#what would i even study. i feel old and dumb and tired

[hauntedbyjoel]

Show Me How

pairing: joel miller x f!reader warnings: age gap | oral (f & m) | unprotected sex | dirty talk | praise | virginity loss | gentle aftercare | no outbreak word count - 5.7k summary - He’s told himself a hundred times it can’t happen. He’s too old, too close to your family, too careful. But now you’re standing in front of him, asking him for the one thing he swore he wouldn’t give.

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You’d always told yourself it was harmless.

The crush. The looks. The way your stomach flipped when Joel said your name or glanced your way for a little too long. He was older in a way that should’ve been enough to stop this before it started. He’d known your family for years. Helped your uncle redo the kitchen. Fixed your car once when it stalled in your mom’s driveway. Brought over soup when you got sick last winter and couldn’t get out of bed.

He was just… around. Always steady. Always quiet. Always Joel.

And somehow, over time, that steadiness started to feel like gravity.

You learned his habits without meaning to. When he left for work, what time he ran errands, how he always wore that same faded Texas Longhorns shirt to mow the lawn on Saturdays. You pretended not to notice the way he looked at you sometimes, like he wasn’t sure if he should be. Like maybe he wanted to look away but didn’t.

You never let yourself believe he could actually want you. Not really.

Which is why showing up at his house tonight felt like something you weren’t supposed to do. Like stepping out of line in a way you couldn’t walk back from.

But you couldn’t stop thinking about it. About him.

About the fact that you were tired of feeling like the only one who hadn’t done anything. You hadn’t been touched, kissed right, wanted for more than a second. And more than that, you were tired of not knowing. Of being afraid you’d do it wrong. Say the wrong thing. Be too soft. Too quiet. Not enough.

And if you were going to ask anyone, it’d be him. Joel, who never rushed you. Who always noticed. Who fixed things with careful hands and never made you feel small.

That was what brought you to his door. And the second he opened it—hair damp, eyes tired, wearing sweatpants and a shirt you’d seen a dozen times before—your throat locked.

He blinked at you. Didn’t speak right away. Then: “You okay?”

You nodded, fingers curled in your hoodie sleeves. “Yeah. I was just… out. I didn’t know where else to go.”

Joel studied you for a beat, then stepped aside. “Come in.”

The door shut behind you with a soft click. You stood awkwardly in the entryway, clutching the sleeves of your hoodie like they might anchor you. Joel moved past without a word, walking toward the kitchen.

“Want some tea or somethin’?” he asked, already reaching for the kettle. “Still got the kind you like, I think.”

You nodded, unsure if your voice would even work right now. He filled the kettle. Lit the stove. Moved around the kitchen like this was just another Tuesday night and not the most reckless thing you’d ever done.

The house was warm. Familiar. You’d been here before for birthday barbecues, a couple of holidays, quick visits with your family. But never alone and never this late. Never when the windows were dark and the only light came from that little flickering candle on the counter.

Joel glanced over his shoulder. “You can sit, y’know.”

You did. Quietly, on the edge of the couch like your body didn’t know where to land. Your heart wouldn’t stop stuttering. You weren’t sure what he saw when he looked at you, but it didn’t feel like much. Not yet.

He brought over a mug. Set it down on the coffee table. Then took the armchair across from you and let out a low sigh.

“So,” he said. “You wanna tell me what’s really goin’ on?”

You looked down at the mug. Steam rising. Hands still tucked in your sleeves. “It’s dumb.”

“Doesn’t sound dumb.”

You let the silence hang for a beat too long. Then: “Can I ask you something?”

Joel nodded. “Course.”

Your heart climbed straight into your throat.

You stared at the mug, every nerve in your body buzzing, fingers twitching. It wasn’t that you didn’t know what to say—it was that once you said it, everything would change.

“I don’t have a lot of experience,” you said finally. Quiet. Careful. “Like… any.”

Joel tilted his head. But didn’t say anything.

“I mean, I’ve kissed people. But I’ve never really…” You swallowed hard. “I just feel behind. Everyone I know has—done things. They know what they like. What to do. And I just… don’t.”

Joel leaned back a little. His jaw worked once. Still quiet.

“I’m not saying this right,” you said quickly. “It’s not that I want to rush or that I feel like I have to, I just—” You looked up, finally, and your stomach flipped. “You’re the only person I trust to… to teach me.”

He stared at you.

Not with shock. Not with judgment. Just stillness. Like he was trying to decide if you meant it, if you even understood what you were asking.

“Sweetheart…” he started, then stopped.

“I’m not trying to make things weird,” you rushed. “And I know it’s selfish. And I’m probably not even your type or whatever, and I’ll never bring it up again if it’s weird, I just—”

Joel didn’t say anything right away.

You could hear the second hand ticking on the clock across the room. The silence felt like pressure on your chest. You weren’t sure what you expected when you showed up here, but it wasn’t this. This long, still moment where he just looked at you like he didn’t know what to do.

When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet. Careful.

“You’re so young.”

It wasn’t harsh. It didn’t sound like judgment. If anything, it sounded like he was trying to talk himself out of something.

You stared down at your lap, throat tightening.

“I know,” you said softly, barely more than a breath. “You don’t have to say it.”

Joel sat up straighter.

“That’s not what I meant,” he said, quickly but still gentle. “I’m not—I didn’t mean it like that.”

You gave a small nod, even though you weren’t really sure what to say. Your fingers curled tighter around the sleeves of your hoodie. Your eyes stayed on the floor.

“I just thought...” Your voice thinned out. You cleared your throat, tried again. “I just thought maybe—never mind.”

Joel’s brow furrowed. “What?”

“I shouldn’t have said anything,” you mumbled. “You’ve always been nice to me and I... I shouldn’t have ruined that.”

His heart dropped. He saw your hands shaking, saw the way you blinked too fast.

Then he saw it, your lashes catching just slightly, that faint shimmer in your eyes before you ducked your head.

You were trying not to cry.

“Hey,” Joel said, gently. “Hey, no—don’t do that.”

You shook your head, swallowing hard. “It’s fine. Really. I don’t want you to feel bad. Or like I’m putting you in a weird spot. I just—”

Your voice cracked. You turned your face away.

And that was it for him.

“Aww, baby,” Joel said softly, barely more than a breath. “Come here.”

You didn’t move at first, but he was already leaning in, hand reaching out slow, warm, careful. His palm cupped the side of your jaw, thumb brushing under your eye like he could erase the tears before they fell.

“You didn’t ruin anything,” he murmured. “You hear me?”

You nodded, barely. Joel’s other hand found yours, steady and sure, lacing his fingers between yours like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“I just didn’t expect it,” he said. “Didn’t let myself think about it. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want you.”

Your breath hitched.

“I’ve wanted you,” he said, voice lower now, rough around the edges. “I just didn’t think I was allowed to.”

You looked up at him, blinking slowly.

Joel’s thumb traced your cheekbone.

“I’d take my time with you,” he said. “Make sure you felt safe. Make sure it felt good. I wouldn’t rush anything.”

You leaned into his hand just slightly but it was enough.

Joel’s eyes dropped to your lips.

“You still want this?” he asked.

You nodded, soft and breathless.

“Okay,” he whispered. “Okay, sweetheart.”

For a moment, neither of you moved. His thumb still brushed your cheek, your fingers still curled inside his. You were so aware of the space between you. It was barely anything, and yet everything. You could feel the warmth of his body, the steady rhythm of his breathing. It made you ache.

Joel hesitated.

“You sure you want me to kiss you?”

God, he really was trying. Still giving you an out, even now. Even when your whole body was already leaning in.

You nodded again, just as shy. “Please.”

That was all he needed.

Joel leaned in slowly, like he was afraid to startle you, and tilted his head just enough to brush his lips against yours. It was soft at first, barely a kiss at all, more like a question. When you didn’t pull away, when your breath caught and your hand tightened around his, he kissed you again, deeper this time. Warmer.

His other hand slid to your waist, grounding you.

You shifted closer without thinking, your knees brushing his thigh. Joel made a low sound in his throat, something surprised and almost pained. He pulled you gently, letting you settle in his lap with careful hands, like he didn’t want to scare you.

You felt so small like that. Not in a bad way. Just held. His arms around you, his mouth on yours, the scratch of his stubble against your skin. Every inch of him was solid and steady.

He kissed you like he had time. Like he didn’t need anything else.

When he finally pulled back, his hand lingered on your cheek.

“You okay?” he murmured.

You nodded, a little dazed. Your lips tingled, your heart pounding. “I—I’ve never kissed anyone like that.”

Joel smiled, soft and a little crooked. “Yeah? You did real good, sweetheart.”

Your cheeks burned, but you smiled too. You felt warm. Safe. Wanted.

And you still wanted more.

Joel kissed you again, deeper this time, like he was trying to show you what he couldn’t say out loud. His hands were warm where they held your waist, steady even though you could feel how tense he was. Like he was holding back something big. Something sharp.

“Alright,” he murmured against your mouth. “We’re not gonna rush. Just want you to feel good.”

You nodded, breathless. “Okay.”

He leaned back, just enough to look at you. “Tell me somethin’, sweetheart.”

Your heart skipped. “What?”

His thumb brushed your cheek. “What’ve you done before?”

You blinked, nervous all over again. “Not much. Just… kissing. A little touching.”

“Okay,” he said softly. “That’s good. Just wanna know what you’re comfortable with.”

You bit your lip. “I want this.”

“I know. But I still wanna go slow.” He paused. “Has anyone ever touched you? Down here?”

His hand slid gently along your thigh, stopping just shy of where you were warm and aching.

You shook your head.

Joel’s eyes flicked to yours, his voice low. “And you?”

Your cheeks flushed. You nodded. “Yeah. A few times.”

He smiled in a way that was gentle, not mocking. “Good. That’s good, baby.”

He leaned down, pressing a kiss to your neck. “I’m gonna touch you now. Just with my hand. That alright?”

“Yes,” you breathed.

Joel moved with such care, his fingers easing between your thighs, slipping beneath the hem of your shorts. When he found you already soft and wet, he groaned low in his throat.

“Jesus,” he muttered. “You feel that?”

You nodded, shivering.

“This all for me?”

“Yeah,” you whispered.

“Shit,” he exhaled. “You’re soaked.”

His fingers moved slow, parting you gently. You gasped, your hips twitching.

“Too much?” he asked.

“No,” you said, breath catching. “Just… new.”

He kissed the side of your face, murmured, “We’ll take it nice and easy. You tell me how everything feels, alright?”

You nodded.

He stroked you carefully—exploring, learning. Finding the spots that made your breath hitch, your thighs tighten, your lashes flutter. His fingers circled your clit, featherlight at first, and you whimpered.

“There it is,” he said, voice husky. “That feel good?”

You nodded frantically, too overwhelmed to speak.

“You’re bein’ so good for me, baby. You let me take care of you, yeah?”

Your whole body was warm and buzzing, every nerve alive under his touch. When he slid one finger inside, slow and patient, you gasped.

“Okay?” he whispered.

“Yeah,” you said, breathless. “Feels… full.”

He smiled against your cheek. “That’s what it’s s’posed to feel like. Just one for now. Gonna get you used to it.”

He curled it, just a little, and you whimpered again. Joel groaned.

“You don’t even know what you do to me,” he rasped. “Look at you. All pretty and sweet, takin’ my hand like it’s the only thing you ever needed.”

You clenched around him, involuntarily. His eyes darkened.

“Shit. You’re squeezin’ me already.”

You whimpered. “I—I don’t mean to—”

“I know,” he said, kissing you again, slow and deep. “Don’t you dare apologize.”

Joel kissed you through it, his lips warm and slow while his hand moved between your legs—gentle but focused, like he already knew your body better than you did. He didn’t rush. He didn’t push.

He paid attention.

Your hips bucked when his thumb brushed over your clit again, light and teasing. You gasped into his mouth.

“That feel good?” he murmured.

You nodded. “Mhm.”

He pulled back just enough to look at you—his eyes dark, focused. “Yeah? You like when I touch you there?”

Your face went hot, but you nodded again, biting your bottom lip.

He smiled—soft, proud, dangerously patient. “Good girl.”

Then he went back to it. Circling your clit in slow, deliberate strokes while that one finger inside you pressed deeper, exploring every new reaction you gave him. You were trying so hard not to make noise, but your body betrayed you. Your thighs trembled. Your stomach fluttered. Your breath hitched and broke.

Joel noticed everything.

“Y’ever touch yourself like this?” he asked, voice low.

You hesitated. “Not… like this.”

He raised a brow. “Not like what?”

You swallowed. “Not this slow.”

Joel chuckled quiet and warm against your skin. “That’s ‘cause you’ve never been taught right.”

His words hit low in your belly. You whimpered as he curled his finger again, hitting something deeper this time. Your legs jerked.

“There?” he asked, voice roughening.

You nodded, breath caught. “Y-Yeah—there.”

Joel groaned softly. “Fuck, baby. You’re already close, ain’t you?”

You nodded helplessly.

“Think you can come for me? Just from my fingers?”

You whined. He took it as a yes.

His movements stayed slow, but more rhythmic now. His thumb drawing tight little circles, his finger pumping deeper, coaxing something out of you so carefully, so sweetly. You clutched at his shirt, fingers trembling.

“Joel,” you gasped, barely able to breathe. “I—I think I’m—”

“That’s it,” he said. “Let it happen. Let me feel it.”

And then you broke.

It hit you like a wave—sharp and hot and overwhelming. Your body seized around him, legs clamping tight as the pleasure surged up and through you. You cried out, loud and wrecked, and Joel caught it with his mouth, kissing you hard while his hand worked you through every second of it.

“Goddamn,” he muttered. “You’re so fuckin’ pretty when you come.”

You were shaking when he finally pulled his hand away—slow and careful. He kissed your forehead, your cheek, the corner of your mouth.

“You okay?”

You nodded, dazed, still trembling in his lap. “Mhm. Just… I’ve never felt anything like that.”

Joel smiled. “You’ve got a lot more to feel, sweetheart.”

He kissed you again, longer this time. Slower. But now there was something heavier beneath it, something hungrier.

When he pulled back, his voice was deeper. Rough.

“Can I show you more?”

You looked up at him. Your limbs were still jelly, your heart still racing, but all you could think was yes. You trusted him. Even like this. Maybe especially like this.

You nodded.

“Yeah. Show me.”

Joel smiled when you said it. Not cocky, just warm. Soft around the edges, like the tension in him had finally given way to something sweeter. He tucked your hair behind your ear with a gentle hand, his other still cradling your bare thigh.

“Alright,” he murmured. “Then lie back for me.”

You nodded, breath still shaky. Your skin was buzzing, still oversensitive, still warm, but already aching for more.

You obeyed without a word, heart thudding as your spine met the mattress again. The air felt cooler now against your flushed skin, your body still buzzing from the first time he touched you like that.

Joel moved with you, settling between your legs without urgency. He leaned down and pressed a kiss just above your knee, then another, higher up. It was careful. Unrushed. Like he wanted you to feel every second of it.

“I want you to tell me if anything doesn’t feel good,” he murmured against your skin. “You just say the word, alright?”

You nodded.

“Words, baby.”

“Yes,” you breathed. “I will.”

“Good girl.”

His hands spread your thighs, slow and sure. Not to expose you, at least, not just that. More like reverence. Like unfolding something precious.

And then his mouth was on you.

Not forceful. Not greedy. Just… exploring. His tongue traced slow, soft circles, tasting you like he was learning something new and didn’t want to miss a detail. Every shift in your breath made him hum a little deeper, adjust, draw it out.

“Doing so good,” he murmured, pausing only to kiss the inside of your thigh again. “You let me know if it’s too much.”

It wasn’t.

It was everything.

You tried to be quiet, but your body had other plans.

Joel’s mouth moved with slow, purposeful rhythm. His tongue tracing lazy circles that built heat like kindling. He didn’t rush you. Just stayed right there, steady and patient, until your hips started to lift, chasing every pass of his tongue like it might save you.

And he noticed.

“Yeah,” he murmured, voice barely a rumble. “That’s it, sweetheart. Let me have it.”

His hands slid under your thighs, pulling you just a little closer, anchoring you in place like he was afraid you might float off. And maybe you would’ve. Your hands gripped the sheets, searching for something solid as your breathing turned erratic.

“Joel—” you whispered, and it cracked.

He groaned low in his throat, like hearing you say his name like that did something to him.

“Feels good?” he asked, and when you nodded too fast, too desperate, he just hummed against you. “Thought so. You’re so fuckin’ sweet down here.”

The tension coiled again, hotter this time, faster. Your legs started to tremble, and Joel didn’t let up. Just flattened his tongue, applied more pressure, and listened to you fall apart.

“Don’t fight it,” he whispered. “Let it happen.”

You came with a sound that barely made it out—a soft, broken cry, thighs clamping around his head as you shook through it. Joel didn’t stop. Didn’t even think about it. He kept licking you through every wave, gentle and relentless, holding your hips like you might slip away otherwise.

Only when your body finally gave out, hips twitching, breath coming in shallow little gasps, did he pull back. His mouth was shiny, lips wet, beard damp. And his eyes…

Like he’d just seen something holy.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then leaned up slowly, palm cupping your cheek.

“There she is,” he murmured, voice like honey and gravel. “That’s my girl.”

Your lashes fluttered. You felt soft all over, unraveled, held together only by the weight of his gaze.

Joel smiled, just a little.

“You did so good for me, baby. So fuckin’ good.”

He leaned in before you could even catch your breath.

One hand still cradled the back of your head, the other brushing your thigh, grounding you. His mouth met yours in a way that felt earned. It was soft at first, just lips to lips, letting you settle into it.

You tasted yourself on him immediately.

Warm. Humid. Faintly salty. It made your whole body shiver.

You pulled back, eyes fluttering open like it surprised you. Joel didn’t move far. His forehead rested against yours.

“Sorry,” he said, voice a little rough.

You shook your head. “No. I just… I’ve never…”

His thumb stroked your cheek. “It’s alright.”

You blinked up at him, still a little dazed. “That was… nice.”

Joel huffed a soft laugh, like he wasn’t sure what to do with that word. “Nice?”

You nodded, suddenly shy again. “I liked it.”

His smile turned quieter, almost reverent.

“Good,” he murmured. “That’s all I wanted.”

He kissed you again, deeper this time. Your fingers found the hem of his shirt, pushing it up slowly, and he let you. Let you explore his skin, the soft stretch of his stomach, the trail of hair leading down beneath his jeans.

And still, he didn’t rush.

Just kept kissing you until your body relaxed fully beneath his, until the last of your nerves melted into heat.

Joel pulled back just enough to look at you, his thumb brushing under your eye.

“You alright?” he asked, quiet.

You nodded. “I want to… I want to do something for you.”

His brow creased, surprised. “You don’t have to.”

“I want to.”

Your voice didn’t shake that time.

Joel hesitated like he was going to argue again, but then his gaze softened, and he gave the smallest nod. He leaned back against the pillows, watching you carefully—curious, cautious, but clearly affected.

You sat up slowly, heart pounding. Reached for his waistband with trembling fingers, giving him one last glance for permission. He lifted his hips, helping you ease his jeans down until he was bare to you.

Joel’s eyes darkened, but his voice stayed low. “You ever seen a man before? Like this?”

You shook your head, heart thudding. “Just… in pictures.”

He chuckled, more breath than sound. “Yeah?”

Your cheeks burned. “Not those kinds of pictures.”

He smiled, slow and fond. “Didn’t say they were.”

You swallowed. Then curled your fingers around him.

God he was warm. Heavy. Hard already. You inhaled sharply as your hand moved, just a little, feeling the weight of him against your palm.

Joel groaned. Quiet. Barely restrained.

“Jesus, baby…”

You looked up, eyes wide. “Did I do something wrong?”

He shook his head fast, eyes pinched. “No. Fuck, no. Just—been holdin’ back too long.”

You smiled, nervous but proud. Then you started to stroke him—tentative at first, just trying to feel out the rhythm.

Joel let out a soft, broken sound and tipped his head back.

“Just like that,” he muttered. “You’re doin’ so good.”

Your confidence grew with every soft grunt he made. Every time his hips twitched or his hand gripped the edge of the couch harder.

“You wanna try your mouth?” he asked, voice rough with restraint.

You blinked. “I… yeah. But I don’t know what I’m doing.”

Joel’s eyes locked on yours—hungry and warm all at once. He cupped your cheek. “That’s okay, baby. I’ll teach you.”

You shifted down between his legs slowly, your knees pressing into the couch cushions as your hands settled on his thighs. He was already breathing heavier, watching you with those dark, heavy-lidded eyes that made your stomach flip.

“Start with your hand,” Joel murmured, voice low and coaxing. “Get comfortable first.”

You nodded, wrapping your fingers around him again. The weight of it still shocked you. How hard he felt. How hot.

You gave him a slow stroke. Then another.

“That’s it,” he breathed. “Just like that. You’re doin’ perfect.”

The praise made your cheeks burn.

You looked up at him, a little shy. “Tell me what to do.”

Joel groaned. “Jesus, baby.”

His hand moved gently to your hair, not pushing, not guiding—just resting there. Steady.

“Kiss the tip,” he said softly. “Start there.”

You leaned in and pressed a hesitant kiss to the flushed head of his cock. His breath hitched. You did it again, slower, then let your tongue flick out to taste him.

“That’s it,” Joel said. His voice had gone hoarse. “Just your tongue, nice and easy.”

You licked a slow stripe up the underside, watching his stomach tense. He was biting back a sound, jaw locked tight.

“You can put it in your mouth now,” he said, rasping. “Only as much as you want.”

You parted your lips and wrapped them around him, just the tip at first. He exhaled sharply, hips twitching. You stilled, looking up at him in alarm, but Joel shook his head fast.

“Don’t stop,” he said. “You feel so fuckin’ good.”

You sank a little deeper, hollowing your cheeks. He groaned, one hand tightening slightly in your hair, still not pushing.

“Use your hand too, sweetheart,” he said. “You’re so good, baby. So fuckin’ good for me.”

Your hand stroked the base while your mouth worked the rest. You tried to keep a rhythm, breathing through your nose just like he told you.

When he swore under his breath, you felt it in your chest.

“Look at me,” he said.

You did. Eyes wide, lips stretched around him, cheeks flushed.

He groaned, deep and wrecked. “Fuck, that’s it.”

You took him deeper, feeling your throat tighten, your eyes sting. But you didn’t stop. You couldn’t. Not with the way he was looking at you.

“You okay?” he managed to ask, even through the haze.

You nodded around him, and he growled.

“Goddamn. You were made for this.”

You pulled off slowly, a little breathless, a string of spit catching between your lips and the tip of his cock. He was flushed, panting, hands clenched into fists beside him.

“Holy fuck,” he said, voice blown out. “You sure you’ve never done that before?”

You laughed quietly. “I told you I’d be a fast learner.”

Joel leaned forward and pulled you into his lap again. His hands were everywhere—your back, your thighs, the side of your neck.

“You still sure about all this?” he whispered.

You nodded. Quiet. A little nervous. But you didn’t look away.

His hand brushed down your thigh, then between your legs—stroking over you slowly, making sure you were ready. “Feels like you are,” he whispered. “But I need you to tell me.”

“I want you to,” you said, barely louder than a breath. “Please.”

He exhaled like that did something to him. Something deep.

“Okay,” he said. “I’m gonna go slow, alright? Real slow. You just hold on to me.”

You nodded again.

Then he lined himself up, hand guiding, the heat of him settling right where you were softest. “You let me know if it’s too much.”

