#its the most covered up she is in the entire movie
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i am soooo tired of seeing skinny people i am so over it its so everywhere and everything on tiktok on ads on book covers in movies in tv shows, politics, fucking music even. its endless, infinite, exhausting. isn't there something more than this? this can't be it. like how did i end up in a version of the world where a fat woman being a romantic lead in a mid period drama on Netflix is a win? and how is she still basically the only fat person on that show? how are there films and tv shows praised for diversity that don't have a single fat person in the cast?? how how how HOW. the majority of people in the world aren't even skinny. most people in the world aren't thin white people! its crazy its so fucking insane how colonialism, ableism and racism has created a phantasm in which we all accept that pretending fat people don't exist and punishing them when they do is normal and fine. like, imagining a world where fatphobia doesn't exist is actually unimaginable and painful and i truly can't think about it too much without tearing the hair off my entire body
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RED WINE SUPERNOVA
summary — when wanda first proposed making you cum in front of her friends, you’d thought she’d been joking, but when maria and carol come over for your annual halloween movie night, you realize she wasn’t at all
warning(s) — established relationship, heavy dom/sub elements, exhibitionism, slight voyeurism, humiliation, degradation, praise kink, teasing, cum tasting, finger sucking, make out session, nipple stimulation/torture, orgasm control/delay, unintentional edging, fingering, clit stimulation, alludes to maria being dommy, carol and maria watch, possessiveness, eventual orgasm, soft aftercare, brief domestic fluff/cuteness, men/minors dni
kinktober
The fabric of your panties had once felt soft against your skin, comfortable and easy as you slid through the house on sock covered feet, preparing for a movie night with your girlfriends and two of their friends. It had become something of a tradition, a soft moment to look forward to in a life overwise filled with chaos and constant movement. Tonight, you’d thought you’d be cuddled up close to Natasha, holding onto Wanda’s hand as you watched Coraline and countless other films that had always inspired spooky feelings in your heart, but when Natasha had steered you away from the wardrobe, declaring that your outfit was enough on its own despite the nakedness of your uncovered stature in frilly panties with a dull pink bow sewn onto the waistband and a lacey top that matched so sweetly, that soft cotton fabric between your legs had very quickly become damp with persistent arousal and anticipation; no longer comfortable as every time you shifted in place, you were reminded of your desperate state and unwavering vulnerability.
Maria and Carol had been right on time, barging straight into the quaint albeit perfectly cozy apartment that you, Wanda, and Natasha shared whenever they weren’t crashing in safe houses and Shield facilities off the grid. They’d hardly even glanced in your direction as they barrelled through the door, something that was odd and had your belly twisting with wild emotions and sensations, especially when you came to realize why they were acting as if you weren’t there at all. This had been something brought up in passing conversation one night, merely a wild fantasy that Wanda had shared after coming back from a grueling solo mission. You had always known that she was on the kinkier side, especially out of you and Natasha, but hearing about how she wanted to show you off to her friends, wanted to stake her claim with you in front of an audience of your most trusted acquaintances, had you eagerly agreeing to her little fantasy. That’s all that you thought it would be, a fantasy that stayed within the walls of your shared bedroom, but then Natasha brought it up last week, and now here you were, sat on the couch between both of your girlfriends, your naked thighs glimmering beneath the ambient lighting of the television as one of them held your hand, and the other stroked your inner thigh as if you were nothing more than a priceless object to flaunt.
Your cheeks were heated with flushed humiliation and undeniable arousal, the center of your panties damp and darkened, although thankfully hidden from view yet not ignored entirely. Every few minutes, when you had been led to believe that Natasha’s heavy, possessive, hand wouldn’t rise any further up your thigh, she would stretch her fingers outward and fiddle with the lace edges of your panties, pulling the elastic material away from the crevice of your thigh only to let it snap back into place like a broken record that wouldn’t stop skipping. Wanda squeezed your hand occasionally, reminding you of her steady presence beside you on the couch, but even that did little to quell your racing thoughts as you tracked the way both Carol and Maria traced the outlines of your pebbled nipples through the dainty tank top adorning your torso and upper half.
After a while, yet only midway through Coraline which nobody was really paying any attention to, Natasha grew bolder in her ministrations with your wanting body, and as a result, the flush plastered across your cheeks and ears became darker with bated arousal and humiliation. That soft, tantalizing touch on the insides of your thighs became curious fingers sweeping through your sodden folds, prodding at your aching clit and pressing against your wanting entrance that begged to suck her fingers in despite your greatest attempts to remain unbothered and unaware. You hadn’t thought it could get any worse, any more humiliating, but just as you got used to Natasha’s cold touch against your hot cunt desperate for relief, she retraced her fingers, instead holding them up to the light for Wanda and her friends to marvel at.
As she pulled her fingers apart, revealing stringy ropes of warm arousal clinging to her knuckles and the pads of her delicately scarred fingertips, a whine of mortification fell off of your cat clenched tongue and into the air thick with tension and lust, though like before and every minute since both Carol and Maria had stepped inside the apartment, you were ignored entirely by the onlookers who caught a glimpse at your most vulnerable headspace typically reserved for Wanda and Natasha exclusively. “Well would you look at that. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say the little slut likes being shown off.”
A pitiful whine fell off of your lips as Natasha rubbed her fingers together for everyone in the room to see, making an extravagant show of your glistening moisture that dirtied her fingertips. Your face fell into Wanda’s chest on instinct, seeking protection from the dramatic show Natasha was putting on for her own entertainment, however that was hardly allowed, and mere seconds after you settled with your face against the breasts of your younger girlfriend, her fingers were tangling into your hair and pulling you upright, demanding you watch as Natasha unravels your autonomy, reducing you to nothing but a slut for her friends to ogle; and shamefully, it was turning you on more and more.
A startled gasp fell off of your lips when Maria came closer, leaving Carol behind on the loveseat adjacent from the couch you sat cuddled into, and stalked up to Natasha with slow, calculated strides of maintained authority. She had always radiated a gentle energy, someone that you found comfort and ease being around whenever you visited your girlfriends at whatever Shield base they occupied, but as she stared down at you, traced the evidence of glistening moisture on the insides of your thighs and snickered to herself when she found that telling patch of darkness on the center of your panties, she’d never appeared more dominant, and your heart lurched in your chest at the prospect of misbehaving in her company.
When her lips wrapped around Natasha’s fingers, cleaning them off without so much as a grimace as she let the taste of your arousal sink into every taste bud on her tongue, a blush so dark it nearly burned your skin crept down your neck and provoked tingles and goosebumps to rise along your spine and in your belly where that coil of anticipation grew bigger and bigger each time Natasha humiliated you further. When Maria moaned softly, only pulling off of Natasha’s fingers because she couldn’t contain the laugh that bubbled over in her chest as you squirmed and whined with impatient humiliation, you nearly melted into the couch entirely, not sure what was worse; being beneath her heavy, pointed stare, or watching as your girlfriends shared your intimate sweetness with their friends.
“My shy girl. Why are you pretending that you don’t like this, huh? Your pussy’s aching for Natty to touch you, and yet you’re pretending to be my shy girl like you don’t want her to make you cum for Carol and Maria to see.” Wanda coaxed tantalizingly, her fingers ghosting along your chest for the first time that night, taking an interest in your pebbled nipples that pleaded for attention just as Maria sat back on the couch with Carol, being abruptly pulled into a searing kiss that conveyed passion and intense need.
Between the sharp sensations of Wanda fiddling with your pebbled nipples, pinching and pulling and twisting, your eyes remained locked on Carol and Maria who seemed to be lost in the whirlwind of their passionate makeout session. You hadn’t known that they were an item, wouldn’t have suspected it even if the signs had been laid out in front of you, but they moved together so cohesively, it couldn’t have been the first time they found themselves in this position. It was most definitely the first time you found yourself in this position however, and you couldn’t stop the involuntary whine that clawed up your throat and forced its way out when they finally pulled away, a lust drink smirk on Carol’s lips as she practically undressed you with her eyes.
“You’ve been holding out on us, Romanoff. I didn’t know your girl was so sweet.” Carol’s lips curved with dominance that hadn’t been traceable when Maria had tangled her long fingers into her short blonde locks and tugged so aggressively you feared Carol may recoil from the kiss in momentary pain, but as she sat on the loveseat that you had spent many nights cuddled up on, she looked absolutely dominating with her icy blue stare and sharp jawline.
“She’s the sweetest, isn’t she?” Natasha’s eyes glimmered with dominance as she turned her attention to you, fully focusing on the pink hues that formed along your cheekbones and skin, marveling at the glaze of submission that had come across your eyes since she’d first denied you access to the wardrobe in your shared bedroom. “Why don’t we take these off, show Carol and Maria how wet you really are for me, hm?” There wasn’t much of a question in her softly uttered words, but there was enough grace given that you knew you could back out at any moment. You declined that subtly placed offer, though your embarrassment didn’t lighten any. You couldn’t explain the strong feelings turning your blood into butterflies, but despite being utterly humiliated, you were beyond turned on. You wanted Natasha to continue to condescend you, you wanted Carol and Maria to watch as she unraveled your walls and brought you through a glorious episode of bliss and pleasure. You wanted to know that despite sharing the sight of your body with two people that you trust most in Wanda and Natasha’s tight knit circle, that you were truly only theirs to have.
When your panties came off, you tried not to watch as Natasha playfully flung them across the room in Maria and Carol’s direction, or how the Commander grabbed them without batting an eye and inspected the dark patch adorning the center that had laid so snugly against your weeping entrance. You shuddered in anticipation when Natasha pried your legs open just the slightest bit more, draping one of your naked thighs across her material covered lap, opening you up for eager eyes to search. You whined when her fingers swept through your folds again, although this time, she didn’t spare her touches like she had been. Her fingers fell onto your clit heavily, rubbing rushed tight circles on your pebbled bundle of nerves that pleaded for attention and relief.
When Carol commented about wanting to taste you herself, Wanda’s ministrations on your nipples seemed to double, fueled by possessiveness that was intimidating and unspeakably arousing, and through a haze of intense pleasure that was sparking through your body at various places, you just barely recall her telling Danvers to remember the agreement at hand. Her possessive touch lit your body up, and before you could comprehend the desperation that was truly turning you into a mindless slut for two of the most powerful and influential people in the world to witness, your hips searched for more from Natasha in desperate twists and pathetic reaches.
“How long do you think it’ll take me to make the little slut cum?” Natasha wagered, her smirk devious as she stopped rubbing tight circles around your clit without so much as a warning that you were about to lose what you’d been begging for all night, her eyes trained on Carol and Maria, paying no mind to the way you babbled and sobbed for relief, having been seconds away from an orgasm that was now ebbing away into the abyss. Desperately you fought for her attention, arching your hips up against her hand, attempting to gain back even an ounce of the pressure she had been providing, but Wanda’s arms snaked around your waist and pulled you back before you could succeed.
“A minute.” Carol laughed, her tone painfully condescending as her eyes traced the gleam of arousal that had marked your skin with glistening moisture, your pussy on full display as Natasha unintentionally spread you farther, giving both Danvers and Hill an extraordinary sight of your pulsating clit and weeping hole that was desperate for any ounce of attention.
“Fifty six seconds, but nobody's counting.” Maria’s response was dry, laced with infectious dominance that was spurring Natasha on to be better, harsher. Your eyes nearly bulged out of your head when two fingers sunk into your cunt, enveloped by velvety walls that squeezed her knuckles tight. There was no time to grow used to the stretch as she worked you open, but it felt so good you didn’t care.
Her thumb found your clit again, and relentlessly she worked you back up towards that orgasm you’d been desperately chasing. Wanda’s fingers didn’t stop pulling and twisting at your nipples, but at some point, she’d pulled your top low, trading in thin fabric for warm flesh. You hardly flushed when you realized all of you was now exposed to Carol and Maria, so desperate for an orgasm that you let it fade away entirely. Strained whines and pleads fell off of your lips as Natasha worked you closer and closer to a blissful orgasm embarrassingly quick, but she kissed your insecurities away as she mumbled for you to let go, to let her make it all better.
“Shh, there we go. There we go, pretty girl. Making such a mess for me. It’s okay.” She coaxed softly, pecking your lips multiple times as she withdrew her fingers, quickly finding a blanket to throw over your body, no longer wanting you visible to her closest friends who seemed to understand, and didn’t comment on her quickness to cover you up.
“Forty seven seconds. Impressive.” Maria taunted lightly, her smile dazzling as she flashed you the softest look you’d ever seen her give. You blushed, hiding your face in Wanda’s chest as she allowed you to get comfortable, seeking out her tender affection that she would never dream of withholding. “Where are you going?” Maria narrowed her eyes at Natasha when she noticed the redhead itching to rise from the couch, her arms slowly falling off of your still trembling frame as you leaned heavily against Wanda in post-orgasm bliss and hazy submission.
“To get her a water?.” Natasha’s eyebrows furrowed as she found herself explaining the routine steps to your preferred aftercare scene that she had engraved in her mind like a sacred text since starting her relationship with you, but Maria merely scoffed and stood up herself, tenderly handing your panties back to Wanda who took them appreciatively.
“I’ll get her some water. You make sure that she’s okay.” Was her affectionately mumbled response. You didn’t really pay any attention to Natasha easing your panties back up your legs, or Wanda softly fixing your top over your breasts, but by time Maria returned with a glass of water, you were dressed and snuggled into Wanda’s lap contently, holding tightly to Natasha’s hand, just barely able to focus on the credits rolling across the screen.
“Thank you.” You mumbled to Maria when she passed the water off to you, smiling encouragingly before she took a seat next to Carol again, seemingly unphased by what had just happened, although it did ease the knot of anxiety in your belly. Nothing had changed, they didn’t see you any differently, and if anything, these were the best post-scene cuddles that Wanda had ever given, partly because her possessiveness fueled her need to hold you tight and stake her claim despite there being no threat.
“What do you say we watch Halloween Town?” Carol mused, seemingly just as eager to assure your comfortability as Maria, to which you were beyond grateful for.
“Twitches. Someone thinks it’s fun to watch witch movies and compare everything about them to me.” Wanda giggled, pressing a chaste kiss to the crown of your head, silently settling the question of which film would be the one that you all agreed to pay attention to. Maria agreed easily, fighting Natasha for the remote and winning, victoriously scrolling through your streaming platform until she found what she desired.
“I love you.” You mumbled to Wanda, slouching against her chest as your attention drifted between her soft touch and the opening scene beginning to play at a low volume.
“I love you too, baby. So much more than you’ll ever know.”
#wanda maximoff#wanda maximoff x reader#dom!wanda maximoff x reader#wanda maximoff smut#wanda maximoff fluff#wanda maximoff fic#natasha romanoff#natasha romanoff x reader#dom!natasha romanoff x reader#natasha romanoff smut#natasha romanoff fluff#natasha romanoff fic#wandanat#wandanat x reader#dom!wandanat x reader#wandanat smut#wandanat fluff#wandanat fic#maria hill#maria hill x reader#dom!maria hill x reader#maria hill smut#maria hill fluff#maria hill fic#carol danvers#carol danvers x reader#dom!carol danvers x reader#carol danvers smut#carol danvers fic#[ kinktober ] — ⟡
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TUMBLR POST EDITOR WON'T LET ME TITLE THIS POST ANYMORE SO I GUESS THIS IS THE TITLE NOW. WEBBED SITE INNIT
So let's say you grew up in the nineties and that The Lion King was an important movie to you. Let's say that the character of Scar - snarling, ambitious, condescending, effeminate Scar - stirred feelings in you which you had no words for as a child. And then let's say, many years later, you're talking about it with a college friend, and you say something like, "oh man, I think Scar was some sort of gay awakening for me," and she fixes you with this level stare and says, "Scar was a fascist. What's the matter with you?"
The immediate feeling is not unlike missing a step: hang on, what's happening, what did I miss? You knew there were goose-stepping hyenas in "Be Prepared," but you didn't think it mattered that much. He's the bad guy, after all, and the movie's just pointing it out. Your friend says it's more than that: the visuals of the song are directly referencing the Nuremberg rallies. They're practically an homage to Riefenstahl. This was your sexual awakening? Is this why you're so into peaked caps and leather, then? Subliminal nazi kink, perhaps?
And then one of your other friends cuts in. "Hold up," he says, "let's think about what Scar actually did in the movie. He organized a group of racialized outcasts and led them against a predatory monarchy. Why are you so keen to defend their hereditary rule? Scar's the good guy here." The conversation immediately descends into a verbal slap fight about who the real bad guy is, whether Scar's regime was actually responsible for the ecological devastation of the Pride Lands, whether the hyenas actually count as "racialized" because James Earl Jones voiced Mufasa after all. Your Catholic friend starts saying some strange and frankly concerning shit about Natural Law. Someone brings The Lion King 2 into it. You leave the conversation feeling a little bit lost and a little bit anxious. What were we even talking about?
INTRODUCING: THE DITCH
There is a way of reading texts which I'm afraid is pervasive, which has as its most classical expression the smug obsession with trivia and minutiae you find in a certain vein of comic book fan. "Who was the first Green Lantern? What was his weakness? Do you even know the Green Lantern Oath?" It eschews the subjective in favor of definitively knowable fact. You can't argue with this guy that, say, Alan Scott shouldn't really count as the first Green Lantern because his whole deal is so radically different from the Hal Jordan/John Stewart/Guy Gardner Corps-era Lanterns, because this guy will simply say "but he's called Green Lantern. Says so right on the cover. Checkmate." This approach to reading a text is fundamentally 1) emotionally detached (there's a reason the joke goes, oh you like X band? name three of their songs - and not, which of their songs means the most to you? which of them came into your life at exactly the right moment to tell you exactly what you needed to hear just then?) and 2) defensive. It's a stance that is designed not to lose arguments. It says so right on the cover. Checkmate.
And then you get the guys who are like "well obviously Bruce Wayne could do far more as a billionaire to solve societal problems by using his tremendous wealth to address systemic issues instead of dressing up as a bat and punching mental patients in the head," and these guys have half a point but they're basically in the same ditch butting heads with the "well, actually" guys, and can we not simply extricate ourselves from the ditch entirely?
So, okay, let's return to our initial example. Scar is portrayed using Nazi iconography - the goose-stepping, the monumentality, the Nuremberg Lichtdom. He is also flamboyant and effete. He unifies and leads a group of downtrodden exiles to overthrow an absolute monarch. He's also a self-serving despot on whose rule Heaven Itself turns its back. You can't reconcile these things from within the ditch - or if you can, the attempt is likely to be ad-hoc supposition and duct tape.
Instead, let's ask ourselves what perspective The Lion King is coming from. What does it say is true about the world? What are its precepts, its axioms?
There is a natural hierarchical order to the world. This is just and righteous and the way of things, and attempts to overthrow this order will be punished severely by the world itself.
Fascism is what happens when evil men attempt to usurp this natural order with the aid of a group or groups of people who refuse to accept their place in the order.
There exists an alternative to defending and adhering to one's place in the natural order - it consists only of selfish spineless apathy.
Manliness is an essential quality of a just ruler. Unmanliness renders a person unfit for rule, and often resentful and dangerous as well.
And isn't that interesting, laid out like that? It renders the entire argument about the movie irrelevant (except for whatever your Catholic friend was on about, since his understanding of the world seems to line up with the above precepts weirdly well.) It's meaningless to argue about whether Scar was a secret hero or a fascist, when the movie doesn't understand fascism and has a damn-near alien view of what good and evil are.
There's always gonna be someone who, having read this far, wants to reply, "so, what? The Lion King is a bad movie and the people who made it were homophobes and also American monarchists, somehow? And anyone who likes it is also some sort of gay-bashing crypto-authoritarian?" To which I have to reply, man, c'mon, get out of the ditch. You're no good to anyone in there. Take my hand. I'm going to pull on three. One... two...
SO PHYREXIA [PAUSE FOR APPLAUSE, GROANS]
We're talking about everyone's favorite ichor-drooling surgery monsters again because there was a bit in my ~*~seminal~*~ essay Transformation, Horror, Eros, Phyrexia which seemed to give a number of readers quite a bit of trouble: namely, the idea that while Phyrexia is textually fascist, their aesthetic is incompatible with real-world fascism, and further, that this aesthetic incompatibility in some way outweighs the ways in which they act like a fascist nation in terms of how we think of them. I'll take responsibility here: I don't think that point is at all clear or well-argued in that essay. What I was trying to articulate was that the text of Magic: the Gathering very much wants Phyrexia to be supremely evil and dangerous fascists, because that makes for effective antagonists, but in the process of constructing that, it's accidentally encoded a whole bunch of fascinating presuppositions that end up working at cross-purposes with its apparent aim. That's... not that much clearer, is it? Hmm. Why don't I just show you what I mean?
Atraxa, Grand Unifier (art by Marta Nael)
In "Beneath Eyes Unblinking," one of the March of the Machine stories by K. Arsenault Rivera, there's a fascinating and I think revealing passage in which Atraxa (big-deal Phyrexianized angel and Elesh Norn's lieutenant) has a run-in with an art museum in New Capenna. The first thing I want to talk about is that, in this passage, Atraxa has no understanding of the concept of "beauty". A great deal of space in such a rushed storyline is devoted to her trying to puzzle out what beauty means and interrogating the minds of her recently-compleated Capennan aesthetes to try and understand it. In the end, she is unable to conceive of beauty except as "wrongness," as anathema.
So my first question is, why doesn't Atraxa have any idea of beauty? This is nonsense, right? We could point to a previous story, "A Garden of Flesh," by Lora Gray, in which Elesh Norn explicitly thinks in terms of beauty, but that's a little bit ditchbound, isn't it? The better argument is to simply look at Phyrexian bodies, at the Phyrexian landscape, all of which looks the way it does on purpose, all of which has been shaped in accordance with the very real aesthetic preferences of Phyrexians. How you could look at the Fair Basilica and not understand that Phyrexians most definitely have an idea of beauty, even if you personally disagree with it, is baffling. This is a lot like the canonical assertion that Phyrexians lack souls, which is both contradicted elsewhere in canon and essentially meaningless, given Magic's unwillingness or inability to articulate what a soul is in its setting, and as with this, it seems the goal is simply to dehumanize Phyrexians, to render them alien, even at the cost of incoherence or internal contradiction.
