but Rowan seemed pissed. He never used his high rank on people like this.

She glued her eyes back on the teacher and slapped the desk, then immediately pointed at Rowan. “Tell him why Maisie wet herself,” Aelin shouted.

Mrs. Valg held her chin high, but didn’t say a thing.

“I’m waiting, Lieutenant,” he said in a carefully controlled tone and walked closer to them.

His patience seemed to end when his request was met with silence.

“Do I need to remind you again that I outrank you, Lieutenant?” Rowan shouted, making Maeve’s eyes go wide. “If you don’t tell me what happened now, I’m putting you under restriction at the guardhouse, do you understand?”

Mrs. Valg paled, but she was still grinding her teeth together, shooting daggers at Rowan with her eyes. The guardhouse was basically jail, but for petty crimes inside the military. It was the biggest punishment someone could get before being kicked out.

“Your daughter is a little nightmare!” She spit out. “Every other kid was ready for nap time, and she wouldn’t stop playing with that stupid dog! I warned her one, two, three times, then I grabbed that ugly thing and threw across the room.” Mrs. Valg got up, her eyes jumping between Aelin and Rowan. “And then Maisie peed, but you think I enjoy sending my TA to clean the kids every time? It’s not my fault your daughter has a bad bladder,” she spat.

Aelin’s eyes grew with each sentence. When the teacher ended, the only thing she could hear was the muderous thoughts in her head and the pounding in her ears. She felt like her body was slowly being taken over by rage and the hammering flow of her pulse.

“Aelin, could you give me five minutes with Mrs. Valg and come back with Maisie, please?”

“Why—“

Rowan’s gaze was so intense it rendered Aelin speechless. His pine green eyes were being ruled by raw, cold fury, and it looked terrifying framed by all the blood that made his face look crimson. “We’re going to have a little chat, and then she’s going to apologize,” he slowly explained in a deadly tone. There was no arguing with the way he said it, and as much as Aelin wanted to scream and fight and pour all her anger into the teacher, Rowan was the one who could actually do something about what happened. He was a captain, after all.

Maisie was on the playground near the entrance, with a few other kids. Aelin quickly checked on her and if her daughter knew about the shitshow currently going on, she didn’t show.

Aelin never understood why Rowan didn’t want Maisie to be in the free preschool the Air Force provided for them, five minutes away from home.

She understood now.

Aelin’s throat closed when she remembered his words from one of the arguments they had about this. “I teach these Lieutenants myself, Aelin. I don’t trust Maisie around them.”

Her chest started feeling a little too tight, and she took a deep breath to recompose herself.

This was absolutely her fault.

There was no use in crying at the school playground, though.

On the way back to the classroom, Aelin was ready to go back if she heard screaming—there was no way she’d let Maisie see that—but the only sign that something had happened was the quiet whispers outside the classroom, and two people not so casually peering through the window.

If something exploded in there, Rowan kept his promise of doing it for five minutes only.

He looked absolutely unhinged, though. And the teacher looked white as a sheet, the armpits of her uniform sweaty.

Noticing the weird energy of the room, Maisie stiffened. “What’s going on?”

When Rowan heard his daughter’s voice, his whole demeanor changed. He didn’t relax, but still crouched on the floor and ran his fingers through one of her pigtails. “We were talking to Mrs. Valg about what happened today. She’s going to apologize for being disrespectful and hurting Fleetfoot.”

Maisie didn’t say a thing.

Neither did Mrs. Valg

“Seven days,” Rowan prompted.

Maeve’s jaw clenched.

“Fifteen days.”

She drew in a sharp breath.

“Twenty days.”

She swallowed.

Of, fuck. Was this how many days she was spending locked up in the guardhouse?

“Thirty—“

“I apologize.” Maeve spit out, eyes focused on Maisie.

The little girl took one step to the side and looked at her dad, but wouldn’t meet his eye. “It’s not Mrs. Valg’s fault,” the little girl quietly explained, ”I was being a bad kid.”

Aelin didn’t even register Maeve’s lips curling up, she dropped on her knees to talk to Maisie. Immediately. She didn’t know how to explain to a four-year-old that in this case she was expected to mess up, but not the teacher, but she would try until—

“Aelin?”

“What?” Aelin’s head snapped towards Rowan. He was sitting on the chair, clutching his chest. Oh, fuck.

“I might be having a heart attack.”

“You’re not.”

“I am.”

“No, you’re not.”

His eyes bulged, aimed at Aelin’s. “Do I need to call my ambulance myself?”

Aelin’s heart plummeted. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

She called the hospital’s front desk as she got the car keys from Rowan’s pocket.