The pressure started before you could prepare for it, warm and wide and stretching you in a way you didn’t expect. You gasped, instinctively grabbing his arm, nails digging in.

Joel stopped instantly. “Too much?”

“I—I don’t know,” you whispered. “It just—hurts a little.”

He leaned down, kissed your forehead, your cheek, your jaw.

“I know, baby,” he murmured. “You’re doing so good.”

His hand found yours, threading your fingers together. Then he kissed you again—slow and deep, distracting, stealing your focus from the tight pull of your body adjusting to him.

Bit by bit, he eased in further, pausing when your breath hitched, pressing kisses to your mouth until the discomfort dulled to something else. Something warmer.

When he was fully inside you, Joel didn’t move. He just held himself there, breathing hard against your skin. “You okay?”

You nodded, stunned by how full you felt. “I think so.”

“God, you’re tight,” he whispered. “So fuckin’ perfect.”

His hand brushed your hair back, and he kissed you again—gentler this time, slower. “Tell me when I can move.”

You blinked up at him, dazed, breathless. “Okay… now.”

Joel started to move, just barely. A gentle pull back, then a slow press in, rocking his hips with an almost reverent kind of care. He didn’t take his eyes off your face, not for a second.

“You’re doin’ so good,” he murmured. “Feelin’ okay?”

You nodded, still a little overwhelmed. The stretch still lingered, but there was something else starting to build beneath it—heat, pressure, something that made your toes curl when he pushed a little deeper.

He felt it.

“Yeah,” he whispered, voice rough with restraint. “There she is.”

He moved again, a little more confident this time, keeping his pace slow and steady. One hand stayed laced with yours. The other braced at your waist, thumb stroking gently over your skin.

Every inch of him felt impossibly warm. Full. You couldn’t believe how close he was, how real it was. And yet he still treated you like you might break.

“You okay?” he asked again, quieter now.

You bit your lip. “It… feels weird. Good. But—intense.”

His eyes darkened a little, smile soft at the corners. “Yeah? Gonna get better, sweetheart. Promise.”

He leaned down, kissed the side of your neck, murmuring something you barely caught—so tight, so sweet, can’t believe I’m inside you. The praise made your cheeks burn, made your hips tilt up without thinking.

He groaned. "Fuck, baby. Careful. You keep doin’ that, I won’t last long."

You looked up at him through half-lidded eyes, heat buzzing through your chest and down your spine.

“I don’t care,” you whispered. “I just want to feel you.”

Something about that must’ve broken the last of his resolve, because Joel kissed you again—messy this time, like he needed to feel your mouth while he kept moving inside you, slow but deep.

You gasped into the kiss when he hit a spot that made your whole body jolt.

“There?” he asked, voice low and strained.

You nodded fast. “Yes—God, Joel—”

“That’s my girl,” he murmured. “Just let go. I’ve got you.”

He kept hitting that spot, rhythm just right, hand tightening around yours like he could feel every wave of heat building inside you. You were shaking, thighs trembling, nails digging into his shoulder—

And then it happened.

You came with a breathless cry, body locking up around him, vision going hazy at the edges. Joel groaned, burying his face in your neck as he lost it too, hips stuttering, voice rough against your skin.

You must’ve dozed off at some point, warm and aching and curled into Joel’s side, barely able to keep your eyes open.

He didn’t fall asleep.

You stirred when you felt his hand brush your thigh—gentle, coaxing. Not trying to start something again. Just checking. Making sure you were okay.

“Hey,” he murmured. “C’mon, let’s get you cleaned up.”

You blinked, disoriented, but nodded. He helped you sit up slowly, one hand steady at your back. You winced just a little, hips sore, thighs still trembling, and he saw it.

“Easy,” he said, voice softer now. “I got you.”

Joel guided you to the bathroom, flipping on the dim light. He grabbed a towel, ran the tap until it was warm, and knelt in front of you like it was the most natural thing in the world. You watched him in the mirror—his face focused, his touch careful as he cleaned you up with slow, steady hands.

“Still okay?” he asked, glancing up at you.

You nodded, a little breathless. “Yeah. Just… sore.”

“That’s normal,” he murmured. “First time’s not easy. But you did real good.”

You looked down, cheeks burning.

He noticed that too. Stood up. Pressed a kiss to your forehead.

When he walked you back to bed, he helped you lie down, then disappeared for a second. You heard the fridge open, the sound of water filling a glass.

Joel came back with a bottle of ibuprofen and handed you the water. “Take a couple. You’ll be stiff in the morning.”

You gave him a sleepy smile. “What, no post-sex pancakes?”

He grinned. “Tomorrow.”

He climbed into bed beside you again, tugged you into his arms like he needed you close to sleep. You let your body settle into his chest, warm and safe and still humming from everything that happened.

His fingers traced your spine, slow and rhythmic.

“Get some rest,” he said. “M’not goin’ anywhere.”

You believed him.

And for once, that was enough.

[clioerato]

The Language of Steve Harrington’s Feelings

After everything — the underground base, the torture, the screaming, the bloody teeth, another concussion, and that awful, bleach-heavy smell that lingered in memory — Steve started learning Russian. Just… because. Because when you survive torture, when no one understands the words you’re screaming, you simply want to be able to speak.

And to be understood. Or not understood — that too.

He studied from old textbooks. Ordered cassettes and grammar guides, repeating harsh, growling words until they turned into honey and milk on his tongue. He scribbled awkward letters that, over time, became a graceful Cyrillic flow.

Steve didn’t tell anyone. Not Robin, not Nancy, not even Dustin. There weren’t any Russian language experts in Hawkins, and no real reason to speak it, so it was easy to keep his little hobby tucked away at home. He didn’t even use the local library — just occasionally bought books with his father’s money. (He secretly hoped some government official would start wondering why John Harrington suddenly took an interest in the USSR. But that, of course, belonged more to the realm of unlikely fantasies.)

Two years passed, and it became a habit.

He’d start thinking in Russian when he wanted to hide from his own thoughts. And speaking it — quietly, when no one was around. Or even when they were, but couldn’t understand.

One day he saw Nancy and Jonathan in the park. They were laughing. Holding hands. Jonathan had that rare look of confidence on his face, and Nancy… she had a softness in her smile, a gentleness in her eyes. Their happiness scorched Steve with quiet bitterness. He didn’t love Nancy anymore — not in that way — and he loved Jonathan, if anything, like a friend. But his feelings almost lifted its heavy head and made him whisper:

"Я завидую тебе. Мне до сих пор больно из-за того, что ты сделала тогда со мной на вечеринке" (“I envy you. It still hurts, what you did to me at that party.”)

And no one understood. And that was… a relief.

From then on, Russian became his emotional purge. He’d whisper, "Если бы ты только знал, как я устал" (“If only you knew how tired I am,”) when Mike begged for a ride even after two shifts and three sleepless nights. Of course, Steve would still pick him up. He’d mutter "Придурок" (“dumb-ass”) in Russian to particularly rude customers at Family Video and smile broadly when Robin wasn’t on shift. His father, in the private corridors of Steve’s thoughts, was officially renamed “Сэр мудозвон” ("Sir fuck-nugget") Russian swearing hit just as hard as drugs.

And then… there was Eddie.

Eddie became something like a permanent hallucination. Always there. Loud, alive, real. And that… was dangerous.

Steve, who had long stopped feeling in English, stumbled one day in a Russian-English dictionary on the word "любовь" (love), and froze.

Nothing changed in the way he behaved, but his vocabulary shifted.

Sometimes, when Eddie sat beside him, loudly sipping soda, feet kicked up on the table, calling Steve pretty boy, Steve would turn away and whisper:

“Отвяжись, я тебя умоляю!

Вечер страшен, гул жизни затих.

Я беспомощен. Я умираю

от слепых наплываний твоих.” (Набоков)

(“Leave me alone, I’m begging you. The night is terrifying, the hum of life is still. I’m helpless. I am dying from your blind surging will.” (Nabokov))*

Or he’d murmur:

"Я бы хотел, чтобы ты знал" (“I wish you knew.”)

It all came out by accident.

Summer. A quiet evening. The Party threw a backyard bash — barbecue, lemonade, beer for the grown-ups, sunscreen in the air, fireflies. Everyone had gone. Nancy and Robin, freshly licensed, had dropped the kids off. Only Steve, Eddie, and Hopper remained — the latter fiddling with the Jeep, not in any hurry.

Steve was tired — the kids had been extra energetic, and sleep had been a stranger lately. Slightly drunk, which was rare, but Hopper had promised them a ride home. Disheveled.

He watched Eddie walk toward the woods with his guitar, and without thinking, not even loud enough to be heard, he said:

"Я люблю тебя. Ты же никогда не узнаешь, да?" (“I love you. You’ll never know, will you?”)

Nothing happened.

The world didn’t explode. No cicadas stopped singing.Hopper sighed, slammed the hood of the Jeep, and called them over.

Nothing happened. But before he dropped Steve off, Hopper said quietly:

"Знаешь, парень… ему ты можешь это сказать и на английском." (“You know, kid… you could tell him. In English.”)

Steve froze. Turned his head. Hopper was looking at him — not judging, just calm. Understanding.

Steve lowered his gaze.

“I didn’t want anyone to know. It’s easier that way. I… didn’t think you knew Russian.”

“You’re not the only one who had a wild time back in ‘84,” Hopper replied with a shrug. “I don’t know much — just the basics. But "Привет" (‘hello,’) "Пока" (‘goodbye,’) "Сдавайся!" (‘give up the fight’) and "Я люблю тебя" (‘I love you’) I can still recognize. And listen, Steve… that’s your choice. But him? You can definitely tell him.”

Steve nodded. Said nothing. Just turned away.

Hopper watches them for another month. He doesn’t look at Steve—Steve is already clear to him. He watches Eddie. Watches how Eddie smiles only at Steve. How he jokes a little too nervously, as if afraid of how Steve might react. How he leans toward Steve more than toward anyone else.

That’s all Hopper needs. One day, he catches Eddie by the trailer park and hands him a battered book, a creased notebook filled with scribbled notes, and a worn-out cassette tape.

"Hopper? What’s this?" Eddie asks, uncertain, not quite sure how to deal with the former sheriff without a bunch of kids around.

"You’ll find out if you want to find out," Hopper says simply and turns to leave.

Eddie stands in the doorway, holding a Russian language textbook.

—

The next time Steve says " Я люблю тебя" (“I love you”) they’re sitting in his backyard. Summer is in full bloom, and the world feels quiet for once—no monsters, no missions, no kids who need constant supervision. Just sunlight and the sound of cicadas.

Eddie is covered with drop of water and tattoos, halfway through a story about the one inked on his chest.

Steve says it in a whisper “Я люблю тебя.” ("I love you") Soft. Natural. Because he’s used to thinking in Russian when the feelings are too big for English.

He doesn’t even notice the shift at first— Not until Eddie’s face flickers, like something fragile just cracked. Steve’s heart skips. Panic bubbles up. Then— A push to the chest, sudden and strong. Followed by a kiss. Desperate. Breath-stealing. So intense Steve forgets how to breathe.

"...what?" Steve whispers, dazed, still not quite caught up.

"Harrington, you’re a damn mystery." Eddie’s voice is hoarse, a little wild.

"Я люблю тебя тоже" ("I love you too.")**

*It's not really a love poem and damn me, I shouldn't be translating Nabokov. Sorry. **It would be more correct to say "Я тоже тебя люблю" (like “I too love you”), but let's assume that Eddie uses the correct words, but puts the words as in English grammar.

*** It started as the language of pain and ended as the language of love because Steve deserves it. ✨ If you like my stories and vibes, you can support me here: [Ko-fi]

[mt-oe]

𝘓𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘪𝘴…—𝘮𝘰𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘯 𝘮𝘪𝘻𝘶

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Hey dears!

Here's a fic that I hope I post just in time for Valentine's day. I am currently writing this inebriated out of my shit. My cheeks are so hot and my world is spinning like I'm a dishrag in a bucket of water. I pray that my quality of writing doesn't plummet because all of you deserve so many good things and the world, and none of you deserve a shitty fanfic.

Every one of you deserves to be loved as softly as you need to be and as rough as you want to be.

I hope everyone will enjoy and I hope that everyone continued to love Mizu this day dedicated to love <3 Mwa mwa :*

warning/s: not proofread, i do not know, she/her for mizu, implied afab reader

What is love?

Even way back then, when you were still young, you've always wondered about what love is. You've heard it all over the teen magazines you bought monthly, on the newest romance film, and even in your parent's old film cassettes. Yet, still, you couldn't figure it out.

Your curiosity even reached a point when you'd pester your next door neighbor about it. The image of Mizu, your best friend, frowning at you as if you were asking her some kind of dumb insignificant shit would never fail to make you laugh.

"Could you stop pestering me about this and just go on," her annoyed voice would growl through the call. You distinctly remember her putting you on 'deafen' every time you started talking about it while the two of you were on Discord. But honestly, who could blame her? You were teens. Still kids. All she wanted was her LP and a new rank this season, not to hear you ask her what the hell love was.

There would be times when you'd ask your parents. But honestly, asking your parents about something that can give you incredibly subjective answers is never a good thing. You'd always be greeted with a ' just focus on your studied first' or a very vague try-hard-to-be-poetic-or-sentimental answer. They're answers were always either so lacking or so dramatic that it never quite hit the spot.

Searching on the internet was also an option. Your teen self would sit in front of your computer, searching and reading articles about love. Honestly, the answer varied so much it didn't satisfy you at all. More feel-y types of articles would tell you that it was a 'once in a lifetime special feeling that made you absolutely the happiest you'll ever be' while more logical sites would tell you that it was a chemical reaction in your brain.

You could remember Mizu scoff at them. Both of you were hanging in your house while her mother was getting high in their living room again. She walked up to your house one night with a small frown, tired from the smell of drugs and smoke.

Now, she had something else to be tired about. And that was you showing her all these articles were all the same level of ridiculous to her.

For the nth time that night, she rolled her eyes as you read out the contents of the article, both of you under the blanket with only the dim light from your phone illuminating your room. "We're almost done with high school and you're still hooked on this?" she asked, a rough huff leaving her throat. "Isn't this for kids?"

You immediately shook your head and let out a small whine, moving closer until your shoulders touched. "Oh c'mon, Mizu! Have a little curiosity in your life!" you grumbled, refreshing the website when the pictures wont load.

"I could think a hundred things more significant and worthwhile learning," she replied, hands adjusting the blanket, pulling it closer and making sure the chilly night breeze couldn't reach you. "This is nonsense."

"Reasonable nonsense, that is," you said with a slight smile. Her sapphire orbs scanned over your face, tracing over the excitement on your face and the twinkling in your eyes. A little part of her brain was filled with some sort of mushy happy feeling the more she stared. And before these feelings could take over, she rolled her eyes again, annoyance clear in the way she sighed.

"Whatever. It's your phone anyway," she grumbled, looking away. You giggled softly and shifted your weight further against her side, fully leaning against her shoulder. Mizu would never have admitted this during her teens, but your warmth, the feeling of your weight against her, and mutual feeling of comfort definitely made her heart beat faster than it ever did or could during fencing training.

Each article the two of you read together caused your curiosity to grow. Maybe, somewhere along the way, so did Mizu's.

What is love?

Love is a mystery, you thought to yourself.

In college, the two of you were still inseparable, attached by the hip as they say. Thankfully, both of you had decided to go to the same university under different programs. While you were buried in student debt, unsurprisingly, your best friend had managed to acquire a scholarship.

Everything was going well between the two of you. Both of you still hung out and still caught up with each other weekly or over a few games online. The frustrations and moments of joy mended your bond with each other every time. Each hour that passed the clock was worth the grogginess you'll inevitably feel for staying up too late. It felt like nothing could get in between the two of you.

That was until...

Some time during your sophomore year, Mizu's mother had waltzed her way into your lives. With her, she brought an arranged relationship for Mizu and another man. He was apparently an alumni of the same scholarship program Mizu was under and was pretty wealthy.

Both of you knew this was some ploy for her to get money, but whenever your best friend confronted her mother, she'd be greeted with excuses saying this was the best for her dearest daughter and how she knows what's best for her. You could only scoff at her words, knowing she never really cared for her past her childhood.

And for a time, Mizu believed you. She detested the idea of being forced into a relationship for money. Relationships in general were a waste of time for her. You thought everything was going to go well, that she'd still be by your side, that the fun would never stop.

But, somewhere along the way, your weekly gaming sessions turned into nights of doing your projects alone. Your best friend was apparently invited by her boyfriend, Mikio, to some new restaurant.

It didn't matter.

The weekly hangout sessions in either one of your dorms turned into a solo trip to the library to finish something or to mooch off of the campus wi-fi you paid for from your tuition anyway. Mizu was apparently going to go with the old geezer to some movie.

It didn't matter.

Your bot-support duo turned into you playing top or raging in jungle alone. He was apparently inviting her to play duo and she'd play with you some other time.

It didn't matter. It didn't hurt.

Just a pinch.

It was college anyway, people are bound to lose friends, right? Maybe you could go back to finding out what love is. Maybe the deeper academic pursuits in college and the wider range of educational materials could grant you a more extensive selection of literature regarding the matter.

You could drown yourself in writings from the library, books you've never even heard off, more knowledgeable goons trying so hard to explain love through neurotransmitters and electrical signals in the brain. Maybe the pursuit of this knowledge would allow you to move on from the person of your affection.

Affection? What a stupid word.

It was college and you've made new friends along the way. You'd get invited to parties and merriments and meet more people. Maybe this night, you'd take a shot more than the usual, a cig more than the usual, and you'd repeat that to yourself until the squeezing tightening feeling in your throat retches over to the toilet.

One more shot. One more cigarette. Rinse and repeat.

Over and over until you were in Akemi's arms crying about your blue-eyed best friend who she already seemed to dislike. Apparently, they'd known each other and Mizu had apparently wiped the floor with Akemi's boyfriend. A soft bitter chuckle left your throat.

"Yeah, that's definitely something she would do," you whispered, voice rough from vomiting the intoxication out.

One more shot. One more cigarette. Rinse and repeat.

Over and over until Akemi was starting to feel like comforting you was her own Sisyphus. You'd go on about how you were there first and how cruel the world was for making you realize your affection a bit too late.

"Affection? That's a stupid way of putting it. I think you're in love," Akemi would say, cringing as you buried your tear-stricken face against her hair.

Is love supposed to hurt?

You could not accept it.

Love tastes like pure coffee beans without any cream or sugar. Strong, bitter, almost tasteless, gives you migraines, could send you into palpitations, and can kill you. Slow and unknowingly.

Maybe it was the time to stop pursuing love. Maybe those old people in journals and books with a hundred million different titles from all the licenses they have were right. That it was all just neurotransmitters and electrical signals going the synapses in your neurons that'll inevitably deteriorate with age. It'll go away.

Is this really what love is?

What was love?

Love is a kind of bitterness that aches, you thought to yourself.

Semesters passed and you never got to bond with your best friend again—if you would still call her that.

The ache made you grow cold, but you preferred to call it mature. You continued on with your life, her name sounding like a distant song whenever the winds whispered. Every blue in your life felt like a strike of undescribed nostalgia. A memory that could have been a novel but ended a bit too early.

You weren't a god but you sure had the ability to summon a personal raincloud over your own moments of happiness. It wasn't bitterness. It was called choosing practicality over emotion, you said.

And maybe, that's how life works. Maybe you should just go on and be like those old geezers with a shit ton of masters degrees and doctorates who'd tell you that love was just hormones and your brain going overdrive.

Maybe you should grow old and into a boring life, not affected by the blue eyes that were staring back at your with a sad old smile.

Maybe you can be Ms. Practicality again and ignore how beautiful she was when she walked towards you.

Maybe you can finally control the electrical signals in your brain so your heart could stop beating so fast as she greeted you, placing a hand on your shoulder, feeling the warmth you missed so damn much. Her long hair against her shoulder and the cold aura of her eyes warming as her eyes squinted with that precious smile of hers.

Maybe the hundred million academic titles you planned to pursuit would give you an early lesson and tell you that you'd know what love was some day.

And maybe...that some day was today.

Maybe the crazy romance books and magazine articles were right. That love would waltz into your life one day and maybe love had already waltzed into your life from the very start.

You'd soon find out that your best friend had some how made a reputation for herself, getting into a fight with her ex over some betrayal. She didn't really want to talk about it since the wounds were still fresh. Rumors of her violent tendencies grew and now she was trying to lay low again.

They'd call her a dangerous fellow

Well...they were neither right nor wrong. This fellow was dangerous indeed.

Dangerously sweet.

Dangerously funny.

Dangerously understanding.

Dangerously charming.

Dangerously lovely.

After decades of asking the question, "What is love?", you'd finally get your question. The bells of heaven can finally ring now because your lifelong journey of finding out what this mystery was can finally end.

Love wears orange-tinted glasses. A gift she got from you before both of you went to college together. The sight and the knowledge of it being her favorite tugging your heart strings and warming your cheeks.

Love continued her fencing training and was somehow better than the instructors in uni. She'd be so cocky and call their techniques trash, so much so that they think of her more as a competition than a student.

Love doesn't laugh a lot but when she does, it sounds like what an angel would sound like. She thinks you're exaggerating but you could honestly drown in the honeyed sound.

Love incurs the wrath of her professors by passing projects late, but her work is so good, they could never give her a fail.

Love is called so many horrible things. They'd call her a demon, an onryo. You'd ask her if she was okay and she'd just look at you with a soft smile and tell you that she didn't mind.

Love was lying. She definitely minded and you could never figure out why she'd always act okay while she smile so genuinely at you.

Love always puts her hair in a bun and is lowkey ticked off about it going allover the place when she takes it out.

Love is always mistaken as a man. If she was a man, she'd be the prettiest man you've ever fallen in love with.

Love secretly likes stuffed animals but would never buy one for herself. Love likes to playfully rough house and lowkey beat the shit out of her friends.

Love wakes up before the sunrises and goes to the gym. All the equipment were available and it was quiet. She loves the peace.

But love also feels guilty whenever she accidentally wakes you up. Your groggy whine would make her heart beat faster and make her suddenly feel hesitant to go.

Love would get into arguments with you, but she'd still try her best to be understanding. Her patience wasn't big when it comes to anger and negative emotions, but for you, nothing was impossible.

Love was incredible. Love was all-pursuing.

Love made you realize that love wasn't a 'what' but a 'who'.

What is love?

Love is a person.

[henrioo]

°•*⁀➷ CROCOBABY: CROCODILE

꒰ SYNOPSIS ꒱ : "There is only one person that Crocodile would get down on his knees and fulfill every wish without hesitation, you, his little and only son"

꒰ WARNINGS ꒱ : Dad! Crocodile, PLATONIC STORY! NO ROMANCE! Dad and son's relationship, the reader doesn't have a specific age but he is a small child, Cross guild spoilers, child reader loves circus, just parental cuteness and stuff

꒰ WC ꒱ : 1,2k

꒰ NOTES ꒱ : This another stories of a time I only wanted to write about Crocodile, those last times I only want to write for Killer and him, but since I had more ideas for Crocodile I wrote more of him. My finished stories are ending so I'm back writing again, finishing the ask and seeing what I'm going to do next, maybe I will open my request soon but no promises, bye

You coughed, turned again in your bed and finally decided that you weren't going to be able to go back to sleep. You yawned rubbing your eyes with your small hands as you sat up in bed, you looked around the beautiful room you shared with your father. Although you were the one who spent most of your time in that room, so your father had made the necessary changes so that you wouldn't be bored in a place full of adult things.