Atraxa's progress through the museum is fascinating. It evokes the 1937 Nazi exhibit on "degenerate art" in Munich, but not at all cleanly. The first exhibit, which is of representational art, she angrily destroys for being too individualistic (a point of dissonance with the European fascist movements of the 20th century, which formed in direct antagonism to communism.) The second exhibit, filled with abstract paintings and sculptures, she destroys even more angrily for having no conceivable use (this is much more in line with the Nazi idea of "degenerate art", so well done there.) The third exhibit is filled with war trophies and reconstructions from a failed Phyrexian invasion of Capenna many years prior, which she is angriest of all with (and fair enough, I suppose.) But then, after she's done completely trashing the place, she spots a number of angel statues on the cathedral across the plaza, and she goes apeshit. In a fugue of white-hot rage, she pulverizes the angel heads, and here is where I have to ask my second question:
Why angels? If you are trying to invoke fascist attitudes toward art, big statues of angels are precisely the wrong thing for your fascist analogues to hate. Fascists love monumental, heroic representations of superhuman perfection. It's practically their whole aesthetic deal. I understand that we're foreshadowing the imminent defeat of Phyrexia at the hands of legions of angels and a multiversal proliferation of angel juice, but that just leads to the exact same question: why angels? To the best of my knowledge, the Phyrexian weakness to New Capennan angel juice is something invented for this storyline. They have, after all, been happily compleating angels since 1997. We could talk about the in-universe justification for why Halo specifically is so potent, but I don't remember what that justification is, and also don't care. Let's not jump back in the ditch, please. The point is, someone decided that this time, Phyrexia would be defeated by an angelic host, and what does that mean? What is the text trying to say? What are its precepts and axioms?
Let me ask you a question: how many physically disabled angels are there in Magic: the Gathering? How about transsexual angels? How many angels are there, on all of the cards that have ever been printed for Magic: the Gathering, that are even just a bit ugly? Do you get it yet? Or do you need me to spell it out for you?
SPELLING IT OUT FOR YOU
There is a kind of body which is bad. It is bad because it has been significantly altered from its natural state, and it is bad because it is repellent to our aesthetic sensibilities.
The bad kind of body is contagious. It spreads through contact. Sometimes people we love are infected, and then they become the bad kind of body too.
There is a kind of body which is good. It is good because it is pleasing to our aesthetic sensibilities, and it is good because it is unaltered from its (super)natural state.
A happy ending is when all the good bodies destroy or drive into hiding all of the bad bodies. A happy ending is when the bad bodies of the people we love are forcibly returned to being the good kind of body.
Do you get it now?
ENDNOTES
It's worth noting that the ditch is very similar to the white American Evangelical hermeneutics of "the Bible says it. I believe it. That settles it," the defensive chapter-and-verse-or-it-didn't-happen approach to reading a text, what Fred Clark of slacktivist calls "concordance-ism". I don't think that's accidental. We stand underneath centuries of people reading the Bible very poorly - how could that not affect how we read things today? We are participants in history whether we like it or not.
I sincerely hope I haven't come across as condescending in this essay. Close reading is legitimately difficult! They teach college courses on this stuff! And while it is frustrating to have my close readings interrogated by people who... aren't doing that, like. I do get it. I find myself back in the ditch all the time. This stuff is hard. It is also, sorry, crucial if you intend to say something about a text that's worth saying.
I also hope I've communicated clearly here. Magic story is sufficiently incoherent that trying to develop a thesis about it often feels like trying to nail jello to the wall. If anyone has questions, please ask them! And thank you for reading. Next time, we'll probably do the new Eldraine set.
#phyrexia#not defining the ditch except by implication#thanks to all the very smart vorthoi on the flavor text discord server for helping me work through my thoughts on fascism and phyrexia#this is technically the march of the machine review also#or as much of one as i care to do
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random percy headcanons:
wants to be the photographer friend SO bad and he technically is but like 70% of the pics come out blurry or weird bc there was a monster attack in the middle of them. his instagram is truly so chaotic looking.
literally always has seashells on him someone will ask him for a pencil or spare change and he has to empty all his pockets of shells to find it. drops his backpack and a bunch of shells fall out. kicks his shoes off and sand and shells fly out and his mortal friends are like percy What the Fuck
his eyes glow underwater!! bioluminescent king. no one told him though and he didn't find out until he joined his school's swim team and terrified everyone (he managed to convince them his contacts were having a weird reaction to chlorine lmao)
he really likes art!! he doesn't just pretend to for rachel's sake he genuinely enjoys painting with her. he likes splatter paint, collages and pop art styles the best. one day after splitting some edibles they realized percy could manipulate water colors and went CRAZY with it
will ask to be excused during class and comes back like an hour later with scorch marks all over his face bleeding from one of his ears covered in dust missing three fingernails rips in his jeans and a fat lip and the teacher is like percy what the actual hell were you doing in the bathroom all this time and he's just like uhhhhhh I have ibs
the brand from camp jupiter did unfortunately (for sally) Unlock something in him lmfao he keeps getting shitty little tattoos. usually stick-n-poke but someone's friends cousin's girlfriend's brother has a gun that gets brought to parties every now and then. most of them are sloppy but you can tell what they are HOWEVER he has one that was supposed to be a seal that came out looking like one of those shitty ms paint crying memes. annabeth laughed at him for ten minutes straight when she saw it.
he wanted to dye his hair blue but he was too chicken to bleach his entire head so he just did the tips. his hair is curly though so it looks absolutely ridiculous but he loves it
percy and annabeth get a crusty little yappy white dog in college and he carries it around like a baby lmao
back to his chaotic instagram, he's got so many pics of him like, relaxing at the bottom of the mariana trench or hugging a giant squid or riding on a whale shark and his mortal friends all think he's just really good at photoshop and this is a very specific bit he decided to commit to. they're always like lol percy where do you even FIND these pictures are you subscribed to like scientific journals for the laughs? but no he just took them all on his shell phone
has an ongoing prank war with annabeth's little brothers bobby and matthew but like it's Unhinged. they're playing 5D chess and she has no idea whats going on
weird tshirts!!! he loves them! like
shit like this or those 'women want me fish fear me' shirts, anything with a funny or incomprehensible slogan is going in his closet right along with his band tees lmfao
bought estelle a panda pillow pet when she was born 🥺
can NOT bring himself to eat seafood no matter how many times poseidon has told him its fine. he's like NO these are my FRIENDS JONATHAN WAS TELLING ME ABOUT HIS GRANDDAUGHTERS WEDDING LITERALLY YESTERDAY WHY IS HE ON A PLATTER DAD. they had to give up and just start eating normal land food at the palace every time he comes to visit lmfao
gets into horsegirl antics with hazel she NEEDS to know everything the horses have to say. they spend hours gossiping in the stables.
movie nights in the poseidon cabin were 10000% a thing and when he was missing annabeth and thalia and grover (and a few others) would still sleep in there every now and then and talk about how much they miss him :(
percy and beckendorf had the worlds most elaborate handshake
he DOES impulse buy stuff just because they're ocean-themed. stuffed animals, home decor, school supplies, clothes, you name it he bought it if theres like a fish on it
has more scars from crashing off his skateboard than he does from monster attacks
grover is somehow the only person who's ever noticed percy is severely claustrophobic
has a deep passion for adele. I can't explain this one I just feel and know it to be true.
he and annabeth both proposed to each other at the same time and they were SO mad about it they kept yelling over each other's speeches lmao
he can SING but he doesn't know it. sally keeps trying to record him singing to himself but something always happens to the camera and she loses the evidence
called chiron a brony one time and mr d thought it was so funny he was nice to percy for an entire week
the camp keeps trying to convince him to teach sword fighting lessons to the younger kids but he can NOT bring himself to swing a sword at a 9 year old so he keeps getting injured
has the most complicated iced coffee order in the world his go-to local coffee shop finally just put the damn drink on the menu and named it after him
he IS the quiet kid in the back of your math class that always has his hood up to try and hide his headphones and eats increasingly elaborate meals out of his backpack when the teacher isn't looking. one time someone caught him with a rotisserie chicken in the middle of a geometry final.
he argued that he DID have enough to share with the class
currently obsessed with the image of him knocking back a container of sea salt as if it was a shot and his mortal friends being like hey! what the actual fuck! and he's just like uhhhhh anemia kills!
its his birthday<3
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sweet child o' mine | pt. iii
now taking name suggestions for my joel's duck doodle. must rhyme with a curse word. most creative wins.
pairing: neighbor!joel x fem!reader
summary: as your pregnancy progresses, you and joel are getting closer. dangerously closer.
warnings: reader is literally pregnant so typical pregnancy symptoms & descriptions of stuff like extreme nausea and gagging (reader throws up off-page, no graphic description past sore throat/esophagus afterward), body changing, nerves around birth/becoming mom, another sonogram (gender reveal...?), baby kicks felt, labor pains shhh, age gap (late 20s reader, late 40s joel), joel is dating someone who isn't reader, our girl hates nye (she's valid), tommy uses colors to represent gender (he is Wrong), joel is for sure emotionally cheating at this point and reader knows it, joel kisses someone who is not his partner again, f masturbation, memories of the hot dirty sex they had whew, a SPRINKLING of breeding kink, praise kink, size kink, another parent dies (i love parents i promise ????), jealous!reader, protective!joel, alcohol consumption, cursing, a LOT of angst, lots of fluff, lil bit of smut, and duckie has the best comedic timing of any character in this entire series. :) DISCLAIMER: this series covers some issues which i know may be sensitive and possibly triggering to some. warnings will always be as thorough as possible, but if there’s ever anything you feel i’ve missed, please let me know. feel free to drop by my inbox anytime.
word count: 11.4k (sorry. lots to cover lots to do.)
pt. i / series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist | follow @macfroglets w notifs on to be the first to hear when i post 🩵
December.
The days are funneled by a quick pinch of dark, the breeze heavy in its sail. Houses lined with twinkling lights and windows pierced by pointed trees. Crooning from every radio station, teary-eyed movies on TV, and spiced apple everything.
You hate every fucking minute of it.
“Wait a second,” Tommy sits forward, leaning in, “you never do nothin’ for New Years?”
You shrug, lifting your eyebrows. “Nope. Just don’t like it much. That a crime?”
He considers it as he hands his empty tumbler up to Joel, his head lolling some. He’s on his…fourth drink of the night, right? Though, if you take into account his earlier argument – I’m eatin’ as I go. It don’t count. – it’s probably more like two. But it’s whiskey, so –
Never mind.
“Yeah,” Tommy finally decides, “kinda. The hell’s wrong with you, girl?”
“Tommy.”
Joel’s voice is a warning, edged by the sharp clink of three glasses pinched in his fingers.
His brother laughs amiably in response, though, nodding to your mock-offended expression. “At least you’re spendin’ it right this year. Last one before lil’ Dickie comes along, huh?”
Maria slaps his shoulder, rolling her eyes. “It’s Duckie,” she hisses, glancing over to you.
“Shoot,” he says, chuckling. “I knew that. My mistake.” And then, hand out towards you in an apology which makes your shoulders jerk with laughter, “I did know that, I swear.”
Tommy and Maria flew in a few days ago; the younger Miller adamant that he’d spend one last New Years with his big brother before he became a father. The night they arrived, they showed up on your doorstep – a hamper filled with diapers and muslins and baby socks hanging from Maria’s arm. They’ve asked to hang out with you every day since.
They’re good fun. Tommy likes you, at least, enough to tease you as much as you figure a brother might. He’s definitely the louder of the two – sometimes you swear you notice Joel cringing at him, something caught between a laugh and a frown on his face. And Maria’s sweet; she’s asked probably six times every hour since she first saw you if you’re feeling okay, if you’re tired, if you’re hungry.
Joel text you yesterday morning. Tommy and Maria wondering if you feel like coming over for NYE. No pressure, he added, I lie pretty good.
A smile snuck its way across your lips before you had the chance to tame it. Sure, you typed, I’ll bring the newspaper.
What Joel’s told them, about the wedding and the baby and everything since, you’ve no idea. You guys almost talked about it when he told you they were flying down after Christmas, but before you got the chance to ask him, Vanessa pulled up out front.
Not exactly a conversation you felt like having with the dude’s girlfriend hooked around his right arm.
She smiles at you, now, as you shuffle to the edge of the armchair you’re curled up in. Joel’s armchair – the plaid blanket cradling you, the leather soft and crinkled beneath. Your eyes quickly drop from hers when his hand reaches for your mug, your fingers crossing as you pass it up. “Let me come help,” you say, pushing from the chair.
He holds up a palm, shaking his head once. “Stay. I got it.”
“Thanks,” you murmur, settling back. Vanessa resumes smiling. You wish she’d fucking quit it. You wish you’d fucking quit focusing on her.
Joel knocks the mug gently against your shoulder with a small, almost sympathetic smile, and heads for the kitchen – leaving you sat between Tommy and Maria on one couch, and Vanessa on the other. You tuck your heels under your thighs, picking at a hangnail as you wait for the conversation to thaw.
Maria makes some comment about Austin in the winter: how different it is to Jackson, and the three of you nod and hum in agreement before the chatter fizzles to nothing again. You glance over to the clock, watching the hands chase one another to twelve.
This isn’t what you imagined a get-together with Joel’s family would feel like. Tight, tense. So tense that you can feel the weight on your chest, closing your lungs. Talking about the weather and the holiday traffic, talking about nothing to avoid talking about everything.
Tommy’s chin lifts, after a second too long of silence. “Hey, Joel!” he barks. “You ain’t shown me this nursery yet!”
Joel leans around the doorframe, half-distracted. “Barely even started it, little brother. Crib only got delivered yesterday.”
“Sheesh,” Maria’s eyes widen, “you sure are prepared.”
Vanessa laughs when Joel rolls his eyes and vanishes again. “You got no idea,” she says, “I have never seen him so…pedantic, right?” She looks to you, still smiling. So sweet, you worry your lips are pursing at the sight of it. Your neck tensing. Your eyes watering.
“Yeah,” you reply, nodding shyly and swallowing back the saccharine. “I think he’s more nervous than he’s letting on.”
Joel’s voice calls from the kitchen again: your name. When you answer, he says, “Why don’t you take Tommy up, show ‘im what we got so far?” and then, leaning back around the door, “She picked the color ‘n whatnot.”
“Ah,” Tommy says, palms pushing down on his knees, “so you’re the brains, then?”
You mirror him, accepting Joel’s request. As though you had any choice in the first place. Standing beside the younger Miller, you mutter, “Sure. Let’s go with that.”
He holds a hand out to usher you ahead, following you upstairs. Past the tousle-haired boy in grayscale, past the German shepherd, past the Christmas Day portrait. Wandering like you know the house inside out, like you might’ve picked the exact coordinates of each nail the picture frames hang on yourself.
Like the photographs pinned to the walls aren’t still as alien to you as they’d been that day you first set foot in here, the dress Joel would come to tear from your body slung over your arm.
You twist the gold handle and unveil a homely little room, painted by you and Joel just last week. The soft blue drying into his knuckles, random splatters on your palms and your jeans. The giggles drawn from your chest; the thief either the chemicals from the paint, or the man rolling it over the walls – and you’ve a pretty good idea of which.
Tommy sniffs roughly, nodding. Taps the toe of his boot against one of the two bulky boxes leant against the wall, a crib printed on one and a rocking chair on the other. His tipsy head bob bob bobbing. “Alright. ‘s nice, ain’t it?”
You settle against the window, the glass cold at your back. “Real nice, yeah. Be even better once it’s done.”
“What’s yours look like?”
“Mine?”
“Nursery at your place. Your one pink, ‘case it’s a girl?”
You snort. “Mine is a little greener. More…I guess it’s duck egg. Had some leftover paint.”
He clicks his fingers and points to you. “See what you did there. Duck egg. Duckie.”
“Hm. Wish I were that poetic. I just like the color.”
Tommy stuffs his hands in his pockets, wanders around the bare room. The faint lingering of whiskey putting up its best fight against the clean bite of fresh paint, the sweet scent shaking from him when he nods some more at the blank walls and naked windows. He clicks his teeth and asks, “How you holdin’ up, anyways?”
“How am I holding up?”
“Yep. With, uh…” he nods to the door, eyes wide, “…Vanessa,” he whispers. Louder than he must think – probably echoed, if anything, by the palm he curves around his mouth.
You cross your arms protectively, shoulders bunching. “She’s fine,” you say, voice deliberately low. You both ignore the crack in it when you add, “I like her. She’s – she’s taken this all like a champ.”
Tommy leans on the window ledge, a rugged hand you reckon you’d know was a Miller’s just by looking at it. Same rough-cut quality as Joel’s, like they’re torn from the same sheet of sandpaper. He props the other on his hip. “But, boy – it’s gotta be complicated, right?”
“I guess. But she’s real sweet about it. And Joel’s been great, too.” You sniff, the memory of your kiss flashing behind your eyes. The steady drum of Duck’s heartbeat, the gleam in Joel’s eye when he looked down at you. The guilt seeping from your skin like beads of sweat, prickling along your spine and fizzling against the cold windowpane.
Tommy blinks at you, liquor-glazed eyes scanning. His shoulders jerk, a loud huh propelling from his throat. When your head cocks in confusion, startled from your daydream, he spills. “He ‘n I had a mighty long talk when he told me.”
You feel yourself leaning in, magnetized to him – body hunched as though you’re gossiping in the corner of a house party. Inhaling secrets with the tinge of alcohol on Tommy’s breath. “Oh, yeah?”
Tommy hums. “Just wanted to make sure he’d thought it all through. Not you – I always knew he’d take care a’ you and Duck. But…involving Vanessa,” he lowers his voice again, glancing over to the warm light spilling in from the hallway, “I just wanted him to be sure.”
Your blood begins to warm, heat flooding through your body as you step closer, murmuring, “What’d he say?”
He flicks his head, seeming to toss his initial response to the wind. “You know Joel. He is his own man.”
Your face screws, head jerking back. “What’s that mean? He is his own man?”
A voice from the doorway interrupts. A shadow swimming in the golden light. “Who is?”
Tommy steps away from you, loosening his arms as his big brother drifts into the shadowy room. Dusting the conversation under the rug. The smell of whiskey backs off. “Speak of the devil. Nice paint job, Joel. Missed a couple spots, but – I’ll let you off.”
“Uhuh.” Joel’s eyes thin, his body slanted against the wall. Arms crossed, bottle of beer hanging from his fingers.
Tommy swaggers forward when Joel holds the bottle out, taking it with a wary glance at the tall figure. A dog meandering back to his owner, tail between his legs and ears flat. It takes his gritty voice to jolt you back to the room, splintering your gaze from Joel’s toned arms and huge chest. “Looks real good, you two. ‘s one lucky kid.”
Joel’s jaw lifts, his eyes landing on you. Dogs are terrible liars. “He talkin’ your ear off?”
You smile; recognizing the softer Joel you’ve grown used to over the last three months replacing the stern, cold version you once knew so well. “Only a little.”
“Tommy,” he says then, “Maria needs you for somethin’.”
The denim-donned Miller nods knowingly and heads out of the room, thud of his boots receding downstairs.
“Maria okay?” you ask, making space for Joel as he settles beside you.
He shrugs. “Only said that to get him outta your hair.”
You frown. “You sent me up here with him in the first place.”
“So I could come up ‘n check on you. Know this must be a lot – the two of them, tonight.”
“I’m fine. Promise. I’m a big girl.”
You both sigh, turning to look out at the dark street. Your arms cross, sitting somewhere above the tiny slope of your bump – a new development you’re still getting used to. Your stomach feels tighter, a little more solid than usual when you touch it. A little more…real. There’s someone in there, right? Like, actually there. They’re changing the way you look, the way you feel.
“This is it, right?” you say, staring at the white lanterns illuminating Alice Brown’s rose bushes. “This is the year.”
“The year,” Joel agrees.
“Mhm. Become a mom. Become a dad.”
He purses his lips. “Yeah, I don’t know. I’ve had bigger years, kid.”
“Let’s hear it, old man. Let’s hear about your biggest year. God knows you’ve had plenty to choose from.”
He sucks a deep breath in, eyes tracing the silhouette of the houses across the street as he thinks. “Senior year, nineteen ninety-three. Asked Stacy Moore as my date to the prom ‘n she said yes. I was so nervous that I forgot my bow tie. Was a pretty good year.”
You hum, agreeing, and then, “I see your ninety-three, and I raise you: two thousand and one. There was this bike I wanted for-fucking-ever; it had, like, little beads on the spokes – would make this ratatatat sound whenever it moved. Tassels hanging from the handlebars, all iridescent. I begged my mom the entire year for it, and on Christmas morning I woke up, and…” You lift your hands, air puffing from between your lips. “Santa Claus delivered that year, dude.”
“Well,” Joel clicks his teeth, shell hardening only a little, “thanks for making me feel old as hell.”
“You’re welcome.” You beam back at him, breaking into a laugh when he does.
The two of you stand a little distance apart, denying yourselves the innocent brushing of shoulder against shoulder, the nudging of elbows and swaying of hips. Admiring the empty sky and emptier street, bathing between the cold moonlight of outside and the warm lamplight in.
And from somewhere deep in your belly, somewhere tucked behind your ribs, beneath your slow-growing womb: an urge to ask about her. To bring her up. To tend to the curiosity that Tommy poked a clumsy, drunken finger straight into, tearing it apart at the seams.
Like pressing on a new bruise, satiating the hungry need to know where you were hurt, how you were hurt, when you were hurt. A bent fingertip, pushing heavily into a sensitive splatter of dark purple; the burst blood vessels hissing in response, whispering, You don’t know, and you don’t want to know.
But you defy them. You do want to know. Want to satisfy the disturbed thrill you felt, leaning into Joel’s brother. Hands turning over one another, wet bottom lip trembling as he rounded the corner on some sort of…what was it, a secret? Some sort of truth, a long-buried revelation about the other woman. She’s a witch, have you spotted her crooked nose? She’s plotting something, I swear. She’s up to no good.