“Hi, this is Dr. Galathynius. I’m coming with a patient. I need a heart team by the side entrance in five minutes.”

˜˜

Dr. Cortland stared at Rowan’s exams with furrowed brows. “I don’t see anything.”

“Try harder.”

Aelin gave Rowan her mom look. She said with her eyes, Could you try to be polite?

He answered her look with another of his own. No. Can we see another doctor?

Aelin sighed and waited while Sam finished looking at Rowan‘s exams. He was still grouchy because of the situation at Maisie’s school, that was the only explanation. There was no way he could’ve known about the brief relationship she had with Sam a year ago.

“Nope,” Dr. Cortland concluded. “Your heart is looking so good you could even join the military.”

Rowan didn’t laugh.

“Maybe there’s something going on at work or at home?” Sam’s gaze slid to Aelin, a bitter smile on his lips. “How’s Maisie?”

Rowan gripped the arms of his chair. He growled, “Do you know her?”

“Can’t say I do, no.”

Aelin’s nostrils flared. Their relationship started going downhill when he asked to meet Maisie. Her daughter was very easygoing, but as a rule, she’d need to introduce him to Rowan first. Nope. Sam wanted too much too fast, and he never truly understood how hard it is to date as a single mom.

Rowan leaned back on his seat, but Aelin couldn’t say he was relaxed.

Dr. Cortland hummed. “Do you think there’s a chance this could be related to anxiety?”

“Absolutely not.”

Aelin tried not to cringe. Knowing Rowan, she wouldn’t discard anxiety that easily. But what does she know? Aelin fixed bones, anxiety was Elide’s specialty.

She politely dismissed herself, wanting to give Rowan privacy to discuss this with Sam. Actually, she didn’t even know what she was doing in that office. She brought him to the hospital and went with the flow, not even thinking that maybe she should have stayed back. The only doctors she needed to see with him were the ones who had Maisie as a patient, but Aelin didn’t think about that in the heat of the moment.

When she finally reached the conference room, Maisie was drawing with the intern Elide borrowed her for babysitting duty. The poor thing.

Her daughter looked up with big, expectant eyes when Aelin approached. “How’s Daddy’s heartbeep?”

“It’s good. Your dad’s fine.” A pause. “And it’s heartbeat,” she corrected.

Maisie frowned. “That’s what I said.”

The stubborn little thing. For the first time in a while, Aelin felt like smiling. Until she remembered the conversation wasn’t over.

“Do you know that feeling when you get scared and your heart beats really fast?”

Maisie solemnly nodded. “Like when Uncle Aedion lets me go on the big slide at the pool.”

“He does what?”

Maisie’s eyes widened. “Let’s talk about Daddy.”

Aelin sighed. She had no idea how to explain an anxiety attack to a kid.

“The doctor said he’s good, Mais. He was probably just feeling scared.”

Her daughter chewed on her lip and nodded, understanding. “Daddy never does scary things. It must be confusing for him.”

Aelin let out a soft, watery chuckle and kissed Maisie’s forehead. “That’s right, baby.”

“Not a baby!” Her daughter complained.

After Rowan was done and Aelin thanked Elide’s intern for babysitting, they had one of the quietest car rides she’d ever witnessed.

Aelin still drove to her house, but when Rowan got off his car just to go back in and drive away, Maisie watched the path he went with a longing gaze.

“I want to go with Daddy.”

Aelin crouched by her daughter’s side. “You’ve already spent last weekend with him, Mais.”

“But what if he gets sick again?” She mused with furrowed brows.

Scratching her forehead, Aelin sighed.

Rowan would be alone at home, no Maisie to keep him up. He’d think. He’d worry. He’d create worst-case scenarios for every consequence of this day.

“You want to spend the night at your dad’s and come back tomorrow morning?”

Maisie nodded, her eyes eager.

“Then go pick some toys to take there, okay?”

She rushed to her room without question, leaving Aelin a small window to pack two bags. One for Maisie, another for herself. She wouldn’t keep Maisie here worrying about her dad, but what if something really happened to Rowan while he was alone with Maisie? Fuck, no.

Aelin’s pack was a lot simpler than Maisie’s. Something to sleep on, her toothbrush. She could survive one night without her skincare routine. Her gaze landed on a little box on a tall shelf.

She grabbed a tissue and enveloped two pills in it. One sleeping pill and the antidepressant tablet she needed to take with breakfast. It wasn’t a big deal, and her depressive episodes only got easier to deal with time. She just didn’t want Rowan—or a judge—finding out about it. She had seen parents losing custody for a lot less.