You now had your own table to study at, your own corner with toys, even an armchair for your size. Furthermore, there were several books that could distract you, it might not be paradise for most children but you were never very demanding, you had toys and other activities and that was more than enough to entertain you for hours. Besides that, when your father was in a good mood he would let you watch the activity at the circus where you lived, it was always such a colorful and lively spectacle that you were mesmerized by everything. Your father hated the circus, but he had made sacrifices for you for your enjoyment, the truth was that more and more of you two went to watch the shows just because he wasn't able to resist the enchanted face of his little son.

Yawning, you moved through the various scarves, furs and other cloths that were always on your bed. Partly to protect you from the cold and partly because you moved so much that your father got tired of always covering you up again, so he just covered you with lots more cloths to make sure you were still covered even if you tossed and turned all night.

You had a little trouble getting out of bed, but you were soon on the floor, your fuzzy socks keeping you from feeling cold. It wasn't long before several of the circus crew saw a child walking around in green banana pajamas and dragging a huge crocodile stuffed animal with him, of course everyone knew who that child belonged to so it wasn't any problem. All the Cross Guild pirates were very kind to you and were always giving you sweets or doing little tricks, you really liked them but your father not so much, so he always made sure you had as little contact with them as possible. He always said that if you spent too much time with them you would become as dumb as Buggy, you didn't understand exactly what that meant.

Luckily the door to your father's office was just ajar, you pushed it with both hands and entered the room. It was similar to his father's old office but was a little smaller and more minimalist, probably because it wasn't very safe to have so much furniture on a ship that could face huge storms. So even now on land his father didn't have many decorations taken from the ship's office.

Crocodile didn't even look up from his papers when the door opened, it was probably Mihawk or Buggy since they had a meeting scheduled this evening, if it weren't them then it would be Mr.1 reporting to him. However, when no one said anything and the door remained open he was slightly confused, he looked up and found no one, his eyebrows were furrowed as he thought of a punishment if it was a prank by Buggy. But to his surprise, all that happened were two little hands pulling his coat trying to get his attention.

“Daddy, lap, daddy” you called for him softly, you were tired and it was obvious that you had just woken up.

"What are you doing here? It’s past your bedtime” he asked with a slightly more affectionate tone that he used specifically for you. Of course it wasn't even close to an extremely loving voice, but it was gentle and calm, an extreme compared to his harsh and aggressive voice towards others. “You should be in bed.” He blew the hair from your forehead as he let you lay against his chest, he had to hold you with his hook arm but you seemed extremely comfortable sleeping on him. It had been a little over an hour since he had put you to sleep and he definitely didn't expect to see you here.

“I can’t sleep” you yawned as you held your crocodile plush tighter and leaned on him, you were lying half sideways against his chest. This reminded the adult of when you were a little baby, he would always hold you regardless of what he needed to do, you were a very needy baby, always crying when he left you alone... maybe he missed how little and needy of his attention you were.

“Do you want me to put you to bed again?” Crocodile was ignoring that he had a meeting soon, the other two pirates could wait, after all his little sand prince would always be his priority.

“No… I'll be right back… I just want… to stay here for a little while” you yawned and finally closed your eyes and relaxed completely against your father. You were already big, but now curled up in his arms with a face so relaxed you almost looked like a baby again.

Sighing Crocodile couldn't hold back his smile, of course he was quick to hide it not wanting anyone but you to see this. He covered you with the huge coat he always wore and went back to his paperwork, he would take you to his bed soon, he would just enjoy this peaceful time with you a little more.

He only realized that a lot of time had passed when Mihawk, Buggy and Mr.1 were entering the office. The clown was shouting and complaining about something while Mihawk ignored him, Daz was holding some papers and approached his boss's desk more quickly. Obviously he was quick to notice the strange bulge hidden beneath his coat, before he could question it he saw his little hand clinging to his father's shirt, he almost smiled but that didn't suit him.

“Do you want me to take the young master to the room?” He asked as he placed the papers on the table and the mention of another person in the room made Mihawk and Buggy shift their attention to Crocodile.

“No, I'll take him after the meeting” he dismissed the support, even though Mr.1 had been his babysitter for the last few months, there were things that the pirate refused to let others do with his son. These were things that only he, the father, had the right to do.

"I see we will have a little guest today" Mihawk said with a gentler air as he sat down, it was strange but the swordsman didn't hate children. A few times he had even seen the two of you interacting while Dracule told you about some island he had been to.

“Oh, that explains his calmness” Buggy sighed a little relieved knowing that Crocodile would never be cruel or scary in front of him.

“Shut up and let’s get this over with, I have other matters to deal with” the hooked man said harshly. Everyone agreed but deep down it wasn't difficult to realize that your father had a huge soft spot for you... And well, you weren't complaining about that.

[ticklygiggles]

Mouse hole | Kambe Daisuke & Sato Haru

Commissioned by @wertzunge

A/N: it's been ages since I watched this anime and I didn't even finish it fkdnfkfnf but I hope I made them justice and you enjoy this one, Maaaax mwah 💕

Summary: Daisuke likes to badmouth Haru's house, but he's a sensitive man... In more than one way.

Words: 1.9k

This wasn't supposed to be happening. They were just having a good time with a few beers, (Haru), chatting about this and that at Haru’s home. However, without warning, the atmosphere turned tense and both men got caught up in an argument, unable to stop their words before they started saying hurtful things at each other. 

“It's not my fault you live in this mediocre mouse hole," Daisuke said, his tone a little too cold and condescending as he crossed his arms and looked away from Haru.

Haru couldn't help but feel upset. He thought he'd grown used to Kambe's hurtful comments, but he was sorely mistaken. It still affected him, perhaps a bit too much, especially when Kambe felt the need to remind Haru of their financial differences. 

Haru never really minded the size of his own house. It was true, it wasn't the biggest house, but it was his home, somewhere he could return to when the days were too long and tiring. A place where he could have a meal and a drink and a bed to sleep. 

Who gave Kambe the right to talk about Haru's house like that? Why would a kid born with a silver spoon in his mouth come and comment on anything about his house? The audacity to disrespect Haru while wearing his clothes, eating his food and drinking his water. 

Haru started to feel less tipsy than he was angry, but he still knew he wouldn't be able to formulate words to fight Kambe. So he just pouted, hugging his knees to his chest, as if subconsciously trying to make more room for Kambe so he would stop badmouthing his home. He turned his head away to avoid looking into his eyes. 

Silence filled the room, the only sound that could be heard was their breathing and Haru taking sips of his beer. He could feel Kambe's eyes on him, studying him, and when Haru glanced at him from the corner of his eye, he was almost sure he saw a hint of regret in his eyes. It could have just been the light, though.

“Listen,” Kambe said with a sigh. “I-,” he sighed again and Haru was almost sure Daisuke would groan at any moment. “I'm sorry, okay? I shouldn't have said that… It was dumb…” 

Haru wanted to accept the apology, after all he had also been saying some not very nice things about Kambe, but that apology struck him as fake and in his current state, (drunk), it almost sounded as if Kambe was making fun of him.

“I'm serious,” Kambe mumbled. “You know I'm serious.” 

Now it was Haru who wanted to groan. His pout became more prominent as did the frown on his brow. He took another swig of beer and tossed the can somewhere across the room while grabbing and opening another, taking a long sip, as if he wanted to gather the strength to speak again… but no words came out of his mouth. 

Kambe had not only offended his house, his home, he had also trampled on his pride and one did not recover easily from that. Wasn't it only fair that Haru made him beg a little longer? A second or third, (more sincere), apology would surely convince him. 

“Kato, listen, I-” 

“Kato Haru. 30 years old. Day of birth May 2nd. Blood type A.” 

Haru looked up as HEUSC spoke over Kambe’s voice. Materialized in front of Kambe, who looked as surprised as Haru, was a green screen with the silhouette of a man right in the center, flanked by Haru's personal information. It was only then that Haru realized, with a jolt of surprise, that the silhouette was his own. 

He frowned in confusion, struggling to understand the words that, from his perspective, appeared to be written in reverse. What on earth possessed HEUSC to share his personal information? And what was the meaning of those strange yellow markings on the silhouette of his body?  

“What are you doing, Kambe?” He asked, his words a bit slurred. 

Daisuke shook his head. “HEUSC is acting on its own. I'm not-"

“Kato Haru,” HEUSC repeated. “Member of the Modern Crime Prevention Task Force's Metropolitan Police Department. Hobbies and skills include judo and self-cooking to save money.” 

Haru blushed. “Hey! That's not-” 

“Physical weakness: tickling.” HEUSC's monotonous voice said and Haru widened his eyes. 

Daisuke's eyes also widened slightly as another green screen appeared before him. Haru leaned closer to see it was a zoom in of the upper part of his silhouette, the yellow markings seemed to pulsate as if signaling a target. Haru frowned depended and his eyes widened in alarm as his heart skipped a beat within his chest. No… those markings… HEUSC wouldn't- 

“Kato Haru's body exhibits heightened sensitivity in the following areas in the torso: armpits, ribcage, waist, and hips,” HEUSC said, the yellow areas turning to red as another screen appeared before Kambe, showing Haru's silhouette from hips to feet. “Additionally, inner thighs, back of the knees, and feet have been identified as sensitive areas in Kato Haru's lower body.”

Haru gasped, suddenly feeling sober as his cheeks flushed red. “HEUSC, stop! What the hell are you-” 

“Data extraction from Kato Haru's childhood files reveals an episode where anger was triggered by a friend, resulting in the administration of a tickling game as a calming measure.” 

Haru was dumbfounded. “How the hell do you know- what do you mean ‘childhood files’-!”

“Behavioral analysis reveals that Kato Haru exhibits a high affinity for tickling, indicating a strong positive emotional association. Categorizing it as a preferred sensory experience.” 

Silence fell over the room once again, Haru couldn't even hear his own breathing as he tried to understand what had happened. How did HEUSC know—no, why was it saying all that?!

Haru tried to say something, but he could only open and close his mouth a couple of times, he was speechless. 

“Are you saying…” Kambe started and Haru flinched when their eyes met, the smirk on Kambe’s face was not adorable at all. “That to make Kato happy again, I must tickle him?” 

“No!”

“Affirmative, high probability,” HEUSC said, all screens disappearing at once. 

“That is not at all correct!” Haru nearly squeaked, his face impossibly red as he eyed Daisuke. “Why did HEUSC say all of that?! And how the hell did it know about- don't you even dare!” 

Daisuke looked like a wild animal about to pounce on its prey. Haru tried to get up, but Kambe was faster. The detective grabbed him by the ankle, causing Haru to fall against the wooden floor with a loud thud, and dragged him until he could trap his feet in an arm lock. 

Haru gasped, his lips trembling in a stupid smile of anticipation. “I swear! If you dare to touch me, I'll- hahahaha! I fuhuhucking hahahate you!” 

Haru squeaked as helpless peals of laughter poured out of his lips while Kambe's fingers skittered up and down his socked soles. With almost terrifying precision, Daisuke's fingers wiggled under Haru's toes, nearly driving him crazy with laughter only after a couple of seconds.

Haru squirmed like a worm, trying to free his legs from Daisuke's grip, but damn was that trust fund kid strong. He somehow managed to tickle both his feet with just one hand and leave Haru nearly cackling. 

“K-Kahahambe! I'm seheherious! No! Dohohon't you dahahare! Plehehehase!” He begged as he felt Kambe pulling off one of his socks.

Haru curled his toes tightly to prevent him from pulling the sock off completely, but Daisuke only needed to tickle his bare arch to have his toes spreading in ticklish desperation, making the sock fall in a second. 

“What's more ticklish?” Daisuke asked, his deep voice with a hint of playfulness and teasing that made Haru shiver. “With the sock on or off? On. Off. On. Off. On. Off.” He mumbled, jumping from one foot to the other. Haru pounded his fist against the floor, tears of laughter already clinging to his lashes. 

“Ohohohoff! You bahahastard, I'm- nohot the tohohohes! Ahahaha!” His legs shook as he wrapped one arm around his sore stomach. “Kahahambe, I swehehear- ahahaha!” 

He could not continue speaking because Kambe had left his feet to straddle his shins and use his thumbs to massage that muscle on the back of Haru's knees. 

Haru jolted, nearly laughing his head off as his feet kicked against the floor. Kambe was merciless, pinching and rubbing the spot as if he did that all day, every day.

Haru had really forgotten how ticklish he was. It had been a long time since someone had tickled him, and that moment in his life that HEUSC had mentioned had been almost completely forgotten. 

Almost was the key word. He never forgot the times he was tickled and that was because, no matter how embarrassing it felt to admit it even to himself, he loved being tickled. Not only did it feel good, somehow, in his skin, but it also made him feel... warm. The thought that someone wanted to make him laugh made him feel loved… but that wasn't something he was going to admit to Kambe. 

So he would just laugh and act like he really hated it, knowing very well that he couldn't make a fool of Daisuke. 

“HEUSC was right, huh?” Daisuke said, scribbling the back of Haru's knees, making him shriek with laughter. “Next spot was…” 

Haru blushed, thankful that Daisuke didn't tickle his inner thighs and instead moved higher to get his hips. He bucked and suddenly thought that spot was just as terribly embarrassing as his inner thighs. 

“Kahahahambe!” He laughed out, growing a little weak. “Dohohon't!” 

Daisuke actually chuckled, not maliciously, to Haru's surprise. “Do you forgive me?” 

Haru laughed, pressing his face against the floor as Daisuke pinched his hips. “Y-Your ahahapology is nohohot- AHAHAHA!” He cackled, his arms pressing against his sides as he felt Daisuke's hands squeezing and wiggling against his waist 

“Do you forgive me?” Kambe repeated. 

“Yohohou’re a pahaha- AHAHAHA! N-Nohoho, plehehehase!” Now those wiggling fingers moved to his ribcage, playing with each bone carefully, pulling out the strongest cackle out of Haru he could muster. “Fihihine! FIHIHIHINE!” He laughed, tears of mirth streaming down his face. 

“I fohohorgive yohohou! I FOHOHORGIVE yohohou!” He cackled, squirming weakly and nearly sobbing as Daisuke tickled him for a bit more, spearing his poor armpits. 

“Thank you,” Daisuke said, stopping the tickling and moving off the other. Haru collapsed onto the floor, breathing heavily with a silly smile on his face. “I'm truly sorry.” 

Haru looked at him through tears and saw the sincerity in Daisuke's eyes. He sighed, rolling his eyes playfully. 

“I won't invite you ever again if you say something like that again,” Haru said, sitting up once he had calmed down.

Daisuke also rolled his eyes, a smile on his lips. “It's not that I want to be- 

“Kambe Daisuke's body exhibits heightened sensitivity in the following areas–” 

“HEUSC!” Kambe shrieked, covering his earring to shut the butler.

Haru laughed and launched at him, wrestling his arm down. 

“Keep talking, HEUSC! Keep talking!” 

It seemed that Haru's small house was big enough for two grown men to roll around and laugh on the floor. Well, after all… without those elevated shoes, Daisuke looked like the owner of that mouse hole! 

[millylotus]

I seem to have been hit with a-ah bout of crackship inspiration~? indoctrinated mayhaps even,

@tired-all-the-time22 recent Study Troubles (Val/Danny/Dash) fanart has opened my eyes to the potential of Valerie x Dash... I can't stop thinking about them I don't even think they have a ship name yet which like more for me!

Like like like just sit there and think of the dynamic(s)!

Popular Boy x Popular Girl, it gets toxic the moment her dad loses his job & she realizes how much of a bitch he was, and he still has some feelings for her but is decidedly pushing those aside.

Maybe a little later Val's kinda pulled herself together, & Dash has unknowingly been avoiding dating anyone since her. And Dash sees her happy & confident like she used to be and he's just obsessed again and can't get her out of his head. And yeah Val can see that he's still cute but by god can't she get over this pathetic excuse of a guy!

Val: *punching pillow staring at old photos remembering how he'd hold her like she was precious que muffled pillow screams* AAAAAAAAH Wes [they're childhood friends to me alright]: *at her desk with concern* do you want me to take all that "Dumb Bear" stuff away or Val: No! I am perfectly fine! I can handle myself *glaring at the teddy bear Dash gave her on their fifth date but unable to even punch it fully* Val: God why are you still cute!

Dash would gang up on Danny for having dated Val not that long after they broke up, like:

Dash: Who does he think he is trying to date my girl?!?! Kwan: You and Val have been broken up for a minute man Dash: He's a fucking DWEEB!!! WHY WOULD SHE DATE HIM and not like one of the other jocks??? Kwan: *smirking* Maybe you're the odd one out & she knows what she likes now Dash: I'm gonna punch you.

Val would definitely tell him off for it though, cause she cares about Danny & breaking it off with him was to protect him. And Dash sees that this might be a way to get back in her good graces and backs off.

Phantom's D1 Hater x Phantom's #1 Loverboy too, Val nearly burning down the schools phantom club, Dash being the only one able to stop her before she catches a cas.

Val growing softer about Dash again and they slip into more couple-y mannerism again. Standing close, maybe holding hands, Dash giving her his jacket, who knows.

But also holding back b/c she's realized how bad of a person Dash is, and now demanding he be a better person if he actually wants to be with her. Because their break-up was his fault not hers. And Dash really wants her and to be with her and he's a bit resistant to it for a bit but then he meets Phantom once and asks how he's supposed to win over a girls heart again and Phantom's just like "stop being a bitch???". So his hero just said that and the girl of his dreams has been saying that, and now he's crying in his bedroom properly reevaluating his life choices.

So Dash is trying to be a better person for Valerie, and it's hard to break habits but not messing with Fenton & his Dweebs is a good starter.

Val watching from a distance and being impressed that Dash of all people is willing to change /for her/. Does wonders for her self esteem too being wanted so much by someone that they're changing the core of themselves as a person /for her because of her!/ (her Ego knows no bounds for real).

---

Dear Jury of the Phandom I bring you the names "Teddy Hunter" or "Hunter Teddy" for this ship of Dash Baxter/Valerie Gray!

Feel free to give many more suggestions this is a community effort

[mariaofdoranelle]

Look at Us Now - ch. 29

Fic masterlist

Guys it's 3am five hours past my bedtime I'll do the header tomorrow lol

HAPPY FAKE BIRTHDAY @sirius-blacks-official-girl who 100% came up with a fake one to milk this chapter out of me.

JOKING love you Flora this chapter was so overdue I'm actually a little embarassed. But I DID write most of it on my notes app in ubers and in between classes because my studies are killing me so..

Warnings: mentions of inflation

Words: 7k

“The kids did say you have a bug up your ass today,” Fenrys said from his doorstep, somewhere between frowning and laughing at Rowan’s frazzled look. 

Perhaps he did. He did snap at the recruits more often today, and it was naive of him to think people wouldn’t notice or comment. Thankfully they had a gap in their schedule this month, hence why he and Fenrys were at Rowan’s and Aelin’s place mid-afternoon on a work day.

Rowan was well aware that soon Maisie and Fleetfoot would arrive like a tornado—one from preschool and the other from daycare—and Aelin… he didn’t even know. What he did know is that she’ll be more willing to talk about whatever she’s going through if Rowan isn’t looking like a truck just ran over him—his current state. 

His friend eyed him warily and stepped in. As annoying as Fenrys could be when he assumed his life-of-the-party persona, it didn’t get on Rowan’s nerves like when the man was being perceptive. 

He didn’t feel like talking yet and, at that moment, it was hard to tell something more unsettling than when his lifelong friend scanned his soul with bottomless onyx eyes. 

“How 's Aelin?”

Rowan didn’t answer. He didn’t know it himself.

Tired.

Those are the only five letters he gets to hear after asking her the same question.

His Fireheart seemed so tired these days, it was hard to discard a depressive episode. He even asked her if she was pregnant when Lorcan joked about it last week, but she said it was unlikely, and Rowan was getting ahead of himself.

He wouldn’t dare hope. It was too soon, and Maisie was a handful already. As much as he wanted more children, they had more things to do before that—actually, just one specific thing that required something shiny to bribe her with.

If Aelin was pregnant, she’d tell him. She told him without any delay and in worse circumstances last time, so he knew she would. What unsettled him was her history of not telling him when she was struggling.

Isn’t this why they parted ways, after all? 

Her being too closed off while he was too dumb to pull his head out of his ass and see her? Well, Aelin’s still clinically depressed, and Rowan’s still an idiot—they just have it more under control now.

Instead of explaining his inner turmoil, he said, “Your old room is hers now. You’re getting your shit out of there while I remodel it.” 

This being the reason why Fenrys was summoned here in the first place. Rowan needed more room for Aelin, and his ex-roommate’s was five years too late to get the rest of his things.

Fenrys mock-flinched, his hand on his chest in a wounded gesture. 

Rowan hardened his expression to get the message across. He wasn’t kidding. For the past years, he’d been asking Fenrys to finish moving out and change his address everywhere that mattered—not only his delivery app.

“I live here with my daughter, and now I’m making room for my…” Girlfriend? The word didn’t feel like enough. “Life partner. I don’t have room for your birth certificate anymore, neither for those old, hideous pants you swear will be trendy again.”

Fenrys squinted at Rowan, common sense fighting the man’s stubbornness until he said, “Fair enough.”

His former roommate whistled when he saw Rowan’s work. “I don’t remember this room being quite this nice, Rowie.”

He shrugged. “That’s just me stress-building.”

Rowan has been not-so-secretly working on a room for Aelin ever since she started showing signs of depression again. He’s keeping it locked so as to not spoil the surprise—she hasn’t commented on it, so neither did he.

It was the very least he could do. They’ve had the conversation where she asked him to take their relationship slow millions of times, and as much as Rowan respected her decision, he didn’t work hard enough to respect this boundary of hers, even if he did know that routine changes can trigger a depressive episode. 

Moving in together after barely four months. Who does that?

Rowan used to feel like everything would be fixed if he managed to rekindle his romantic relationship with Aelin. It’s a bitter realization that they’re still the same flawed people that tore each other apart.

He was supposed to be working through and letting go of his guilt, but how could Rowan do that if his failings kept creeping back into the present like this?

But he had furniture to assemble, and that’s what he wanted to focus on for now—at least until he and Aelin could find some time to talk. 

Fenrys’ whistle snapped him back into reality. 

“A bookcase, huh?”

“Yep.”

His friend smirked. “Because she made you?”

“No, because she’ll like it, and now I’m making you help me with it.“

Fenrys cackled. “I was called to retrieve my things, now I’m helping with the room too?”

Rowan meant business when he texted his friend, but now he was glad Fenrys was here.

“How long will it take to empty half a closet into your car?” Rowan taunted with a raised brow. 

A playful sigh while the man unlocked his phone. “I guess Dorian can walk Calvin and Klein alone.”

~~

All of Rowan’s problems evaporated with Aelin’s cheek pressed against his shoulder blades, her arms wrapping his torso from behind while he mixed what was about to become some veggie-loaded chicken nuggets for dinner.

His girls weren’t good at eating their vegetables, but that just meant he needed to be creative at hiding them in the dishes—a practice he mastered a while ago, when Maisie was a toddler.

Aelin leaned on the kitchen island and looked over at where Maisie hung out with Fleetfoot, making a mess under the kitchen table because both parents were too tired to argue. 

“Should we have that talk now?” She asked, dreading to leave their frail happy bubble.

“I think we’ve delayed it enough.”

Aelin nodded. “Should I start, or…?”

“Go ahead.”

She detangled herself from him and said to Maisie, “Honey, can you come here for a sec?”

“I can’t! I’m busy playing,” the little girl said without taking her attention off Fleetfoot.

“Maisie,” Rowan dragged out her name in a stern tone, his patience thin with everything going on these days. “Your mother gave you an order.”