Your eyes lift again, focusing back on the dull color of the outside world. The bland canvas of reality. She’s not a witch, nor some genius mastermind. She’s a boring, relatively normal woman. Kind, thoughtful. Naïve and a little too eager to please; too willing to forgive a situation which warrants no such kindness or empathy.
She’s just…fine. Lukewarm. And you’ve no idea why that pisses you off so much.
Which, incidentally, makes the bruise sting all the more.
“Maria, Maria,” Tommy’s voice claws its way upstairs, “turn it on, turn it – Joel? Joel! It’s midnight, Joel, you two better come on down, now! Have we missed it –? Have we –?”
The sound of cheering slowly bubbles to life behind his drawl as the TV volume picks up, the tittering of Maria and Vanessa chiming in.
“…five, four, three, two, one…Happy New Year!”
Joel’s looking over his shoulder, waiting for footsteps or voices or a girlfriend who never shows. And he ignores his brother, for he is his own man, and turns to you instead. Bracing himself on the ledge, he blinks down with a plain grin on his lips. “Happy New Year, Mom,” he whispers.
You return his smile, taking his hand when he reaches out to you. “Happy New Year, Dad,” you reply, squeezing his palm.
He pulls you in for a hug, kissing your cheek briskly as you hook your arms over his shoulders. His beard scratches your cheek, grazes the curve of your shoulder, and you don’t mind. Your small, swollen belly presses against his; the tiny curve safe in the midst of your embrace.
Outside, the sky crackles to life with the distant spatter of fireworks, color shattering across the black canvas – red, blue, green and gold, dissolving as quickly as they explode into the now-January night. A burst of purple light washes between the two of you, and you turn your head on Joel’s shoulder to watch as the sparks rain over your neighbors’ roofs.
“I should get goin’,” you whisper, feeling his heartbeat a little too strongly against your own. Becoming suddenly aware of the weight of your frames locked together.
“Glad you came,” he says as he leans away. “I know this ain’t…I know we’re all tryin’, but you’re tryin’ the most, and I appreciate it. I hope you know that.”
“I know it,” you tell him, rolling your eyes. “Now, go. Go kiss your girlfriend.”
He chuckles, making for the door. “You want me to walk you home?”
Your eyes close serenely, the image of him doused in flickers of gold burning behind your eyelids. “I’ll survive the walk across the hedgerow, Miller.”
Joel nods once and leaves, plodding downstairs to be greeted by his open-armed girlfriend, a peck between them, arms crossed behind his neck. The lyrics of Auld Lang Syne slurred against his lips.
And you think – You know what? If it’ll rip you apart from her, if it’ll keep her bright red lips and her shining curtain of hair away from you, if it’ll stop her sucking in your air and your smell and your attention for thirty fucking seconds –
Then, yeah. Walk me home. Stay for a drink. Sleep in the goddamn guestroom.
Walk me home.
You slip out of the front door when the two couples are in the kitchen, missing Joel’s calling your name – or perhaps just ignoring it altogether.
“Spread the love at St. David’s this Valentine’s Day…”
Joel slows alongside a wall of cerise hearts, each one fluttering like wings whenever the hospital doors slide open and the breeze sneaks inside. Slips scrawled with names and messages: Love you M! and J + A, crude drawings of stick figures holding hands. Your lips curl into a smirk, watching him flick through each one as you palm your round stomach.
You just saw Duck for the second time. The last time, Freya was kind enough to mention, before they’re tearing you in two. Sorry, she mouthed when your expression dropped, and went back to twisting the probe over your stomach. Silently.
You’re getting better at it, you think. Playing Mom. Like some little game of make-believe, which is only real for as long as you’re looking it square in the eye – attending doctor’s appointments, updating the neighbors on your newest list of symptoms en route to your mailbox.
A little surer on your feet, now that you’ve found a balance to it: taking it as seriously as it warrants, a dry little pill stuck on the cliff of your throat, and making it easier to swallow with humor like water, a huge gulp anytime the fear claws its way up your spine.
And no more panic, since at least before Christmas. Only a little flustered this afternoon when Freya asked if you wanted to know the sex.
It felt too big a thing to hear, too real. You’re only just getting used to the backache and the bleeding gums. (And why didn’t you know that your gums would bleed? Isn’t that something they should fucking warn you about? Congrats, you’re pregnant: prepare for blood seeping from your jaw.)
No. No, thanks. Your head shot around to Joel. No, right?
He shrugged. Makes no difference to me.
Are you sure?
I’m sure, kid. Promise.
‘cause we can find out. I mean – if you want to.
He rocked forward on the balls of his feet, tapping you amiably on the shoulder. I don’t. You’re good.
You don’t?
No, I – He sighed, a hand dragging through his hair. If you want to, I want to. If you don’t, I don’t. Alright?
Freya bit back a laugh, the closed fist over her lips doing little to hide it. You guys should write a book on co-parenting.
But then she left the room again, closed the door on that same old little bubble – the three of you perched on the bed, you and Joel blinking up at the grains of your child onscreen – and you cried. Again. More.
Everything clearer, everything even more human than before: the globe of their skull, the tiny slope of their nose. All glowing in the dark waves of your womb, twinkling like the most beautiful constellation you could ever come across. Their ankles were crossed, feet forming a tiny heart shape in the top corner of the sonogram. Your hand lifted to point it out to Joel, and before the words found voice, you choked and broke down again.
He held you, lips to your hair, body solid as a rock as you melted into him in waves of salty tears. Smiled that honey-glazed smile and said he was so proud of you, said, look what your body’s doin’, darlin’, look what you’re growin’ – which only made you weep more.
And you pretended not to wait for it – for the moment when you might tilt your head up and your lips might line with his, and he might close the achy space between you again, might shush your cries by stealing the air from your lungs and the beat from your heart.
But he didn’t.
Which is fine.
Right?
“Somethin’ on your mind, kid?” he asks now, eyes still glued to the sea of hearts.
Your stare snaps from him instantly, unaware it was even held there. You tug on the hem of your sweater and pull the sleeves over your hands, mumbling, “Fine, I’m – I’m just…Come on, man. I’m hungry. I didn’t eat lunch today.”
“’n whose fault is that?”
You glower at him. “How considerate,” you seethe, “Vanessa’s a fucking lucky woman, you know that?”
He ignores you, a dumb smile on his face. The usual. “Let’s leave one for ‘em.”
A hot temper begins to boil below the surface of your skin, squeezing between your teeth in a fist-swinging breath. Also the usual these days, apparently. “For who?”
“Duckie. Somethin’ to mark the second scan. Last time we see them, before –”
Your hand flies up, eyes closing with a wince. Shut the fuck up. “Enough. I know.”
Joel hms, still smiling to himself. His beard has grown out a little: thicker, darker, gray sewn through like little whip stitches lining his jaw. He fishes a heart shape from the tub along with a pen, which he twirls annoyingly around his fingers as he thinks.
You sink back against the clinical white wall, an offensively bright color, holding your cheeks up in something of a smile when a nurse wanders past, nodding to both of you. Your face drops back to a scowl as soon as she’s over Joel’s shoulder, and your eyes meet his again – his brows raised, expectant.
“What?” you ask, chewing on the inside of your cheek.
He holds the slip up. “What we gonna write?”
And whatever charm the moment may have held, withers instantly. You throw your arms up petulantly. “You wanted to do it! Pick something. See you soon, or something, I don’t fucking know.”
“I don’t fucking know,” Joel muses, creases by his eyes when he smirks. “Poignant.”
“That’s what you should write,” you step closer, shoving your shoulder into his as you study the trembling hearts on the board, “if you can spell poignant, write that.”
“Hilarious,” he mutters, bending to scribble onto the shape, shielding his work from your view when you hang around his shoulder to pry. Cupping over the message until he’s straightening up, tossing the pen back to the desk, stealing a pin from the tub.
“Let me read,” you protest, tugging on his flannel sleeve.
“I will,” he says, shaking you off. “Patience, darlin’.”
Joel turns to the wall and pins the heart higher than the rest, in a spot clear of its own on the corkboard – thick arms stretching higher higher higher and pulling your gaze with them. As he steps back, he takes you gently by the waist and positions you in front of his body, your shoulders brushing against his chest. Your ribs hold your heart back from hammering into his.
You push up onto your tiptoes and squint at the note, which quivers when the hospital doors pull open again. “Mom and…Mom and Dad f…You fucking…”
Joel dodges your batting arm, snickering with you as he turns to make for the exit. “You don’t like it?” he tosses over his shoulder.
The heart stares down at you, black ink carved into the paper, watching as you turn and hurry after him, giggling. “Mom and Dad fuckin love you? So much for my potty mouth. And the –” another wheezing laugh you’d otherwise be ashamed to let him hear, “– the drawing? It looks – it looks more like a giraffe than a duck. Or, like, you know those long-necked dinosaurs?”
Joel’s head tips back, his own laughter caught up by the breeze when you wander outside, slipping your wrist around the crook of his elbow. Something infectious about it, something which stirs your own laughter until you’re walking arm in arm to the truck with a man who, six months ago, you’d barely look at twice over the fence.
The blind rage bubbling from your empty stomach seems to dissipate, dwindled to nothing in the face of that same man – his swollen cheeks and crows-feet eyes. And you say, “You’re disgustingly sentimental, you know that? Like, sickening.”
And Joel smirks, the way he always fucking does, and says, “You love it. Can’t lie to me.”
“I love it,” you concede, nudging into him as he opens the door for you.
The drive home is quiet, but not uncomfortable. There’s another thing you’re getting good at: being around Joel without need for snide remarks, without feeling your tongue curl under the weight of some snappy quip, loaded and aimed. Being around him and talking about Duck, asking how Tommy and Maria are. Forcing your teeth and tongue to carve out words which ask how Vanessa is, what she’s up to, when he’s seeing her next.
None of this is ideal, that’s for sure. Joel’s girlfriend aside, you’ve spent the last five months cohabiting your body with a stranger who lives most peacefully in the eye of a raging tornado of hormones – flitting between fits of giggles and pulsating joy in your veins, to waves of tears and an anger so hot beneath your skin that you wonder if your emotions might dry up completely by the time this is all through.
It's tough. It’s scary. And some nights you lie in bed, alone, wet eyes fixed on nothing, waiting for someone to burst into the room and announce that it’s all a prank. Just a silly joke. You and Joel can go back to tossing newspapers and casting glowers.
But for now, sat in the passenger seat of his truck – the seatbelt warped around the curve of your belly, the Eagles lilting softly from the radio – it feels like you’re making a home out of that tornado, too. Feeling the swirling walls of wind toss your hair like the breeze through the truck window; the chilled caress of the evening around your outstretched arm, soaring down the highway.
Yeah, you think. I can make something outta this.
“You know what I’m craving?”
Joel’s watching the light, waiting for green. “What’s that?”
“A fucking bagel. Cream cheese, pastrami,” you groan.
He snorts, cringing when he adds, “Pickles?”
A moan tears from the base of your throat, head lolling against your seat. “I could orgasm just thinking about it.”
The light turns, and Joel swings right. “I’d rather you didn’t,” he mutters, turning the wheel with one palm. “I got bagels back at the house, if you want one.”
You stare at him, jaw loose, saliva pooling behind your bottom lip. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
He smiles, shaking his head. “Let me make you one, ‘fore you go home. Big day, ‘n all.”
And you hate it – hate the way your cheeks fill with a genuine happiness, something swollen and achy, impossible to ignore when it lifts your eyes and hurts your teeth. Appreciation, or admiration, perhaps, that you figure you’ll only ever have for him. You don’t know what the fuck to call it.
So you sum it up into three words. “That’d be nice,” you whisper, and Joel places his hand over your knee, shaking it lightly as he drives on.
It stays there, until he’s pulling into his driveway.
He pushes the front door open and steps back, an arm extended to let you by first. An after you, ma’am, between his lips. And you turn to make some mocking joke, the beginnings of some comment about how gentlemanly he is, when you’re socked square on the nose by a heavy-fisted, bitter scent.
“Oh, fuck,” you gasp, stumbling backwards across the threshold and onto the porch again. Your throat constricting around nothing, your tongue twisting, your stomach lurching.
Joel catches you just in time to stop you from falling on your ass. “The hell’s the m–? Oh.”
“Hi!” Vanessa calls from the kitchen, leaning around the doorframe to wave you both in. “Almost ready! Take a seat.”
“V–? Hey, sweetheart?” Joel calls back, one hand around your wrist and the other between your shoulders. “What – what’s cookin’?”
She pauses, glancing back at the stove. Pulls the dish towel between her hands taut. “I…I made pasta.”
“Yeah, what kind, sweet?”
“…Bolognese.”
He can’t cover his own sigh quick enough. Thick with something which feels like anger. “Shit,” he turns back to you, “I am so sorry.”
You pull in a deep, unsteady breath, your lungs struggling to separate night air from tomato juice. A weight rolling at the bottom of your stomach, your entire body beginning to tremble with it. “I feel like I’m gonna – Joel, I’m gonna –”
“Breathe,” he whispers, voice urgent, palm slipping to cup your jaw. “Just breathe for me.”
But your throat’s tightening, swallowing hard around gags which come stronger and quicker the more you try to fight them down. “I can still fucking smell it –”
Her shadow blocks the stretch of light from the house. A nervous little thing, a timid creature’s shadow stretched wide across the porch floor. “Is…everything okay?”
“It’s – it’s fine,” Joel sighs again, torn between comforting you and letting Vanessa down gently, “it’s just – tomato is one of her…her aversions.” He’s unable to pull his eyes from you, privately asking, “Are you okay?” when Vanessa turns back to the kitchen.
“I didn’t – I didn’t know,” she mumbles, thumbnail between her teeth. “I am so sorry.”
Suddenly, your will not to throw up is overpowered by your will to tell her, “It’s fine,” sucking in a deep, sickly breath before adding, “I’m just gonna – I should go.”
“I don’t want you to go,” Joel says, his teeth guarding the words from his girlfriend.
“I’m gonna clean up in here,” Vanessa points over her shoulder, and you think she must’ve heard him, “get outta your hair. I’m so sorry, again. I would’ve never…”
Joel lets go of you as you stagger backwards, the cold air tearing down your throat to meet the burning acid tickling up your esophagus. “Please don’t apologize,” you lift a weak hand, “how could you have known? I’ll –” another sharp gasp, “– I’ll see you guys around.”
He must say your name, must try once more to pull you back to his side, but the blood’s rushing through your ears, and your heart’s pounding at the back of your tongue, and your stomach’s notching its way up your spine. You make it to your kitchen sink just in time.
He keeps you waiting all of one hour before he’s calling you. Your arm reaches over to your nightstand, fumbling in the dark for your heavy phone, the screen cold against your cheek.
“Mhm?”
“Are you okay?”
Your lungs pull a deep, slow breath. The acid painted across your throat tickles as the air passes by it, an uncomfortable, scratchy feeling.“Mhm.”
“That a lie?”
“Only a little. Is Vanessa okay?”
He takes a second to answer. Lets go of whatever he was going to say with a sigh, replacing it with, “She just left.”
“Is she mad at us?”
Another second. “Just me. Not you.”
You massage the slope below your breasts, the ache in your esophagus throbbing when you move. “Why just you?”
Ruffling, like he’s settling back into his couch. Sinking into the cushion, his body as heavy as yours feels on your mattress. “I should’ve told her you didn’t like tomatoes. ‘cause now I’m a goddamn mind reader. I mean, why the hell wouldn’t my girlfriend be in my house cookin’ a damn pasta dish while I’m out, y’know? Jesus Christ.”
“Joel,” you turn slowly onto your back, bravely waiting for the waves of nausea still lapping around your stomach to turn with you, “it was a nice thing, what she did. She didn’t mean to…She probably thought she was helping.”
“Naw, I know,” he replies, the sharp bite of his words softening again, shrinking under yours. “I don’t care about her and her helping, though, darlin’, I care about y –” He barely catches it in time. “I care about you carrying my child, and I care about making sure you don’t spend your nights fuckin’…throwing up tomato sauce.”
You gulp, neck convulsing. The backwash of bile swallowed back. Your chest floods with a heat of quick panic. “Can we…maybe…not use the word? I just –”
“Sorry, baby. Sorry. This is just – it’s a lot easier if she would just…”
Your eyes close over, a salty sting sweeping behind them. If she would just lay off. Back off. Fuck off. “…but she won’t, Joel. She loves you. ‘n you…”
The words drift off, taken by the tide, swept off into silence. And neither of you bother with trying to retrieve them – you just watch, stood safe on the shoreline, as they fold under the waves of something too big for either of you to acknowledge. Too dark, too dangerous.
So, you say, “I get it,” instead; say, “I get why you’re mad. Just – let’s forget about it, okay? Sorry for…ruining dinner.”
Joel scoffs, that old, pissed-off Joel scoff. You can see his deadened expression on the back of your eyelids. You may as well have just thrown his newspaper to the end of the earth. “You know damn well that you didn’t ruin anything. How you feelin’?”
“Tired. Throat kinda hurts.”
“Still feel like that pastrami bagel?”
“Not really. Sorry. Appetite’s gone.”
“How about a water?”
“I got some here. Thanks.”
“Okay,” Joel sniffs, “how about: you take the hint and let me come over there to see you?”
You giggle, hand over your eyes to mask your expression from the dark. “I hate you. Yeah, come over. Door’s unlocked.”
Date night – six month anniversary or whatever. Call me if you need anything.
And I mean anything. OK?
Your thumbs hover over the two gray messages, an awkward jig as your brain scrambles to offer words back. Where are you guys going? Too interested. Too weird. OK, what if I’m bored? Delete delete delete. Trying too hard. Sure, have a good n–
The ellipsis pops up and you freeze. A stupidly polite swish delivers Joel’s third text.
Boredom counts as anything, by the way.
And the fucker steals another smile from you. You notice it when you look up, clocking yourself in the mirror. Accompanied by a warmth which drips down your spine, swirls around your tummy; a fluttering you’re not sure is Duckie or something else.
Have a good night, Dad, you type back, tossing the phone to the end of your bed when you hit send. Swiping for a pillow, holding it firm to your face. Pressing so deep into the plush that even the linen won’t be able to see your grin.
Joel told you about this six-month anniversary last week. He wasn’t too thrilled about it then, either. Dinner to celebrate six months? A year, fair enough. But six months?
You swallowed your pride, swallowed the same throttling ecstasy which seeped through your pores on New Year’s Eve, on that February evening she cooked– never mind; a desperate desire to tear apart the very notion of Vanessa and her cutesy little date nights and candlelit dinners. I think it’s a fun idea, you said. Y’all should do it.
And Joel listened. Because he always fucking listens to you, these days. Listens when you tell him that you like the watermelon Sour Patch Kids best, and picks them up anytime he’s at the store. Listens to you when you tell him he should move the crib away from the window, in case the streetlights shine on Duck while they sleep.
Listens when you ramble about how sore your feet are, how heavy your belly feels, how there’s a clammy heat lingering under your skin at all times, bubbling and bubbling and never rising to anything more than steam collecting on the underside of your flesh.
Listens when you tell him to go spend time with his girlfriend. And neither of you pay attention to the jealous shadow behind your words, the hesitant quiver behind his.
He replies almost instantly, the ping like a gunshot at the beginning of a race. Pillow slammed into the mattress, body lunging forward.
You too, Mom. Don’t have too much fun without me.
You lock the phone and slide it back under your covers, smiling dumbly.
There’s still a small part of you waiting for the big reveal: none of this is really happening. A dream, maybe, something you’ll wake from with a tiny throbbing headache, a dry mouth and a new reason to avoid your neighbor at all costs.
But it seems that, each time that thought crosses your mind, you’re quicker and quicker to quash it. Realizing each time that what lies ahead – Joel, your baby, this future version of yourself that you’re yet to meet, still just a little out of reach – fills you with more excitement and wonder, than it does fear.
Mom.
It’s not something you ever imagined for yourself. Not someone you ever thought you’d be. And yet, each time you say it out loud, each time you look in the mirror and picture a baby in the crook of your arm, a toddler perched on your hip, a kid stood by your side, tugging on the hem of your shirt – she feels a little closer. A little clearer. She just has to look over her shoulder, notice you waiting. I’m right here, she says. Come find me.
Mom. Mom and Dad.
You imagine Joel right now, sat in some ritzy restaurant with jazz music and stained-glass lamps on every table, ordering Vanessa some glorified lentil soup and slapping his card over the bill before the waiter has a chance to reveal the damage to him. Your lips twist at the thought – her jewels and her long hair and her sweet little smile laced with a smug possession.
And then you slap your own wrists, hissing to yourself to shut the fuck up.
“She’s nice,” you argue out loud, thin air holding no debate. “She’s kind, and I like her. She’s good for him.”
And then the air replies. Good for him, it swirls, but you could do it better.
Your arm lifts, lingering for a beat before batting the thought away.
Three weeks. Three fucking weeks, between pushing yourself out of his embrace in bed, and pulling yourself back into it – armed with a pregnancy test and a chest full of fear. Three weeks of dodging him, of your cheeks bubbling with embarrassment and regret anytime you thought of it; of hoping to God that Alice or Diane or Steve and Kris across the street wouldn’t clairvoyantly know what had transpired that night and corner you on your own front lawn.
A one-night stand. That’s all it was. Two lonely bodies, excitement enough to convince you both that it was a good idea; a fitted suit and a backless dress crumpled together on the floor. Liquid courage lacing it all together.
Three weeks, then, of reminding yourself how it felt: how amazing you were together. Your hand between your legs and Joel’s name between your teeth.
Fuck. If only he knew. Goodforhimgoodforhim she’s so good for him but I’m better.
You did it better. You know you did. The sun was cresting the horizon by the time the two of you stopped. You hauled yourselves down to breakfast and sat at least three people apart, made forced conversation with Maria about the DJ stumbling off with one of her cousins, while the ghostly ache of Joel’s body churned somewhere deep inside you.
It travels through your veins the way that everything does right now: urgent and unforgiving. A need to be dealt with, immediately. Coursing through your body, an arrowhead pointing somewhere you know it shouldn’t. But your hands lift anyway – following it, loosening the waist of your sweatpants and skimming beneath your underwear.