Not that she thought Rowan would take her to court anytime soon. In fact, he was adamant that they didn’t need lawyers when they first decided to co-parent Maisie.

But Aelin had very little room for mistakes when it came to her daughter. Besides, Rowan did criticize her parenting on a daily basis.

For now, everything was under control. He doesn’t care about her, and it doesn’t affect Maisie. There was no need for him to know about her antidepressants.

Aelin still waited a little longer to go. Maisie liked taking her time picking her toys.

Just like her dad, the intrusive thought came as quickly as it went away.

She grabbed Maisie’s hand and they went by foot. Rowan lived so close it wasn’t even worth it to get a bike, he was always one small block away.

Aelin tried to open his door, but it was locked. She frowned.

They lived in a military housing complex, right next to the Air Force base. Who the hell locked doors here? This was the safest it could get.

Rowan appeared a second later, and the confused look she saw him wearing through the window was almost comical.

“What’s going on?”

Aelin shrugged, trying to act nonchalant. “Just making sure Mais doesn’t become half-orphan.”

He shifted on his feet. “You don’t have to.” Something charged passed behind Rowan’s eyes. Aelin looked away.

“I know.” She swallowed and entered the house a second later, without invitation. It wasn’t her job to read into Rowan’s feelings, so she wouldn’t.

The first thing Aelin did was go into Fenrys’ old room and put the bedsheets she brought from home. He moved out years ago, so it meant only half of the STDs this bed used to have were still lingering. It’d have to do.

She found them in the kitchen, Rowan gathering supplies while Maisie painted her coloring book at the other end of the table.

Aelin grabbed the first knife she saw and pointed at him. Rowan didn’t look surprised.

“Sit.”

He leaned against the counter, arms crossed. “I would, but I’m not mentally ready to dine a microwave meal.”

Aelin narrowed her eyes. She knew about all the drowsiness and fatigue that came after an anxiety attack. Rowan should be resting, not playing chef.

“I can use a pan,” she spit out, then looked at his pans. For fuck’s sake, why did he have so many? Aelin picked one she didn’t know the exact purpose, but would do. “This one, for example, is perfect for making pasta. I’m making pasta tonight.”

When Rowan opened his mouth, Maisie beat him to it.

“Mommy.”

Both of them turned to her.

“I think we should let Daddy make dinner,” she politely insisted in a matter-of-fact tone.

Aelin’s jaw went slack.

Did she just say Rowan makes better dinner? In her face?

By the triumphant grin he wore, Maisie did.

”You can cut the vegetables,” he offered.

Aelin squinted her eyes and sat on the table, begrudgingly accepting the role of sous-chef.

Silence took over, and she couldn’t stop thinking about what happened today. That bully teacher. Rowan going to the hospital. She swallowed a lump in her throat. It was her fault.

Aelin was stubborn, but she’d be damned if she’d let her little girl go near that teacher ever again.

“Maisie?”

Her daughter hummed.

“There’s this other school your Aunt Sellene told your dad about. I was thinking we should take a look there on Monday. We could go to Skull’s Bay when we’re done.”

The pirate-themed restaurant she loved to go to. She looked at Rowan to see if he looked mad that she decided this without telling him, but his eyes looked soft. There was even a tiny tilt in the corner of his lip.

That wasn’t Maisie’s reaction, though.

“I don’t need school.”

Just like that, Rowan’s soft moment ended.

“And why’s that?” He demanded, arms crossed.

Their daughter dropped her colored pencil and fully turned to her dad. “Because I’m a smartie about everything.” A pause. “Duh!”

Rowan clamped his lips together, trying to keep a straight face, and Aelin’s reaction was pretty much the same. If they laughed, Maisie would think she won this argument.

Aelin took a deep breath, trying to compose herself, and thought of a good argument to beat this one.

“You’re right, kiddo. You’re too smart for your own good.” Aelin heavily sighed, letting her daughter think she had the upper hand. “I guess I‘ll have to call Aunt Sellene and tell you won’t be joining Bree at school.”

Breanna, Sellene’s daughter. She and Maisie were thick as thieves.

“Wait.”

Aelin and Rowan exchanged a look. They were so close.

Maisie continued, “You didn’t tell I’d play with Bree.”

Rowan continued to prepare dinner, pretending this wasn’t a big deal. “You’d play with Bree every day. I’d make sure you two stay in the same class.”

The little girl fidgeted with her pencil, brows furrowed. Aelin would pay good money to know what was going on inside her head, but it wasn’t too difficult to tell.