His daughter’s spine straightened. Sensing they meant business, she crawled from under the table and approached them with her arms crossed, not quite looking them in the eye.

Rowan had no idea where Maisie learned that grumpiness from. Aelin kissed the top of her head to lighten the mood, a silent sign of appreciation for the reluctant compliance.

She asked, “How’s that teeth looking, hun?”

Maisie was about to lose her first baby tooth, and it’s been quite the event at their home. Aelin was weirdly excited about it, and he let her take the lead in this. 

Rowan had barely gotten over her first baby tooth growing—his throat swelled every time he thought too hard about the fact that enough time had passed for her to lose it.

The little girl opened her mouth wide and aaahed obediently.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to pull it out?” Aelin asked while gently wiggling the tooth to inspect it, her body vibrating with the need to yank that tooth off Maisie’s head.

The tooth was—quite literally—hanging by a thread, but Maisie didn’t want to pull it out yet. While parenting sometimes meant ordering, they did their best to honor her consent regarding her own body. Maisie didn’t have the authority to decide when she could brush her teeth, but she’d decide when to yank them off.

On the other hand, there was Aelin. A little butcher lived inside his Fireheart—one that cuts people open for a living—and she was itching to rip that tooth off. If Rowan had any to spare, he’d let her take it off just to see that special glimmer her eyes get when she’s thrilled.

At her mother’s suggestion, Maisie took a step back and frantically shook her head, eyes wide and mouth closed.

“Today at school Bree said she ripped it out too soon because she wanted the money, and it hurt a lot and she only got the money three—” Maisie held up three fingers as close to their faces as possible for emphasis. “days later because the tooth fairy got mad at her for it.”

Aelin’s lips thinned. Rowan couldn’t tell if Sellene was a genius, or if he wanted to throttle her for being behind the reason Maisie was scared to pull out her tooth.

He crouched to reach his daughter’s eye level and explained that her tooth was loose enough, so she wouldn’t be pulling it just for the money. “I’m sure the tooth fairy will understand. I used to yank out my own teeth when I was your age and she never delayed my pay.”

Aelin enthusiastically endorsed everything he said.

“The rules aren’t the same anymore, Daddy.” Maisie frowned, as serious as she could be. “You were a kid, like, at least a hundred years ago. The Tooth Fairy probably had to ride a dinosaur to your house.”

He blinked. Did his five-year-old just call him old? Aelin’s cackle in the background confirmed it. 

Mid-thirties wasn’t that old, right?

Rowan went back to making dinner before it got too late, and the girls decided to help him to roll the mixture into a ball and flatten it into a nugget shape.

Aelin continued, “I can write her an email clarifying the situation, how does that sound?”

Maisie took a moment to think, rolling the soon-to-be nugget from hand to hand and nodded. “Can you ask her how much I’ll get? Because she’s not paying the same to my friends at school.”

“The amount she gives you depends on how well you take care of your teeth for her,” Aelin said with a pointed look, the implication about the fact that Maisie doesn’t like to brush her teeth hanging in the air. His Fireheart was a genius.

“How do you know this?” Maisie squinted her eyes at her mom.

“I’m a mom. I know things you don’t.” Aelin nonchalantly shaped the nugget, pretending she wasn’t aware she just posed herself as a mysterious source of wisdom in all things childhood folklore.

“Okay,” Maisie dragged out the word while giving her mom a skeptical look. “Do you know how much she’ll give me?”

“It slipped my mind.” Aelin asked Rowan, “Do you remember it?”

“Huh,” he mused while putting the nuggets into the air fryer. “I’m pretty sure it was $1.”

“$1!? But… but in-flay-shun!” Maisie exclaimed, carefully wording the next word as she struggled to pronounce it.

Inflation coming out the mouth of a 5-year-old. What the hell. 

Aelin tried and failed to muffle her laugh into her hand, and Rowan’s eyes bugged out of his skull.

“How on earth do you know what that is?” he asked, wide-eyed.

“Uncle Fen said the Tooth Fairy would give me more money if I said this word,” the little girl said sheepishly.

Of course. Fenrys didn’t bother staying for dinner, but he made sure to bring trouble regardless. 

“You wanna add inflation? Let’s calculate this like adults, then. I’m gonna need a piece of paper for this.”

Maisie ran to fulfill her dad’s request, her little body bouncing with excitement when she came back… with her pink dinosaur-themed magnetic doodle board.

That’d do, he supposed.

“Now, the last time I got a raise because of it—“ not that Maisie would know what inflation is and why it made her parents earn a raise, “I got a 9% adjustment, but I’ll add 10% to yours.”

Wide-eyed, Maisie squealed. “I’ll get $11?”

Under his dead body. Sellene laid a good foundation to stop Maisie and Bree from starting a self-mutilation business because of Tooth Fairy, but he didn’t trust his daughter enough to give her this much. When Maisie has money, she’s no better than Scrooge McDuck.

“No, for you it means more 10 cents. You’ll get $1,1.”

The little girl pouted. “Uncle Fen made it sound nicer.”

“Sorry, hun.” Rowan gave her a sympathetic look. “And you know what other thing adults have in their salaries?”

“What?” Maisie asked, sat on the edge of her stool, hands sprawled on the kitchen island with the hopes to cash in more money.

“Taxes.”

“You wouldn’t,” Aelin cut in, her tone low and disbelieving.

“She wants it the adult way.”

“Rowan Whitethorn, you are not taxing Maisie’s tooth money!”

“Would you listen to me before we—” a pause because his big mouth almost ruined Maisie’s childhood, “before we email Tooth Fairy with the final tooth cash decision.”

With a pinch to her nose, she relented, “Go on, then.”

He continued to Maisie, “I pay about 30% in taxes, but I’ll make yours 20% because your income is lower.”

The little girl frowned, sensing she wasn’t gonna like what was coming next—no tax-paying citizen did.

“And according to my calculations, your after-tax tooth income would be about… 88 cents.”

“WHAT?” Maisie shouted, grabbing the doodle board to see it for herself—not that she’d understand the rates and percentages, but it was indeed pretty infuriating stuff.

“So…” Rowan continued, “You can have the adult way with inflation, or you can take the $1 the Tooth Fairy is offering and let your parents take you out for ice cream when the tooth falls.” A brow raise. “What do you want?”

“The adult way sucks. This is why you have grey hair.”

“Maisie,” Aelin reproached, “that’s not nice.”

The timer beeped, telling him it was time to turn the nuggets in the air fryer. “Let’s go set the table, Mais,” Aelin said while he finished cooking.

The gentle rain outside chilled the mid-spring evening, something about the sound of the water falling against the large glass window adding a cozy factor to their dinner night. 

They would’ve started eating sooner if Maisie hadn’t decided she’d only eat if her plate was the same color as Fleetfoot’s bowl, so it was another five to ten minutes until they found the girl’s lilac plate and the four of them were all set.

Which didn’t make much of a difference for Aelin, since she was practically pushing her food around.

Rowan tapped her foot with his under the table. “You good?”

She wrinkled her nose. “Not great.” A shrug. “Just a bit bloated. The nuggets are great, though.” Aelin said with a weak smile she put on to soothe his worries. His Fireheart knew him well, but he knew her just as well.

“I’m sorry, Mama. Maybe your tummy needs a nap.”

Rowan relaxed his shoulders, melting. Maisie was such a thoughtful little—

“Are you gonna eat all your nuggets?” she asked, eyeing her mother’s plate as if she could eat the whole table on her own. 

Well, she can be exclusively a thoughtful little girl. Right now, she was a thoughtful little girl with ulterior motives.

Aelin’s lips twitched with suppressed laughter. “You do know there’s more in the tray, right?”

“I’m saving them for school tomorrow. Can I eat yours or not?”

Rowan frowned. “Maisie, there’s no need to ration food. We have a full fridge.”

“A full fridge of fruit! Not nuggets,” she said as Aelin gave her two from her plate. The little girl grinned, kicking her feet under the table before she chomped down—

Maisie froze mid-bite, green eyes nearly bulging out of her skull as she sent them a panicked look.

“What happened?”

She grabbed a napkin—thank the gods—and slowly spat the contents of her mouth on it. 

“The nugget yanked my wiggly tooth.”

“That’s…” Rowan grabbed the napkin, smiling at the gross mixture of saliva and chewed food that nestled Maisie’s tiny tooth and its even smaller bloody root. “That’s disgusting, actually. Are you okay?”

She nodded, still looking shocked. “I thought it’d hurt more, but it was just a little pop and it was gone.”

“Good. That’s—“

He looked over at Aelin and saw her wipe off a tear. She cupped both hands and asked, “Can I see?”

Rowan handed over Maisie’s soggy napkin, and Aelin’s laugh trembled with emotion. “So gross.” She rounded the table and hugged her very confused kid, who was still sitting.

“I’m so proud of you, Maisy Daisy.”

“Mom, you’re being weird.” A pause. “Are you sad you didn’t yank it?”

“Nope, not sad at all.” Aelin wiped another tear off with her thumb and kissed her daughter’s forehead. “I’m just a little emotional today. Let me be.”

Aelin wasn’t a crier, but Rowan wasn’t either, and he did unexpectedly tear up on Maisie’s first day of school, leaving his estranged co-parent to awkwardly comfort him outside the classroom. When it came to parenting, he stopped judging a few tears a long time ago.

“Let’s get this ready for Tooth Fairy, shall we?”

Aelin opened an upper cabinet, then another box that was inside it, and retrieved delicate-looking pliers.

“Baby, I didn’t know you were still keeping surgery… things around the house.” He hinted at their old disagreement, not wanting to fight with her in front of Maisie. 

Aelin has a rather unorthodox way to prepare food—one of the reasons why he took over kitchen duties. She might not know how to season and fry the food well, but that woman can cut and debone meat like a pro. Rowan still wasn’t comfortable about having tools designed to cut flesh and bone anywhere near their very mischievous five-year-old—no matter how well Aelin hid them. 

The wave of uneasiness that haunted him today returned—the reminder of how good she is at keeping things hidden when she wants to.

“S’just a Kern Forceps, babe,” she replied with a grin, sprawling her hand over the kitchen island and stabbing it with the instrument, then made a point to show off her unharmed hand to him.

Fine, but this isn’t over, was the message he attempted to send by squinting his eyes at her.

~~

Hours later, he completely forgot to bring it up.

Fleetfoot’s paws against the hall’s wooden floor made Rowan jump, hyper aware of any sounds that came from outside their suite bathroom, where Rowan and Aelin lurked inside, sat on the floor.

Rationally, he knew that the broom that leaned against the outer side of Maisie’s bedroom door—a noise trap—would alert them if she woke up. Still, every noise put him on high alert because of their current, deeply covert activity.

They’d just brushed the two coins with a mixture of detergent and vinegar and rinsed it, now it just needed a bit of polishing and a coat of transparent glitter nail polish to make it look like an authentic Tooth Fairy token.

“Do you think Tooth Fairy would use chunky glitter in her coins? Or you think she’s a subtle-sparkle kind of girl?’ 

He narrowed his eyes at Aelin. “Explain.”

She sighed with such tiredness as if what she’d said was obvious and painted a  sample of each nail polish over a sheet of paper towel. “Our options are: transparent with tiny pink glitter or transparent with silver holographic flakes of glitter.”

“I see…” Rowan hummed thoughtfully, even though he did not see. “Let’s go with… pink.”

When it came to Maisie, pink was always a safe choice–and, as a girl dad, Rowan relied on safe choices.

“I don’t know… I’m just not feeling it with this tiny pink glitter.”

He wondered why she’d even asked. “Of course, I mean…” Rowan took back the sample as if squinting at it would give him any answers. “Well, technically the silvery one has the smaller grooves because the structure allows light to diffract and interfere better. Maybe you think this prismatic iridescence looks more fairytale-ish for the coin?”

Looking up, he faced a heavy-lidded Aelin. She licked her lips. “You know, it’s kinda hot when you remember you have a college degree.”

He grinned and gripped her chin. “I’ll save the dirty talk for later.” He wiggled his brows. “Maybe not.” A gentle, playful kiss. “Maybe you just can’t help yourself around my expertise in optical phys–”

“Alright!” She laughed and wrapped her arms around his neck despite the rude interruption, the softness of her lips spurring his own into action. Four months, and it still struck him stupid every time Rowan took in the fact that he got to old Aelin like this, and the contradiction wasn’t lost in him–how he hadn’t gotten used to being with Aelin, yet she felt like home in such a way that made him feel like both their souls were intrinsically intertwined.

Rowan broke the kiss and bit her lower lip. In retaliation, she nipped the tip of his nose and left a feather-light kiss on his lips. Another. And another. Ever so playful, Aelin left a string of quick pecks that left him chuckling between them, but when she moved to kiss his cheek, he held her face and took hold of the situation.

“I love you.” He was the one to initiate the kiss this time. “I love you so much.”

“Love you.” She held his wrists that cradled her cheeks. “And there’s something I need to tell you.”

When he registered the serious tone in Aelin’s voice, that dark cloud that loomed in his afternoon crept back in.

Rowan’s shoulders slumped, dreading the conversation before them. “I know.”

She reared back. “You know?”

“It’s pretty obvious, don’t you think?”

“It wasn’t obvious to me.” A dark chuckle. “I guess I miss the signs every time, huh?”

Guilt clogged his throat like a rough rock. He looked away and busied his hands with the next task of polishing those two coins, but it didn’t stray his mind from the issue at hand. Aelin had a chronic condition and, as much as she tried to shield her family from it, it was his job to look after her—one he was failing terribly at, despite his efforts.

“Gods!” Aelin got up and left the bathroom, fanning the air in front of her while she ran towards the suite’s open window. Rowan went after her.

His hands were all over her, checking if she was alright. “What happened?”

“Sorry, baby.” She said between slow breaths, a hand on her stomach to steady herself. “I didn’t know that polish would smell so bad.”

“It’s okay. I can do it somewhere else. Or we can not do it. Why would Tooth Fairy’s coins look so shiny with all the traveling she does, anyway?” He kissed her forehead. “This is a symptom too?”

Aelin’s been struggling with nausea as a withdrawal symptom after switching from her previous antidepressant to a new one, and things were looking pretty bad. Maybe strong scents triggered it? 

She nodded. “It is.”

Rowan took a deep, pained breath. “I can’t help but think that the reason behind all this is my fault.”

A snort. “It’s definitely your fault.”

He grimaced. “I’m so sorry, I…” Rowan crossed his arms and looked out the window while he said, “I made something to cheer you up. It won’t make that much of a difference in the big picture, but I hope you’ll… you know… cheer up.”

“Okay.” She ran a hand from his shoulder down his arm, until their fingers were intertwined. “Show me.”

He grabbed the key and led her out of the room into the one they shared a wall with, Fenrys’ old bedroom.

“You made a renovation? Is this why you kept this door locked?” Aelin said, suspicion coating her tone as she studied him with narrowed eyes. 

“It’s not ready yet,” Rowan defended his work before she even saw it, anticipating a poor reaction.

“It’s too soon to even start thinking of a new room, Buzzard.”

She hadn’t even finished moving in, but doing it felt right. He said so to her.

“And before I even told you anything. You were really sure of your… potency, weren’t you?”

“It’s kind of my job to read the signs, isn’t it?” Rowan said as he opened the door and turned the lights on.

Rowan would love to brag and say that he did a full renovation, but it’d be a lie. He’d just emptied most of it out and filled it with things Aelin would appreciate—not that figuring that out was a hard task. A floor-to-ceiling bookcase that took over an entire wall became mandatory ever since Maisie got the idea that a couple of walls at her mother’s house were made of books instead of bricks. Another wall just for books, but this one got interrupted by the window, which he took advantage of to get a dark blue couch and make it a ‘reading nook’, as some folks on the internet call it. Apart from that, he just got a new desk—that matches the bookcases, since Aelin cares about this stuff—and fully emptied out Fenrys’ closet, since Rowan would have to own a total of half a shirt to make the one in the master room fit all of her stuff, from several work uniforms to the cocktail attire she wears once in a blue moon.

Rowan was pointedly not looking at Aelin, and taking a second look at his work could only distract him so much from the fact that she was awfully quiet. Shit. Did he not get enough bookcases? Rowan was afraid that might happen.

When he dared take a look, her expression put him off. Aelin’s eyes looked unusually shiny, and her chin wobbled in a way that sent a jolt of fear through him.

“I got the wrong shade of wood, didn’t I?”

“No! Baby, I love it.” Her chin wobbled. “I love it so much. Everything, really. It’s just…” she quickly dabbed at her eyes with her fingers and cleared her throat. “Sorry, hormones.”

Aelin finally looked him in the eye and said, “I just had other plans for this room.”

“Like what?”

She stared at him like he was the one being unreasonable. “Like a nursery, Rowan.”

In a way, she was right. Eventually, when the time was right, they’d need a nursery. But right now, they had an empty room and a lot of books in need of one. 

“I know.” Rowan squeezed her hand, a flicker of excitement running through him at the mention of his future with Aelin. “But we have time before that.”

“Does less than seven months feel like a long time to you?”

Rowan felt his brows creasing. Less than seven—

His eyes widened.

The speed in which he took a step back to examine the seriousness in Aelin’s expression was nothing compared to his heartbeat’s pace.

“You’re not.” 

“Rowan, you just told me it was pretty obvious—not ten minutes ago.”

“I was talking about depression!”

“Depression!?” 

Rowan paused. Tentatively, he added, “Your depressive episode…?”

“Honey, why on earth would you think I’m depressed?”

“You’ve been so tired.”

She pointed at her lower belly. “Exactly.”

“And you changed all your medication.”

“Exactly!”

Rowan blinked.

Oh, shit.

He took a step back. And another.

“Rowan? Are you alright?”

Not again. He was absolutely not doing this shit again. Blindly, he opened the door behind him.

“Rowan Whitethorn, you are not leaving this room right now. This is so not the response you’re giving me after I tell you I’m preg—“

“Wait. Just—” he gave her a pleading look “—wait a minute. You didn’t tell me anything yet.”

She crossed her arms, eyes hard. “I’m pretty sure I did.”

“You want to trust me with this. You didn’t tell me anything yet. You’ll agree with me when I come back.”

“You have five minutes to put yourself together before I kick you out for the night.” When Aelin checked the time on her phone, her movements were as stiff as her jaw. 

And then he ran. 

First to the garage, where the ladder was. He did stumble over a box or two and made too much noise for the late hour, but Aelin’s clock was running. Then, he took it to their bedroom, thankful that she decided to stay in the spare room for what he was about to do.

Rowan set the ladder next to the curtain and climbed it until he could reach the top. He unscrewed the finial at the very end and checked the curtain pole—more precisely, the jewelry baggie he hid inside it. There, laid the not-so-new possession that could bankrupt a small country—or at least Rowan’s bank account.

After that, he kneeled before the bottom of his closet and retrieved the red velvet ring box, since it didn’t fit inside the curtain rail. Rowan had no idea how Aelin believed him when she learned he was using a fancy jewelry box to keep his spare keys, but he was glad the small white lie worked in his favor.

When you share a closet with someone as clever as his Fireheart, doing a task such as hiding a wedding ring forces the mind to chew through its own skull to gouge out creativity.

Checking his phone, his five minutes were almost out.

Once again, Rowan ran. He yanked the bedroom door open, and took a sharp turn to meet her by the couch where she sat. However, the mix of his speed, spin and fuzzy mind was the perfect combination to send him tumbling towards the ground before he reached her.

“Rowan!” she shouted as soon as his hip hit the floor, standing up to aid him.

“Stay there,” he said with one hand up and another clutching at his side as he sat on the floor, wincing at the bite of pain.

She stood before him as he commanded, but still studied him carefully, watchful. “Does it hurt?”

“It 's nothing.”

“Honey, you need to be more careful. Your bones aren’t getting any stronger at this age.”

A bark of laughter. “Did you just call me old?”

She shrugged. “Just statistics.”

Rowan abandoned his post-fall sitting position and got on one knee, retrieving the small velvet box from his sweatpants’ pocket, heart on his throat.

When he dared to glance at her, Aelin looked exactly the same as she did a second ago—frozen as a picture. Her lack of reaction freaked him out, but it was too late to retreat.

“Aelin,” he started, then swallowed the lump in his throat. He tried again, “My beloved Fireheart…”

Her mind must’ve catched up with her surroundings, because she straightened herself and stared at him expectantly.

Rowan’s mind went blank.

“Is it a surprise that I’ve kept this ring for months, but couldn’t come up with a speech?”

She shook her head to confirm her lack of surprise, giggling, but it was cut short. “Months?” she asked, frowning. “How many months? We’ve been together for four.”

“Fireheart,” he continued and cleared his throat, not willing to answer her. 

His nerves got the best out of him and he let out a frazzled chuckle. “This is so soon.”

“Time’s a social construct, no need to restrict ourselves to that.” Aelin aimed at a joke, but the emotion welled in her close-lipped smile betrayed the levity behind it.

Rowan placed a brief kiss on her knuckles. “I have this… longing for you. It’s soul-consuming, and there’s no time barriers to it. I’ve longed for you since before I met you. I longed for you when you hated me, I long for you every hour you’re not by my side. But right now, even together, ‘longing’ doesn’t even scratch the surface of how I feel about marrying you—which is why I’m beginning to accept that it won’t ever stop. The more this yearning shifted from an emotion I once ran from into one I now cherish, the more certain I became that this longing for you is my fate, Aelin.”

He supported the hand still holding the box on his knee and leaned to grab Aelin’s hand with his free one. With his eyes closed, Rowan summoned the endless reverence he felt and poured it into kissing her knuckles, head bent.

He looked back up and, without releasing her hand, continued, “I might not be the best man you’ll ever find, but I’m the one who’ll try the hardest to do right by you. I love you. All day, every day. I loved you when I couldn’t tell love was right in front of my face—but now that I know it, there’s no limit to what I can give to you, no time I need. Even when this world is a forgotten whisper of dust between the stars, I will love you.”

“Fireheart, will you allow me the honor of becoming your husband, to serve and love you for as long as I live?”

A quick blinking and the slight, soundless motion of her agape mouth were the only tells she was conscious.

The short air supply he was getting was probably the reason behind his lightheadedness. If this stretched for any longer, he might need a heart monitor and a cardiologist before Aelin gave him an answer.

Rowan cleared his throat. “...Please?”

It took a second longer before she snapped awake. “Don’t say that!”

Rowan begged Mala this wasn’t a ‘no’. He might need an ambulance for real.

“Don’t say what?”

“Please!”

“Please what?”

“Don’t say that!”

Rowan frowned. Her cryptic blank expression was easier to understand than this. “Why are you mad?”

“Because of course I’ll marry you! Saying ‘please’ is just—that’s ridiculous.” Aelin said while dropping to her knees before him, then yanked his face to hers and kissed his lips in a near-violent caress. “I—” Another aggressive peck. “—I love you so much. I’ll marry you a million times over.”

Ease came before joy—Rowan’s entire body relaxed. He wished he could give her a post-proposal movie-worthy kiss, but it wouldn’t work with all that relief rushing out of his lungs and mouth right now.

“Good,” he said, nodding. “Good.” While putting the ring on her finger, he joked, “That was just a formality, actually. It’s not like I’m letting you go anywhere, love.”

She laughed. “So possessive.”

“You better think this through, Fireheart. I won’t get any better once I make you my wife.”

She let out a mocking resigned sigh. “I guess I can live with that.”

Aelin’s new reading nook had enough space for one and a half to cuddle, so she led him there, made him lay down first and set herself on top of him. She hovered over him, forearms braced on each of his side, and it only took him half a mind to cup her face and kiss her.