Your body lights at the first touch. The first dip of your middle finger against the plush over your clit. Knees bend, thighs part. You push your underwear down your hips, settling your bottoms loose on your legs. You’re already wet. You’re already there.
Good fucking girl. She’s good but I’m better, right? Take it, baby. Does she take it like I take it? Take it. Can she take you like I did?
Quicker and quicker and quicker, your fingers heavy on your clit. The other hand sifting between your folds, dipping to collect a glimmer of wet. Yeah. Just like that. Do you fuck her like you fucked me? You feel what you do to me? Fuck no, you don’t. You’ve never fucked anyone like you fucked me.
Head back, eyes fluttering closed, lips parting to breathe answers to a man who isn’t here. To a man who, as he dips sourdough into an overpriced soup, sure as hell isn’t thinking about that time he fucked you so good he got you fucking pregnant.
Well. Maybe he is. You are, right?
Voice without body, drawl etched in your memory. Think she can take it all? You hum in amusement, waiting for him to answer his own question. Yeah, she can.
Attagirl. Your legs spread further, knee lifting as you insert two slick-coated fingers. His hands are on your thighs, following the dip of your hips, holding your waist as you guide him back inside. Attagirl. That’s my – Fuck, Joel, you’re so b– That’s my fuckin’ girl. Take it. Touch it. His thumb on your clit – his, not yours. You like that? Yeah, that’s nice, ain’t it?
The flesh of your breasts filling his palms, squeezing and nipping and rolling between. The warmth leaking between your legs: his and yours and fuck, he’s so deep and he’s filling you again and he’s groaning as more dribbles from where he splits your body around his own, holding you still until he’s done. Until he’s empty.
“Joel,” you whine, a third finger pushing in.
Between your hips. Headboard hammering against the wall. The sun hanging loose at the bottom of the sky. Gonna make me come again, baby. Do it. Do something irreversible. Change me forever. Fuck me fuck me fill me and then pull out, push back in with the wet squelch of your come mixing with mine and changing me forever. Making me brand new. Making me yours.
Another moan. Louder. Sharper.
Yours yours yours. All mine? All yours. We’re good at this. I know we are. Who fucks you like this? No one – No one – just you – just me. It’s so big, fuck, but I can take it. Been thinkin’ about this all fuckin’ day, baby. All I do is think about you. All I fucking do – You gonna come for me? – is think about you.
Know you need it. Let ‘em hear you, downstairs.
Fuck, I’m thinking about you. Come home. I need you to come home, need you to –
Fuck me, Joel, I’m –
Good girl.
– fuck me.
Atta fuckin’ girl.
She’s good but I do it so much better.
We’re good at this. ‘s do it again.
She’s not as good as me.
Again? Again.
She’s not as good. She’s no fucking good.
Your walls clamp around your fist, entire body shuddering to a stop. Breath held by something shaped like the hook of his accent, two fingers either side of your throat. The same smirk on his lips that convinced you in the first place. Fuck, baby, fuck me.
“Joel,” you cry out, the sound ripping between your vocal cords, punching against the ceiling and reverberating in your ears. Your body convulses on the mattress, back arching and slackening again. “Fuck, I’m – oh, my –”
Just feel it, baby. Feel me. You got it.
Let go.
Your lungs lurch open again, breath flooding in like waves spilling over the gunwale and rushing down to pool at your feet. A lulling rock to your movements, chest rising and falling like the steady tide. Soothing, coming down. Foam and salt carrying the flotsam away, the jagged glass of his name disappearing to sea again.
And then he’s gone.
And you’re just alone in your bedroom.
Last you checked your phone, now face-down on the carpet at your hip, it was eight p.m. Streetlights on, the sky painted by the pale dregs of daytime.
Now, you lie in near-darkness, blinking up at the ceiling. Hand sifting through a bag of glow-in-the-dark stars, comparing the different sizes, considering where to stick them, and then tossing them back in frustration.
Your front door clicks open, a pause between the sound and his voice.
“Anyone home?” Joel calls, and you lift your wrist as though he can see it from the bottom of the fucking stairs.
“Up here,” you eventually announce, knuckles rubbing your tired eyes until Catherine wheels spatter across your eyelids.
His shadow splits the light from the hallway, the long rectangle crossing over your swollen belly. “The hell are you doin’?” he asks, wandering in.
You lift the bag. “Decorating. The hell are you doin’?”
He pulls your nursing pillow from its temporary home in the crib and tosses it down on the carpet, bending to lift your shoulders and slot it underneath. “Scooch,” he says, groaning as he lays back beside you. He smells like whiskey and cologne. All woody, pine and spice.
“You got a bad back,” you warn him. “You shouldn’t be all the way down here.”
“You’re seven months pregnant,” Joel clicks his teeth, “neither should you.”
“What if you get stuck ‘n can’t get back up?”
Offense pulls his brows together. “What if you do?”
You smile in response, feeling the heat of his shoulder against yours. Sucking the scent of him through your nose. The pair of you exchanging smirks and batting eyelashes, wrapped in the cool darkness of the room. It’s juvenile and intimate.
You’re trying not to think too much about it.
“I can’t fucking figure this out. I put two of the big stars over there,” you point to the far corner of the room, streetlight splintered by the shades on the ceiling, “but it looks stupid having two so close. So, then I thought,” moving your arm to the right, “a cluster of smaller ones, right over the crib. But I couldn’t move the damn thing to climb up, so…I’ve been down here ever since.”
Joel lifts his hand, stopping your train of thought. “Please do not climb on anything, bein’ that you are…with child.” And then, when your eyes roll to meet his, he grins, adding, “Nesting got you good, huh?”
“You should see my kitchen cupboards. Never been tidier.” Your expression dissolves, voice quietens – your most desperate plea since that morning you shook hands on his doorstep. Your broken wardrobes and his lonely wedding invite. “Will you help me?” you ask.
He thinks it over less than once, dragging his gaze from the twirling star in your fingers. A quick shake of his head, like it’s obvious. “’course I will. ‘s what I’m here for.” And then he yawns, lowering a hand absentmindedly to settle on the curve of your stomach; a gentle pat in greeting to Duck.
“How was dinner?”
“Good,” Joel lies.
“Vanessa okay?”
“Good,” again.
“Sorry.”
Joel’s eyes roll, fingers pausing. “Why do you always gotta be sorry for som’?”
You shrug when you realize it’s not a rhetorical question. He’s genuinely asking. “I don’t know. Just tryna be polite. I know you’d probably rather be at home right now, not…deciding where some plastic fuckin’ stars should go.”
“For my kid’s bedroom? For you?” He huffs something shaped like disapproval. “Do me a favor – stop with the sorrys, alright?”
“I’m not even done with the last fucking favor I said I’d do you.” Your eyes flit down to your bump.
He stares blankly. You know there’s a laugh gathering like hot air on a windowpane behind his eyes, threatening to shatter the glass.
“Fine,” you concede, “dickhead.”
“Better.”
You sigh, looking back down at the phosphorescent shape in your hands. Turning it over and over and over, matching the rhythm of his fingers tensing and then untensing on your belly. His fingers, matching the rhythm of your chest rising and falling with breath. The room quiet. The night’s eyes averted, even just for this moment.
“If it’s anything,” Joel says, “I think the stars look alright.”
Another stolen smile. Another defiant show of teeth. You place your hand on top of his: a thankful gesture, an invitation. Something in between.
Joel blinks back at you, his eyes flitting from yours to your lips. The dim light in the room swallowing the two of you whole, secluded in the upstairs of your home. And you think, Kiss me, kiss me kiss me kiss me, and you will the words over your tongue in a ragged breath – hoping that Joel might breathe them in and feel their sharp edges as they absorb into his bloodstream, each cell flipping like the star in your hand and whispering the same two words to him: Kiss her kiss her kiss her.
But right then –
There’s a burst of movement. Under your fingertips. A fluttering, like bubbles popping right below the surface of your skin.
Your eyes snap down at the same time Joel’s do; your fingers separating and hovering over your tummy.
“Did you – did you feel –?”
“Yeah. Did you?”
“Uhuh. Was that –?”
“I don’t know. Was it?”
He takes your hand, pressing it back against your stomach with his on top. Your knuckles safe in the canopy of his palm. Both staring into space as you hold your breath.
“They’re not…they’re not doin’ it, now…”
“Maybe it was just –”
“Wait! Did you feel that?”
A second burst on your womb, a tiny beat on the other side of your bump. A wide grin breaks across your cheeks, a disbelieving laugh escaping.
Joel laughs, too. “Is that – is that the first time they’ve ever –?”
“Yeah,” you sniff, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, “that’s the first I’ve ever felt ‘em, anyways.”
“Wait,” Joel says, lifting his hand and holding a finger up. Just yours on your belly. “They doin’ it?”
Your head shakes.
When he lowers his hand, Duckie kicks again. The two of you lean in to one another, exchanging laughter. You lift your own hand, watching his expression as he waits patiently.
But then his head shakes, too. “Nothing. They’re only doin’ it when it’s both of us.”
“What the fuck?” you laugh, replacing your hand and waiting for the baby drum. “How can they even tell? What the f–?”
You shift your hands around the globe of your bump, pausing every so often to feel for Duck’s movements. A tiny fist punching, or a heel kicking, or an elbow shoving right above your navel in a way that’s bordering on painful, but numbed by the sheer thrill of it.
And for a while, it’s all you do: play tag with your unborn baby, giggling when they respond to your tapping fingers and cooing voices.
Joel sits up, leaning on his elbow to talk to his kid; runs two fingers across your shirt like a pair of legs scaling a cotton covered hill. And he laughs, and you laugh at his laugh, as if he’s a kid himself again – tearing apart gifts on his birthday, gasping and throwing his head back with glee at whatever he uncovers.
“It feel weird?” he asks, glancing up at you.
“So fucking weird,” you tell him.
“Does it hurt?”
“More…ticklish, if anything. Might get kinda annoying, if they start doing it when I’m tryna sleep, or somethin’…”
Joel lowers his jaw to your stomach, whispering, “You know what to do, Duckie. Make your daddy proud.”
You slap his shoulder, muttering, “Asshole.”
“Alright,” he says, splintered by a laugh. He pushes himself to his feet, swiping the bag of stars from your side. “Let’s get these up so you two can get some sleep.”
You groan as he pulls you upright, one last pat on your stomach, looking at you a second too long and a touch too meaningful. Too warm, too inviting.
It’s the calm before the storm, though you’re still stood motionless. Still trying to work out whether the tornado is moving away, or headed directly for you.
At five in the morning, Vanessa’s sister calls her.
“Heart attack,” Joel tells you a few hours later, the rustle of paper crinkling in your ear. The truck hums in the background. He speaks through a mouthful of sandwich. “Her dad always had a condition, but they thought they were managin’ it with medication,” another crinkle, and then, voice even more obscured, “but he got rushed to hospital durin’ the night, and…”
“Poor Vanessa,” you reply, nail drawing shapes on the curve of your bump in attempt to lull Duck into a more relaxed state than the sharp kicks they’re throwing at your ribs. Now big and strong enough to do considerable damage, your voice falters each time they swing. “Is she – son of a bitch – is she okay?”
“Shaken up,” he says, turn signal ticking over his voice. “She’ll be alright. She’s pragmatic like that. Problem is – they’re in Houston. Her whole family. So I guess that’s where the funeral’s gonna be.”
You swing your legs off the couch, heaving your awkward, nine-months-pregnant body to your feet – the irritating scratch of hunger suddenly gnawing at your stomach. “Yeah?” you say, waddling through to the kitchen. “So?”
“So,” Joel takes another bite of sandwich, “she has to – I mean, we have to…go. To Houston.”
“We?” You slot the phone between your cheek and shoulder as you fish out a couple slices of bread.
“Me ‘n Vanessa.”
“Uhuh,” you carve a knife around a jar of peanut butter, “you gotta be there for her.”
Joel sounds a little defensive. “I know. And I am. I’m goin’ to be. ‘s just – I gotta be there for you, too. For – for Duck.”
Your stomach swirls, a fire catching which lights your chest in a trickle of flame.
“You are. You will be. Houston’s only, like, three hours away.”
He sighs.
The turn signal fills the silence between you, between Joel and an appropriate answer. Clicking like the sound of a tennis match, his head spinning between his grief-stricken girlfriend, and the third-trimester mother of his child.
“I’m here,” he says, and you hear the squeal of brakes out front. “Give me a sec.”
The door pushes open as you sink back into the couch, balancing the plate on the planet beneath your breasts. Joel crumples his sandwich paper in his fist and lowers his hand over the back of the couch, scrunching his fingers over your belly as he passes.
“Thought you hated that stuff,” he calls over his shoulder, disappearing into your kitchen.
“I had a craving,” you say, ripping the first bite from your sandwich. “You made me hungry.”
He returns a minute later with a glass of water which he sets down on the coffee table in front of you. He lifts your legs, letting them fall gently in his lap when he collapses into the opposite end of the couch, heels of his palms pressing against his eyes.
You tap his thigh with the ball of your foot and he turns to you, placing a hand over your ankles. A sticky paste of peanut butter and bread between your molars, you ask, “What’shup?”
Joel holds back a smirk at your chipmunk cheeks. “Just – just worried that you…you know, while I’m gone, is all.”
You scoff, gulping. “Come on. I am not gonna go into labor in the, what – two days? How long would you even be gone?”
He seems to wince at the thought, fingers sifting through his hair – a gray sweep sat casually over his left eyebrow; flicks following the curve of his ear towards the hinge of his jaw. “Less than that, if I can help it.”
“Joel.”
He turns to you, saying your name just as deflated in response.
“You have to go.”
He rolls his eyes, thumb and middle finger massaging his temples. Crosses his arms and huffs like a teenager. “Well, I ain’t happy about it.”
You snort, unable to hold it in as you take another bite. “I ‘on’t think Vanesha’sh too happy about it, either, to be honesh wih ya.”
Joel’s jaw slackens, a choked laugh bursting from the back of his throat. He lifts a cushion and swings it in your direction. “Heartless. That’s heartless, you know that? Jesus, baby.”
He leaves on Saturday morning.
You stand on your porch, watching him shove a suitcase into the backseat of his truck, squinting in the sunlight as he stalks across your front yard. Joining you in the shade, he leans into you, shoving you lightly.
“Quit it.” Your hand locking with his, steadying yourself. Something in the back of your mind begging him not to let go.
And as if he can hear the thought: “I can stay. You know I can stay, right?”
“I don’t want you to stay,” you tell him, sweeping the hair from his forehead. “We will be fine. We’ll stay up late, eat junk food and watch TV; I’ll do audio description for Duck…”
He scoffs, glancing across the street.
“…and then you’ll be back home, back to buggin’ the hell out of us. It’ll be Monday before you know it.”
Joel’s jaw tightens. “And what if…?”
“You really think that’s gonna happen? You think your kid’s that much of an asshole?”
He doesn’t miss a beat. “Yeah,” he shrugs, tongue in his cheek, “they’re half you.”
“Alright,” you click your teeth, turning away from the simper on his lips, “why don’t you just fuck off to Houston now, asshole?”
“I’ll fuck off, that’s what I’ll do.”
“Uhuh. Here’s hoping you don’t break down, or get a flat, or get struck by lightning, or anything.”
“You’re so funny,” he whispers, leaning closer.
“Hm. Now go.”
His jaw turns, beard grazing your skin. And then his lips; soft and warm, damp when he kisses your cheek. A moment too long. And he doesn’t pull away, doesn’t lean back the way you both know he should. No, he lingers – his lips by your ear, eyes flitting up to the street to make sure nobody sees.
“Joel –”
“I know.”
“We shouldn’t –”
“I know.”
But your arm is hooking around his neck, asking him to do it anyway, and his lips are lowering to yours, submitting to your request, and what’s supposed to be a goodbye kiss lasts at least a few seconds too long for it to mean anything less than a don’t go kiss.
You pull away when you feel the wet dab of his tongue against yours, realizing with an ice-cold shock where you are, and who he is, and what’s happening. Realizing how fucking stupid it’d be for both of you, how catastrophic and terrible the outcome.
A one-night stand.
A one-night stand.
A one-night –
He leans his forehead against yours, nose nuzzling your cheek. “I’ll call you when we get there.”
Your arm loosens, letting him go.
Just – letting him go.
Saturday Night Live ends just after midnight.
You arch your back into the couch, your swollen belly pushing forward. It’s an effort to get to your feet, what with the steady ache in your back all day, the weight on your front, and the fucking human being smushed into every vital organ inside you.
A deep breath feels like it inflates your lungs only halfway, Duck using the bottom half as a fucking ass cushion, and scaling the stairs takes another ten minutes – by the end of which, you’re slumped against the handrail, pausing before making off for your room.
You sink into the mattress, creasing the cool, smooth sheets. Duck stirs inside you, stretches out and throws a right hook against your bladder. You curse under your breath, hoisting yourself back to your feet.
“We gotta sleep, baby,” you hum, swaying back and forth with a hand under your belly. “Shh, ‘s okay. Take your fuckin’ fist outta my bladder, you little asshole.”
Whichever traits of yours and Joel’s have blended into the human cocktail growing in your uterus, you know one thing for certain: this kid has your stubbornness. The weight remains on your bladder, regardless of how much swaying, or pacing, or rubbing, or threatening you do.
You growl, wandering through the upper floor of your house in attempt to shift Duckie, or distract yourself, or, at the very least, tire the two of you out enough to fall asleep.
From the nursery door handle hangs a little wooden star, a tauntingly sleepy smile painted on it. You push the door open with two hesitant fingers, stepping into the still bedroom, the weak wash of streetlight meeting moonlight on the greenish walls.
You suck in a deep breath, floorboards squealing as you take your first step. Over the crib hangs a plastic mobile, soft plush shapes twirling slowly. The matching changing table slotted alongside it, a rocking chair over by the window.
You pad across a fluffy rug and lower yourself into the chair, tilting back and forth on your toes as you glance around one of the two rooms you and Joel have spent the most time in since that October morning bonded you forever. A baby duck ornament perched on a shelf above the dresser, its orange legs dangling. A multi-photo frame Joel’s mom bought you, both scans in the first two slots and the third empty, lying in wait.
Your breathing fragments, struggles, eyes slipping over to the baby clothes hanging in the closet. “You know, little Duckie,” you whisper, rubbing your bump and thinking back to Tommy’s words six months ago, “you are a pretty lucky kid.”
The hooded towel robe on the back of the door, the perfect size for a newborn. The framed prints sat atop the chest of drawers, waiting to be nailed to the wall: a rainbow, a frog, a starry sky.
“You got two houses. Two bedrooms, all to yourself. You got two parents who already love you more ‘n the whole world. And,” you gulp, “you got Vanessa. And she loves you, too.”
You glance down, watching the tiny pulse of movement when the baby stretches in your womb. Your hands scoop them up, as if holding them closer than they already are. As if already cradling them, forcing yourself to feel less alone.
Duck seems to quieten, to still; seems to consider what you’re avoiding. Reads between the lines, hears the words you’re not speaking.
Two of everything, you think, and I barely even had one.
The most evidence you have of being loved by anyone in your life is the house you live in. Four brick walls and three decades’ worth of belongings, more inheritance than memories. But they roll around like marbles – they echo against the walls when they hit them. There’s nothing binding them, no thread of love, or family, or anything real enough to hold it all together.
You’re the only living organ inside a skeleton’s cage. A lonely little heartbeat, making noise for no one to hear.
And that’s the way it has been, at least since you were eight. The absence of warmth and safety isn’t anything new to you – it left the second your parents did. The last scrunch of your mom’s nails on your head, the last kiss of her lips to your plump little cheeks. The passing over to your grandma, like you were cargo, like you were a box to be checked.
Maybe you found some distant flicker of heat in the way Joel looked at you, the day you told him you were pregnant. Maybe you saw the same glimmer of a flame that you used to see in your mom’s eye. The rosy smell of her perfume, the feel of her finger inside five of yours. Maybe, for the first time since you were a kid, you felt safe.
We’re gonna work it out, he said. I’m here. We’re in this together, alright? I am not running out on you.
Together. And yet, now, sat in your child’s nursery – a room built from scratch by Joel’s two hands and strung together by every beat of your heart – you’ve never felt more alone. The same two hands that are wrapped around Vanessa right now, consoling her, wiping her tears away, massaging her shoulders and sweeping her hair from her eyes.
And the same heartbeat which quickens now, fueled by an angry desire, an impulse scratching deep into your flesh to march all the damn way to Houston and tear the pair of them apart. Like he’s yours; like the way he touches you and looks at you and talks to you means anything more than his child growing inside you.
Like it’s you he’s touching and looking at and talking to, and not Duck. Like his attention won’t cease to shine on you, the second this little baby leaves your body.
And then, washing over the scorching hot sand of anger: a foam-lined wave of guilt. Of shame, for wishing for the breakdown of something that clearly makes the two of them happy. That makes Joel…happy.
He doesn’t owe you anything – he was never yours to begin with. Just one drunken night, a mistake until you noticed the two pale lines on the pregnancy test. And by that point, he was already hers again. You had missed him without even knowing it.
You sigh, pushing up from the rocking chair and reaching for a tissue from the changing table. Turning back, giving the room one last teary glance before closing the door, you sniff.
“You’re just…the luckiest little kid who’s ever gonna live.”
At one twenty a.m., cicadas chirping and trees rustling, the low breeze carrying the sounds through your half-open window – your back begins to ache. A blunt, gnawing pain. Feels like your period, and in your doze, you stuff a pillow between your legs and pray you don’t stain the sheets with a show of blood.
The realization comes over you as if that stifling breeze flips to freezing. You slowly come around, eyes peeling open as you think it over twice, then three times, then four. Duck shifts somewhere deep inside you, somewhere you’ve never felt them shift before.
“…No. Not right now, Duck. You gotta give me, like, twenty-four hours. Just – wait until your dad gets ho–”
A blinding pain interrupts you, the moonlit-blue room fading out of focus for half a second before you’re wide awake, clutching the bottom of your spine where you’re sure the kid just tore a fucking hole straight through your uterus.
“You’re a fucking dick,” you whimper, fingers clenching in tight fists around the bedsheets. “You’re a fucking – dick.”