“I’ll think about it,” was the only thing she said before going back to her drawing.

The stubbornness was one of the few traits Maisie inherited that couldn’t be blamed on one parent. She had gotten it from both of them.

“I’ll think about it”? In Maisie language, that was very close to becoming a Yes.

Not that the kid had much of a choice here, but it was best to let her think she did.

Rowan seemed think the same thing as her. His surprised look turned triumphant when their gazes met, and when his slightly parted lips reshaped themselves into a smile, Aelin grinned back.

This day had been hell, so she’d enjoy this small win.

A/N: I highly recommend reading the bonus chapter 3.5 before reading chapter 4

A/N 2: I promise I won’t hurt baby Maisie ever again! I did it for the plot!!

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Tales the Songs Weave

Ch.22<< >>Ch.24

CW: none

Chapter 23: 'Till We're Invisible...

Word count: 4.8K

Doing the whole ‘reversal of knowing a person’ to ‘not pretending they don't exist’ is a hassle.

You try not to get too bothered by it as life makes and breaks its course, but it's still a blow to your heart, perfectly settling a bigger and new scar that'll last for a good while. Maybe even forever.

The decision that was mutually agreed on was the worst, especially dealing with it from Miguel. Even with the basic number of texts you sent, he would egregiously find a way to respond in such a manner that conveyed he could give two flying shits, if not less.

It was very annoying, like pulling teeth. You were aware of his method, and you wanted to bite that bullet and let it float away in the endless breeze, but your stubbornness was winning as you tightened onto that desperation of wanting to fade on some type of positive note. Or, more realistically, a neutral one.

That part was dangling for dear life, while the other was fighting to let go.

When he left for the actual last time, you rewound that evening non-stop in your brain. Not a single detail was lost, and you could recite the argument and the following pacifying conversation verbatim.

It also didn't help that you could still taste his lips on yours.

Your thoughts would drift, the many what-ifs plaguing you if either he or you had removed that watch. Would he have tried to dismiss them and then proceeded to take you back into his mouth? What if they never needed help? Would it still have gone the same way? Hundreds more haunted you.

Ronnie took notice of your weird one-eighty mood shift—well, more of a ninety-degree turn.

You were slightly better after finally coming to some type of conclusion. There were still a few or more inquiries that stuck to you, like hot glue on a broken furniture piece. Was the canon a physical element or merely a hypothetical concept that is only talked about? How legitimate is it exactly? What would happen if a canon was wrong? Were you really supposed to not exist?

You regret not asking for some tangible proof and evidence.

But at the end of the day, it was a momentary experience. An encounter that you wish would have lasted for much longer.

Mindlessly shelving items, you felt a sudden tap on your shoulder, pulling you out of whatever world of wonder you stuck yourself in.

“Hm? How may I help you?” You casually peer up, expecting a customer, only to see Ronnie staring at you with a quirked brow.

“You were out of it again. I said you can go on ahead and take your break now.” She turned to the racks before looking back at you. “And to also tell you that you've been stuffing most of the things in that box here.”

You glanced up to be met with clothes, books, and a few board games, all disorganized and shoved in a spot where wooden figures are supposed to be.

“Oh, right. I'm sorry. I'll fix this and put them in the right spot. You can go ahead and start my break timer now, if you'll like.”

Ronnie blew a raspberry and lowered herself to the balls of her feet. “You honestly think I'm going to do that? I know I like using my boss powers for... certain intentions, but I occasionally like to use them for good too.”

You rolled your eyes, and she gave you a few playful punches. “But no, I'm not going to do that. I'll take care of this. You go on and relax that pretty head of yours.” She started to remove the articles of clothing, putting them in the box before moving onto the books.

“Ronnie, it's okay; I made the mess, and I'll fix it.”

“How have you been doing?”

You blinked and rolled your neck at the sudden tightness. “How am I doing?”

“I'm pretty sure that's what I said. How are you doing?”

“I, um, I think I'm okay. Yeah, I'm still taking it day by day.” 

She clicked her tongue and sighed. “You think you're okay, or you know you're okay?”

Your mouth went dry, and your throat randomly felt sore. You haven't told Ronnie about what exactly went down when Miguel came that day. It's been close to two weeks, and you were hoarding up all those feelings.

You didn't want to burden her anymore with the mess you're dealing with. She's already done so much that you felt as if you had to step back.

“Yeah. I'm–I'm fine.”

She twisted her lips to the side and ran her fingers down to detangle knots from her hair. “You don't have to be by yourself during this.”

The guilt was feasting heavily on your soul. “I-I know. It's like I've been saying, it'll pass eventually.” It has to.