His entire existence narrowed to Aelin, her thighs straddling his and their tongues tangled as his chest heated and melted, overwhelmed with one of the most vital half-hour spans of his life.

Their millionth kiss. The first of the rest of their lives, executed as urgently as if it was their last.

He loved her.

He loved her.

He loved her.

Aelin caressed his cheek and peered at him, eyes shiny and her gorgeous, swollen lips twisted into a watery smile. That look on her face—it made him more silly than any love declaration she could ever make.

They held each other’s gazes in a silent conversation, soliloquies and odes and oaths translated into the flow of photons that passed between them and allowed the conversation between turquoise and pine-green irises.

She stroked his cheek and something caught her eye. Aelin giggled.

“You’re quite the decent jewel shopper, Whitethorn.” She kept smiling at her ring, then laid her head on his chest to comfortably move the diamond on her finger and watch it catch the light. 

Rowan was merely window-shopping wedding rings—a pastime he did to try to resist the urge to buy one when it was soon—when he saw it. An emerald cut diamond, as they call it, with an extravagance in its size that balanced the tastefully minimalistic design. 

“You know I’d marry you if you proposed with a cereal box ring, right? I had my answer ready before you bought this tectonic plate.”

Rowan snorted. And she had the gall to say that he was the dramatic one in this relationship.

This engagement.

Truth was, Rowan knew he didn’t have to—the way he gleefully mangled his savings shocked him more than the price itself.

He’s always had the habit of saving money, but even though it was natural for him, there’s always been plans for it as well. The list grew and changed as Rowan did, going from buying gym supplements—that he hid from his mother—in his teenage years to buying a house once free military housing isn’t an option for him anymore, and it was safe to say that spending so much—an amount that symbolized enormous time and effort from him—into an overpriced stone has never made it into the list.

Until her.

That was just a small one of the several ways Aelin changed his life and worldview.

Rowan kissed the top of her head. “I only care that you’re my wife now.”

“I’m not!” she said, laughing.

“You are. We already agreed to it, and I don’t think letting the government know is more important than that.”

“I’m glad I enjoyed my half-hour engagement, then. Shortest in history, if I had to bet.”

“I told you I’m not good with the timing thing.” Rowan didn’t sound apologetic in the least.

Aelin chuckled and buried her face in his chest, grinning against it. His body was half into cozy mode when she perked up, jumping in a way that she was still side-lying, but now with her forearm supporting her torso raised beside him.

“Oh! There’s something I have to tell you.”

“Okay?” Rowan’s tone portrayed his confusion.

It took her a second as she regarded him while biting her lip before Aelin said, “I’m pregnant.”

His grin was slow and immediate. “By Mala’s embers!” Rowan exclaimed, feigning surprise. And then he decided to just blatantly go with it and added, “What a surprise!”

Aelin threw her head back, her loud cackles filling the room in the most overwhelmingly fulfilling way. 

When she first told him, Rowan felt frustrated he didn’t get to execute the plan of marrying her before getting pregnant again, hence his odd first reaction. However, now he realized how silly that was, even if he still appreciated Aelin pretending to tell him after.

Emotion melted his features into a soft smile. “A really damn good surprise.”

“We didn’t plan for it.”

“We also weren’t actively avoiding it.” A pregnancy so soon was surprising, but Rowan wasn’t about to play dumb. They did treat condoms as an afterthought to the point in which it was just a matter of time. Especially with their frequency, he recalled with no amount of male satisfaction. “Maisie was a surprise too, and having her is pretty amazing, right?”

“Yes,” she said with a chuckle. “And Maisie was a whole different level of unplanned.”

Having a baby (1) with a man she worked with, (2) that she wasn't supposed to be sleeping with, (3) while being in a relationship with another man—Rowan didn’t think a baby could be more unplanned than Maisie, and look at them now.

She hummed. “I might be getting on birth control after this one. I don’t want to be that couple with 11 surprise babies that weren’t really a surprise.”

“Gods,” he cursed while protectively holding her belly. “Will you at least let this one come out before deciding on the sperm cell genocide?”

Aelin’s quivering lips betrayed her seriousness. “I mean it.”

“All right, no 11 kids. Got it,” he agreed, as serious as he could be. “But if you want twelve, I can make it to major before kid #5. That’s a big paycheck, baby.” 

She bumped his nose. “In your dreams, Not-A-Major Whitethorn.”

“You think I’m joking?” he challenged, joking. “Just you wait until the 12th Galathynius-Whitethorn comes and I’m lieutenant colonel. I’ll fit 12 more in my pocket.” 

Aelin leaned down to kiss him, but it got messy due to their laughing, so they resigned to a few pecks.

“I love you,” she said, placing a trail of kisses on his lip, cheek and nose.

“I love you.” Rowan tilted her face and kissed her thoroughly now that the mood had sobered. “And two or twelve, you call the shots.”

She raised her brows. “I never thought I wouldn’t.”

Mala forbid a man tries to show some support.

A loud clatter echoed over the silent house, alerting both of them, and it sounded a lot like the broom they placed outside Maisie’s door as a noise trap.

A softer, squeaky sound followed, the confirmation they needed—the typical sound of a door hinge that was purposefully left unoiled.  

Maisie was awake.

Both of them jumped off the couch to find Maisie in the hallway, right outside their bedroom. 

“Did you have a bad dream, Mais?” Rowan asked.

She looked between their bedroom door and the spare room’s, likely confused about their location, but she had more pressing matters to discuss.

“Tooth fairy is late.”

Shit. Between a new baby and the proposal, he completely forgot about it.

“Maisie,” Aelin warned in her soft mom tone. “Were you trying to catch Tooth Fairy?”

“No,” the little girl blatantly lied.

Rowan walked into her room and found a stolen Alexa from the kitchen. When he opened his phone to check the history? A request to be woken up in the middle of the night.

“Tooth Fairy isn’t late, you wanna know why?” Aelin asked their sheepish-looking daughter. “When she visits kids, she starts with the ones who don’t make a fuss when it’s time to brush their teeth—and you, Maisie Whitethorn, are at the very bottom of the list.” 

The little girl’s eyes widened, as she probably reconsidered the last five and a half years of her life—or whatever she could remember of it.

“But she’ll still come tonight, right?”

Aelin regarded their overeager daughter and softened. “Of course she will,” she confirmed with the satisfaction of someone who not only got away with their own slip, but also turned it into a learning opportunity for Maisie.

Evil genius.

He couldn’t wait to marry her.

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[212-apricity]

siren songs and stolen kisses, midsummers

ssask masterlist main masterlist

author's note: something important to remember before you read this chapter!!!!!

𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*: 𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*

jj's pov

The cell wasn’t as cold as it should’ve been, but that didn’t stop the chill in my bones. Jail had a way of doing that—wrapping its cold fingers around your ribs until they felt hollow. I leaned back against the wall, metal digging into my spine, and stared at the floor like it had the answers I needed. It didn’t. The concrete was blank, unforgiving, just like my luck.

The cell smelled like old piss and rust, but I was used to it. I had been here enough times to recognise the way the air hung heavy, like it was pressing you down. My fingers flexed and uncurled in my lap, the scrape of my knuckles stinging. They were raw from last night—Topper’s face had been the perfect punching bag, even if it hadn’t fixed anything.

I blew out a breath, leaning forward to rest my elbows on my knees. Sheriff Peterkin’s voice echoed down the hall, her footsteps slow, measured, like she wasn’t in a hurry to deal with me. Why would she be? She probably thought she already knew the story: JJ Maybank gets in over his head again. Just another Maybank screwing up.

“JJ Maybank,” she said, her voice that same cool, steady tone. She came to a stop outside the bars, her arms crossed like she was tired of this, of me. “You want to tell me what really happened out there?”

I didn’t bother looking up right away. I let the question hang in the air, heavy and sharp, while I stayed slouched, doing my best to look bored. Finally, I leaned back, draping one arm over the bench. “I already told you,” I said with a shrug. “I sunk the boat.”

She sighed, clearly unimpressed. “Don’t play dumb with me, JJ. Pope Heyward sunk that boat, and we both know it.” She tilted her head, studying me like she was trying to piece me together. “Why are you taking the fall?”

I felt my stomach twist, but I shoved it down, kept my face blank. “What fall?” I asked, flashing her a grin I didn’t feel. “It’s my testimony, Sheriff. Take it or leave it.”

Peterkin shook her head. “You’ve always been a good liar, JJ, but this time? You’re not fooling anyone.”

I clenched my jaw. “I’m not lying.”

She let out a frustrated breath, then stepped back, hands on her hips. “You’re not a hero, you know,” she said, her tone softer now, almost like she pitied me. “This isn’t going to save anyone. It’s just going to get you in deeper.”

I forced a laugh, leaning back like I didn’t care, even though her words sank into me like stones. “Saving people isn’t really my thing.”

Peterkin stared at me for a long moment, then finally pulled out her keys. “Fine,” she said, unlocking the cell. “You’re free to go. But I’m warning you, JJ—whatever you’re trying to prove? It’s not worth it.”

The cell door creaked open, and I pushed myself to my feet, brushing past her as I stepped into the hallway.

𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*: 𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*

The sound of the heavy metal door slamming behind me echoed in the empty corridor. I didn’t expect anyone to be waiting, least of all her.

Y/n Cameron stood there, like some beacon of light in this dim, dingy police station. She was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, her face a mixture of worry and anger. Her hair fell in soft waves around her shoulders, and she wore one of those Kook dresses—simple, elegant, something expensive that she made look casual.

She shouldn’t be here.

She never belonged in my world. But damn if she didn’t fit perfectly in it, somehow.

“Hey,” I said, forcing a grin as I strolled toward her like I wasn’t just sitting in a jail cell. “Come here often?”

Her eyes softened when she saw me, but her mouth pressed into a tight line. “JJ, what the hell were you thinking?” she asked, her voice sharp but thick with worry.

“Me?” I raised an eyebrow, playing it off like it was nothing. “I was just enjoying the hospitality.”

She wasn’t amused. “God JJ you’re so fucking stupid,” she muttered, stepping forward until she was right in front of me. Her hand lifted, trembling slightly, and she brushed her thumb over the bruise forming on my cheek.

I flinched—barely—but she noticed. She always noticed.

“JJ…” her voice softened, breaking just a little. “What happened? What did you do?”

I swallowed hard, my throat tight. I wanted to tell her everything. Not just about the stupid boat but about me. I wanted to spill all the messy, broken parts of me at her feet and let her fix them. But that wasn’t fair. She didn’t deserve that weight.

“It’s nothing,” I said, reaching up to take her hand in mine, pressing it against my chest. “I couldn’t let Pope lose his scolarship. Im scared he’d go into cardiac arrest if he did.”

Instead of laughing like usual, her lips parting like she wanted to say something, but the words didn’t come. Instead, she let out a shaky breath and leaned into me, wrapping her arms around my waist. I held her close, the warmth of her body grounding me.

“You don’t have to do this alone,” she whispered.

I kissed the top of her head, closing my eyes. “Yeah,” I lied. “I know.”

But the moment shattered when I felt it—the familiar grip of my father’s hand clamping down on my shoulder.

“Time to go, JJ,” Luke Maybank growled, his voice low and dangerous.

Y/n stiffened against me, her grip tightening. I turned, keeping my body between her and my father. “Go home,” I whispered to her, forcing a smile I didn’t feel. “Please.”

Her eyes searched mine, desperate and scared. “JJ—”

“I’ll be fine,” I lied again. “Just go.”

Luke’s fingers dug into my shoulder, yanking me back. I didn’t fight it. I couldn’t. I gave her one last look, and then he dragged me out, his grip like a vice.

And I let him.

𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*: 𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*

𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*: 𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*

y/n's pov

The sun was beginning to dip, casting that perfect golden hour glow across the Cameron estate. Everything outside looked flawless: the lawn perfectly trimmed, the white-and-gold decorations lining the patio like something out of a Southern Living magazine. But inside, it was chaos. Controlled, sure—typical Cameron perfectionist chaos—but chaos nonetheless.

Sarah was in the kitchen, trying to fix her pinned up hair, her face scrunched up in concentration. I stood by the window, watching the sun sink lower, my phone clutched in my hand, screen blank. No texts from JJ. No missed calls. Nothing.

“Y/n, can you help me with this?” Sarah’s voice broke through my thoughts. She held up a handful of hairpins, looking helpless. “I swear, if this falls out during Midsummers, I’m going to lose it.”

I crossed the room, shoving my phone into the pocket of my dress. “You’re being dramatic,” I said, grabbing the pins and starting to twist her hair into place.

“Dramatic?” she huffed, raising an eyebrow. “It’s Midsummers. I have to look perfect.”

I smirked. “Why? Planning to impress someone?”

She rolled her eyes, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Please. Everyone on this island is boring. Except maybe John B, but that’s a whole other mess.” She paused, glancing at me in the mirror. “Speaking of messes… JJ?”

I sighed, focusing on twisting her hair just right. “I don’t know. He’s not answering my texts. I’m worried.”

She tilted her head slightly, letting me work. “He’ll be fine,” she said softly. “He always is. But you need to talk to him.”

“I tried,” I muttered. “Luke showed up before I could get anything out of him.”

Her face darkened at the mention of JJ’s dad. “That man’s a nightmare. JJ shouldn’t have to deal with that.”

“I know,” I said quietly, finishing the last pin. “Done.”

Sarah stood up, admiring the final result in the mirror. “You’re the best,” she said with a grin. She grabbed a necklace from her dresser and slipped it on. “Now, how do I break up with Topper tonight without causing a scene?”

I laughed, the heaviness in my chest easing slightly. “Wait until after Midsummers. You know how he gets.”

Sarah made a face, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “You’re right. I’ll be nice. But tomorrow, it’s over.”

Just as she said that, Rafe strode in, already dressed in his pale blue suit, a smug look plastered on his face. “What are you two plotting?” he asked, grabbing a water bottle from the fridge.

“Girl stuff,” Sarah said sweetly, batting her lashes. “Nothing for your tiny brain to worry about.”

He rolled his eyes, taking a swig of water. “Whatever. Try not to embarrass the family tonight.”

I couldn’t resist. “I think that’s your job, Rafe.”

His eyes narrowed, but Sarah burst out laughing, and he just shook his head, trying to failing to stifle a smile as he left the room.

𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*: 𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*

The country club was packed, Kooks everywhere in their finest, gold glinting under the soft lights, champagne flutes raised in perfectly manicured hands. It was beautiful, I guess, but it felt fake and forced, all of it. I wandered through the crowd, half-smiling at familiar faces, but my mind was elsewhere.

JJ still hadn’t answered any of my texts. I tried not to let it show, but my heart raced every time I checked my phone. What if he wasn’t okay? What if Luke…

Stop.

I thought to myself, shaking the thoughts away. I couldn’t do this here, not now.

Kiara appeared at my side, looking as uncomfortable as I felt in her sleek dress. “This sucks,” she muttered, sipping from her drink. “We should be at the Chateau right now.”

I nodded, grateful for her presence. “Yeah. I’d rather be anywhere else.”

She shot me a sideways glance. “He still hasn’t called?”

“Nope,” I said, trying to sound nonchalant, even though it felt like my stomach was tying itself into knots.

“Typical JJ,” she said, rolling her eyes but smiling. “He’ll show up. He always does.

𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*: 𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*

As Kie went to get another drink from the bar, I spotted Pope waving at me, smiling brightly, from his dads cart.

I was about to raise my hand in greeting when I noticed someone standing beside me, clearing their throat. Someone who, despite the music and lights, made my stomach drop.

Gray Pierce.

Rafe’s childhood best friend.

I hadn’t seen him in what felt like forever. Grayson “Gray” Pierce was the type of guy who always made his presence known, even when he was just standing there, looking around with that calculated smirk on his face. He was dressed in designer clothes, standing tall and confident, like he owned the world. His dirty blonde hair was styled perfectly, and his sharp jawline looked like it could cut glass. He was still just as dangerous as I remembered—charming, but with an edge that could cut through steel.

I turned to him, my lips pressing into a tight line. "Gray," I said, my voice neutral. I wasn’t excited to see him—not in the slightest—but I wasn’t going to show him how much he made me uncomfortable.

He gave me that smirk—the one I used to fall for. "Y/n. Heard you got a new boyfriend now," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm as his eyes flicked over the crowd in front of us. "Does he know how to treat a lady, or is he just a wild dog like the rest of them?" His words felt like a slap in the face.

I raised an eyebrow. "Did you know how to treat a lady?" I shot back, crossing my arms over my chest.

Gray’s eyes hardened, "I heard he’s a Pogue*,*" he said, his tone mocking. "We don’t mix with their side, Y/n. Taints our blood."

I froze at his words, anger rising in my chest like a slow-burning fire. His words were heavy, loaded with disdain, and I hated that he still thought he could talk to me like that. He hadn’t changed at all.

I was about to respond, my mouth opening to say something sharp, but then I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned and saw JJ, his eyes bright but quickly flicking between Gray and me, sensing the tension in the air.

“Y/n, hey!” JJ greeted, practically bouncing with excitement, only to pause when his gaze flickered to Gray, his mood shifting ever so slightly.

Gray’s gaze lingered on JJ for a moment, his smile fading just slightly, before he turned to look at me. “He’s your boyfriend now?” Gray asked, his voice soft with the kind of malice that sent a chill down my spine.

I gave him a look, feeling my patience wearing thin as I grabbed JJ’s hand quickly, surprised to see him but trying to cover it up so Gray wouldn’t notice. “What’s it to you Gray? Fuck off, don’t you have some other girl to cheat on?” I said firmly, my words laced with finality. I wasn’t going to let him make this about me, about him, or about whatever weird power play he was trying to put on.

JJ’s eyes narrowed at Gray but he didn’t seem to care. He just smirked, as though he found my discomfort amusing.

“Alright. If you’re gonna be like that, I’ll just leave you two to it,” Gray said, his voice dripping with venom. He gave me one last look, his gaze lingering a moment too long. “Just remember, Y/n. Our kind doesn’t mix with scum. Don’t let him pull you down.”

Before I could respond, Gray turned on his heel and disappeared into the crowd finding Rafe again, leaving me standing there with JJ. He had a confused look on his face, his brow furrowed as he looked at me.

“What was that about?” JJ asked, his voice tight, I turned around again and there he was.

JJ, grinning like he hadn’t just been in a fight with the world, looking a little worse for wear but still so, so JJ.

I let out a long breath, my hands clenched at my sides. “Nothing,” I said quickly, shaking my head.

JJ still looked unconvinced, but before he could press further, I shoved him back by his shoulder.

“Excuse me?” he exclaimed, “What the fuck was that for I didn’t do anything”

“Exactly JJ, you didn’t do anything,” I all but shouted back as he looked back at me, confused, “Seriously J would it have killed you to just text me back or something? Do you have any idea how worried I’ve been?”

JJ looked up at me sheepishly, “I’m sorry baby my phone died,” he pulled out his dead phone from his back pocket and put it in my hands to check, “I should’ve charged it or used John B’s but today’s just been such a shitshow I wasn’t thinking properly. I’m sorry princess” he explained with a sad pout, obviously abusing his looks to get his way (yet again).

Unfortunately, it worked.

I practically launched myself at him, throwing my arms around his neck. “Just let me know if you’re okay next time, alright?”

He staggered back, laughing. His arms wrapped around me tightly, and for a second, everything felt right. “Of course princess, I’m sorry. Alright, now that my part’s done, if that guy even looks at you again, I’ll—”

I stopped him with a hand on his chest. “JJ, please,” I said softly, not wanting the memory of Gray to spoil this. “It’s fine. He’s just bitter. Let’s just... have fun tonight, yeah?”

He seemed to relax at that, his expression softening. “Yeah, alright,” he said, his smile returning, though there was still a little wariness in his eyes as he glanced around, probably still keeping an eye out for Gray.

My eyes narrowed, closer to him now I noticed the fresh bruises on his face and the split lip. My heart sank. “JJ…what happened to you?” I asked softly, brushing my fingers over the bruise.

He caught my hand, squeezing it. “It’s nothing,” he said, smiling like it didn’t hurt. “Just my dad you know.”

I opened my mouth to say something, but before I could, the familiar voice of Rafe cut through the noise. “JJ Maybank,” he sneered, his group of Kooks fanning out behind him. “Didn’t think you’d have the balls to show up here.”

JJ tensed beside me, his grin tightening. “Well, you know me,” he said, stepping in front of me slightly. “Never could resist a good party.”

Rafe took a step closer, eyes gleaming with malice. “Let’s go, boys.”

“Gotta go baby,” JJ whispered, pressing a quick kiss to my lips.

And then he was gone, weaving through the crowd again, Rafe and his “friends” in pursuit.

𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*: 𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*

The atmosphere at Midsummers was overwhelming, suffocating, as I clutched my glass of champagne and half-heartedly tried to enjoy the party. I was laughing along with the Kooks’ endless chatter, but my mind was elsewhere. I could feel the unease in the pit of my stomach—the same uneasy feeling I’d been carrying ever since I left the police station. The sight of JJ’s bruised face was still burned into my mind, and the way he had brushed it off, like it was nothing. But I knew better.

“Y/n, you need to relax,” Kiara said, her voice cutting through my spiraling thoughts. She’d appeared out of nowhere, like she always did when she sensed I needed someone to snap me out of it. She was holding a glass of sparkling water in her hand, but I could tell from the look in her eyes that she was more concerned about me than the party.

“Where are they?” I asked looking around quickly “I swear if Rafe’s pulled some shit like he did the other day…”

Kiara cut me off, her expression hardening as she stepped closer to me. “You know JJ, right? He’s not the kind of guy who just lets things slide. Whatever Rafe’s got planned, he’ll figure it out. He’s not the kind of guy to let himself stay down for long.”

I nodded, but it didn’t stop the gnawing feeling in my stomach. I couldn’t shake it. I kept imagining JJ, alone, somewhere in the middle of all of this. And I couldn’t stand the idea of not being there for him.

Just then, the air shifted. There was an abrupt shift in the crowd, a ripple of murmurs, and I turned to see Rafe and his crew walking by, their eyes scanning the room like they owned it. And then, my gaze landed on him.

A familiar figure stepped into the lobby from the back hall.

JJ.

But this time, he wasn’t alone.

A guard flanked him on either side, his hands gripping JJ’s arms tightly. His expression was resigned, but his eyes—his eyes told a different story. He was hurt, no doubt, but there was something in his posture that suggested he wasn’t going down without a fight.

I started to rush toward him, but Kiara grabbed my arm again. “Y/n, wait. Let’s think this through.”

I barely heard her. I was already moving toward the exit where JJ was being led, my legs carrying me before my mind could catch up. I had to get to him. I had to know he was okay.

“JJ!” I shouted, and his eyes flicked toward me.

He looked like he’d been through hell, his shirt slightly torn, his bruises more obvious now. But there was that same crooked grin on his face as he lifted his chin, as though he were proud of something—anything.

“Princess,” he said, his voice low, like it was some private joke only he and I understood. “I’m fine, don’t worry.” his voice rose, “Leave it to the men and women in uniform!”

I stopped dead in my tracks, staring at him, my heart slamming in my chest. “JJ, what the hell happened?”

He winked at me, the guard’s hold tightening just slightly as they moved past. “Don’t worry. This is nothing. I’ll be alright.” He flashed that grin of his again, this time more genuine, before he shouted again, “Rixons Cove, Y/n.”

I could barely process the words when I heard Kiara scream beside me. “Hey! Let him go! He’s our guest! I’m a part of this club!”