One twenty-three. You go into labor.
#i think duckie is my favorite character i've ever written. that fetus has more personality than vanessa icl#joel miller#joel miller fic#joel miller smut#joel miller x reader#the last of us#tlou#macfrog#neighbor!joel#neighbor!joel miller#babydaddy!joel#tw pregnancy
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☆*:.。.。.:*☆ multiple hcs: halloween costumes! with the jjk boys
summary: the costumes the jjk boys would wear with you during halloween ☆*:.。.。.:*☆
warnings: gn!reader, sfw, mentions of parties and possible drinking, crack asf, fluff☁️
includes: toge inumaki, yuji itadori, megumi fushiguro, and yuta okkotsu
toge: mordecai and rigby, regular show
- your asses will be in the corner crying laughing over some brainrotted tiktoks and lil pranks you will be pulling the whole night
- you two put chili powder in the punch, yuji consequently decided to chug it, bro turned bright red from coughing so hard (you two were crying laughing with nobara and maki)
- will be saying/texting eachother “she mordecai on me til i rigby”
- will be making far too many regular show references
yuji: jake and finn, adventure time
- you two EMBODY jake and finn energy SO MUCH JFCCC!!!
- y’all will also DOMINATE in flip cup/ rage cage/ pong/ any competitive drinking game
- THE happiest of bestest friends in love fools
- you debated going lady rainicorn/jake BUT decided that jake/finn is ultimately more epic 😎😎😎
yuta: kiki and tombo, kiki’s delivery service
- the most lover boy to ever lover boy!
- you two both adore this movie so much, he was sooo excited to make this costume with you :,)
- y’all are off in your own lil world together, people watching, chatting, enjoying toge’s antics
- long eye contact from across the room!!!!!
- he will constantly be getting drinks and snacks for you the entire night :-)
megumi: coraline and wybie, coraline
- we all know he does NOT gaf ab this party, ONLY there for you!!!! (he’s so down bad)
- you and yuji will drag him up for karaoke
- bro has no rhythm at all
- smiles (secretly) at your attempts to get him to be festive
- he loves to see how happy you are in your couple costume (won the costume contest!)
- end the night up on the roof of the party house together, watching the stars, holding hands, talking
* ੈ✩‧₊ TEEHEEE that was my lil halloween blurb, lmk if u guys liked :,)
* ੈ✩‧₊ imma (hopefully) make some smaus based on this short post! comment or send in recs if u have any ideas 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻
* ੈ✩‧₊ love you all sm sorry for my hiatus ya girl was busy,,, erm well heh… girl bossing🐺😏 #gradschool #grindset
* ੈ✩‧₊ i did this in 45 mins its 3 am WHOOPS😘
costume pic creds: ALL off of pinterest, so specific accounts linked, will link if anyone knows @!!!
cover art creds: @vah_arina on twitter <3
border creds: @cafekitsune
#jjk#jujutsu kaisen headcanons#inumaki toge#jjk au#jjk crack#jjk scenario#jjk scenarios#jjk smau#megumi x reader#inumaki x reader#toge x reader#yuji itadori#yuji x reader#yuta okkotsu#yuta x reader#itadori yuuji#jjk imagines#jjk texts#jjk oneshot#jjk x reader#jjk fluff#jjk fanart#jjk fanfic#jjk x you#megumi x y/n#megumi fushiguro#toge inumaki#jjk hcs#jjk x y/n
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im like itching for a boothill x single parent romance. LIKE WHAT IF they moved in next to boothill and everyones like "naww dont go near that guy hes scary and shit" but when kid sees boothill they get so intrigued by boothill they try to get close to him every time they see and hes just... scared? or paranoid, so he doesnt let them close. and then one time kid was still asking questions to boothill and stuff, parent was rushing looking for them, they see them, and then goes like "omf sir im so sorry my kid bothered you" and then boothill is like "nah its ok id do anyt- no what i mean we just met its cool btw lmao"
yk that one scene in a goofy movie where max get laughed at on the bleachers and then roxanne comes and picks him up and asks if he’s alright and then max starts babbling absolute gibberish yep
“So, how strong are you, mister?”
Boothill’s fingers are pressed against the girl’s tiny tiny hands. So small and little and squishy, and he seriously contemplated squishing her until she popped. His palm is cold against hers, and she giggles at the difference in size.
“Hmm…” He leans back on his heels in his squatting position in the front garden. He taps his chin in thought. “Don’t gotta clue. Anythin’ you need me to pick up?”
The girl gasps and there’s stars in her eyes. “Can you pick me up?” She stretches out her arms towards him.
He cracks a grin at her and ruffles her hair. “I dunno. You might be a bit heavy.” He’s teasing her, of course, but she pouts.
“At least try.”
“Alright, little lady.” He hooks his arms underneath hers and hoists her up easily, hands locked at her ribs. “How’s that? Good enough for ya?”
She hums thoughtfully, a cheeky smile on her face as she, too, taps her chin. “Now you gotta carry me for the entire day.”
It was his turn to pout. “N’aw. That’s no fair.”
“There you are!” There’s a rustle of footsteps and the jangling of keys to his left that made him stiffen for a moment, before your familiar face comes into view. Your eyes flit from him to your daughter. “I’ve been calling you for lunch.”
Oh, great Heavens.
“Hi, gorg– uh…” The ranger stumbles over his tongue and zips his lips shut when a small smile stretches into your lips. “We were– I was just– uh…”
Your daughter looks upset when Boothill gently places her back down in the grass.
“Just horsin’ ‘round,” he finishes. “I was just passin’ by, y’see? And your lil’ princess chased me down.”
You clear your throat, staring down at your shoes for a moment and trying to hide the heat rising from your neck to your face.
“I’m sorry about her,” you say to him. “She’s, um… hard to control.”
“That’s a good thing,” he whispers down to your daughter. “Means you got a free spirit.” He pokes her in the side and she giggles.
You give him another look and his eyes snap to the left, and a casual tune leaves his lips in the form of a whistle.
You offer a hand to the girl. “I made pasta.”
Your daughter practically barrels into your side, almost knocking you over with how her small arms wrap around your hips—she used to only be able to reach your knees. God, time flies.
Your eyes flit to the ranger once more. “Um… I made a lot so… if you’re hungry…” Your eyes trail down to his stomach before you swallow. “Do you get hungry?”
He studies your face for a moment with a pensive look.
Then, Boothill snorts. “Nah, sugar.”
Your face is burning. “Right. Well, you’re welcome to come in, anyway.”
“Oh, please have lunch with us!” your daughter all but begs. Her hands have now interlocked in front of her in a pleading gesture, and she’s offering him her most intense puppy eyes. “I can show you my room.”
He’s immediately swayed. “Well, it’s hard to say no to a cute thing like you.” He reaches down and pinches her cheek.
He watches you blink, perhaps taken aback for a moment.
He thinks you’re so beautiful, even if the apron you’re wearing is covered in sauce stains.
He almost starts cheering when you visibly perk up. “You’ll join us?”
“’Course! I’d do anythin’ for y–” He stops himself by digging his teeth into his tongue. “I mean… if ya insist.”
He can tell you’re biting the inside of your cheeks to keep yourself from smiling too wide. You pucker your lips and look elsewhere, face dark with blood.
Your daughter is strangely silent. He notices she’s enamoured with a bright blue butterfly floating along one of the bushes nearby.
“Cool.” You can’t think of anything else to really say. You rock on your heels absentmindedly. “I’d like that.”
His smile grows impossibly wider. “Would ya now?” He taps your nose once before he bends down to greet your daughter again. “Lead the way, little lady.”
“One sec,” you mumble, digging in your pockets.
You fumble for your ring of keys before you throw them quite badly at the cyborg. He manages to catch them well enough, fingers frozen over the steel.
Huh?
“It’s, um… the purple key. For the front door.”
Sure enough, one of the keys was coated in a deep purple.
Your daughter has already begun sprinting towards the front door. You’re half keeping a close eye on her through your peripherals, but your gaze wanders from her to watch him closely.
“I have a spare so… you can have it,” you continue slowly. Was this… too forward?
Boothill eyes you for a moment. A hand moves to his hips.
Then, in a flash, he pulls the purple key off of the ring it’s attached to and gently tosses it back at you. You struggle to catch them, but you manage with shaky hands and stuff them back into your pocket.
“‘Ppreciate it, pretty thing. You know just how to make a man swoon.”
He blows you a kiss with the steel to his lips and then tips his hat. He catches up with your daughter in no time, sweeping her off her feet and letting her slot the key in the lock to open the door.
You realise when he’s staring at you, one hand holding your own front door open expectantly, that you’re standing out in your front garden gawking at him like an idiot.
You quickly follow him inside, and he closes the door behind you. He’s quick to swing an arm around your waist when you guide him into the kitchen.
#boothill x reader#hsr x reader#honkai star rail x reader#boothill hsr#boothill#this blog is so boothill centric it’s disgusting … please stop ……#the damage this man has done to my brain is irreversible#✦ ( love mail. )#✦ ( anon. )#✦ ( scribbles. )
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ever since vil's luxe couture groovy was first revealed i have not been able to stop thinking about how much i love him and the way his relationship with gender is written and treated by the narrative. the way that he's a gnc man who refuses to be seen without makeup on, who uses an extremely feminine personal pronoun in japanese ("atashi") and it isn't treated like an unusual thing or a joke. the way he admires the fairest queen, wants to be beautiful like she was and has such an immense amount of pride and confidence in his physical beauty. and then literally not one person in the whole story calls vil's masculinity into question except for epel, who gets told by vil that his views on gender roles and of men doing "feminine" things are backwards and archaic, and ends up having a whole arc where he learns that he was wrong and comes to see his own naturally cute and feminine appearance as a strength!
and then the fact that the narrative doesn't just treat vil normally as a gnc man but also actively celebrates him by having him be such a massive, world-famous celebrity who's so respected and loved?? he's a movie star, he's a model with a record number of runway appearances, he's an influencer who has 5 million magicam followers, if he advertises a product it flies off the shelves. in his dorm uniform vignette an international fashion magazine--which is specifically known for being the first to feature vil on its cover--is coming to interview the pomefiore students for an article on their pursuit of beauty, and the interviewer tells vil that he looks like the fairest queen reborn! and that's how he wants to be seen and is an entirely positive thing!! and with vil being so famous throughout twisted wonderland there will be kids and teens, most certainly including gnc and trans kids, who will look up to him and hear him publicly say things like how there's no such thing as something being just "for girls" or "for boys" and that men shouldn't be ashamed of doing feminine dance moves or wearing certain kinds of clothing. kids who will feel empowered because the vil schoenheit said they could be both beautiful and strong.
idk, it's just, in a lot of other stories i'd expect vil to struggle more because of the way he presents himself and to be treated in a more comedic way because of it. but instead he's a very important and well-developed character who's incredibly successful and confident, who isn't the slightest bit a joke or comic relief character and in fact is one of the most responsible and mature in the whole cast, whose struggles are mostly unrelated to his gender presentation but who gets to defend his right to be happy just the way he is when someone does look down on him for it, and who at least in my opinion gets some of the prettiest cards in the whole game. he is such a cool and unique character and i love him so much and find this aspect of how he's written to be so empowering and refreshing.
#twisted wonderland#vil schoenheit#was talking with my friend about this when the card first dropped#and ended up wanting to make a post about it#when i first played through book 5 i didn't really Get vil and his story so i wouldn't have called him a favorite#but now?? idk i just... i love him 💜💜💜
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saudade love 🫧
pilot ; you’re my lover <3
pairing : actor!soobin and actress!yn
love triangles :(
synopsis : actress!yn and actor!soobin are forced by their companies to date as a publicity stunt to promote their latest releases. however what’s to happen when yn and soobin spend more and more time together even though yn’s closest friend is keeping secrets.
“last question..” the mc announces before letting a reporter take the lead on the final question.
“soobin and yn, throughout the filming process of saudade love. the two of you were rumored to be seeing each other as more than just friends, can we get some kind of response to that ?” the reporter in front of you asks. you and soobin sitting on a theater-like stage, two high chairs next to each other. while on the other side of the stage was the director of saudade love, and a few supporting cast members.
saudade love was the new film that you had just starred in, alongside soobin, who played the main male lead. the plot was a story about yn meeting chaebol soobin. issues arising within yn’s family, which end up harming her relationship with soobin. never being able to get an end to her family’s ruthless behavior towards her, she only seems to find comfort in soobin. soobin, who comes from a wealthy family, is forced into a marriage, any kind of rebellious actions from soobin during the wedding is covered up. soobin ends up giving in, yn ends up even more hurt as it gets harder and harder to keep their secretive relationship as a healthy relationship. however, the two still only seem to feel happy around each other, the only issue being each other’s families. yet it is enough to keep them apart.
you knew that there were going to be issues with your so-called ‘controversial’ ending, since it wasn’t necessarily a happy ending, not many people were too pleased. but there was another majority of people, or rather yours and soobins fans, that enjoyed the movie due to its rawness. not every single relationship was going to end in the most fairytale way. which was exactly what saudade love’s message was trying to deliver, although it seemed to go over others’ heads.
you laugh a bit into the microphone, knowing exactly what you were supposed to do and how your company wanted you to react. taking the microphone up close to your lips, not exactly letting the two touch. you put on a flushed image, as you turn to look to soobin, who also knew his part of the live script the two of you were supposed to follow. his lips turning upwards, attempting to look rather confident about the situation, and it was working.. after all he was an actor.
“me and soobin…” you pause, taking a second to smile to yourself. looking up instead of looking at the crowd full of photographers, reporters, and journalists, a few fans in the crowd as well. “i thought we had announced a response, but i suppose not. me and soobin have been seeing each other. something about us during filming saudade love.. it just seemed to click.. we’re a few dates into our relationship but i hope that everyone will support us and our decision to be together.”
and with that, the crowd cheers, journalists and reporters typing as quick as they can. photographers snapping their pictures to use on articles that are probably being released within the next second. soobin grinned, bringing his mic up to his mouth. the image of two lovestruck actors up on stage manipulating the minds of the entire media. you looked at soobin with a tiny smile on your face. putting your best heart eyes on display.
“i think the people who have seen saudade love will notice, but the love that the two characters display is not something you can act out..” it’s funny, because he’s completely spewing out nonsense. the two of you are just convincing actors, using all the skills you’ve learned to play out your character. “at one point during filming, i stopped thinking of the script and i just started seeing yn as yn, no character or anything. i think our relationship was inevitable. yn was the sweetest person i could ever meet.” that’s a lie, well you weren’t necessarily mean, but the two of you never even spoke outside of necessary means. “i turned to her when i needed help, and she was always there to listen. not to mention, anytime yn was around, i couldn’t help but feel a certain way..” soobin grinned shyly, trying to convince everyone that he was simply too shy to continue on. which worked as majority of the audience were in complete awe.
the mc picks up his own mic, “let’s give a round of applause to our newly discovered couple !!” he pauses letting the crowd take over with their clapping, “since that was our last question, the cast and crew will give their goodbyes now !”
you stood up along with everyone, giving a bow to thank the crowd for their time and attention. afterwards you link pinkies with soobin, attempting to keep up the image of the new shy couple.
release date: july 13, 24’
4th gen it couple ! ; little minions ! ; soobin’s fave brats !
episode 1 : i was hitting my marks !
episode 2 : thinking it can change the beat of my heart when he touches me, counteract the chemistry and undo the destiny.
episode 3 : that’s my girl, y’know what i mean ?
episode 4 : and so it begins..
episode 5 : i’m gonna marry him !
episode 6 : we’ll make it through, just like we always do.
episode 7 : the thing..
episode 8 : the love of my life
episode 9 : red lipstick 💋
episode 10 : i know i shouldn’t
episode 11 : just a coworker
episode 12 : it meant the world
episode 13 : as slow as you’d like.
episode 14 : i just need a little lovin’
episode 15 : sometimes i laugh whenever im sad
an : AHHHH!! so happy to be back, i feel quite refreshed since im back after seeing txt…. three times 😁😁 BUT im so ready to put out posts, remember how i said i was gonna pre-write ? well that didn’t work out because i had like 0 inspiration, i feel like i work better under pressure…
taglist (send asks !) : @run2seob @soobadooba @mrsyawnzzn @matcha-binz @taehyhunnzly @20crowsinahoodie @lun4kazumii @lunathewritingcat @wonjws @yourenzoo @missychief1404 @304blur @coconutjjun @theycallmelolla @girlz4jaem @everythingvirgoes @pinkhor1zon @nshitae @damn-u-min-yoongi @jiweok @wonderstrucktae @thing89 @pagetammgyu @virgo-and-libra @blossommi @cheekycountesschoi @taysfairies @20-cms @soobiluvr1205 @bloomngspring
#tomorrow x together#txt#txt imagines#txt fluff#tomorrow x together imagine#txt yeonjun#txt beomgyu#txt soobin#txt taehyun#txt x reader#txt hueningkai#txt imagine#txt smau#txt huening kai#saudade love 🫧#txt soobin x reader#txt soobin fluff#soobin fic#tomorrow x together soobin#soobin scenarios#soobin fluff#soobin x reader#choi soobin#soobin imagines#soobin#soobie boobie#new smau !!#hwang yeji#itzy yeji#yeji
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That December Night-One
*image not mine*
Pairings: Matt Dierkes x Reader
Warnings/Tropes: swearing, smut(18+), angst, fluff, pregnancy/babydaddy!matt, talks of pregnancy.
Summary: "Fuck around and find out." Reader never thought it meant literally until it happened to her. One night of what was supposed to be harmless kissing managed to turn her entire world upside down.
A/N: The idea for this story came from this post and mine and @artificialbreezy's texting back and forth. So thank you so much babe for the ideas you contributed to this story. It's going to be a fun one! Also, I apologize if the sections seem pretty small, I plan on having the most exciting things happen in the next two chapters. This one was a simple build-up!
Tags: @loeytuan98 @thatchickwiththecamera @dsireland86 @iknownothingpeople @bngurngheart @malice-ov-mercy @cookiesupplier @heyyoplayer @myownthoughts12 @vinyardmaurao @missduffsblog @hayleylatour @sleepyomens @artificialbreezy @marvelousmal @lma1986 @wild-child-7747 @calleyx13 @illmakeyousaywow @jaded-and-hollow-souls @itsafullmoon @shilohrosechicken @klutzy-kay24 @shadowseve @blueskylinesx @exitwoundsx @thisbicc @pathion @cookiesupplier @sammyjoeee @whenthesummerdies @flowery-mess @xxkittenkissesxx @its-inourblood @madomens @collidewiththesavannah @xserena-13 @cncohshit @rain-down-on-me @sorrowsofsilence @jilliemiw86
READER
I should not be doing this, especially in this stranger's car.
This was so wrong. So fucking wrong.
But it felt so right.
He felt so right.
What started as a weekend trip to Los Angeles to visit my now ex boyfriend ended up with me in the backseat of this man’s car; a man I had met less than an hour ago.
My ex, Fred, had moved here a few weeks ago for work, which put a huge strain on our two year relationship. So after working it out with one of my best friends that lived here as well, I decided to come surprise him. She said they’ll be at a party for some rock stars that released an album a few weeks ago. None of that mattered, I only cared to see Fred.
So after flying in from Vermont, taking an Uber all the way from the airport to the other side of the city and spending a pretty penny on it, I maneuvered my way inside the over-packed house filled with bodies, trying to find Fred. My eyes briefly landed on who I assumed were the “rockstars.” Four guys were covered in ink, especially the one with brown swoopy hair, but they all wore goofy smiles as they talked amongst themselves. I marveled at how they seemed like a family and wondered what that was like.
Focus, Y/N.
“Sorry,” I murmured after I bumped into a strong chest.
My eyes flicked up to a man whose eyes were covered by the rim of his hat, golden waves of hair falling around his shoulders.
“You’re fine,” his hands gripped my elbows to keep me steady.
It felt like every part of my soul was lit ablaze by his touch and gaze upon me and I sucked in a breath when I noticed his shirt.
Lord of The Rings.
One of my favorite movies.
Clearing my throat, I ignored the way my heart fluttered when the man’s lips curled up in a faint smile after he caught me staring, and excused myself from him with a nod. His eyes lingered on my back as I scurried throughout the rest of the house to find Fred. I knew it was this house he was at, my friend sent me their pinned location.
After coming up empty on the main floor of the house, I pushed my way through the sea of bodies once again, all of them raising their drinks to the rock stars for a “Kick ass album! Can’t wait for the new era!” Their cheers fell on deaf ears as I climbed the staircase towards where the bedrooms were, hoping yet not hoping to find Fred in one of them.
So naive.
I stood in the doorway of the bathroom, watching as Fred had his face buried deep into some woman's pussy.
No, not just any woman.
My best friend.
With tears burning in my eyes, I turned my back to them, unnoticed, and nearly tripped over my feet as I ran down the stairs; once again nearly falling into someone's embrace.
“Woah, easy there. Did you see a ghost or something?” His chest rumbled with laughter, only to snap his mouth shut when he saw the tears running down my face.
It was the same man I had run into earlier, the one with the Lord Of The Rings shirt.
“Shit,” he cursed. “Are you alright?”
“Uh,” I stood straighter, his hands still resting on my hips. I stood on the stairs, two steps above him so I could stare down at him. “I’m fine. I was just leaving.”
The man didn’t say anything for a long moment, simply watching my face as a way to try and read my mind. Just as his mouth parted to speak, I heard my name from behind me at the top of the staircase.
Glancing over my shoulder, I saw Fred making his way down slowly with my friend trailing behind him. He wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his shirt before giving me a smile.
“Hey baby! I didn’t know you were flying in!”
Tears welled in my eyes again, my heart breaking at the scene I saw less than five minutes ago. Two years of love and what I thought eventually marriage thrown away by lust and lies.
The man at the bottom of the stairs noticed the way my body shook in his embrace as I continued to stare at Fred.
“Do I need to kick his ass?” he asked.
Turning my head towards the man, I blew out a shaky breath. “Can you get me out of here? Please?”
His smile faltered but immediately nodded, leading me through the crowd of people and away from Fred, who called after me.
“Where can I take you?” The man asked as we neared the front door, halting for a moment to glance back at my face.