Ronnie didn't say anymore and rubbed your back. “Alright, I'm not going to pester you. But just know, I'm always here. And I'm still not afraid to find him and beat his ass with trusty ol’ lummy over there.”

She exaggerated her wave over to the checkout counter. A twitchy, small smirk made its way when Ronnie hugged you.

“Thanks, Ronnie. But I still think that isn't necessary.”

“Middle ground. If I personally see him myself while casually out and about, I will find a way to make the bat magically appear.”

You silently muttered, “Oh my gosh,” dramatically dragging your fingers down your face and giving a sidelong glance.

“There will be no barrier. Now go and take your legally mandatory break that has suddenly been pushed to an hour and a half.” She stood up and stretched her arms in the air, leaving you slightly befuddled.

“Are you su-”

“If you ask me if I'm sure, an extra thirty will be added.”

Your mouth opened when she jutted in again.

“And if you tell me you don't want to leave me here by myself for that long, you're getting the rest of the day off.”

She knew how to take advantage of these situations, and you were aware you weren't going to win this no matter how many objections you projected at her.

With a huff and a raspberry of your own, you took the undeserved leisure time, eyeing that smug grin while you gathered up your bag. You acknowledged the care she was giving with another embrace and made your way out to get something to chow down on.

Stopping in front of the Asian street food restaurant, you debated on heading inside and relishing the tasty cuisines when your mind aimlessly migrated to the day you two dined here. The comforting sway you both invited when he discarded his sunglasses, gazing into those beautiful ruby-reds, that culminated a sense of ease and reassurance. How the conversations made it seem like no one else was in the building besides him and you.

Realizing your hand was on the handle, you drew away and persuaded yourself that you were in the mood for anything else. 

Settling on a simple chicken wrap, cookies, and fresh fruit, you took the meal to go and ventured wherever your legs led you. You absently munched on the sugary pastry goodness, loving the unpopulated sidewalks before the rush. You were always thankful for having an 11 a.m. lunch instead of noon; you didn't have to endure the bustling nature of crowds or long winded lines and angry customers who held them up just because they didn't have an extra pickle on their sandwich. 

You took advantage of these soothing moments.

Ambling more down and finishing the last of your grapes, you stumbled on an overfamiliar space. Blanking out for a second, you groaned out and plopped down on the bench. You did your best to ignore the park, finding ways to steer clear of this part at all times. But even your body clashes with your mind and reasoning.

The adjacent bench remained empty, but your brain sought to create a visualization of him. You could distinctly remember it all, despite wanting to erase it. You dared not come this way after that last night, when he ran away. It added way too much salt to that wound. A truck load on it.

Tirades of reminiscence frequently bombard your nonchalant feelings for him. You strived to keep it at bay, but there's times like these when it's of no use.

You allowed it to go, just for this day. That night will always be near and dear to you. He left an imprint on your heart. You reached for your phone and clicked on his name.

‘Thank you.’

That was the last message. 

You remember eyeing those three dots going on for nearly two minutes, boring at the screen hellbent on what he was going to say. Your brain virtually knew he wasn't going to send his genuine thoughts or his true words, but that lowly fraction of false hope was sneaking its way into the heart.

When those dots stopped for a few seconds and then continued bouncing, you felt your pulse and heart racing. Maybe he was ready to prove you wrong; he was going to have that sliver of hope prosper and scream, ‘I told you so!’

You did say, ‘I told you so,’ but it was the major side that won.  

Blinking back whatever sentiment was trying to brew, you slipped your phone back into your pocket, holding one last stare at the wooden seat before standing up. You still had plenty of time to wander about, so you took a deeper look into the more downtown vicinity.

It was crowded, but that's to be expected as it's the main hub section. Hover cars speeding by, followed by blaring honks, was such a huge contrast from the serene park that's less than ten minutes from here. 

You dodged people in expensive business attire who were too busy tapping away on their tablets or talking into their watches, which was a hassle. They would bump into you as you muttered an apology, but only to receive a scowl or a “watch it!” in return.

No wonder he barely came out here. If this was a scene you had to grudgingly witness every morning of every day, you would stay stuck up in that stuffy skyscraper too.

You momentarily came to a stop, apologizing to a person who almost ran into you. The tower was deadlocked in your line of sight. You unexpectedly felt cold, despite it being a hot summer day. Goosebumps pricked at your skin as his giant castle leered down at you.

The only difference was that there was no moat. No snapping sharks swimming in lava. No. It was simply automatic doors that were in between you and his domain. 