I turned to see Kiara running after them, shouting at the guards, but their grip on JJ remained unyielding. The scene was chaotic. It was like everything was falling apart, the tension and anger rising with every step the guards took, dragging him away from us.

Then, through the turmoil, JJ shouted, his voice clear and loud, cutting through the noise.

“Mandatory power at Rixons! Pope, you too! Rixons Cove, let’s roll. Alright, Kie, Y/n, come on, workers of the world unite, throw off the chains!”

Kiara and I didn’t need any more encouragement. I could feel my heart hammering in my chest as we ran, the sound of the guards’ footsteps growing louder behind us.

And then, I felt it—the solid warmth of JJ’s arms around me as I leapt into them. The guards barely even slowed down as he lifted me up and held me close, a rush of laughter escaping him.

“Come on princess,” he said, a grin in his voice. “Running away with a pogue now? What a scandal.”

I felt his lips brush my cheek briefly, his breath warm against my skin. “Shut up J”, I laughed.

Before he could reply, we were running again, Kie and Pope right next to us. My heart was racing, but I felt something that hadn’t been there before. Something more—more than fear, more than confusion. I felt alive.

𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*: 𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*

We gathered around the firepit, the flames crackling and lighting our faces in the darkness. The scent of saltwater mixed with the damp earth as we sat together, huddled in the warmth of the fire. JJ’s arms were around me (as well as his jacket) as I sat in between his legs, him playing with my hair and me with his hands. Everyone was quiet for a moment, just breathing, just existing in the stillness.

“So,” John B began, breaking the silence. He sat down on the log beside me, his face lit by the firelight. “I’ve got something. Something big.” He looked at Sarah, who was sitting next to him, her arms crossed as she looked at him curiously.

“What do you mean?” Pope asked, leaning forward.

“I’ve been digging, and I found something,” John B said, his eyes gleaming in the firelight. He looked around at all of us before continuing. “There’s a way to get to the treasure. A real way. It’s a map, but it’s hidden.” He paused, letting the weight of his words settle. “We just need Sarah to help us find it.”

There was a beat of silence.

“What?!” Kiara’s voice shot out like an arrow, sharp and disbelieving. “No offence, Y/n, but I’m not thrilled about Sarah being part of this. She’s always got some excuse, some reason why we can’t trust her. Why do we need her now?”

I frowned at Kiara’s words, feeling the tension rise. I knew that Kiara had issues with Sarah—she’d never really trusted her, not since the whole fiasco with the party years ago. But that didn’t mean Sarah didn’t have something valuable to offer.

“Come on, Kie,” John B said, trying to convince her. “She’s trying to help. And I don’t hear anyone else coming up with any ideas to get the map.”

Kiara scowled but didn’t say anything more. She crossed her arms tightly, though, clearly unwilling to let her guard down.

“So, what’s the plan then?” Pope asked, breaking the tension. “Do we go after the map now?”

“No,” John B said, shaking his head. “First, I need to meet with Sarah alone. We can’t let anyone else in on this part of the plan just yet.” He turned to me, raising an eyebrow. “Don’t worry. I’m not planning anything shady.”

JJ shot John B a look, and then he smirked. “Right, because there’s nothing going on between you two,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

I laughed, Pope joined in, a chuckle escaping him as he shot a look at John B. “John B, you’re literally a worse liar than me.”

Kiara rolled her eyes but grinned. “You promise me there’s nothing going on between you and Sarah, John B. You’ll ruin the whole plan if you mess it up.”

John B held up his hands defensively, his face reddening. “I swear, Kie, nothing’s going on. We’re just talking.”

JJ leaned back on his elbows, grinning at the absurdity of it all. “Sure, sure. Just talking. The most innocent thing in the world.”

𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*: 𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*

Kie, Pope, JJ and I were still joking, letting the laughter fill the gaps in the air in the Twinkie, when we heard it.

A scream.

A long, desperate cry for help.

Without thinking, we all bolted upright, adrenaline flooding our systems as we raced toward the sound. Kiara, Pope, and I led the charge, pushing past trees and underbrush, until we broke out onto the edge of a small clearing. There, in the middle of the chaos, was Sarah—frantic, her face pale with terror as she knelt beside John B, who was lying on the ground, unmoving.

“John B!” Sarah screamed, her voice breaking. “John B, wake up!”

I rushed forward, reaching her just as she tried to shake him awake. But something wasn’t right. There was a cut on his forehead, and blood was seeping into the dirt beneath him.

“What happened?” I gasped, my hand instinctively going to John B’s shoulder, trying to lift him.

“It’s Topper,” Sarah said, her voice trembling. “He pushed him off the building. I saw it.”

My stomach dropped. “What?!”

Kiara stepped forward, her hands shaking as she knelt beside John B. “We need to get him out of here,” she said urgently. “He’s not breathing right.”

I couldn’t think, couldn’t process what had just happened. It was like the world tilted beneath me, the ground slipping away.

“We need to go,” I said, my voice rising in panic. “We need help. Right now.”

And just like that, the group of us—runners, survivors, and dreamers—were faced with the reality of our situation. We weren’t just fighting for a treasure anymore. We were fighting for our lives.

𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*: 𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*

part five done!!

idk if its just me but i get SO TIRED in the winter like im literally falling asleep in all my classes (which is normal) BUT AT LUNCH???? burn it.

taglist: @harryssideboobz @onelonelybitch

[jackiequick]

Bird Set Free x Marvel Comics OC

“Clipped wings, I was a broken thing. Had a voice, had a voice but I could not sing” – Sia

-> HC: Before Cruise hired her to play Jenny Mitchell in TOP GUN, she played a certain role in the small screen 📺

Laurel C.R. Beaumont

Full Name: Cassidy Rose Laura Holloway

Undercover Name: Laurel Beaumont, Kennedy Tucker

Nicknames: Cass, Dede, Rosie, Lor, Kenny, Baby Agent, Pretty Bird

Age: 23-34

Height: 5’4

Alias: UNKNOWN

Status: EX-SHIELD Agent

Family & Friends:

Parents: John Holloway & Regina Stone

Siblings: [Unnamed]

Friends: ?

Quotes:

“We’re alcoholics, dad! There is no such thing as two drinks a day…”

“Every heartbreak, every setback, every time no one cared to listen…I sank deeper into the water.”

“I like to think people can change…the question is, will they?”

“I’m the one you can’t run away from, sweetie.”

“You know, last time I trusted SHIELD..I was tossed aside like I was nothing. Fury doesn’t care, nor does Hill.”

“I’m done trying to beat you or even be you.”

“It’s not about the amount of times you get knocked down, it’s more like…how many times you can get up.”

“I guess we’re even now.”

“Uh first question, ‘Please provide any previous experience in retail’. Does shopping count?”

“What’s on Netflix? Oh! Oh wait, seen it already. But nobody said I can’t rewatch it.”

“Uh huh, what’s that supposed to be?”

~|~|~|~|~

PERSONALITY

Cassidy, or Laurel as some would call her, is someone who feels too much. She doesn’t harm others, bite back on a comment or stay quiet because she wants to. No. It’s because her mind is always twirling with one too many thoughts. She’s someone who is sarcastic and witty, however she carries a warmth and beauty within her that just makes you want to smile at times.

Not just that, Cassidy is more often than not the one person who is fiercely loyal however rather slow to trust others. So give her time. She’s flawed, but hey, who isn’t? She doesn’t always communicate her feelings and tends to distract herself or focus on others around her—even if she’s hurting underneath it all. Grieving but never truly weak, as it’s seen as a weapon or an armor in many ways.

~|~|~|~|~

BACKSTORY – Origin Story 💡

Laurel Cass, legally born Cassidy Rose Laura Holloway, was a daring feather in the streets of Upstate New York. Her father was a highly deluded cop and her mother was a tired teacher for college kids. Don’t ask about her brother, he was practically the golden star when it came to action, but he was really a liar. But that was a story for another time. Yet, she still loved him. And that left little ol’ Cassidy to fool around with a dream of being a movie star like Julia Roberts in Ocean’s Eleven.

When she wasn’t dreaming of starring in a Rom-Com, she dreamt of becoming a lawyer someday or something greater.

So she tried studying to become an English teacher but took a law enforcement class on the side to fill the gap, and when she wasn’t doing that? She went to try and audition for small roles in short films or something similar. Hey, a girl can dream, can she? Even if it was a failed act. That’s how she met a certain handsome brunette that will hurt and cross her life.

Jace Moore.

He was holding auditions for a thriller short film, and Cassidy became the Gone Girl in his film. Laurel Beaumont, was the role she played. It also helped that Cassidy thought Jace was rather not bad-looking. Anyways—it was a thriller about an old theater that was burnt down unexpectedly, as Ava Shapre’s project was destroyed as it haunted the score and how her granddaughter Laurel was going to investigate what truly happened. She thought Jace’s idea was sorta dumb but it gave her a chance to act right?

Dumb was the wrong word to use after researching the topic, as she stumbled upon a theory that painted the tale of the theater. A crime written in part of the city was where the old theater was held—fights, drug deals, accidents, vigilantes on the scene and screams could be heard from different sources—it wasn’t a clean case. Cassidy was pretty sure that’s where some Young Avengers went to find folks to hide from them or something. She asked Jace to change the placement of the short film, as he scoffed and told her that it was a part of the image he was trying to create, he wanted something real. Not fake.

— — —

He got something real alright, a real dose of reality. One afternoon, heading out to see a friend post meeting with the crew at Jace’s film at the theater, Cassidy took a left turn towards that part of the city, carrying her bag close to her chest.

She saw plenty of things—stores, children running, people walking and shouting—as she heard her phone ring. One of her co-stars on the short film, Rachel, called her to inform her that Jace will be cutting some scenes and needed to re-shoot the next few, as Cassidy nodded sadly. Dream of being a movie star? More like a rough act. She might as well return back home to study instead of playing Jace.

However once Cassidy ended up the phone call, she noticed a guy walking behind her as she wiped her head around and quickly paced the other away. She gasped and took a right turn into a shoe store and breathed out as she got inside.

Cassidy hid, waited as she pretended to be looking around for heels, and peeked out in between the aisles of the store—and he’s gone.

But then, as she took a swift move out towards the exit, one of the mirrors held a note as it said “Wrong place, wrong girl. Tell your friend to stop digging or move out.”

She tugged off the note and stumbled out of the store, not noticing a black car down the street, as she called Jace to once again tell him to let the crap go. His short film wasn’t worth it, and they could move the location to somewhere different instead.

He didn’t listen, but what she didn’t know was why?

-> Truth was, Jace discovered the theater one night where it held old evidence to a fire caused by a mutant, files and unknown chemicals that were in the background—he didn’t dare touch, but he thought he could use them.

And now Cassidy was caught in the middle of it—cause two nights later, she was attacked near the theater as she landed on the ground with a bruised forehead, along with a bleeding lip. She looked up to see it was someone dressed in black, a rookie agent, until a black haired woman appeared with a monotone expression.

“Your friend is a hard student to trackdown.” Said the woman before kneeling down to face her.

“Who are you?” Replied Cassidy as she lay down on the ground. “Look, you got the wrong girl.”

“Right. Wrong girl, you’re innocent here, I bet, right? Look, your friend Jace is using damaged property that was supposed to be removed weeks ago.”

“He’s not my friend…he just hired me for his short film. I told him to move to a different location but he didn’t listen.”

“The insane ones never do.”

“...who are you?”

“Agent Hill. Now you’re gonna help me, remove Jace from this with or without force, that’s your call.”

Cassidy paused and sat up, “Hold on, before I say yes or no to any of this, why am I involved? What does Jace have on you guys?”

“He’s a member of the Rising Tide.” Hill explained with a sigh knowing she had no choice but to lead her on, “This short film, the old theater he is using for this? It contained evidence of an accident that happened weeks ago. And if that film gets made…”

“...he’ll expose the incident to a film fest that’s happening this summer..the question is, why me?”

“Because you're the closest we got to this case. And I'm pretty sure Jace isn’t using you right over there, correct?”

“I..yeah.”

Maria Hill did what any trained agent did best, she convinced Cassidy in a heartbeat to do this job for her. It was rather easy, despite the fact that the young girl kept questioning her motives, because she looked like a rather naive soul who needed some renforcement in her life. So it was settled.

— — —

Half an hour later, Cassidy headed inside the theater with a gun in her pocket—she knew how to use one due to her father but never cared one around until now. Hill handed it to her—a bit beaten and bruised seeing Jace there, scrolling through his phone.

Jace’s laptop was open with a USB hanging there on the table. He smiled seeing her then dropped the expression seeing her bruised cheek as Cassidy shrugs it off, telling him she got hurt.

He sighed as he nodded, “Look, Dede-”

“Cassidy.” She corrected him.

“Right, Cassidy, sorry. I think this bruised look is a blessing in disguise, you don’t need to go into makeup for tonight’s scene.”

“What?”

“Well there’s a part in the film, your character Laurel gets hurt while discovering the evidence in the theater. And look at you! You look bruised and a bit dirty, but hey it works.”

Cassidy was ready to shoot him by just that statement alone. She took a breath and crossed her arms before saying, “I think you should cancel the film.”

“Dede, we talked about this already. It’s not happening.” Jace replied in an annoyed tone and scoffed, “If you don’t want the role, then fine. Leave. But you’ll miss your shot and not see the amazing discovery you get to find.”

“I think I see enough of this discovery, Jace. You do realize that this place is a mess, right? Your whole film is a mess!”

“Woah, woah, woah! Calm down, Dede-”

“Cassidy! Or for your amusement, it’s Laurel. And I think I should get in character.”

Jace was about to say something to her, but then he saw Cassidy pull out a gun and pointed it towards his computer. His eyes widened and shouted for her to be reasonable here, that she was just upset and needed to calm down. Cassidy shouted back how she didn’t care, as she shot the laptop a few times, destroying it. Jace grabbed the USB and ran snatching up his jacket, as he shoved her off to the side. Cassidy ran after them, before raising the gun in front of him.

“Dede—Cassidy!” Jace shouted, looking at her with his grip on the USB, “Put the damn gun down!”

“No.” Cassidy said as started waving the gun up and down in his direction, “You’re abusing this whole situation, Jace and marked all of us. And you didn’t listen.”

“Wh-what are you gonna do? Kill me? You’ll have blood on your hands.”

“Say the guy who is hiding something from the whole crew? You’re ready to expose everything, and have us be a part of the damage. I’m not gonna stand for it.”

Jace looked at her up and down, not knowing what came over her. Yes, he was hiding the discovery he made and the reason behind this whole short film, but if it meant the world knew about the crap that happened these past few years—heroes, vigilantes, mutants and others—then so be it.

The question was, how the hell did Cassidy know about this? Did she snoop around after hours?

“Who told you?” Jace questioned her with a glare stepping forward, “Mhm, how did you..?”

“That’s not important.” Cassidy said, trying to keep herself steady here, “Now drop the USB or you’ll regret it.”

“You don’t have the guts to shoot me. You’re just some crappy student with no backbone to really wound me.”

Cassidy narrowed her eyes and huffed at his words. They hit her, cause he was right. In the past few weeks that she knew Jace, he could tell her she was just a feather in the streets moving along with her own fantasies of being a star. It took her this long to fight back! She was done taking crap from him, she was done waiting and she was done with his stupid face.

Without a second later, Cassidy aimed right below his ribs as Jace stumbled back dropping the USB. He groaned and gasped, then saw Cassidy shoot the USB as well.

That’s finally when a few SHIELD agents scurried into the room, along with Maria Hill, to handle the rest of the damage. Hill lowered Cassidy’s hands that held the gun and carefully removed it from her grasp, allowing the young girl to take a breather. Hill nodded with a hint of a smile, she was impressed.

“Laurel huh?” Maria asked, raising an eyebrow with a soft smile, almost teasing her.

Cassidy shrugged and sighed before replying, “It was my character’s name.”

— — —

SHIELD’S BEGINNINGS & CASSIDY’S ENDING ⚔️

Less than a few weeks later, Cassidy was given an offer for SHIELD. Mainly, Hill slipped her card under the door, in hopes she’ll join them. Cassidy thought Maria was nuts, she was a young student studying to be an English teacher, as Maria countered that she was also the same young student who took charge and shot somebody below the ribs. Cassidy scoffed—she didn’t know the first thing about fighting or combat or field crap, but Maria countered how she did know how to act, how to communicate and how to not waste any time.

Maria told her to give it a try. They already cleaned up the mess, erased any lasting records from Jace’s fingerprints, and last time she checked? Laurel Cass—Beaumont, was a role she could take on. Maria Hill’s email and card taunts Cassidy for what felt like weeks—it was really days but still—as she is reminded of what she did. How she shot a man in cold blood, but he was the young man who taunted her, played her and made her into taking those actions. Jace was gonna use her for his own work and expose what he found in his short film to thousands of people, as she took the role he made and turned it on its head.

Cassidy sighed softly awake at 2am, taking a sip of water and scrolling though Netflix, then groaned. She grabbed her phone as she quickly dialed the number on the card and just said, “…Is that offer still open?”

She wasn’t given the natural SHIELD Academy treatment–the interviews, paperwork, tests and everyday classes–instead they gave her classes, training, viewing time, and an SO. They put her in The Academy Of Communications, and on occasions The Academy Of Operations. It wasn’t so bad. She’ll admit that.

Her combat training meant she was also given a weapon of choice, Hill gave her the gun, so she didn’t have much choice. But eventually, after a stubborn agent, we won’t name who, saw her swiftly moving around a bo staff? It was clear—her weapons would be not just a gun, but a thick bo staff, as she would knock someone off their feet.

And missions? Whether she’s the eyes in the van or the one in the field, she’s becoming part of the machine. Useful. Capable. Like she matters. She did stumble and fall, she wouldn’t lie. Literally or metaphorically, leading her to cry a bit in silence, before pushing it down to focus. Hiding behind it, using her range as a way to communicate if allowed.

Sometimes she will be the person in the room who feels too much. Other times, it felt like she was always performing now. Laurel or Cassidy? Maybe a mix of both? We won’t ever know. Like a bird changing shape.

There were missions where she has been crossed and given the short end of the stick, not always winning. Once a large piece of cement fell onto her front as she screamed for help with tears welling up in her eyes. She wasn’t perfect. She wasn't as clean-cut as the other agents. No. It wasn’t the case with her. But she survived. Because her teammates pulled her out, and she’d do the same for them. She has done the same for them. Fire, bullets, rage—it didn’t matter.

But she never quit.

One afternoon was different from all the others. It was the middle of April. Cassidy—Laurel, she was in the gym with the speakers on, to hype herself up a bit as she swung around her bo staff. It was like she was doing a little dance, as she spun and kicked. When suddenly an agent, a veteran one, entered the room.

“Your stance is too wide.” He said, sitting down on the bench.

“Oh? Uh, thanks.” She replied with a sigh.

“That spin with the bo staff though? That was clean. Real clean.”

She looked down with a soft smile, letting out a quiet chuckle. She took the complement.

“You know something, eh?” She said looking up at him.

“Richard.” He replied, giving her his name and stepped closer, with a kind smile.

“Mhm, Richard. You know something, Richard? I um…i wanna show them and maybe myself too?..that i’m still strong..does that make sense?”

“Then show me.”

And she did. Twirls, strikes and blocks. She wasn’t flawless but she had a quiet force, fierce to her. Richard mentally gave her the nickname “Lark”, as in Bird Always Come Back. Some called her “Wren” because she had resilience.

—/—/—

WINGS LOCKED DOWN 🗝️

She should’ve known. Laurel should’ve known. Her and her team should’ve known, it was a set up. The files were wiped. There was smoke in the air, screams within the building, running coming from both ends. It felt like a blur, like her memory was in gaps. However, she remembers that she broke orders to save the family, the little boy, and his mother. But the father died bleeding out.

Now she was painted as reckless.

But all they saw were her shaking hands as she picked at the skin of her knuckles, slight twitch and her forehead stained by her own blood. She’s bruised, cut, eyes wild with confusion, and everything about her body says that she’s tired.

Here Laurel sat in a bleak chilling room with her wrists cuffed, as a chain swung keeping her together. When she closed her eyes, she could still smell the smoke.

—/—/—

The Mission? Operation: VEILFALL. Retrieve a flash drive containing encrypted Hydra intel from a safehouse embedded inside a supposedly "neutral" tech facility. It's supposed to be an in and out intel extraction mission.

The truth? It wasn’t neutral. The mission was never intel—it was bait. The family Laurel saves? Civilians. Innocent, yes. The family—Simon, Polly, and Noah—are supposed to be erased. Quietly. No questions.

Who’s responsible? Well SHIELD would find out weeks later, it was one of their very own. Rogue SHIELD cell, hiding under the radar and cleaning up internal corruption. ORACLE-9. They fed Maria Hill false intel using a manipulated informant she trusted—someone with high clearance and no red flags. Hill okayed the mission believing it was real. She thought she was striking at dormant Hydra tech. Instead, she signed off on a civilian slaughter.

However, like we said, Hill wouldn’t know that or any of this, until much later. Much, much later when Laurel left…

As for Simion? He wasn’t tied to Hydra or SHIELD directly. He was a security engineer who found evidence of large-scale fund siphoning within his company—a shell corporation used by SHIELD as a front.

The money was being funneled into black ops—dirty deals, bio-weapons, surveillance of civilians. Simon thought, "If I leak this, maybe the world will finally see what the powerful do to the powerless."

The thing was, he didn't realize how deep the rabbit hole went.

Polly & Noah? Innocents. He didn’t tell them. He wanted to protect them. But now they’re caught in the fallout. Great…

Laurel doesn’t remember much, sadly. Chaos. Smoke. Screams. Her own breath caught in her throat. The building’s being cleared—by her own team. It was disarming, anyone would’ve lost their footing. She saw the boy, Noah, only 6 years old, hiding under a desk with a toy, a plush lion, as tears streamed down his face. The mother, Polly, screams through the hall. Trapped behind debris.

As for Simion? He was hit. Bleeding out, as he gestured towards his son. Something in Laurel breaks—she ignores her comms and runs in the direction of the family. She calls out for her team to grab the mother as she scoops up the 6 year old. One of the members accidentally left the drive. They disobeyed orders. She disobeyed orders.

On SHIELD footage: Laurel looks insane. Blood on her fingers. Twitching. Disobeying orders. Screaming. The mission is declared a failure. Files wiped. The plush lion? Tossed aside by someone for evidence.

In other words? They screwed up…

One of the team members, Kai, blamed her and the others. He said she chose ‘sentiment over survival.’

Marlene whispered, ‘You did the right thing.’ as Eve grabbed her hand while they waited for debrief.

—/—/—

Hill stormed into the room, bringing Laurel out of her thoughts. She was sure Fury was watching behind the glass, stone-faced, not yet knowing what to do with her.

Maria Hill, the woman who suggested she joined SHIELD in the first place and who secretly saw her as a “pretty bird”, went on a full rant. Everything she did wrong, and only some of what she did right. It was like Laurel wasn’t allowed to speak. Every damn time she spoke up, to defend herself, Hill snapped back.

Laurel’s words didn’t help her case either—they were seen as jumbled, incoherent, because she’s tired. Hill was too damn stubborn and angry to see that. Her guard was up, her voice was cold and her tone was deep. She didn’t see that Laurel failed the mission, yes—but she saved someone in the process. Even if she did break her orders to do so.

“I saved a life, Maria! He was 6!” Laurel shouted at the woman, her cuffed wrist resting on the table, “Shouldn’t that count for something?”

“That wasn’t your call to make!” Maria shouted, with a tint of coldness in her voice.