Anywhere is better than here.
“My hotel,” I choked out, doing my best to keep the sobs locked away.
I wouldn’t cry. Not for Fred.
I should have said no, I could find my own way back to my hotel that there was no use for anymore since I was leaving in the morning. But there was something soft in the way his thumb brushed away the tears from my face that eased away the fear of who this man truly was. So I accepted his offer to drive me back to my hotel since it was pretty late and I knew that this area could be dangerous in the dark.
It was mid December in Los Angeles, a vast difference to Vermont. Something the man made fun of when he noticed me take off my bulky cardigan as soon as we stepped outside.
“You’re not from here, are you?” He chuckled his question as we walked down the street toward his car.
I sniffled and wiped my nose on the back of my hand. “No. I fucking flew all the way from Vermont to surprise that asshole only to find him tongue fucking my best friend. How fucking cliche is that?!” I rambled on, my voice a lost echo into the night sky.
He hummed while shrugging. “Clearly it’s his loss.”
With him holding the passenger side door open for me, I slipped inside just as rain began to fall from the sky, drenching him instantly. I couldn’t help but chuckle in my broken state as he ran around the car, splashing a puddle that drenched his pants from knees down.
“How the fuck did I manage to step in the only puddle,” he cursed himself once he sat behind the steering wheel, shaking the rain out from his hair.
He cocked his head to the side as he stared at me. “I’m glad you think this is funny.”
“Hey compared to what just happened to me, I’d rather fall face first into three puddles,” I admitted with a laugh.
The man’s face softened when my laugh filled the car and after a moment, he pulled away from the curb once I told him what hotel I was staying at. During the entire car ride, neither of us said a word. I let my mind wander back to Fred, my phone buzzing non stop since I left that house. I knew that he was the one calling and texting but I couldn’t be bothered to check. He was the one that threw away two years, not me. I refused to falter back into Fred, let him sweet talk his way into my heart only for him to do the same thing.
I made a promise to myself at that moment to never let another man into my heart. The pain that ate away inside of me was debilitating. I was too independent of a woman to allow another man to use and lie to me. No man was worth this hurt.
Yet, as this man pulled up to my hotel and sat back in his seat with his body facing me, I could feel the sudden sexual tension. I’d never been one to think that the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else. There was no way that bullshit actually worked. If I actually believed that line of thinking, then why couldn’t I ignore the aura of this man as it radiated through the car. His presence alone was enough to make me hold my breath and clench my knees together when his gaze burned on the side of my face. I knew from the moment his hands wrapped around me that I’d be drawn to him and this quick car ride back would be anything but quick.
Which is where I currently found myself after we both whispered our agreement to each other.
Just one night.
“Fuck,” I breathed when teeth nipped at the sensitive flesh of my neck before lips attacked mine yet again.
The man underneath me moaned as I rolled my hips over his, the hardness of his cock pressing against the inside of my thigh. The windows of the car fogged up with the heat of our kiss, so intense, so sloppy, but neither of us cared. I pulled at his shirt, lifting him closer to me as he lounged in the back seat. His fingers dragged over the material of my jeans, guiding my clothed core over his cock.
“Fuck baby, I knew from the second you walked in the room tonight, I’d have you in this position,” he grunted while running his hand underneath my shirt to toss it up over me onto the front seat.
I shivered as the cool air of the car brushed against my bare chest, his eyes darkening at the sight of my peaked nipples. His tongue danced around my left one while his fingers played with my right, often switching between the two.
The rain fell against the car as a soft tune from the radio acted as background noise as we continued to make out in the back seat.
“I don’t-“, I panted when his free hand worked at the button on my jeans. “I don’t even know your name.”
“Matt,” he rasped while helping me shimmy out of my jeans which were quite difficult in our position in the back seat.
Matt had a simple Toyota Corolla making it nearly impossible to get comfortable.
I broke apart our kiss to help him out of his shirt, digging my nails into the soft flesh of his chest. “Y/N”.
A noise crawled from the back of his throat as he repeated my name and hooked a finger in my panties.
“Well, Y/N, are you going to be a good fucking girl for me and let me taste you? I can smell you staining my leather seats and I’m desperate.”
Holy hell.
An unknown feeling ignited in my lower gut when Matt laid me down on the seat and leisurely dragged the lacy material down my legs. I raised my hips up towards him, silently begging him.
“I never heard an answer, Y/N,” he let my panties hang loosely on my ankle.
My bottom lip caught between my teeth, unable to speak because I was afraid my admission would seize all actions. I felt Matt’s warm breath fan over my core after he positioned us so he was able to kneel on the back seat, one of my legs against the back windshield and the other resting on the floor.
“I-uh,” I covered my face with my hands, suddenly very embarrassed and exposed in front of him as I lay completely bare for him.
“Hey,” Matt’s voice was low as he reached for my hands to remove them from my face. “Don’t hide from me.”
His hair fell into his face while he loomed over me thanks to me knocking off his hat when I first jumped in his lap. I brushed away the golden locks so I could now see his face in his entirety.
He was gorgeous.
Letting out a breath, I finally let it slip why I was hiding from him.
“I’ve never had that before,” I motioned towards my pussy.
Matt gazed at me with furrowed brows but then the lines in his forehead cleared when he realized what I meant.
“Wait,” he sat back on his knees now while I sat up on my elbows. “You mean to tell me that fucking prick never ate you out before but you caught him down on another woman?”
I pursed my lips while shaking my head. “Kind of fucked up when you think about it.”
Matt let out a low growl before pulling my knees to my chest, my panties that were still hanging on my ankle flying off to somewhere in the car.
“Can I be the first one that gets to taste you, baby? Hm?” His voice was nearly gone, overtaken by whatever consumed him.
I reached for his head that was perched between my legs and urged him forward. “Please.”
Matt’s warm tongue flicked over my slick folds and I moaned out his name while running my hands through his hair, hips bucking up into his mouth when he pressed the tip of his tongue on my clit.
"Shit," I breathed, eyes fluttering shut.
This is what I'm missing? It only urged my anger tenfold for the scene I walked into back at the house.
"Fuck, baby. I'd get on my knees every day for you. You taste so fucking good," Matt murmured briefly pulling away from my clit.
I hissed in pleasure when his teeth grazed over it before wrapping his lips over my sensitive bud and began sucking. A long finger slid between my folds as he hooked that finger inside of me. With his mouth biting and sucking on my clit and his finger pumping in and out of me, I felt the coil in my lower belly pull tight. I peered down and moaned at the sight of Matt’s eyes closed shut as he devoured all of me. His nails dug into the skin of my thighs as he pushed my legs closer to my chest. I grasped at the roots of his hair as I rode his face closer to my release; it was so close.
"I can feel you clench around my fingers, Y/N. You’re so close,” Matt pulled away from my pussy to glance up at me, the sight of his mouth covered in my arousal unholy.
“Matt, I just want to cum,” I begged, breathless when his mouth tongue flicked over my clit again.
Two more pumps of his fingers were my undoing as the coil finally snapped, my release shaking my entire body.
Matt hummed in delight before pressing a tender kiss to my thigh and then worked himself out of his pants.
“God, I need more of you, baby. Can I fuck that pretty pussy?” He asked with his hand wrapped around his cock.
My eyes nearly widened when I noticed the size of him and I let out a nervous breath, something Matt noticed as he maneuvered us so I was straddling him in the middle seat, the head of his cock brushing along my folds before slipping in slowly.
I hissed, digging my nails into his broad shoulders. “Matt.”
His nose skimmed along my neck. “It’s alright, baby. I’ll go slow. We can’t rush perfect things.
But that wasn’t why I was stopping him.
“Do you have a condom?” I asked, pulling away so I could gaze down at him.
My heart was pounding so loud in my chest I could hear each beat in my ears, the sight of Matt looking so blissed out even before reaching his own release. But then his face faltered at my words.
“Fuck,” he cursed while running a hand down his face. “I didn’t expect to have sex tonight, if I’m being honest. You’re not on anything?”
I merely shook my head before letting my shoulders fall, along with my forehead against his shoulder. I’d been so wound up from our make out session earlier and with his mouth devouring me, to have everything ripped from me because neither of us were prepared made me groan.
“Just the head then, yea? How does that sound, baby?” Matt dug his fingers into my hips as he slowly sank the tip of his cock inside of me again.
“Fuck,” the word dragged out of my mouth, muffled by his shoulder. “O-oh-okay.”
His chest rumbled beneath me as he laguidly fucked me with just the head of his cock. It felt so good, dragging in and out of me as my walls clenched desperately for more.
I needed more.
Arching myself back from him, I eased farther down on his cock at my own pace, slowly taking every inch of him. Matt choked on a breath once I was fully seated on him and wrapped an arm around me to pull me flush against his chest, our lips meeting in a tangled mess of tongues and saliva. His thrusts were unrelenting, the sound of skin slapping against skin overpowering the noise of the raging thunderstorm outside.
Matt felt nothing like Fred; he felt more full, more fulfilling. The thought lingered in the back of my mind that this one night would be a hard one to forget.
“Such a slut for my cock, yeah? Look at you, taking all of me,” Matt praised with a hard snap of his hips, causing me to cry out before his mouth covered mine in a kiss so fierce it made my head spin.
We were both lost in the haze we immersed ourselves in, souls and body intertwined with each other, that neither of us stopped it when my second orgasm washed over me seconds before Matt’s cock twitched, him spilling himself deep inside of me.
I collapsed against his chest as his arms encircled around me, both of us coming down from the high we shared. I let the even beats of his heart bring me back to the present, suddenly realizing what exactly just happened. Slowly rising off of his softer dick, I began searching for my clothes to slip them on.
Matt ran a hand through his hair before following me in getting dressed. With his hat perched back on his head, he rubbed the back of his neck.
“Um, I’m not sure what to say.”
I couldn’t help but giggle at how vast his demeanor changed from a man spewing filthy things to someone who messed with the ends of his shirt nervously.
“Thank you,” I spoke. “For taking me away from Fred, driving me to my hotel, and making me forget everything for the time being.”
Matt nodded with a smile. “Promise you won’t go crawling back to him?”
Snorting, I buried myself in my oversized cardigan and shook my head. “Hell no. He can fucking rot. I’m going to focus on myself for a little while.”
Calloused fingers brushed away the strands of hair from my face before trailing down the side of my neck. “Take care of yourself, Y/N. You deserve nothing but happiness.”
I pressed a gentle kiss into his palm, my words lingering in the air after I slipped out from the car.
“Be good, Matt.”
MATT
I sat in the backseat of the car for a few beats, long after Y/N ran through the rain towards the hotel, and tried to understand what exactly happened. When we first began the album release party for Bad Omens, I had every intention of remaining professional as their manager, making sure everything ran smoothly. Yet, the moment Y/N stumbled into my arms and I drank in those doe eyes when she stared up at me, I knew I was done for.
That simple action was enough to drag me down to the depths of her. Every fiber of my being craved her, physically and spiritually. Now that I had a taste of her, I knew it would be difficult to forget the way she felt coming undone on my cock.
Groaning, I dragged a hand down my face before clambering back into the driver's seat, finally heading back to Davis’ house where the party was being held. I knew Noah was waiting for me so we could ride back home together. I could only hope that he didn’t notice I slipped away from the party for an hour.
Pulling the car up to the curb at his tall figure shielding himself from the rain with his jacket, Noah slipped into the front seat and shook out the water all over me and the leather.
“Watch it!” I chastised him, almost forgetting the mess that was left in the back seat.
Noah’s nostrils flared for a moment. “Why does it smell like sex in here?”
“Wh-what?” I stammered with crimson cheeks.
“It smells like sex in here,” he chuckled while looking over his shoulder to the back seat. “Where the hell did you run off to anyway?”
I shrugged, finally driving back towards our house, the opposite way of where I dropped Y/N off.
“I took someone home,” I answered with a nonchalant shrug.
Out of the corner of my eyes, I watched in horror as Noah reached for the gear shift to unhook a pair of yellow lace panties.
“Hm,” he hummed low, twirling them between his fingers. “Someone left something important behind.”
Cursing, I snatched the panties from Noah and pocketed them into my joggers.
“Fuck you, asshole.”
He let out a belt of laughter before easing himself into the seat, long limbs stretched out. “Was it the girl I saw you with your arms around earlier? At the bottom of the stairs?”
My silence was my answer as I gripped the steering wheel, trying so hard to forget the way Y/N tasted, her arousal still lingering on my lips.
“Did you get her number?”
I shook my head with a sigh. “We both agreed it would be a one night thing. She’s from Vermont and is leaving in the morning. I won’t see her again.”
I couldn’t ignore the way my heart sank to my stomach.
“At least tell me you were safe,” Noah questioned, which caused me to shift in the driver's seat.
“Dude!” He groaned, leaning over towards the glove compartment to pull out a brand new box of condoms.
My eyes darted from the road to it. “Where the fuck did those come from?”
He shrugged, tossing it back into the compartment. “I stocked them up after I used the last one.”
I slammed on the breaks as I came to a stop at a red light, narrowed eyes pinning him in his place. “Are you telling me you fucked someone in my car?”
“Shit,” Noah grimaced. “I didn't mean to blurt that out. It was the time my car was in the shop and Adreanna couldn’t wait until we got home.”
His girlfriend.
“You’re a fucking dick,” I spat as the light turned green, inching closer and closer to our shared home. “I can’t believe there were condoms right there the entire time.”
He raised a teasing brow. “Too busy to check, huh?”
I punched his shoulder before pulling into the driveway and he rubbed at the growing red mark, still laughing his ass off.
“Let’s hope she doesn't show up in a year with a baby claiming it's yours,” he said and then clambered out of the car.
I sat there for a moment, letting his words sink deep within my bones, only one thought running through my mind.
Wouldn’t that be nice.
READER
No.
No.
No. No. No.
This is all a dream, a nightmare. One that I’m bound to wake up from any moment with a breath of relief.
Right, if it's a dream then why are you holding two positive tests and an ultrasound?
The thought made my stomach and shoulders fall in succession, knowing that there was no way I could deny it any longer. The last couple of months of constant morning sickness and sensitivity to certain smells were easy to ignore but the third month of no period was not. I knew my body was changing, my breast becoming sensitive to the touch and the sudden yet noticeable weight gain. It was evident that I was pregnant, something I told myself weeks ago, but I still tried to ignore because it couldn’t possibly be true.
So now, here I was standing in the middle of my bathroom glaring down at the two positive pregnancy tests and the three ultrasound pictures. The doctor estimated I was roughly 12 weeks along and almost quickly, I knew who the father was.
I’d only slept with one man the last three months and he was currently living his life in sunny Los Angeles. Yes, we had sex unprotected but I took the morning after pill as soon as I stepped foot back in Vermont, not having the time before my flight to stop and pick one up; something I made known to the doctor earlier today.
“Those don’t work all the time. It could be that you waited too long after intercourse to take it.”
With shaking hands, I set them down on the bathroom counter and dragged my feet over to my bedroom across the hall where my laptop sat on my desk. I knew what I had to do, me making the decision on the car ride back home from my appointment that I would keep this baby and raise it by myself if need be. I made decent money at my job so I could live somewhat comfortably. I didn’t need Matt’s help, I wouldn’t force him into something he didn’t want only for him to leave years later when it got too hard for him.
He still deserved to know, though. So now came the hard part of finding out exactly who this Matt was. Neither of us divulged more of our lives besides our names that night so it took me some time scouring my brain to remember the name of the band the party was for.
Good Almonds?
Secret Omens?
“Fuck, this pregnancy brain is no joke,” I groaned while resting my forehead on the cool wood of my desk.
I’d also picked up one of those pregnancy books earlier and spent a few hours reading everything regarding the first trimester, which I had just surpassed. Rubbing my small bump, I sat up straighter in my chair and let my eyes flutter shut.
“Alright baby, help me out here. Help me find your dad,” I muttered.
Bad Omens.
Snapping my eyes open, I hastily typed ‘Bad Omens Matt’ into google's search bar and watched as lists of websites appeared on screen, clicking on the first one.
Matt Dierkes (mattxdierkes) • Instagram photos and videos.
I let out a breath I had no idea I’d been holding and clicked through his instagram profile, not being able to hide the smile when I saw a picture of him holding a small dog against his chest. I tried to think of the best way to go about this. It would be wrong of me to send him a direct message to tell him the news, something he could easily ignore or claim was false.
He needed to see it for himself.
After spending a few more minutes researching, I found out that Matt was not only Bad Omens tour manager but he worked in their front of house as well and they were gearing up to head out on the road for a three week long tour across the U.S which started in two weeks.
Gnawing on my lip, I had to make a decision. Wait until he is back home to tell him or fly out to Los Angeles before he leaves to tell him.
Clicking open a new tab, I searched up flights to California and once those were booked and paid for, I sat back in my chair and rubbed at my bump. I’d fly out next Friday evening and return Sunday morning. I couldn’t stay longer because I had work that Monday morning and I wanted to try and save up as much PTO as I could for maternity leave, my job offering a crappy version of it.
Stretching out my limbs, I rose from the chair only to make it a few steps to my bed, falling onto it with a puff of air. Along with pregnancy brain being something I’d been suffering from, so was the exhaustion. It felt like no matter how many hours I slept at night, by 2 in the afternoon, I was ready for bed.
Of course you’re tired, your body is growing a human.
I let the idea of me growing a tiny human made up of equal parts me and Matt lull me to sleep, those dark eyes plaguing my existence. I also couldn’t ignore the excitement that filled me knowing I’d be seeing him again.
MATT
Music blasted through the vast opening of the warehouse as we all tirelessly worked from sunrise to sunset packing up the trucks with all of our equipment. Bad Omens were about to head out on the road next week for their first tour with the new era and we all were buzzing with excitement. The set list was stacked, the visual and mixes were some of the best I’ve created so far. I spent the entire day with a smile on my face, ready for the future of not only mine but my best friends.
Although, it did feel like there was something missing in my life, something meaningful, but I couldn’t pinpoint on what it was exactly.
With a stack of metal rods in my arms, the ones we use to hang up the merch tent, I stepped out of the warehouse over towards the trucks where I met Nicholas, who suddenly stood frozen while looking past me.
“Oh please don’t tell me this is the situation I’m thinking it is and she’s here to claim it’s Noah’s.”
With a raised brow, I slowly turned to face his gaze and sucked in a breath at the sight. Y/N stood a few feet away from the truck, wringing her hands together with nerves as her eyes darted around the bodies, trying to find a certain one. Her soft strands of hair blue over her shoulder with the unusually cool summer breeze as the bright rays from the sun casted her bare shoulders in a golden hue, yet it paled in comparison to the yellow color of her sundress that rested just above her knees.
As my eyes traveled past the swell of her breast down to her lower half it was then that I realized exactly what Nicholas meant and I dropped all three metal rods I’d been carrying clattered to the concrete with a noise loud enough to echo blocks away.
Everyone froze to look over at me, who had yet to remove my gaze from Y/N’s stomach as she ran a hand over it, a silent indication of what I’d been wondering to myself. Noah, who was in the truck behind me packing it, surveyed the scene in front of him, darting back and forth between me and Y/N. He muttered something under his breath before giving me a push towards her, my body still in a state of shock and I nearly stumbled over my feet.
“Hi,” her voice shook with nerves when I stopped in front of her.
Now with the setting sun, I could see a patch of freckles covering her nose and cheeks. I noticed she had only one dimple on her left cheek when she gave me a small smile.
But her eyes? Fuck, they still managed to pull me in nearly four months later. All I could think about was one simple thing: I hope she’s here to tell me that it’s mine.
READER
“H-hi,” Matt cleared his throat while stuffing his hands deep into the pockets of his shorts and it was then I finally noticed the colorful tattoo on his right leg. “What are you doing here?”
Blinking away from his thighs, I rubbed a hand over my small bump. “I’m pretty sure you can guess.”
His eyes flicked down so fast I nearly missed it. “It’s mine?”
I already told myself not to get upset when he questioned it because I knew he would. I would have been more shocked if he didn’t.
“It’s yours, Matt. You’re the only guy I had sex with in the last four months and unprotected,” I replied.
Matt glanced over his shoulder to one of the guys hanging out in the large truck and I recognized him from the party that December night; the one covered in tattoos.
“I only found out last week. I guess I tried to ignore it in hopes that it was all a dream because the last thing I needed was a baby,” I admitted while shifting on my feet.
He turned his attention back towards me. “Are you going to keep it? It’s obviously your choice. I’ll support you with whatever you decide so please don’t think I’m pressuring you into something because that’s not what I’m trying to do.”
As he rambled on, I gave a curt nod. “I do plan on keeping it. I didn’t expect to get pregnant before falling in love and getting married but when has anything in my life been traditional? I’m used to doing things on my own so this won’t be any different.”
Matt’s muscles constricted underneath his Cannibal Corpse shirt as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Who said you were doing this alone?”
“Uh. I just figured that with how busy you are that you wouldn’t want to be bothered with a kid. I only came out here to tell you in person because it felt wrong to tell you in an Instagram message.”
He snorted, nostrils flaring, and took a tentative step towards me. “You don’t think it’s wrong to make assumptions about me?”
I chewed on the inside of my cheek and forced myself to break the intense stare down between us. Suddenly being underneath his hot gaze, I felt the pep talk I spent all afternoon telling myself slipping through my grasp. Bile rose in my throat, part because of the pregnancy and part because of the nerves I felt flowing through me.
“You’re coming on the road with me.”
His stern voice caused me to whirl my head back towards him, my hair flowing over my shoulders. “Excuse me? I didn’t expect you to drop everything in your life for this baby so you can’t expect me to just uproot my life to please you!”
"I've never been one to half-ass anything, Y/N!" Matt bit out with a clenched jaw. His hands were perched low on his hip as my sudden news turned his world upside down.
My hands rested on my stomach as I took a deep breath, to calm myself. My blood pressure at my appointment last week was a little concerning so my doctor made sure to tell me to take it easy, especially in these early months. The large group of people a few feet behind him pretended to keep themselves busy with work but I knew they'd been eavesdropping since I showed up a few minutes ago.
Matt also let out a deep breath to calm himself. "If we're going to do this then we're doing it together. But we can't do it together if you're halfway across the world from me."