The world seemed silent, a suspended notion, as time and the ones in front and behind were coming to a frozen standstill.

Your brain was rushing with questions like a rapid river racing downstream into a waterfall. Do you dare step in? Would you be immediately identified by his insane technology? Would you get kicked out by security once you were recognized?

Would he be on the lower floor level? What would happen if he was and you saw each other?

Your legs trembled, and your feet took hardy steps as if they were ready to collapse at any given moment. Your throat parched, clenching like a child twisting a colorful, plastic bendy straw. It was territory you were going to cross; someone was lowering the drawbridge for you.

Or maybe you misunderstood and might drop straight into the trenches. 

You were really going to go in. To trek into his hellish arena. Holding your breath, the doors slid open, and a waft of cool A/C blasted into your face. All you could see was black, your nails burying into palms, breaking some of the skin. You took a deep breath in and swiveled until you were overlooking the active citygoers again. 

“This isn't worth it. I'm not going to just rush into this without—”

Swarms of people were shrieking, pointing up at something from the side of the corporate building.

“Someone is falling! Someone jumped!”

Marginally confused, you pressed through the crowds to see what the commotion was; if somebody had leapt, surely the hundreds of spiders residing in there would've had a prevention plan for it happening. Surely.

Scooting closer, you squinted and shielded your eyes from the sun to get a better view. From what you could distinguish, it was a person in a black suit; you couldn't tell if he was running from something or not, and another figure was nosediving after them. You adjusted and cupped both of your hands on your forehead to see a red and blue suit…

That red and blue suit belonging to a distinctive individual.

“What the hell?! Mig- uh, Spider-Man! Spider-Man!” You jolted out, stumbling and bumping into others; they didn't seem to care as a waterfall of vividly bright dots dispersed in the same direction as Miguel and the other figure.

Your eyes nearly bulged out of your sockets at the situation unraveling. You couldn't possibly fathom what was going on in Miguel's head. Is that a bad guy he's chasing? It must be if hundreds of heroes are chasing after them. But why is this villain also wearing a suit? Could they have gone rogue?

You sprinted, wanting to keep up, but the surge of people intrigued to witness this spectacle was getting in your way. No matter how many times you said “excuse me,” no one bothered to budge. You tried to keep your attention on the action, but by the time you finally escaped the abundance of the crowd, he was long gone.

With a racing heart and a garbled yet stunned brain, you make your way out of the cluster and back to the park. Collapsing on the bench, your leg bounced and your brain rushed as you strived to recount what you had witnessed. Haphazardly yanking your phone out of your pocket, almost dropping it on the pathway, you hover over his name and click on it.

Is this a good time to text him? He's obviously busy with whatever he was chasing, but your worries were overtaking you.

“I'll just text him now, and whenever he's not busy, he can respond. Yeah.”

Your fingers typed faster than they ever have, asking if everything was alright and to get back to you as soon as he could. Your daily alarm for your break popped up, and you opted to hail a taxi back into work instead of speed-walking back to beat the clock. Arriving three minutes ahead, Ronnie couldn't help but lift a brow when you came hurrying into the door.

“I know you like to be here early to beat the clock, but calm down; you're good—”

Ronnie dropped a container on a nearby display table, her gaze tensely locked on yours. You were disheveled, like you'd seen a ghost or been haunted by one. She tapped her nail on the lid, waiting for you to tell her what you encountered.

Admittedly, barging in the shop wasn't the brightest idea because now Ronnie isn't going to let it go until you're forced to talk about it with her. With her hand on her hip and her finger at you, she was prepared to get you to speak when a customer asked for some service.

“I'll ring you up. One minute, please.” You thanked whoever was looking out for you, striding to the back to clock in and hop right back into work.

For the rest of the workday, you were in a cold sweat. Ronnie gave sidelong glances, but you pretended to not notice, taking every shopper that waltzed in or doing all the menial tasks. You were home free when the last person exited the building. After finishing up the rest of your cleaning and snatching your bag, Ronnie blocked your way out.

“Alright, I held it in all day. What made you nervous when you came in?” She folded her arms and leaned back on the door.

“It was nothing, just a dog chasing after me, but I got away, as you can see.” You gave a thumbs up and painted your best ‘I'm fine’ smile. “So you go ahead and rest up; I'll see you tomorrow, Ronnie.”

Taking that step forward to get the point across, she didn't budge an inch. Shaking her head, Ronnie groaned out. “I'm worried for you. You can't run in with this deathly and deranged look; then tell me it was something simple like a dog.”

“Dogs can be scary.”