“What was I supposed to do?! Leave him alone to die? His mother was looking for him!”

“Yes! Yes, Laurel. Simon and his family weren’t supposed to see any of this. Don’t you get it?! Look at yourself!”

Hill didn’t dare to speak her real name, like a forgotten feather in the wind, forgetting who she originally hired. They went back and forth. Both women were standing across from each other, neither stood down. It got to a point, where Laurel only nodded as Maria continued. From how her behavior has been, her reckless form and her actions. How one of the members left the drive, instead of destroying it and now they had to bring in a clean up crew.

“I screwed up, I know..” Was all Laurel could say.

“You had one job, Agent Beaumont.” Hill replied before turning to leave.

Laurel screamed and cried out for Hill to have a heart, to understand where she was coming from. But the moment the door shut with a hard clung, Laurel practically lost balance in her footing. There was so much silence as her breathing became hard and her vision was blurry as she stared at the door, almost unable to believe what just happened. In a quick flash, she ran—banging her cuffed fist against the door as she cried.

“NO WAIT! I–I’m sorry! Hill, come back!” Laurel screamed as her voice cracked, “Please!”

Like a caged bird that’s finally realized: the cage wasn’t broken. The whole system is. She collapses down the door. Her fists slide down with her. Her knees hit the ground as she sobbed. Her mumbled, whispers asking for anybody to let her out.

Cassidy ended. Laurel was…she didn’t even know now.

—/—/—/—

THE SCREAM INSIDE —📞

Hours went by as Laurel—Cassidy—screwed it, Laurel, what’s the point?—Laurel was stuck inside the room. She sat in the chair cross legged, sipping the water she was given by some rookie, as she stared at the walls. The only thing she could do was pick at her skin, and talk to herself as she chuckled dryly. She sniffled quietly as she sighed, trying to hide the screams inside.

She could only think about what Fury, Hill and the others could be saying about her. Whispers in the hallway and footsteps could be heard.

Suddenly, footsteps grew louder as the doorknob jingled. She looked up expecting for it to be Hill ready to shout at her again and one of her fellow agents. Or worse, the small handful of teammates who blamed her. But to her surprise, it was none of the above.

She furrowed her eyebrows at the tall asian man who had lovely hair and a semi-slim build who walked in. His eyes were piercing yet still somehow softened.

She sniffled, “Wh-who are you?”

“Ji-Hoon.” He replied with a kind expression that seemed rare and walked over, “Before i do anything, were you responsible for the mission?”

“I guess, yeah…it was my fault..i failed..”

“But you saved someone, right?”

“Yeah, a mother and child..wh-why are you helping me? Did Hill send you?”

Ji-Hoon shook his head with a sigh, “No. Not even close. But one of my friends was on the same mission and had the footage looked over by someone. And I figured you're mistaken here.”

“Hill and Fury don’t think so.” She replied, her voice barely above a whisper and sniffled some more, “I screwed up…”

“Yes and no. Look I'm not gonna sugarcoat this, but you did something right. You saved someone, that’s all we can do. And if Hill can’t see that? Then her loss.”

Laurel gave him a weak yet brief half smile, but before she could thank him—his hands appeared different. Her eyes widened as he grabbed the chain from her cuffs, freezing to ice as the metal broke off. She gasped but she wasn’t given much time to ask any questions, as Ji-Hoon grabbed her by the arm and had them make a break for it.

Midway across the hallway and onto the second floor, Laurel shouted for him to stop as Ji-Hoon raised an eyebrow at her sudden exclamation. But her eyes were trained on the room behind the door, full with evidence, Ji-Hoon was confused, until he saw the exact direction she was looking up.

A plush lion.

He asked her what the whole ordeal with the stuffed animal as she sneaked inside to take. She looked over her shoulder saying how it's a reminder of what she did right. She shielded a six year old boy from seeing his father’s full death in front of his very own eyes.

That’s when Ji-Hoon gave her an actual smile. What she said was something he could respect and admire.

She might’ve screwed up in other terms, but with that? She did right.

Afterwards, the two ran out together of the Evidence Room and into the elevator as they exited the SHIELD building. The whole time Laurel’s eyes were trained on the stuffed lion and the flashes of the mission she did remember, and one thing she knew was clear.

A full mission with screams, explosions and backtalk wasn’t in her cards at the moment. She didn’t mind if she drowned herself in sorrow for a while, she knew once she got back out there—she'd stay away from SHIELD.

Instead, she’ll roam the streets and look out for the little guy—the woman and children who needed someone to take a hit for them.

—/—/—/—

—

Yes, the next few weeks were rough for her. Hell, she drank, ate and sank down into the deep water of her bathtub with a sigh. She barely trained and stayed in the apartment SHIELD once gave her, eating whatever she could find—even staying up late watching Netflix as she ate ice cream. She’ll even get phone calls and emails from Hill. About what? She doesn’t know or care. She didn’t answer the calls from her damn rookie agents who were made to try and get in contact with her.

By the sound of this, you would think she just ended a relationship, or at least taking a break from an old boyfriend, right? It’s odd how some scenarios are very similar.

Sometimes she’ll cry a little or scream into a pillow. But her gaze will oftentimes fall onto the stuffed lion that once belonged to that young boy, Noah, and smile teary at it.

One night, she was laying down in the silence of her apartment watching an episode of Home Improvement, as she gave a half smile or chuckle—when she heard a bunch of noise outside. She pressed pause on the episode, shutting off the light and looked in between the blinds to see someone getting robbed. Hell, even harmed.

She blinked and watched in hesitation of calling the cops—but after one look towards her closest as she thought otherwise.

The thug was running in between the sidewalk and the street before jumping over a chained fence—trying to break into a car, as young women screamed. He held his grip to her bag. He shouted at her as he held back a throaty cackle but once he turned around? He was met with a sudden hit to the head, causing him to stumble backwards. He grunted and groaned, regaining his balance before looking around. The young lady who screamed from before wasn’t there.

Said thug was met with a silhouette of a woman dressed in a black leather and a domino mask, carrying a bo staff. His eyes narrowed and slightly women, before cracking a joke about it not being Halloween—even saying how she didn’t even look like one of those stupid Young Avengers kids.

The woman in black just cracked a half smile and glanced over as she was chatting with someone, as if to say, ‘Is this guy serious, right now?’. She carefully jumped down from the hood of the car, and whacked him with her bo staff. He fought back and he was good, she’ll give him back—but after a few more hits he was done.

He was on the ground, leaning against the car trying to stand up, a hand under his jaw. He coughed and grunted before looking up at her.

“Who the hell are you?” He asked, meeting her gaze with a sore expression.

She gave him a half smirk, “I’m the one you can’t run away from.”

Before he could say another word—she twirled her bo staff and whacked him once more. She picked up the said bag he was holding previously, as the women in black looked around to see a few feet away stood the young lady. The young lady—she was actually a teen girl with light blonde hair that was lifted into a ponytail, a teal coat and skirt—shyly smiled.

“Here you go, sweetie.” The woman in black said with a gentle smile, as she handed her the bag.

The teen girl took the bag and replied, “Thank you. He was so fast and well…”

“It’s okay, just be lucky I was here to get him. If you have your phone, it would be helpful to call the cops.”

The girl nodded, pulling out her iphone to call someone and said, “My cousin’s a cop. He’ll be here soon.”

The woman in black nodded, carrying her bo staff kindly.

“Hey, Henry.” The blonde teen said over the phone. “Yeah, I need you to come over here. I’m okay! Some thug needs to be taken to a cell block…okay bye.” Then she hung over, before adding, “He’s coming, and thank you once again. Really.”

The woman in black smiled kindly before replying, “No problem…?”

“Oh! Gwen. Gwen Stacy.” She replied quickly with an awkward chuckle, “What do they call you?”

“I don’t know yet.”

Before either one of them could say a single word, the sound of sirens and the bright flashing lights could be seen—The women in black smiled telling Gwen to take care before rushing off into the streets and onto the rooftop.

Gwen watched and smiled, as she looked over her shoulder to see her cousin Henry Stacy rushing over. He asked who was that as Gwen replied that she appeared to be someone good.

— — —

We cut to the woman in black returning the apartment she left, closing the window behind her and removing the domino mask. Her gaze fell onto the stuffed lion and then the mirror in the hallway, as her reflection revealed it to be Laurel.

Maybe she was still her original name Cassidy underneath it all? Or maybe she was someone new? That she will never know.

All she knew was that it felt good. And for the first time in a while? She smiled.

—/—/—

SKILLS & ABILITIES — 📌

Hand-To-Hand-Combat - Thanks To SHIELD

Bo Staff & Guns (+ Plus Other Weapons If Needed)

Undercover - Acting

Costume Design - She Fixes Her Suit

Studious Background - She’s Still Young & Sometimes Shadowing Something Helps

BONUS - Wail Necklace - It Was A SHIELD Prototype She Borrowed Once For A Mission

FUN FACT & HABITS — 🔭

Skin Picking: When she’s nervous, anxious or feeling odd? Laurel would starts directing her attention to her skill. But it sometimes leads to her bleeding or cuts, she’ll accidentally create herself

Dying Her Hair: With the age and acts she’s taken over the years, Laurel has dyed her hair a few times. Black, Brown, Blonde, Pink, Purple & Even Orange (it was semi-permanente!)

Eating In Front Of A TV: Yes, she knows it’s a bad habit and you should eat at the table. But she has been used to eating in front of the TV since she was a child–breakfast, lunch & dinner–no shame, sometimes.

Adjusting Her Clothes: Laurel has a tendency to fiddle with shirts, gloves, masks, and the rest of her outfits—either out of habit because she needs to be comfortable or she’s scared something might look off. She would rather not have someone call her out later.

Drinking: She isn’t a huge drinker, she never was once. But ever since college and SHIELD, she’ll feel like she’s floating or drowning—so a couple of drinks during the week could calm her down. And hey, if it’s not drinking, which she tries to stay away from nowadays, she’s getting junk food!

Bilingual: Because of SHIELD, and her mother mainly being a teacher, she picked up some Italian words. Even some Spanish too—the basics!

Knack For Nails: Because she never went out much as a teenager, after an accident, Laurel–Cassidy at the time–stayed home. In response, she got pretty freaking good at painting her nails and making designs.

Not An Animal Lover: Maybe it was because of how she grew up or her mental health, but when it came to pets she wasn’t exactly the biggest fan. Yeah, sure she finds puppies to be cute! Who doesn’t? But would she want a dog or cat in her apartment? No.

Cautious Heart: Laurel has always been an open person when it came to love, but in junior year, she fell in love with her high school crush. And it didn’t end well. After two years of dating, a week before her birthday, she found out he was going out with her best friend at the time, for months. Neither one of them hinted at it. So now when it comes to love, she’s cautious.

Hip Hop/Pop/Soft Rock Fan: When it comes to music, she very much loves it! If she needs to feel something, she’ll listen to Olivia Rodgrio, Avril Levngine, One Republic, QUEEN and Taylor Swift. If she needs something to make her dance you best believe she’s putting on ‘I Wanna Dance With Somebody’ , Destiny's Child and so much more. If she just wants to sing along and imagine? Then Coldplay.

—/—/—/—/—

—

—

HER PLAYLIST — 🎧

Bird Set Free - SIA

Looking Too Closely - FINK

Don’t You Worry Child - (Cover) SAM TUSI, KHS

The Scientist - COLDPLAY

Who’s Afraid Of Little Ol’ Me? - TAYLOR SWIFT

Like I’m Gonna Lose You - (Cover) JASMINE THOMPSON

Elastic Heart - SIA

Run This Town - RIHANNA, KANYE, JAY-Z

I Found - AMBER RUN

Leave A Light On - TOM WALKER

Survivor - (Cover) 2WEI

Prom Queen - MOLLY KATE KESTNERS

— — — —

AND WE’RE DONE ✔️ FOR NOW!! I HOPE YOU ALL LIKE HER 🥰

Ji-Hoon, Henry Stacy and Marlene belong to @gcthvile ✨

Let me know what you think 💭 remember to like, comment and share with your friends!!

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[vividraft]

sleep late, sleep well

⇢ ˗ˏˋ gn!reader x alhaitham

⇢ ˗ˏˋ important notes: this is a repost from my old account (@/rainstops)

old post masterlist tba !

It was late, yet you were unsure of how late exactly. not like it mattered to you anyways. All that mattered was that test tomorrow.

Being a student has often left you feeling dumb. especially around most of your friends who immediately understood any topic. your grades were average at best, and you could not let them drop by any chance. sure you were good at a lot of things, that a lot of people were not good at, but why could you just not get better grades? no matter how hard you tried, or how much you believed you finally understood the current topic on hand, you were never pleasantly surprised.

That's why you were grateful for your boyfriend. even if sometimes, people made you feel stupid, alhaitham has never made you feel that way. quite the opposite - whenever you needed it, he was more than happy to help you and explain anything you needed to know.

He was just in the room right next to yours, but you couldn't ask him for help. It was the middle of the night and he was sleeping.

just a little more 

you thought.

just another hour or two and then-

"hey why aren't you in bed", alhaitham was standing behind you, hair messy and a sleepy yet concerned expression resting on his face. seeing alhaitham worried or concerned, was pretty new to you. sure sometimes he was worried about things, but never did he really let it show.

"I have a test tomorrow", you replied, as if that explained why you were disregarding how tired your brain and your body were. 

you were neglecting your health, and alhaitham seemed to be more aware of it than you were. 

"so? you need to sleep [name]. a test isn't nearly as important as your health", alhaitham looked down at what you were writing. papers were spread all over your desk, messy notes, graphs, pictures and at least two books. or maybe three. you couldn't really tell under the mess.

but alhaitham really grew concerned when he saw your face. your eyes were sleepy as never before, and as equally teary. why you were crying, you didn't even know yourself. maybe it was because you were tired, or maybe because you didn't really understand the topic.

without another word alhaitham started cleaning up your desk, collecting the papers and putting them into a neat pile on the side of your desk.

"hey- wait im not done-", alhaitham did in fact not stop. He continued closing the books and collecting all the pencils you had used.

as much as you wanted to protest, as much as you wanted to tell him that you needed to study more, you knew he wouldn't hear it. and surely you were also too tired to actually do anything against it.

"alhaitham i can't fail this test, i need to get at least a C. if i don't-"

"if you don't go to sleep you're not going to get even a C, because your brain won't have enough rest, and you're not going to get a good grade no matter how much you study", alhaitham didn't want to hear what you were going to say. maybe if he wouldn't have cut you off, he would have never heard the end of it.

"Come on, go to sleep", reluctantly, you got up from your chair, and alhaitham took you by the hand, to lead you to your bedroom.

when he turned to look at you, you were rubbing your sleepy eyes. 

even when you were tired, you were just so cute, alhaithams heart skipped a beat. and he was so glad he was there - he didn't even dare to think how many times you had put yourself through this while he wasn't there.

you laid down on your soft bed, and under the cold sheets, but alhaithams warm body made up for the weird feeling of the cold against your skin. his arms wrapped around your waist, and he somewhat buried his face in your shoulder.

A few minutes had passed, in comfortable silence and just listening to each other's soft breaths and heartbeats.

"[name], please don't overwork yourself like that. it's not good for you", you were already asleep when he said that.

[levissslutt]

𝕋𝕙𝕖 ℙ𝕣𝕠𝕗𝕖𝕤𝕤𝕠𝕣 | 𝕋. 𝔽𝕦𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕘𝕦𝕣𝕠

Maya is the daughter and the only child of the infamous gang leader and hitman Suguru Geto. She had started her second semester as a third year college student, but for the past year, shed been dreaming of this mystery man, tall, daunting, and dangerous. Every morning shed wake to an uneasy feeling, as if the dreams meant so much more. Walking into class, she sees him, and does shit take a wild turn.

𝔸 𝕤𝕜𝕪 𝕗𝕦𝕝𝕝 𝕠𝕗 𝕤𝕥𝕒𝕣𝕤

It had been 3 months since that night at Tojis house. The two of you had sex for the first time the other night. It was amazing, quite literally the best sex you ever had, and him as well for that matter. Even though he would never admit that to you.

You were finally back in your dorm after all the chaos, all seemed to be going great. All except one thing.

He was ignoring you. 

A fucking cliche, older guy gets with a younger girl and then ghosts her after they slept together cause he's scared they'll get caught. Sitting in your dorm room you blasted music while you cleaned. Cleaning always made you feel better.

"I can't believe that old fuck is really ghosting me, I just seen his bitch ass today too." Today was his first day back teaching in your Forensics lecture he didn't even do as much as turn his body in your direction, like the fuck.

Pissed wasn't even the word. He really had the gall to pull some shit like this. You were angrily scrubbing the tiles in the bathroom when there was a knock on your door.

You angrily took off your gloves and put down the supplies to go see who it was. Reaching the door the person banged even harder. Looking through the peep hole you seen none other than that old fuck.

You yanked the handle, swinging the door open and before he could get his words out you slapped him, hard.

"What the fuck Toji. So you ask me to marry you and then ghost me for fucking weeks. I thought something happened to you. I been in here worried sick. And THEN I saw your bitch ass today like nothing happened. You dumb stupid fuck what the hell is wr-"

He cut you off by pushing you in the room, shutting and locking the door.

  "Listen, Gojo is missing. I haven't been ignoring you I was looking for him. I obviously haven't been in class, you know teaching, he's been gone since I came back to your place that night with Nico ."

You were shocked. "But that can't be right I had spoken to him that morning as he left." Your voice got quite with each word.

Toji sat at your desk, you studied his face and realized how exhausted he looked. First your dad and now Gojo, something wasn't right.

"He's really fucking gone." He said as he ran his hands through his jet black hair, not even engaged in the conversation fully.

You felt bad, you yelled at him the first chance you got not even knowing one of his best friend was missing and that he had been looking for him and dealing with that all on his own. And you slapped him. The slightly red mark on his face making that very evident.

At the same time he could have said something, you could have helped him do something, cause obviously you had no idea What fucking mess.

"Toji Im sorry I slapped you, I was just confused that you were ghosting me after that night and I just......I'm sorry."

He stood up and walked to where you were in the room, caressing your face he looked down at you and spoke:

"I absolutely adore you Maya, I would never do anything, and I mean anything to hurt you. I would never lie to you, and from now on I will no longer keep things from you. I meant it when I asked you to marry me." His hands held your face in them peering down at you in a sincere way. He looked so incredibly tired.

"Just keep me in the loop, I know my dad probably told you not to, but can you imagine how this feels ? Not knowing. You just better not do that again, you hear me?" You held his gaze.

  "Loud and clear."

You smiled up at him. The moment soon fading given the situation. He leaned back up against your desk as you sat on the bed.

"What are we going to do Toji?"

"I don't know but I think the safest place for me and you right now is your place. Campus is on a lockdown apparently."

  "Again ?"

  "Yea you didn't hear, some idiot brought a gun to the main part of the campus waving it around at students and faculty, you really need to get out of this room kid."

So there can't be one day of peace around here, my god.

  "I do leave the room...to get food and then come right back."

He shook his head chuckling. After a few minutes of a comfortable silence. He seemed to realize something. He stood striding over to the door, unlocking it and peeked out, grabbing the bag he left out there.

"You idiot."

  "You slapped the shit outta me I just forgot." His hands rubbing his cheek.

He placed his bag in the room closing and locking the door again, he then made his way over to where you say, plopping down next to you. You slid in his arms wrapping your hands around his neck. Kissing every inch of his face. Lingering on the red mark you'd gifted him.

  "I missed you."

He responded with a muffled "me too."

  "Alright now lets finish cleaning, grab that powder and sprinkle it on the floor and then vacuum it up." It was your best attempt to keep his mind off the situation, the reality being he was never going to stop worrying, it made you feel slightly better knowing you at least tried.

He nodded and started to do what you asked of him, as you went back into the bathroom to keep scrubbing the floor.

About twenty minutes later you guys had finished. You put back up the shower curtains and rugs in the bathroom. You washed everything, so you made up your bed and put up your clothes. Toji watched you closely from the love sac he sat in from the corner of the room, as you finished up everything .

  "It's very calming to watch you clean." His voice rumbled lowly.

  "Why is that scar face."

  "Because your ass is definitely a sight for sore eyes."

As you smiled at him he eyed your body, craving you. He knew now wasn't a good time for this, but god, how beautiful you were.

---

The next morning was a gloomy one. It was pouring so hard outside you couldn't even see the tree-line. Toji tossed and turned all damn night, causing you to get little sleep. It broke your heart knowing something had happened to Gojo, and even more seeing Toji like this.

"Goodmorning old man." He answered with a hug from behind. caressing your body. You stayed in his embrace like this for a while longer.

Untangling yourself from his grasp, you made your way to the bathroom, hearing many protest from the man. "Get back here girl."

You grinned at him, "Im just taking a shower."

He got the hint, also lifting himself off the bed.

---

It was now the end of the day. It started off with you getting fucked in the shower and now the same man was drawing smiley faces on your stomach with his finger. Contrast for you.

"Let me take you out on a date." The question came out of nowhere, from the older man that was sprawled over you.

  "Really?", you perked up.

  "Yes pretty girl, we haven't done anything special yet."

  "I'd love that." You smiled.

He just held you, embracing you in an affectionate hug. It hurt him to know that you had to be kept out of the main part of his life. But at the end of the day, he had no say. It was what your dad would want, and he was falling for you, hard, so there wasn't a chance in hell he was going to jeopardize your safety.

Later on that night, after a day of cuddles and long conversations about what the future held, Toji left to let you get ready for a night out. 

You started to roll a blunt to have a little fun before your date.Taking a few pulls as you moved around the room. A few hours later you were dressed and ready to go. In a cute all black maxi dress that hugged your curves and criss crossed in the back leaving your back exposed and matching black kitten heels. You pulled your locs into a messy like bun with two single locs hanging in the front. He was already waiting downstairs, according to the text he'd sent, so you grabbed your purse and headed out to his car. As you walked outside you saw him leaning against the car with flowers.

"Aww, you got me flowers."

His lips turned upwards as he handed you the flowers and opened the door for you to get into the car. It hadn't been that long since you met him, but you knew. He was the one. He was all you'd been wanting. The car ride was filled with laughs and funny stories. A few curses to awful drivers here and there. The worry of falls real world issues soon fading.

Y'all shortly arrived to a....hotel?

  "Why are we- ohh are we going to that roof top restaurant?"

  "Dammit it was supposed to be surprise." He sounded disappointed but his eyes gleamed with amusement, one corner of his mouth was twisted up into a half grin.

  "Opps, I'll act surprised."

Toji parked and the two of you made it up to the restaurants check in desk. It looked rather empty inside, actually there was no one inside.

  "Do you mind being blindfolded?", Toji asked behind you.

  "It depends." You said, eyes squinting.

  "Its apart of your surprise."

  "Well alright, if you insist Toji." Eventually just raising your hands in defeat. If he really wanted to hurt you he would've been.

The room goes dark as he blind folds you and leads you deeper into the restaurant. Reaching the designated spot he unties the blind fold. Your eyes go wide at the sight in front of you.

The words, those damn words. 'Will you marry me' was spelt out in beautiful periwinkle flowers, matching petals littered the ground at your feet.

You guys were on the top floor of the building, on a deck that over looked the city. The sunset illuminated the flowers perfectly. As you turned to look at the man who brought you here, he was taking a knee. Pulling out a tiny black box. He looked you in the eye.

  "Marry me"

A smile spreads across your face as you give him the answer he wanted.

  "Of course I'll marry you Toji."