I scoffed, still not quite ready to jump into the idea of packing up my life for the next month to live on the road with a man I had only met one night back in December.
Just over three months ago.
"And if I say no?" I scoffed, my own hands perched on my hips.
Those dark eyes sliced into me from underneath his hat and he took a step closer towards me. I could feel his warm breath across my lips and the sudden hunger to taste him again was overtaking me.
"You're carrying my child, Y/N. There's no way I'm letting you leave now. Not again. Not like I did that night."
I wasn’t sure if it was because of the blazing sun, the nearly 90 degree heat, or the way Matt’s words cut deep that made my surroundings suddenly spin causing my body to go limp into his embrace.
“Shit,” he cursed as he reached out to catch me from hitting the ground below and lifted my limp body into his arms.
“I don’t feel so good,” I murmured into his neck, my body suddenly feeling clammy and drained of energy.
“Hang on baby,” Matt cooed while carrying me into the warehouse where the cool air fell away against my still heated skin.
Gently, he sat me down in a metal chair and cupped my cheeks so I could look at him with heavy eyes.
“When was the last time you ate something?” He wondered.
I blinked slowly, trying my best to keep the bile that raised in my throat down, and let out a weak response.
“Not since this morning.”
The words tangled together as I felt a wave of nausea wash over me and Matt cursed again while yelling something to someone, it being white noise as I felt my body growing heavier.
“Drink some water,” Matt urged me with a hushed voice, bringing a bottle to my lips and helping me take in some, the cool liquid easing down the urge to throw up everywhere.
Next he took a granola bar from a heavily tattooed hand and waved it in front of my nose, causing me to wretch back away from it.
Peanut butter.
I fucking hated the smell of peanut butter.
“Y/N, you need to eat something,” Matt’s voice was sharp, along with his gaze on me.
I cringed. “The baby hates peanut butter.”
He let out a low rumble of laughter before looking up at the man behind him. “Noah, can you go look in Jolly’s stash? I think I saw fruit or something in there.”
“Oh, the baby loves bananas,” I perked up, the little bit of water intake bringing life back into me slowly.
The man, Noah, smiled brightly before running a hand through his curtain styled hair. “One banana coming right up.”
After he dashed to the other side of the warehouse, Matt’s hands rested on my knee.
“You can’t forget to eat, Y/N,” he sighed.
“I’ve been feeling sick all morning and spent most of the afternoon before coming here asleep. The plane ride took a lot out of me. I guess I forgot,” I gave a limp shrug.
Worry etched on Matt’s face as he continued to kneel in front of me. “Can you even be flying?”
Noah returned with two bananas and I took them with a grateful smile when I noticed he even peeled them for me.
“I can fly until I’m thirty six weeks,” I answered after swallowing two mouthfuls of banana.
Noah stared down at me with his hands in his pockets. “How far along are you?”
“13 weeks.”
I could see Matt figure out the dates in his head, confirming what I had already told him.
“Due in September?” He asked, running his fingers over my knee, leaving goosebumps in his wake.
Even in my weak state, I couldn’t deny how much I missed his touch as I nodded.
“September 4.”
The three of us sat in silence for a moment as I finished the bananas and drank a little bit more water.
“Feeling better?” Matt questioned.
I patted his hand reassuringly. “Very much, thank you.”
Noah squeezed my shoulder with a comforting touch. “I’d never seen Matt so freaked out before.”
Leaving us to ourselves, I met with worry behind those dark eyes of Matt’s and frowned.
“I didn’t mean to scare you,” I breathed.
He huffed before taking off his hat, letting it rest on my lap while he ran a hand through his hair.
“Can you understand why I want you with me, Y/N? Imagine if this happened and no one was there to help you.”
This was the very first time one of these episodes happened and I had to admit, it scared the hell out of me so I couldn’t imagine the fear coursing through Matt when I collapsed into him.
Playing with the rim of his hat still on my lap, I eventually nodded. “Okay. But I have to settle things back at home and my job before leaving.
Matt did his best to hide his grin behind his hand as he scratched at his jaw, ultimately failing.
“We don’t leave until Thursday evening next week. Will that be enough time?”
My shoulders rose and fell. “It’ll have to be, I guess. I have some PTO from work that I can use. Do you want me to fly out back here or meet you at the first city?”
Matt placed his hat back on his head. “I’m going to fly out to Vermont on Wednesday so we can fly out to the first city together. I don’t like the idea of you on a plane by yourself.”
I raised a brow. “I’m literally getting on a plane tomorrow morning to fly back home. What’s the difference?”
“The difference is,” he adjusted his weight from one foot to the other, still kneeling in front of me. “It’s too late for me to buy a ticket to come with you. Plus, I still have a lot left to do here to make sure everything is packed and loaded properly.”
I hummed in response, eyes taking in the sight of everyone now moving about the warehouse again after realizing I was fine. They all conversed with each other, bright smiles on their faces as they understood every inside joke they shot back and forth.
“You guys seem like a big family,” I noted.
Matt agreed with a nod. “We are. We take care of each other.”
As the noise of everyone chatting fell around us, I fiddled with the ends of my dress, trying to gather the courage to say my next words, unsure if Matt would agree or even feel the same.
“I want to make sure you understand that just because we’re doing this parenting thing together does not mean we're together. We can co-parent but I’m not looking for a relationship. I’m still in the same spot when you first met me, Matt. I swore off relationships, it doesn't matter that we’re having a baby together.”
My gaze was trained hard on my chipped nail polish that I hadn’t seen the look of pure heartbreak flash over Matt’s face but he was quick to put that mask back up.
“Whatever you’re comfortable with, Y/N. I’m not going to force anything on you. I’ll be here for you; as a friend.”
That, however, I did not miss; the way the word friend sounded bitter on his tongue.
“Oh, I almost forgot,” I said suddenly remembering something I had hidden in my purse.
With curious eyes, Matt took the ultrasound picture I retrieved from my purse and grazed his thumb over the black and white picture, over the small fetus. His eyes now glossy as he blew out a shaky breath.
“That’s-?” He coughed, trying to figure out his words.
I nodded while resting my hands over my small bump. “That’s our baby.”
Matt cast his gaze from the ultrasound to my bump, back and forth a few times almost as if he was trying to understand how the little baby in the picture was the one I was carrying. The lines next to his eyes crinkled and his bottom lip caught between his teeth.
“If we're going to do this together, Matt, you can touch it whenever you want. You don’t need to ask. This baby is half yours,” I assured him while reaching for his hand, placing it over my bump.
He let out a breath, finally being able to feel where his baby was, and it was as if everything was clicking into place for him. Our fingers linked together, both resting over the bundle of what we created that night together. While I hadn’t expected this outcome from me telling him, I was extremely grateful that he decided to stay with me. The fear of raising a baby on my own kept me up the last few nights.
I had meant what I told him, though. The last thing I was looking for was a relationship to make this between us even more messier than it already was. But when Matt leaned towards my bump to whisper something, I knew those words I had just spoken to myself in my brain were only that; words.
“Hi baby, I’m your dad.”
#tina talks#bad omens#bad omens cult#matt dierkes#matt dierkes fanfiction#matt dierkes smut#matt dierkes angst#babby daddy!matt#bad omens fics#bad omens angst#bad omens smut
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In the short movie represented, taken from the university archive, you can look at a curious experiment that took place in the firs years of the '900, when physiologist were working on the relationship between electricity and the human body. A brief report accompanies the movie. Colette De La Beatrix was the countess of a small town called "Holy Lady in the Countryside", she was married to a professor of that time. Unfortunately at the age of 32 she suffered a terrible accident while riding her horse. She was embossed down from the saddle and the horse stomped her right in the center of her chest, destroying the frontal part of her rib cage. She was saved miraculously by the university's surgeon that had to remove her sternum leaving her most vital organ covered only by a thin layer of skin. Usually she wore an iron plate to cover and protect her exposed heart. Her husband convinced her to take advantage of the events and participate in his studies about electrophysiology. She happily took part to them and once results were gathered they decided to show them to the other professors and film the experiment. The movie starts with the countess sitting on a woodden bench. her entire chest is exposed and the shape of her beating heart is clearly visible. A rudimental microphone, linked to a gramophone, is held by a belt on the center of her chest and picks up her heartbeat. Two electrodes are attached on the oppiside sides of her heart linking the organ with what was probably a battery. The report is divided into different parts:
Initial- Countess initial heart rate: 85 bpm Showing the audience her condition and her synus rhythm at rest. Single electrical pulses are charged on her heart to demonstrate electricity can start artificial systoles. Audience is encouraged to feel the countess' carotid pulse to further proove the experiment effectiveness. This part ends with a note hand-written. "remember to tell the audience to never directly touch her heart to avoid dangerous ahrrythmias".
Part 2- Artificial pacing at 120bpm The machine delivers a series of consecutive impulses to create an artificial rhythm. The countess's heart reacts to each pulse correctly contracting in a new manually-induced pace. Audience is encouraged to feel the countess' carotid pulse under the influence of the continuous pulses. NOTE: After the pulses are interrupted the countess' heart recovers its initial pace immediately.
Part 3- Reaching physiological limit, 187bpm To demonstrate total control on the countess' heart rhythm the heart is artificially paced at her maximum heart rate (220 - her age 32). electrical pacing can realize the same results as a strenuous physical effort. The battery completely bypassed her local pacemaker. Audience is encouraged to feel the countess' carotid pulse and look at her beating heart. NOTE: Frank and Starling were right, the artificial rhythm seems hard to sustain for her system. The fast her heart gets the less efective its beating becomes. NOTE2: Her heart takes some long pauses in order to recover.
Part 4- Beyond physiological limits 240bpm The domain over her natural pacemaker is so absolute that its natural limit can be higly bypassed. The heart is paced at an innatural rhythm. Audience is encouraged to feel the countess' carotid pulse and look at her beating heart. NOTE: Audience report that just a very tiny wave of blood can be felt at her neck after each heart contraction. NOTE2: The countess's heart seems unable to follow each electrical pulse as some dyastoles seem abolished in a tetanus like manner. NOTE3: The procedure is interrupted as the countess lost consciousness for a brief period of time. NOTE4: Once the machine is turned off a long period of asystole is seen with subsequent ahrrythmias after the spontaneous pulsation restarted. Heart exhaustion? another hand-written part: "I should have never tried this on my wife"
What the report doesn't says is that countess Colette De La Beatrix died of sudden cardiac arrest few days late.
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OMG CAN YOU WRITE A ETHAN LANDRY BASED OFF WILLOW PLS 🙏🙏 I LOVE UR WORK SM
i was writing invisible string when i got your request and i thought i could combine both songs! hope you don’t mind <3
invisible string — ethan landry
word count: 1,696
pairing: slytherin!ethan landry x ravenclaw!fem!reader
summary: ethan, who does not believe in soulmates, meets y/n, a hopeless romantic who is obsessed with the subject and makes him change his mind. later, they find out that all along there was an invisible string tying them to each other.
warnings: none, just fluff <3 it’s a hogwarts au but you don’t have to had watched harry potter to understand.
EVEN IN THE WIZARDING WORLD, SOULMATES WERE EXTREMELY RARE. Very few wizards were lucky enough to have a person that was quite literally meant for them. The amount of people who claimed had found their soulmates could be counted with one hand.
Being the hopeless romantic that she was, Y/N had always been obsessed with the concept of soulmates. She had read every single book about the topic, and her fascination never ceased.
Legend has it, if you had been blessed by Merlin with a soulmate, their initials would appear on your wrists when you turned 18—the legal age for wizards—, and if you happened to be near your soulmate, the thread that tied you to them would stop being invisible and would show its golden colour. No one but the two parts involved would be able to see it, so that’s why some wizards—the majority of them—didn’t fully believe soulmates existed.
Ethan Landry was part of the sceptic’s group. The wizarding civilisation was enormous, and only less than five people had found their soulmate? He called bluff. They were just trying to get some attention. Besides, the entire concept felt really silly to him.
“Do you mind if I sit here? It's the only corner where the sun doesn't hit” a sweet voice interrupted his study session. Ethan raised his head and his heart threatened to leave his chest when he came across two beautiful bright eyes and an adorable shy smile.
“Sure, no problem.” the Slytherin smiled at the Ravenclaw. That’s the most perfect smile I’ve ever seen, Y/N thought as she sat across from him.
That morning the sun was shining brightly and the temperature was perfect—neither hot nor cold—, so Y/N decided to read at her usual spot next to the Black Lake. With a content smile, she opened her favourite book and started her daily reading as she twirled her fingers around the green grass below her.
Ethan’s curious eyes took in the book cover and couldn’t help but chuckle as he read the title: The tale of the four soulmates.
Y/N looked up from her book and frowned at him. “Share the joke so we can laugh together.”
“I’m sorry, it’s just… do you read it for pure entertainment, or do you actually believe in soulmates?” he asked, scrunching his nose. And if he didn’t look so insulted by her beliefs, she would’ve thought it was a cute action.
“I do believe in them.” she answered, this time more politely.
“Why?”
“I don’t really have a certain reason. Isn’t it just so pretty to think that all along there was an invisible string tying you to your person?”
He wanted to scream ‘No, it isn’t!’, but he couldn’t, not when her entire being lit up as she talked about it. He wasn’t a monster, he couldn’t be rude to someone just because they thought differently.
“I guess it is… pretty, but I still don’t believe it. There hasn’t been any proof besides doubtful testimonies.” Ethan shrugged.
“That’s fair.” she said. “But, I mean, if you think about it, muggles think wizards exist sorely on movies and books. And yet, here we are. Why is it so hard for people to believe soulmates exist too?”
“You have a point. Unfortunately, I won’t believe it until I see it.”
“You won’t be able to see it, unless you have one.”
“I guess if it happens to someone I trust, I would believe their word.” Ethan said.
“I hope it happens. And when it does, remember when you laughed at the poor girl who sat by you next to the Black Lake.”
Ethan laughed, and it was the best sound Y/N had ever heard. “If it happens, I’ll look for you and apologise. How does that sound?.”
“Looking forward to it.” she smiled. “What’s your name, sceptic?”
The boy opened his mouth to reply when Chad, his best friend, strode towards him and grabbed him by the arm. “Snape is looking for you, and he seemed pretty angry.”
Ethan threw an apologetic glance at the girl. “See you are around, mystical girl.”
The girl rolled her eyes playfully “See you around, sceptic.”
NEITHER OF THE TWO TEENAGERS COULD STOP BUMPING INTO EACH OTHER SINCE THAT SHORT ENCOUNTER. If they hadn’t been so consumed by the electric spark that took over their bodies everytime they saw each other, they would’ve realized that maybe it wasn’t coincidental at all—it was their string pulling them together, because the time of the revelation was getting close and the tie grew stronger with the passing of days.
Ethan had already turned 18, and the unexpected happened—two initials appeared on the inside of his wrist. Y/N/I Y/L/N/I. There were lots of people with those initials, how the hell was he supposed to figure it out? He wished he could talk to that girl, the one who was constantly trying to change his mind about soulmates, but sadly they were on winter holidays.
Every encounter they had, she would tell him one fact about soulmates. And truth was, the more she said, the less he knew how to keep his sceptic mind. Her words had cut through him like a knife. And now that he had proof, there was nothing left to doubt. He couldn't wait to go back to Hogwarts and spill everything, but he also couldn't help feeling a bit disheartened about it. Ethan had taken a liking towards the girl, and he couldn't see himself getting to know anyone else but her.
He didn't know why, but his thoughts always bent towards her. He couldn't help it, it was like being lost in a current he could not free himself from.
Y/N's feelings weren't different from his at all. It was exhausting. Everytime she laid her head on the pillow, she could feel him sneaking in. And it weren't just dreams about him, her mind wondered about him throughout her whole day, and it bothered her a little. Firstly, because she didn't even know his name. And second, she just found out she had a soulmate.
"Mom, I'm going to go for a walk." Y/N yelled as she grabbed her coat.
As she strolled down the lighted up narrow street that was filled with dive bars, she thought about the revelation. It was supposed to be the happiest moment of her life. She had been waiting for her 18th birthday for years, but now she wished she hadn't been blessed with a soulmate. The prospect of finding them wasn’t so exciting anymore, and it was all because of that sceptic, brunet boy with wide eyes and radiant smile.
Y/N lowered her gaze down to her wrist and traced her fingers over the initials. E. L. "Will I ever find you?" and as she voiced the thought, she felt a pull on her body that made her come to a stop. She looked around the isolated street, but she didn't find anything. And then, she saw a flicker of gold in her periphery.
Her heart trumped as she followed the trail of the golden string. It came out of her wrist and it was guiding her towards a dive bar. This was it, her soulmate was there. Before she knew it, she was opening the door of the small bar illuminated by neon lights.
Her soulmate was staring right at her, and he wore the same appalled expression as her. Like compasses, their feet dragged them towards each other, meeting in the middle. Of course it was him, she thought, it had always been him.
“Hi, sceptic boy. What a turn of events, right?” she smiled at him. She was static, clouded by happiness.
“The best plot twist to ever exist.” Ethan mirrored her smile. “I guess, now in handsight, it was pretty obvious, right?”
Y/N let out a laugh as she nodded “So many clues we didn’t see.”
Ethan felt his chest might explode from happiness as he look down at their hands. The golden string was sparkling almost as much as the soulmates, who couldn’t get over the discovery. “I can’t believe this is happening. I’m so glad it’s you.”
“Me too.” she whispered, jointing their hands. Warmth spread through their bodies, and Ethan wrapped her in his arms.
“You wrecked my plans.” he said with a laugh, as he guided her to the stools. Y/N frowned in confusion, so he continued. “I was planning to wallow in sadness.”
“Why? What happened?” she asked worriedly. Ethan smiled at that, and then extended his right hand, showing her the initials. The girl’s eyes filled with sadness. “You didn’t want a soulmate?”
“Not if it wasn’t you.”
Y/N sighed in relief, pinching his ribs. “You scared me, asshole.” he laughed and muttered an apology. “By the way, we never exchanged names.”
“I’m Ethan Landry, ex-sceptic.” he winked at her.
“Y/N Y/L/N, and you, sir, owe me an apology.”
He stood up, putting his hands on her waist. She was sitting on the tall stool, making them be at the same height. “I’m really sorry for laughing at you.”
“Mmm… I don’t know if I should forgive you. Soulmates had always been a big deal to me.” she said playfully, fixing the already fixed collar of his shirt.
“Maybe I can bribe you?” he smirked, his hands trailed slowly from her waist to the back of her neck. “I’ve been told I’m a great kisser.”
Y/N frowned. “I don’t wanna know what your exes say about you” not to be toxic, but picturing him with other girls made her want to throw up.
“You’re so cute.” he laughed. “Maybe I shouldn’t have said that. But I want you to know that ever since I met you, I have been all about you. No one else.”
“Good.” she said with a sufficient smile.
“You stink with jealousy.” he scrunch his nose in a teasing manner.
Y/N rolled her eyes. “Shut up and kiss me, asshole.”
Ethan laughed and pulled her into a soft and magical kiss. “I’m in heaven.” he muttered between kisses.
“Wow, you went from aromantic to a sappy boy.”
“I know.” he sighed, acting frustrated. “I’m not ashamed though, I’m obsessed with you and I plan to show it everyday.”
“Now that sounds like heaven.”
#ethan landry#ethan landry fluff#ethanlandry#ethan landry angst#ethan landry smut#ethan landry x reader#ethan landry x y/n#ethan landry x you#jack champion#jack champion x reader#jack champion x y/n#jack champion oneshot#jack champion imagine#jackchampion#jack champion fluff#jack champion fanfic#ethan landry oneshot#scream 6#scream fanfic#harry potter au#scream movies#scream iv
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But she’s worth it #1
Older!Bestfriend!Rafe
warnings: mentions of sex, mentions of fighting with your dad
791 wc
“You’re a monster.”
You think it’s so fucking ironic that your father yells that at you. A title, that he should be displaying on himself like a fucking trophy.
You were walking down the gravel street, kicking pebbles angrily as you thought over the fight. Your father had gotten angry at soemthing small, you don’t even remember how it started. But it escalated so quickly- with him yelling at you so much that you finally grabbed your phone and angrily rushed out, slamming the door behind you.
So now, you were walking down one of the streets of the cut, trying to figure out who to call.
Most of the pogues were probably partying, and you really didn’t feel like getting drunk since that’s the entire start of this mess. So, you dial Rafe.
“Hey,” You sniffle, wiping your nose with the back of your hand when he picks up. “Are you uhm- are you free?”
You hear shuffling of bedsheets before he speaks. “Yeah yeah- m’ here. You need somethin?”
You hiccup, feeling sobs coming up your throat. “I just can’t be around my dad right now. Can I come over?”
You hear the other side of the phone become almost staticky, before hearing a woman’s voice. You can barely make out what she’s saying, but she sounds annoyed.
“Yeah, sure kid. Send me your location.” You suddenly hear, making you let out a sigh of relief.
“Thanks Rafe.” You mumble, your other hand that’s not holding the phone fidgeting with a belt strap on your shorts.
Rafe looked at the text of your location before grunting and getting up off his bed, grabbing his sweatpants.
The woman laying next to him, almost naked, scoffed. “Are you kidding? I thought we were about to fuck.”
Rafe almost winced at the sound of the woman saying that, before rolling his eyes and tugging his sweatpants over his boxers.
“We were gonna. Now we ain’t.” He said coldly, grabbing his shirt and tugging it on. “So uh, fuck off now yeah?” He shoved his phone in the pocket of his sweatpants and walked out of his room, noticing a maid cleaning the carpeted steps.
“Hey uh, there’s a visitor in my room. Make sure she leaves and doesn’t steal shit, aight?” He gently orders, before walking past her and out to his car.
The moment you see Rafes car, you feel a sense of relief flood you. He pulls up quickly, getting out and shoving the luxorious car door closed behind him carelessly.
He stalks over, his gaze flickering up and down on you, as if assessing you, before getting to your front.
His ring covered hands quickly cup your face, leaning it to the side as if checking for marks.
“He ain’t hit you, right?” Rafe mutters, his shoulders relaxing when he notices there’s no marks. He leans your head back and his thumbs brush your cheeks.