“Some can, but I know it wasn't a dog. Well, unless it was a certain dog that I can't stand—”

“Ronnie.”

“Then tell me. I'm seriously worried for you. You can't keep bottling all of this up. You have to let yourself get something off your chest.”

You bit your bottom lip, your head shifting downward with the blank gaze rolling in. She wasn't going to quit; she's persistent as all hell, and it was beginning to annoy you. You really wanted to go home and be by yourself to check if he replied back, but you knew the more you held off, the less you'd be trapped.

Closing your eyes and titling your head back, a raspberry escaped. “I saw him. No, he didn't see me; I don't even think he was aware of my presence. It freaked me out more than it should; that's why I came in the way I did.”

Ronnie's downturned lips and knitted brows weren't helping your cause or mood. You hoped she was going to stop there and let you go home, for your sake. She couldn't do much to help you, as much as she wished, but with your obstinate demeanor, she might as well have been a fish stuck in the bowl.

“Alright, I won't force it out of you. But you're withering away, and you know you can't hide that from me.”

You expelled a long sigh and nodded. “I know. Have a good rest of your night; see you tomorrow, Ronnie.”

With that exchange, you carefully closed the wooden entrance and made your way home. You are fine; why couldn't she understand that? You got that ending to the final chapter, and yeah, sure, there was no epilogue or continuation that uncovered the many unanswered mysteries cemented so deep that it may even go further than six feet; at least you still were given something. 

And yet, it still wasn't enough.

It's still not enough for you to let go. It's still not enough for you to forget him because you know you never will. It's still not enough for you to close the threshold on this self-battle you're facing to make something that doesn't work.

The many days that you've gone by, reciting this shitty mantras of how it's over and how you need to let him wash away with the wild tides of the ocean and you'll make it out okay, were nothing but complete and utter bull. All you've done is tell yourself lies after lies.

And you didn't make it any better for yourself.

You find yourself slowing your steps, standing there frozen, forever consuming those pergolas that want to welcome you in, which taunts you into a false sense of security of dreams and memories. The lush and tempting evocation of your first kiss or how breathtaking Miguel was next to those flowers.

You desperately had to get back home, especially when you heard your phone ping. That self-preservation of not looking was chipping away. You ran like you were competing in the hundred-meter dash, practically clambering into the elevator and into your apartment.

Kicking your shoes off, not caring where they were, you slumped on the couch and opened up your phone… To an email from some store newsletter going on about a sale.

The disappointment did crash down hard when you checked that he didn't even read the message.

“I guess whatever that person he was going after must have been a big deal.” You tossed your cell on the coffee table and went to cook up some instant noodles, lounging on the sofa, half watching some animated film, before laying down and passing out.

Day after day, you messaged Miguel, asking if he was okay. You didn't want to worry, but your brain would gun it to the worst-case scenarios whenever he didn't respond. You tried to squeeze more presumptive thoughts, such as he's busy, he's overly tired, and he's just recovering.

The delusion was tucked in all over.

Every ding was a heart attack. You would drop everything and scramble to your phone, only to be met with this disillusionment when it was some stupid email or a video someone uploaded. 

You ended up having to turn off all notifications except for messages, and the only person who was contacting you was Ronnie, who was checking in.

Two days turned into four, and four into a week when you had enough horrors you were conjuring (to the point you believed you might have been dead), you were ready to call him up when you saw that all your messages had been read. Your blood boiled, but you cooled yourself. Maybe he just read them, and he's going to say something. Or maybe he's been so caught up in whatever happened that he couldn't exactly get back to you. Benefit of the doubt, you are willing to give it.

That, and you don't want Ronnie to raise any suspicion.

‘Hey, I'm just seeing if everything is alright. I know it must be madness over there for you. I really hope you're doing okay and they're not stressing you out more than before.’

You hit send, your eyes not leaving that confirmation. It was delivered. Then a minute went by. It hadn't changed. Minute two, still nothing. You were ready to give up when it switched to read.

Your heart was ready to leave your chest. Keeping a lookout for Ronnie, you glanced back between her office door and the phone. You were patient, ready for those little circles to emerge. You tapped your foot to the beat of the song playing over the speaker, nerves wrecking throughout your body.

“Come on, Miguel. Say something. Please, say anything—”

The door handle began to jiggle, and that's when you spooked yourself, sliding your phone back in your pocket, and rubbed your clammy hands on your pants. Trying to be as casual as physically possible, you pretended to busy yourself by rearranging little figures on a miniature storage rack.

“The feed to the security cameras is in my office. Remember?” She sat a bag of old electronics on the counter and ruffled her already unruly hair with her free hand.