The rest of the night went by beautifully. He really thought about every little detail, from the sunset lighting up the flowers to the matching decorations that surrounded the two of you. To the food, the music.

This is what it felt like to be loved. This is what it felt like to be adored.

It had only been a few months . From the first day you saw him in class, to the break in, to finding out your dad was gone, still. To the weeks he was gone searching for the men who turned his house into a goddamn shit show. To now, his best friend was missing, but right now was the highlight of the relationship that has formed between the two of you.

That grin that formed on his lips the moment you said yes, have yet to leave his lips. His eyes sparkled when he smiled, and you never wanted to see it leave.

  "Do you think I should find my own apartment, or go home, because living on campus is really taking its toll on me, and I've only got one class.", you spoke in between bites of your salmon.

"Not a bad idea, there is genuinely too much going the fuck on around here." He was estactic that's for sure, however the weight of the situation was beginning to show again. You couldn't even think about it too much or you'd give yourself a migraine.

Reaching your hand over to his you locked your fingers with his, " I know you and Nico will figure this out." The sixth member , Worick was out of the country, how convenient. You had asked about him a few weeks prior before Gojo went missing. The tension in the room was unmistakable. The only answer you got was that he was out the country, and with that you vowed to never speak his name again. The tight lines in the older mens faces were very evident there was a sour taste in their mouth thanks to that name.

He rubbed circles into the back of your hand with his thumb.

" I know baby, don't you worry about a thing." His voice barely over a whisper.

It was officially dark now as the two of you finished up your conversation, the waiters came by and cleaned your spot and took the check. Your new fiancé led you out of the restaurant. He must have rented out the restaurant before it opened, because there was now a line of people waiting to get in as the two of you left.

A snarky women who was being obnoxiously loud about the line spotted Toji and eyed him up and down. You looped your arm in with his and leaned into his body. He smirked at your actions, looking down into your eyes.

  "Possessive already my love."

  "What are you talking about I'm just cold."

He chuckled to that ass of a lie.

  "I'll take you home ok baby, I'll get your stuff packed up, you don't have to worry about any of that."

  "Wait are you sure ?", you asked as you scooted around in his car seat.

  "Yes, must I remind you, I got you ."

  "I know I knowwww."

Toji rubbed your upper thigh in circular motions, as he drove you home, causing you to fall asleep against the window. 

There was a storm brewing. And not a damn soul was ready for it.

[spillthebea]

may prompt: secret relationship

@wolfstarmicrofic – words: 951

warning: suicidal thoughts/sacrifice yourself

... this is sad, guys

–––––––––––––––

“She was looking at you,” Sirius says first thing when Remus enters the room.

He is giving his back, folding and unfolding a shirt that has something against being unwrinkled. His hand stretches the material, fingers swiping the wrinkles away and yet, like the fucking itch of unwanted jealousy Sirius is feeling curled in his stomach, it does not cooperate. Why is he doing his laundry when Kreacher is there to lick his boots?

The door is softly closed and shoes are taken off.

“Was she?”

Sirius throws away the shirt exasperated, angry and turns, “Do not fucking play dumb, Remus!” in a burst of all the ugly thoughts haunting him throughout the day since the scene of the meeting. It won't stop replaying in his head.

Remus’ smile and Nymphadora's blush and how old Sirius felt with his sunk eyes and lost beauty.

After that, he went to his mother's room, rummaging in her vanity set for anything that would have helped give him what was once his. Sirius had been the light of the party. He had been flirted with, flattered and had charmed anyone with a look, or a grin and never cared for any of it because he had Remus in his heart.

But now? What does he have for himself?

He can't join the fight. Back in prison, now with just more rooms to roam around and run from his mistakes during sleepless nights of nightmares. He can't even maintain Remus’ eyes on himself because broken.

“… Sirius–”

“Do not use that fucking voice with me”

He sounds like his mother screaming at Orion. Between them, silence or Walburga demanding more of Father as she had done with all of them, her included. And in this house, his new cage, it's difficult to stop sinking in old memories and old fears.

He wants to apologise, reassuring he does not want to sound like Mother. Sirius has never wanted in his life to be like her.

He has always lost that fight.

“I want you to tell her. I want you to tell everyone, I'm tired of hiding.”

Remus quirks an eyebrow, the question loud between them; is Sirius still talking about their secret relationship?

“They won't kick you out of the Order if you tell them what we are,” Sirius continues, ignoring Remus’ little sigh, the drop of his shoulders because they both know it was coming. The signs were all there and no one else except Remus knew how to handle him. Not anymore, at least. All gone, leaving him behind. “They are your friends”

“They are your friends too.” Remus makes his way towards him, jacket wet from the rain outside and Sirius studies it as, just with his mind, he will feel the cold spring rain on his own skin.

Sirius cannot remember the last time he was outside. Even as Padfoot it could be dangerous because Peter… Peter could…

“No. I didn't rot for twelve years thought to have killed James and Lily to call those people my friends. All my friends are fucking dead!”

And so should I! is not said, but it is there between Sirius’ ribs and the need to point his finger at Remus for thinking him capable of wanting to hurt Lily and Harry, betraying James.

It's unfair. It was war, no one trusted no one; except Sirius did trust someone, didn't he? And everything had ended because of that.

Sirius, deep down, is aware that blaming Remus is not the way, but he spent the last twelve years replaying his errors, going through what he could have done to change them… spent those years blaming himself and now it's someone else's turn because he is so tired.

The pressure of his guilt has been clawing his heart for too long. What will Effie say when Sirius is going to meet her in his death?

It is a question that does not let him breathe. Night after night, her cries… He promised his ma he would take care of their James. How could she forgive Sirius after Godric's Hollow?

“Tonks looks at you,” Sirius mutters, hands brushing his hair away from his face and it does not help calm himself down.

She is younger. Full of life and less haunted than him. She can go wherever she wants and is so similar to a younger Sirius.

‘You must have noticed,’ he wants to accuse Remus. ‘You must or you would have not given her the time of day. Am I not enough?'

“And not making clear you are not interested does not help”

Tonks, she likes to be called. A change of name, a rewriting of fate just like Sirius who had hated his to the core– Effie would call them ‘Potters!’ for a meal or a family meeting and he had been included. A Potter. Not officially, neither of blood but in spirit, it had been enough.

Sirius wants to be enough; to have died saving his family like he had planned, bringing as many Death Eaters as he could six feet under with him. To be back in their old London apartment he got from Uncle Al, just the two of them. Remus and Sirius, on their sofa and Sirius stealing sips from Remus’ tea cup.

He wants Remus to touch and love him as they did when younger and less drained by life but when Remus tries to do that same thing, Sirius snarls and dodges to flee.

“Where are you going? Are you not coming to bed?”

The thought of lying down makes him itchy.

“We both know I won't sleep. Tonight, I don't have it in me to fake it for you”

----

np tag: @vlaflipvla (bc you were excited about it) @myriadparacosm

bc last time you said i didn't include you so now i did :))

[artificial-transmutations]

Transformation Letter: Michael

Hey, I'm Michael, a 20 year old guy at a top university, but it's not exactly the experience I thought it would be and I just want a change. I'm just kinda an average looking guy with short brown hair, blue eyes and an unremarkable body, pretty average all round. I still wanna be a man at the end of this, being an object isn't exactly appealing to me.

Being accepted at a top university has always been a dream of yours, but boy didn't you anticipate how much work it was going to be. At first, the orientation phase had been pretty fun. But after the first semester was over, you realized just how hard the courses were. It was certainly no comparison to the school you went to before and sometimes you even found yourself envying the people that were in the normal degree program.

Still, you had a dedication to make the best of it and managed to stay in the top tier of your classes. That came at a cost, however. Your social life was pretty much non-existent. It was always late evening when you finished up studying and most of the time you were simply too tired to even think about partying or meeting friends.

You are at your desk now, surrounded by tons of books, and have just begun a new chapter, listening to some lo-fi music from your laptop to help you concentrate. It has been weeks now since you sent that letter to the shady internet company in a moment of weakness. Everything you wrote was true: You don't really hate the university, but it isn't at all how you imagined it to be: A relaxed and laid back episode of your life filled with friends and parties. Everything in you longs for a change, but your ambition keeps you on track.

Still, you normally wouldn't express these thoughts to a stranger like that, and you don't really know why you decided to write the letter in the end. Regardless, it has been weeks now and you doubt there will be any kind of answer. Perhaps the company has gone out of business or has never existed to begin with.

You turn the page of your textbook, looking sighingly at yet another page filled with formulas when suddenly the music coming from your laptop changes.

Where before it has been more of a rhythmic lo-fi noise, the track that just began to play is clearly a pop song, something you have heard at the radio before. You frown. Perhaps Dotify has reached the end of your playlist and has entered that arcane mode with 'recommendations'. You always wondered how in the world the algorithm choses those, as they more often than not have nothing in common with the previous playlist.

You reach over to your laptop to change the music back, but you stop in your tracks. Even though you're not exactly a fan of pop songs, it is quite a catchy tune, so you let it play.

You quickly realize, however, that it's distracting you from your lecture. After you have read the same formula twice over, you lay down the book. Perhaps it’s time for a short break. You lean back in your chair and close your eyes for a moment, rubbing your temples and just listen to the music, trying to recollect what you've learned so far in this session.

However, the more you try to remember and connect the dots, the less you feel like you understand the subject at all. It's like whenever you try to concentrate on a connection you have already made, the cheery tune invades your mind and snaps it in two. The whole thing is just two complicated, beyond your mental reach. You feel dumb admitting that, but perhaps you have to start being honest to yourself. You're just not that bright, and it has probably been a mistake trying to pretend you were and enrolling in this university.

The song ends and a new one begins. This one is more powerful, rock music from the 80s or 90s. It is surprisingly relaxing to just admit defeat, and you open your eyes again, leaning back in your chair, arms crossed behind your head. For a good few seconds, you just stare at the pile of books in front of you before you notice something is off. There's a faint smell of... sweat? Following it with your head, you notice your armpits. You are smelling your own sweat and somehow it is not unpleasant at all.

Additionally, however, you can see that your pits are filled with a generous bush of hair - which is something new for you entirely. You normally don't have any body hair to speak of. Curiously, you take a closer look and sniff, try to pull on them - but the pit hair is clearly here and clearly yours. Weird!

You scratch your chin and are surprised when your hand meets stubble. You have definitely been smooth just a few moments ago. Yet, the bristly texture feels good under your hand. You rub your cheeks, where your facial hair seems to be even denser and smile. It's the kind of manly and mature look that you have always dreamed about, even though it is somewhat unexpected. It's a bit sad that you don't have a mirror, but you can feel it with your hand just fine as the beat of the music continues.

You get up from the chair, stretch your limbs and feel a weird pressure in your crotch. As you look down, you notice that your dick is pressing hard against the fabric of your pants. It's hardly surprising, with the weird changes going on to your body! You wonder...

Sheepishly, you slip out of your shirt and are rewarded with a pretty alien sight: Not only is your chest covered in short dark hair, it is also much more impressive than what you're used to. In fact, there is visible definition, not only in your chest but also in your abs where a thick treasure trail of hairs disappears into your pants. But not only your torso is changed. You can practically watch as with every beat, another pulse goes through your body, adding a bit of manliness, a bit of muscle here and there. Your biceps bulge out as if you work out regularly and even your legs gain a bit of definition.

The music keeps playing, and so do the changes. You are no longer the skinny, nerd boy who struggles with calculus. No, you are a real man, a guy that knows his way around a gym, a guy that is respected by other people. You are not only a man, however, you are a real fine specimen of man, with a powerful aura, a confident smile and a dick that is so hard that it could cut diamonds.

When the next track begins playing, you have to smile. You know that song! It's metal, of course, heavy metal. Your fingers begin to drum on the desk as your body changes further. Now, not only does the hair spread further, it also becomes a bit longer, more shaggy. Even more intelligence flees your eyes as they change from the bright blue to a dull brown, but you don't care. You are going with the rhythm of the music, let yourself being carried by it. Every time you hit the wood of your desk, your motions become more precise and more powerful, the bangs louder and exactly on point. Your muscles bulge out, and the smile on your face widens, until you are full-on grinning.

You don't need any books, any lectures, or anything else anymore. The music is the only thing that is important. As you give yourself over to the rhythm, something important changes. No longer is the beat carrying you, you are carrying the beat. Around you, reality changes as the desk and books dissolve, giving way to an expensive drum kit in front of you. Your clothing melts away until you are only wearing a pair of black leather shorts filled to the brim with your erect cock. You know you're in public but you're too dumb, too careless and most of all too manly to care. Let them see your erection bulge! Your powerful arms bring down the drumsticks with force while the rest of your mates play other instruments, and the frontman shouts the song's lyrics into the microphone. Sweat covers your face and your chest, your hair sticks to your forehead as you put every ounce of strength you can muster into producing the loudest beats possible. You can see the crowd going wild through the light of the stage and a feeling of power surges through you, causing your cock to leak a bit of precum into the front of your shorts.

You're no longer a student, and you're no longer a wimp. You are the drum-man of a heavy metal band, and people love you. They adore you, the way your muscles shine with sweat, the way the drums bang out their beat and the way you seem so happy and carefree, as dumb as a brick.

Wow, I think Michael definitely changed for the better here - and all because of a half-forgotten letter. What do you think, does this body suit him better now?

Over at my riot page (just a tip jar!), you can find a few different versions of Michael.

[sillybayo]

Can't sleep. Time for me to elaborate on this

Notes:

-This is a copy and pasted ramble from discord with some tweaks now that I'm further into the game. This was originally written when I have only just started the third semester arc, and even now, I haven't finished the game. So no spoilers in the reposts or comments please :(! If you want a good idea of where I am, then I've only just started the actual change of heart mission

-The characters discussed in this ramble are high schoolers and below the age of 20. I don't know how old they are in strikers or in any other spin off, and I do not plan on playing them. So please do not leave any gross comments about them, I will only block you. (If you're familiar with my rgu rambles then this isn't anything like them,, I'm just annoying and scaring away half the fandom)

-Warning for a lot of ableism in the school system and beyond

----

Ok so its like. How ableism in school effects people in different ways and how to cope with it. This is semi headcanony? I don't know how bonkers of a statement it is? Basically its like Ryuji being mentally + physically disabled and constantly trying to fight for the best. Makoto is mentally disabled and masks for adults approval and just accepts how things are. Sumire could VERY easily be read as physically disabled I don't think I need to explain it that much. Neither of the phantom thieves fit into society in some way or another but with those three its a much more of a like. They will never fit in kind of thing.

Something that stands out to me the most is how Makoto is the only one who understands Ryujis "dumb moments".

(Sorry for the weird combination of video and screenshots. Tumblr is weird)

I don't reallyyyyyyyyyyy read it as "Makoto is smarter than everyone else which is how she even begins to get him". Its more like she actually understands. She gets it.

Like lets be for eel. Makoto was basically pressured into working super hard. Theres no way she struggles with it that is only and simply in the "everyone wants me to appeal to their expectations" way.

She is smart but I feel like her studying hard is something she forces herself to do with the weight of ableism on her shoulders, which only makes it harder. I'm not sure if I'm making sense???? but Ryuji and Makoto can easily be read as having adhd. Ryuji as the typical LOL RANDOM 🤪 boy that inconveniences everyone whos actually really tired and struggling really badly and working as hard as he can. Makoto can be read as "oh, no, she isn't disabled :). She acts normal" when she really is and it pushed to the limits and can't fight against it and create a better school experience for herself because of how everyone just denies it.

Theres also Sae actively trying to make sure Makoto gets the recognition she deserves. Yes, this is because Makoto is a girl in a world where men control everything. But I personally feel like theres also this intersectionality of misogyny and ableism, which only means Makoto has to work even harder and has more weight on her shoulders.

Additionally, adhd is already ignored when it comes to girls having it, because to society, its mainly a boys thing where they jump up and down and run everywhere. Girls aren't thought to have adhd because not only do they have to mask harder to be taken seriously, but also because society ignores other symptoms and just views them as normal or not as much of an inconvenience to them personally and not to the person who actually has the disability.

You can also VERY EASILY add the idea of Makoto being japanese into all of the intersectionality stuff. Mental disorders are even HARDER to get diagnosed when you're colored,, and nobody cares until its too late. East asian readers who live/have lived in east asia are completely free to add on to this and correct me, as I don't know what it would be like when the mass majority of people you're surrounded by everyday are the same race as you, as you wouldn't have to deal with stereotypes or the system being against you (unless I am wrong :<!), but I still feel like this is DEFINITELY worth mentioning

I'm not physically disabled (I suppose? Saying this because of depression aches but they likely don't count) so I can't really be as personal about Ryujis leg and Sumires,,,,,, everything. I feel like Sumire could be read as having an invisible disability thats not taken seriously. Something something internalized ableism something something the school being so hard on her is making everything worse something something chasing to be someone else when in the end it'll never work.

Even with Sumire becoming Kasumi just because she can't imagine living as "her murderer", theres something about living as someone with different privileges and expectations than you. Theres something about not being able to be "as good" as them, especially when everyone thinks you are them. Theres something about having to struggle with something that no one can see. "This is Kasumi, not Sumire. So why is she failing so much?"

Theres also something about Ryujis "perfect world" being focused on his leg healing. Yes, hes a part of the track team again. But they aren't really the focus. Think of characters like Sumires dad, Mika, and Shibusawa. They have character portraits/sprites. While this doesn't 100% mean that they're important, it does make you remember them better. It establishes their personalities better and they're mentioned quite a bit.

Meanwhile, the side characters in Ryujis social links are just known as, well, "the track team" and "the coaches". They do have names, but, please be honest with yourself, do you remember them? And they don't have actual sprites either. Just typical modules.

Meanwhile, when you go up and talk to Ryuji, Akira/Ren/The Protagonist doesn't ask about the team or anything. Its about Ryujis leg (and also how they met I guess which is quite romantic but thats not relevant). And its normal to wish your disability wasn't there at all. I wish so everyday. Its a very common experience, especially when your disability is a roadblock to achieving your dreams.

It kind of makes me think of Maruki as........kind of ableist? At least in the context of this headcanon. Because all he is doing is encouraging Sumire and Ryuji to conform into an identity that they'll never truly be, which only hurts them more in the end.

(If any physically disabled readers than to add onto this or correct something then feel free to! I'd love to hear it :3)

Basically what I'm saying is that these three specifically should come together and kiss. And snuggle. Maybe make out a little. Maybe burn down shujin. I came up with a ship name for them (niijimoyoshizawa) but as you can see, its ass. So theres that.

Even if you don't end up shipping them,, then I hope you imagine them being sweet friends to each other,, or that I've gave you a different perspective on their arcs

[reflections-in-a-critical-eye]

Would you want to discuss the whole feminist-empowering / eroticism/ degradation of women in pop culture etc etc etc discourse on the sabrina carpenter album cover?

I mean, it gets tiring just thinking about it and having to see the already existing discourse. The internet feminist era has now reversed back to conservatism and puritanism so we're in hell anyway.

People using the concept of the male gaze thinking that it's just about men watching women without ever having read Laura Mulvey's essay on the Male Gaze (which used old hollywood as study case). Who bothers to understand that it's first and foremost a media theory (that they haven't read!!!!!) or that Mulvey's perspective was challenged for being too heteronormative and something that she later addressed. And this was the '70s! Today's everyday discourse is so dumb downed that it feels pointless to engage.

Through a so-called feminist lense, even Carpenter's references to Lolita are judged because people to this day are either too stupid or unwilling to understand that the novel and its adaptions are a commentary, exploration of the theme and not an endorsement. I keep mentioning functional illiteracy like a broken record, but it is so damaging. And it's getting worse. Soon, the internet will be filled with just AI-gen apps "debating" and "interpreting" texts and images between each other.

I urge people to read. Not audio versions or google summaries. But actually sit with a text. It doesn't matter it if takes a week for 10 pages. Sit down and highlight. Make notes. I know it sounds like a terrible experience in this day and age, but it is so necessary.

Mulvey's text is easily available everywhere. If not, even wikipedia is a good source. Look up terms that people are using in everyday internet discourse and see if what they say makes sense or they're just bullshitting.

Explore other artists, from the past as well. Read novels, watch movies that are not just Hollywood in the last decade. Look up photographers, read some theory. And that's how anyone can be more informed.

And watch this too. Puritanism and rigid thinking is always just so damn boring.

[potatoesenpaii]

Connect the dots

CW : Fluff for once

WC : idk i have dyscalculia

Rating: E

Pairing : Gareth x oc, can work as Gareth x fem!reader

Prompt : She had a sharpie and a dream

Tag list : @week-old-tiramisu @1lostsoul0fishbowl @iitsmandii

Summer finally hit Hawkins, the teens would hit the public pools across town, but she was lucky that her best friend had a pool in his backyard.

She expected the rest of Hellfire or Corroded Coffin to be there, but not today apparently. She sighed with a small smile when Gareth dropped the towels on a chair while she held a sharpie and a notebook.

"Sorry, didn't expect the guys to be busy today" She didn't understand why he was apologizing for, it's not like he had control over the others.

"It's fine, and it's not like we never went swimming just us two" She reassured him while he took his shirt off, making her head tilt for minute while she remembered he had freckles.

"What? Do i got a bug on me or-" He looked around himself to see if there was a spider or anything and she had to laugh.

"No, no. You're okay, i..do have to ask though" She pointed at him with the closed sharpie, not wanting to ask a direct question to her true intentions. "Do you want to swim first or sun bathe first?"

"Uh- I don't know, swim?" She nodded and placed her things down to take off her dress. Now unlike her, he didn't study her form instead he got flustered and look away with how beautiful she looked in a two pieces swimsuit.

They messed around in the water for a good hour. Being two stupid teenagers and trying to compete who can survive the longest underwater (he won), who could reach the other side of the pool the fastest (she won) and who could make the biggest splash (surprisingly the same result).

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

Gareth was exhausted on the sun lounger, his cheek pressed against the pillow with his arms loosely hanging off and soft grunts as the sun hurted his blue eyes.

She sat at the feet on his lounger, between his open legs and as surprised as he was, he didn't moved a muscle.

"What are you doing?" He asked, a bit muffled due to how tired the teen was getting.

"A stupid thing..Just don't move okay?" She uncapped the sharpie and placed an hand on his back making him shiver.

"Okay" He slowly drifted to sleep at her touch and the feeling of the sharpie tip of his skin.

She started drawing, using some of his freckles as a guide for the dumb idea she had for a tattoo. Gareth slept for 30 minutes and she was still on going with her sharpie. Her position was a bit closer and made the boy shy. She was drawing to his lower back and it tickled a lot so he had to fight himself to remain still.

"Are you almost done?" He asked close to a whisper, not wishing to spook her.

"Yeah I'm done" She smiled, pressing a kiss to his spine before she sat up and it made his face bright red.

"W-what did you draw?" He asked sitting up as well.

"Uhm...You know those medievals scripts ? With the gothic cross?" He had to tilt his head, trying to remember what she meant.

"So..you drew an absolute work of art on my back and i can't even see it. Plus it's sharpie so it's gonna wash out after a few wash too" He whined out, disappointed that he'd lose something she did on him, for him.

"How can i repay you for this rookie mistake?" She leaned closer, well moved to sit closer deeping the hue of his cheeks.

"Draw..something on my chest?" Any excuses just so he could feel a physical contact with her.

"Okay" She smiled, pressing a quick peck to his cheek making him melt and lay back down on the lounge which made her giggle at how cute that action was.

She was back with her sharpie, using his freckles once again as guide and he stayed very still while he was absolutely enamored by the very concentrated girl hovering him.