Damn technology. Always ruining your position.

You removed your hands from the items and folded them in between your thighs. At least you didn't have to scramble to come up with an excuse for why you were acting in a weird manner.

“I'm not going to fight you over why his name was in your mouth, but just know, it's going to ruin my psychological state the more it settles. I'm letting you know now.” She vocalized in a chirpy but non-joking tone.

If she wasn't going to engage and tussle you for it, then that's the path you were sticking with. You'll tell her eventually. 

Eventually.

You didn't hear your phone go off once for that entire day. You believed you might have accidentally turned it down during your panic state, and work was non-stop, swamping you enough to not even give it a quick peep. Though you were glad to have the distractions, it took away from the daydreams of what he might have messaged you.

Yet, when you got home that evening, you were met with your sided concerns, forever stagnant on that screen.

You felt yourself being reeled back into that realm of emptiness. You veered off into the void, hot tears descending down your cheeks right onto your phone.

Later that night, you blindly found yourself back on the dating app, swiping left and right, giving low-effort conversations and flirts, before giving up and pleasuring yourself with your vibrator and hand. 

You had to restrain yourself from calling out his name when you got into it. It was going well, from the low buzzing to your fingers pumping in sensual yet sporadic motions. Turning the intensity up, you pressed the button one more than what you were originally going for, and the toy amplified.

Shuddering, you bit down on a pillow, stifling your moans, letting your body become free from the intruding thoughts. Then you granted that embark. That unchained will to let it wander, to let it go into a more imaginative world. 

His name slipped from your lips during the venture of the moment. 

You jumped, removing your fingers and tossing the vibrator at the foot of your bed. You huddled up, your knees touching your chest, as a hefty breath brushed against your skin.

Your mind was gone, and you didn't know what to do anymore.

Ronnie refused to allow you to submit back to your fallen endeavor when you returned to work after learning (she forced it out of you), you had wallowed in bed all day and eaten nothing. Taking your break with yours, she treated you to delicious ice cream, buying you both a huge brownie sundae.

“You're talking. I'm not taking no for an answer either. I'm not taking an ‘I'm fine;’ an ‘I swear I'm okay;’ I'm not accepting any of that.” 

She was holding you at gunpoint. Her persistence was undeniably relentless, and the only way out was to cave in.

So you did. Merely halfway.

You excluded the details on what you exactly saw him doing; you took out a bunch of specifics regarding what was told to you that day he came by. But you did give enough that could satisfy Ronnie's needs.

From how you felt under pressure to text him to get his stuff, bits of the reason why you two couldn't be together (you had to make one up), and how you shared a kiss.

“Please tell me you didn't—”

“I promise you, we simply kissed. That's all.”

“Because I swear I would pummel him into the ground and have you...”

She took your heated silence with caution and took a huge bite of her sundae. You felt depleted by the end of it. Ronnie ended up changing the subjects, chatting about some family drama regarding changing the name of the shop and how her aunt had to be bailed out of jail for the fourth time in three months.

You mostly listened, ad-libbing here and there, as you dazed away. 

There was something so funny about this whole plight. How a simple person can work their way into your life and change your everyday routine, shaping it into this ever trivial but marvelous reality. Then, one day, like a powerful storm striking down an unsuspecting town, it comes crashing into a pile of rubble. Well, at least with rubble, you could probably make out what the structure was originally; this was crumbled into nothingness that even an expert couldn't tell you.

Almost finishing the last of your dessert, you looked into the empty cup and the small scoop of ice cream and brownie crumbs on the spoon. A treat is good at the moment, and when you get to the final bite, all you want to do is savor it forever.

You don't want it to end.

You brought another one after your shift, waiting to get home to munch on it. Kicking your shoes off, you placed a record on the turntable and sat down in your main comfort zone. Feet on the coffee table, you tugged out the cursed electronic device, unlocked it, and closed your eyes.

Earlier in the morning, you sent a single message pleading for him to say anything, to relay a sign that he was okay, that he is okay. You still had your phone on silent to not psych yourself out.

With bated breath, you opened one eye, then flung the phone on the other end of the couch and ate the rest of the dessert. It was just you and the soft melodies in the back.

You gave up four days later. 

You finally decided to give yourself some self-care. You gave your heart and mind the break they probably needed.

With a heavy soul and a heavy hand, Miguel was just another number in your messages. A bunch of random digits that are in your phone log.

As large, thick tears flowed down, you couldn't tell if the weight was lifted or if it harbored you down even more.

You guess you had to let time reveal itself to you, no matter how much you needed that answer now.

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