“N-No. It just was a really fucked fight.” You mumble, looking up at him with doe eyes and sniffling. “Just felt a sudden huge urge to watch a movie with my bestfriend.”
Rafe felt his insides scramble and warm like fucking scrambled eggs whenever he heard you call him your bestfriend. It was a proud fucjing title he had, and the entire island knew it.
He nodded slowly, before squeezing the tip of your nose tightly, pinching it.
You quickly and instinctively swat at him playfully, letting out sniffley giggles.
He smiles, yes, smiles.
“Cmon kid. I’ll take you to get your little fast food meal and then we can use the theatre room.” He murmurs, grabbing your hand and walking you to his car.
“Why not your room?” You ask softly, stopping as he opens your door for him.
His nose scrunches slightly before he shrugs. “Had a girl over. I wanna make sure the maids switch the sheets.” He says vaguely, as you get into the passenger seat.
You watch him walk around the car before getting in the drivers seat, one of his hands immediately taking its spot on your thigh.
“Thank you for uhm, picking me up. Even when you were… busy.” You mumble shyly, looking at the rings on his hand.
He notices your tone and his hand moves from your thigh to grab your chin, turning your head so you were staring at him.
“You could call me when i’m balls deep inside someone, and i’ll still fucking come get you.” He says earnestly, staring you down. “So don’t fuckin worry your pretty head about it, yeah?”
He pats your cheek, making you giggle before he puts his hand back on your thigh, squeezing it as he pulls out of the street.
God, you really loved your bestfriend.
#rafe cameron#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron blurb#rafe cameron x kook!reader#bestfriend!rafe#bsf!rafe cameron x reader#bsf!rafe#older!rafe#rafe cameron fluff
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The Break-In
Harry was on a business trip with a couple of co-workers, leaving his girlfriend all alone at her house. She begins to notice strange things going on around her until suddenly, everything becomes more intense.
SMUT; Kinks included: Gangbang (4 people), deep penetration, Daddy/Sir/Mister kinks, Squirting, Deepthroating, Dildos, Gaping, Anal, Oral, Creampies
The house was quiet. Too quiet. But there was Rani, filling the noise of the bathroom with some 2000s R&B music and humming along to Mary J. Blige as she finished her nighttime routine. She had a whole process: tie her hair into a bun and put a headband around her hairline so that her hair wouldn’t get in the way, remove her makeup if she had any on, wash her face, apply her moisturizer and essential oils, put on a face mask if she felt like it, put her bonnet on, and brush her teeth. She did this every night- same old thing on a different day.
But, tonight was different. Something about the air was off. It was almost as if someone was watching her…
She shrugged off that feeling, though, not wanting to get super paranoid before she went to bed. Anytime she had a worrying thought or even watched a scary movie before bed, she would always have nightmares. She didn’t have time for that because she had a date with her boyfriend tomorrow.
Her boyfriend, Harry, was such a great man. He was attentive to her every need. If Rani called him at 3 AM to cuddle, she’d hear a knock on her door at 3:15 with him being there behind it with a smile and loving eyes. He was attentive to her every need, want, and desire, whether it be at social events, in the comfort of their own home, or in the bedroom. Harry was just amazing. Her best boyfriend of all time.
Speaking of Rani’s every desire, she had a bucket list of every thing she wanted to do before she died. Everything thrilling like jumping out of a plane to everything kinky like having anal sex. No one knew about this list or the contents of it. No one except Harry. He made a mental note of every single detail, from traveling to the Philippines to trying out a threesome. And he wanted to make sure she could check off aspects of that list by any means necessary.
But Harry was on a business trip with some of his favorite co-workers this weekend, so he unfortunately would not be at her beck-and-call like she would’ve wanted him to. And she really did want him to. She hated being alone on cold, dark nights like these. The moon was nowhere to be seen in the night sky as she looked up out her window, and she usually depended on its light to shine through and bless her with a good night’s rest.
As she laid into her bed, she could hear creaking coming from the house. It was a breezy night, so she didn’t suspect anything of it. She didn’t live in the most modern home anyway, so creaks and cracks were expected. She lifted the covers over her body and tried to relax, her comforter covering her entire body from the neck down as the nightgown she was wearing wasn’t enough to keep her warm.
Then, another creaking sound, only this time followed by a deep thud. Rani jolted as the thud’s vibration pounded through her chest. It sounded like something fell… on top of her house? But what? And how?
Then another pound followed by another and another. It was a repeated action in a rhythm, but it was traveling from one side of the roof to the next. Almost as if it was the sound of… footsteps?
I must be trippin’, she thought. No way is someone walking on top of my house. On my roof… The disbelief turned into confusion as the footsteps increased in their sound as they got closer to her. Is that a human? A raccoon? I haven’t seen raccoons here before. But, how could a human even get up here? The confusion evolved to fear as another thud was heard. What am I gonna do if it’s a human? Who could that even be? I’m alone, no weapons, no help, no protection! What the fuck could I use as a weapon?
The footprints stopped. And one more thud shook the house. Then footprints began again. Rani put all of the pieces together. Three thuds. Three sets of footprints. All coming her direction. On top of her house. There were three people trying to break in through the roof.
Her thoughts were stopped as the window flew open. She forgot to lock it shut. Again. Harry would always remind her to. Whoops.
All she could see were three tall human figures dressed in all black hop straight into the house before she covered her whole face with her comforter and screamed. The protection (or lack thereof) of the comforter was quickly gone as it was tugged from off of her bed and thrown to the side of the room. “No! Please!” she screamed out.
Rani quickly noticed three colored masks of the three figures in the room: pink, blue, and green. Each of the figures wore black clothing with padding, however, which sealed any sort of identification of their bodies that she could take note of. But Rani made sure that she didn’t stay still for too long, she knew she had to get out of there in some way. So she slowly inched herself off the bed when she noticed the three figures huddled up in the room speaking amongst each other about their game plan, as if they were some American football players. Their voices were deep, so she could probably infer they were all men.
The blue masked figure turned his head to face Rani as he noticed her movement. “Stay on the bed, bitch!” He grabbed a hammer that was inside of a duffel bag that he snuck in with and lifted it over his shoulder as he walked over to Rani, who was quivering with fear as she slid herself back into the position she was in before on top of her bed. Her widened eyes couldn’t stop staring at him and the weapon that he had, but the figure only chuckled as he noticed her fear. “Scared little kitten, aren’t ya?” He teased her. Rani could only nod her head and gulp. He chuckled again and walked back to the other two men, continuing their conversation.
All of their voices had a robotic sound to them, and from the looks of it, the men were wearing voice changers under their masks to hide their identities. Smart move, but Rani knew this would give her a great deal of trouble when she would report them to the cops. If she ever could report them, that is. Who knew what these men would do with her after they were done with their business?
The one with the pink balaclava walked over to the edge of Rani’s bed and just stared at her. It felt as if his eyes bore a hole into her head as he did so. Then he looked at the other two masked men behind him. “I want you two to take everything you think is valuable. Leave the bag here. I’ll handle the girl first.” He turned to face Rani again, whose eyes were still widened and legs still trembling in fright.
The other two men went down the hallway as they followed PInk’s instructions and Pink walked up to the side of the bed. The pace of his walk was slow, heavy and intimidating, yet almost calm? It was as if he wasn’t nervous at all about what was happening or what was about to happen. He was probably the seasoned mastermind of all of this, the one who had been through this before and had always succeeded, so he probably didn’t have a care in the world about the consequences. He came to get the job done, and that was it.
He stroked his latex-gloved hand down Rani’s temple and took her bonnet off. “Gorgeoussss,” he drew out from his lips like an exhale. Rani didn’t know how to react but whimper and turn her head away. But in the corner of her eye, she noticed the man reach his hand into his pocket and retrieve a bundle of rope. He didn’t say anything as he quickly jumped on top of her body and held her down. Rani tried to squirm and fight her way out of his grasp, but to no avail. “Shhh,” he coaxed her, as if that would help to calm her down. All it did was cause her heart to beat fast against his chest as he reached himself to her left arm with some rope and managed to tie her against one of the bedposts. He did the same with her other arm, and then he shuffled himself to her legs to tie them to their respective posts. The man still sat on top of her, legs spread around her waist and looked down at Rani like she was a finished sculpture of his that he was admiring. Like she was his best work. He ran his hands down her sides, her body still covered by her nightgown but skin feeling every bit of the latex on his gloves through her fabric.
One of the other men, Green Mask, ran back with a trash bag which Rani could assume was filled with some of her belongings. She was annoyed at her not being able to fight back, but it’s not like she had any way of doing so. She stopped straining against her confinements, and the man with the pink mask rose from his position and walked towards the green mask. Rani watched as he shuffled through her bag, looking through all of the items. When he was satisfied, he nodded his head, and walked over to the duffel bag that was brought in with them. He said, his head pretty much shoved into the bag as he searched for everything he wanted, “Take the gown off.”
Green Mask nodded in compliance and made his way to Rani. Just as Pink did before, Green pulled something out of his pocket, only this time it was a pocketknife. Rani connected the dots.
“Uh, no, no, no, no! You are not cutting this gown!!” She screamed.
“Would you prefer it if I ripped it off?” Despite the distorted sound that the voice changer gave him, his teasing tone pierced straight through.
Rani shook her head no and watched as the man brought the knife down to her body. He used the knife to tear through her gown, but he was meticulous about it, thankfully for Rani. Did he not want to potentially hurt her? Rani took note of his precision and carefulness as he wielded the knife- maybe it would be a helpful detail to remember for the police when this whole ordeal was over if she made it out alive.
Green Mask removed the fabric from her body, his eyes immediately widening in admiration of her naked figure. Rani was too embarrassed, so she tilted her head to move from the man’s gaze. His eyes were like scanners as they observed her entire body from head to toe. His mouth hung open a bit as if he were about to drool at the sight before him. “Look at these fuckin’ tits.” He used his hands to squeeze at them and give a slight tug to her nipples. “Can’t wait to have a taste of those,” he stated, causing Rani to whimper.
Blue Mask finally rushed back into the bedroom. “I have some good shit in he-” He paused, noticing Rani now naked and tied onto the bed, Green Mask’s gloved hands playing with her breasts. “Aw man, you guys started without me?”
Green Mask seemed to roll his eyes. His voice, robotic yet clearly annoyed, commented, “Well, we weren’t gonna wait for you. You took too long, and we don’t have all night.” One of his gloved hands rubbed against Rani’s bare inner thigh as he spoke. Rani wished she could close her legs due to this invasion of privacy, but alas.
Blue Mask rolled his eyes right back. “Whatever, Jake,” he said out of annoyance, but quickly coughed as he noticed the slip of Green’s name. “Alright, so what are we doing with the girl?”
The man with the pink balaclava, still shuffling through the duffel bag and dropping items onto the ground that Rani couldn’t see because of her position, responded nonchalantly, “We’re gonna play with her. Isn’t that right, Rani?”
Rani’s body turned cold at the sound of her name. “H-how did you know my name?”
Pink Mask laughed. “How wouldn’t I know your name? Your room is just plastered with it.” He wasn’t wrong. There were photos and journals with Rani’s name all over them. She didn’t think of that. Well, she didn’t even think of her house getting broken into and robbed one day, so it was a first time for everything.
“Well, Rani, you have a beautiful fuckin’ body.” Green Mask ran one of his hands up her thigh and near her cunt. “Pretty cunt, too.”
“Yeah, and it looks like she wants to play with us as well,” Blue Mask said, and by the direction his eyes were roaming in, Rani could tell he was staring directly at her pussy. She whimpered at the men’s wandering eyes, both of them looking at her as though they were predators hungry for their prey.
Green Mask’s hand snuck in between her labia, rubbing up and down, and the wetness immediately coated his fingers. He found her clit, swollen and needy, and began to rub his fingers on it in circles. The moist friction between his hand and her pussy emitted pornographic sounds from not only the wetness of her cunt, but also her mouth as it let out breathy moans and whimpers with each rotation of his hand. Rani’s eyes were closed through the ordeal because of her embarrassment and fear, but she could feel the eyes of the green masked-man piercing through her soul like daggers. She knew she was in for a long night.
The man with the blue balaclava walked over to the other side of Rani’s bed. Her head was already faced on the side he was walking to due to her not wanting to face Green Mask as he relentlessly rubbed her pussy, and Blue Mask took this as an opportunity to undo his black pants and throw them off to some corner of the room. His bulge was peeking through his briefs, precum seeping out in a little spot of the grey fabric, and Rani’s eyes teared up even more knowing what Blue’s next move was.
But Blue Mask smirked, and all he did was inch his covered bulge up to Rani’s mouth, and her saliva immediately started to smear onto it. “Gotta give you the appetizer before the main course, right?’” He stated as he watched Rani’s eyes look up at him in confusion. “Suck through the fabric, baby.”
Rani immediately began to suck onto the man’s underwear, her lips and tongue feeling the shape and size of his cock as she did so. Despite her fast and immediate movements, Rani wasn’t optimistic at all, she just wanted to do whatever the men wanted her to do, hoping that it would help her go through this situation easily and quickly. They obviously had weapons, reminding herself internally as she thought about the hammer that was just in the hands of the man whose boxers she’s now sucking through, or the knife that stuck through the pocket of the man currently twiddling at her clit.
Green Mask stopped his circular motions on her clit and slapped her cunt a couple of times, her wetness squirting out in little splashes as he did so. Her moans from Green’s actions vibrated through Blue Mask’s underwear and went straight to his length, making the rather dull experience of her sucking through his fabric a bit more pleasurable. Green stuck two of his fingers into Rani’s hole and began to thrust in and out her, sometimes curling them to stimulate her g-spot. Rani’s muffled moans against Blue’s bulge grew louder and therefore caused the vibrations against his cock to become more intense, making him moan alongside her.
“C’mon, I need you to cum for me fast like a good girl. We don’t have all night,” He stated as he picked up the pace of his fingers’ thrusts, adding another finger sneakily to stimulate the girl’s cunt even more. Rani’s moans against Blue’s bulge became even more muffled as she shoved her own face into him. Still flooded with embarrassment, her orgasm neared and she presumed that hiding her face from the men’s view would shed some of her fears away. Instead, it egged the men on to be more rough with her, Blue Mask now holding her by the back of her head further into his bulge preventing her from breathing while Green began to curl against her G-spot even faster. Rani’s body jolted not by much because of her constraints, but just enough for her to have a dramatic reaction as she orgasmed, her pussy leaking out more of her fluids onto Green’s gloved hand.
Green Mask released himself from the grasp of her cunt and sucked on each of his fingers, getting every taste of Rani’s arousal into his mouth. He looked over to Blue, who released Rani from his crotch and watched as she tried catching her breath. “Y’wanna switch places?” He questioned him, completely dismissing Rani’s existence despite her recent orgasm.
Immediately, Blue nodded his head. He explained, “Wanna taste the mess she made. I mean, the way she got your eyes rolling back, she must taste good, yeah?”
Green nodded a yes as he wiped his saliva off his fingers onto Rani’s stomach, as if she was some sort of towel. She whimpered at the feeling, but the men didn’t even pay her any mind, almost as if she was, as they had said before, just some toy they were playing with. “And I wanna see how she takes cock in her mouth, how deep she can take one,” he said and smirked as he swapped places with Blue, the crotch of his pants now in front of Rani’s swollen, wet lips. “You can take cock, right, love?” He slapped at her face as he noticed her expression a bit dazed from her previous actions with Blue Mask. “Huh, you can take cock? Deep in that throat?”
Rani nodded. “Uh-huh, uh-huh, yes, sir.” She gulped as she prepared herself physically and mentally for what the two men had in store for her next.
Green’s fingers then tugged at his pants’ zipper until it was fully unzipped, and he threw his pants and briefs in the same place Blue threw his. “Sir, hmm…” his lips turned into a smirk as he placed his tip onto her lips, his precum staining them, “I like that. Don’t you boys like the sound of that?”
Pink Mask chuckled from where he was, his eyes fully immersed in what was happening before him. His pants were down, Rani noticed, and his hand was wrapped around his cock. He must’ve finished going through the bag while the other men were hypnotizing her from both ends, she inferred. “Sir sounds lovely. Suits you well. I’m more of a ‘Daddy’ kind of guy. Hey,” he gestured over to Blue Mask, who was on his knees taking in the sight of Rani’s cunt before him, “What name do you want her to call you?” He handed a device over to Blue Mask, who smirked as he grasped the long object. Rani recognized it quickly- it was a Hitachi wand.
In the midst of thinking about his answer, he began slowly rubbing at Rani’s clit and gave her labia a little kitten lick. “Mm, how about Master?” He looked up at Rani, but his eyes widened as he recalled Rani’s skin color. “Uh, actually no, not Master. I’m not into the raceplay shit. Sorry ‘bout that.” He gave Rani’s clit a kiss and a lick, turning the wand on, before speaking again. “I guess Mister is better, right? Y’wanna call me Mister, babe?”
Rani was about to say yes, but ended up only nodding with a muffled moan coming from her mouth as Green Mask shoved his cock into it. Her eyes flooded with tears and flowed down her cheeks as he fucked her throat, his tip hitting so far back that she knew it would ache when he was done. Blue Mask took this as an opportunity to nudge the wand against his clit, causing Rani’s body to jolt again and throat to gag against Green’s cock.
Pink Mask went up to Rani and occupied himself by messing with her breasts. His thumb and index finger of both hands started to twist and pull at her nipples. The sounds she was making around Green’s cock encouraged him to continue with his own movements, slapping each breast after every pull of her nipple. He then settled on using one hand to play with her boobs as the other slipped around his cock and began to jerk himself off. With every sound that emitted from Rani, whether it was the sound of her throat being used, or the sounds of Blue Mask’s tongue lapping at her cunt, his cock slipped out more precum that allowed the movements of his hand to be slicker, and his head threw back at his pleasure.
Green’s cock continued to fuck into Rani’s mouth, his hands on each side of her head guiding her up and down his shaft as if her mouth was a fleshlight. The sound of his cock making her gag as he went in and out of the top of her esophagus made him moan. “You hear all those fuckin’ sounds?” He let out a laugh that forced his abdomen to move and make his cock vibrate inside of Rani’s throat. “The gawk-gawk-gawk?,” he mimicked the noises coming out of her throat as he continued his movements.
Blue Mask laughed as he continued licking Rani’s pussy, those vibrations traveling inside of her as well. “That’s what they call that ‘Gawk-gawk 3000’, right? That’s what you got honey,” he started to vigorously rub at her clit to emphasize his statements, “You got a Gawk-gawk 3000!” He slapped at her cunt a couple of times before placing his face back to her hole and thrusting his tongue in and out of her. The wand on her clit began to rub in circles, maximizing the pleasure she received from it all around.
Pink Mask continued to play with Rani’s tits with one hand as he watched the scene in front of him. He didn’t know which hole to look at- her mouth or her pussy- as he continued to jerk himself off with his other hand. It was all so overwhelming.
“Fuck,” Green moaned out, “Lick my ballsack, too.” He positioned himself to allow Rani easier access to his balls, and she began to lick and suck at them before heading back to his shaft, repeatedly moving between both parts of his body. She heard his moans, distorted yet beautiful, and it indirectly encouraged her to suck at him with more effort. “Fuck, shit,” he moaned out as the pleasure increased, but he suddenly began furrowing his eyebrows in frustration. “F-Fuck off me, bitch.” He slapped Rani’s face with enough impact to make her flinch off of his dick, causing her to cough and snort some mucus that was about to drip from her nose due to her crying. “I was about to cum inside your mouth,” he said as some sort of justification for stopping. “We wouldn’t wanna end the fun so fast, huh?”
Rani moaned, not even paying attention to Green Mask because of what Blue Mask was doing to her pussy. He turned off the wans and threw it to the side as his lips sucked around her clit and his index and middle finger fucked into her hole, little spurts of arousal squirting out of her as it had done with Green Mask’s prior motions. Pink Mask stopped his own movements with Rani’s tits as he reached that same hand to push down onto Rani’s lower stomach. He knew this pressure would help to escalate Rani’s pleasure and make her orgasm come faster. Rani looked over at Green Mask, who was still calming himself down from facefucking her moments earlier, and pouted at him. Her eyes were pouring with tears, mouth was drooling, and her bottom lip was quivering; he knew the girl was close. “Feel good, yeah?” Rani moaned and whined out little “yeah’s” as he and the other men continued to egg her on with more questions and statements.
“You gonna cum all over his fingers? Like a good girl?”
“You’re making a proper mess, sweetheart.”
“Fuckin’ squirt in my mouth, bitch.”
One final curl of his fingers and one final slap at her clit caused Rani to squirt like a broken fountain. She had no control over it, and some of the liquid flew all the way to her bedroom door before Blue Mask brought his mouth directly over her hole and drank whatever he could catch.
Pink Mask let go from her abdomen and started to untie the knot from one of the bedposts on his side. “Untie those,” he commanded Green, and Rani felt relieved to be removed from her rather uncomfortable confinements.
In spite of all of the commotion and the mental toll the situation had on her, Rani made sure to take mental notes of all of the men in the room. The one with the clean pink balaclava, seemingly the leader, had green eyes and a strand of dark-colored hair that stuck onto his forehead. He had an English accent, something similar to her boyfriend’s. Mr. Blue Mask had blue eyes, which she presumed was his reason for picking the color. He was quite a silly character in this situation, sort of the comic relief between all three men, so it would make sense. The one in the green mask (definitely a homemade one she might add), had freckles at the tops of cheeks and around his brown eyes. His accent was thick, but it wasn’t English like Pink’s. Maybe he was Australian? Or was he from New Zealand? She couldn’t tell, but it was definitely sexy. She knew that one’s name was “Jake” from hearing Blue Mask groan his name out of annoyance. Wait, Jake? That sounded familiar. But, wait, she didn’t know of any Jake’s. She knew a Jacob, who was one of Harry’s friends at work, but not any Jake’s. She quickly shrugged off that thought before the pink-masked man grabbed her by her jaw and tilted it up to face him.
“Dirty fucking whore.” Pink spat in Rani’s face and the fluid landed on her lips. “Lick it off.” He watched as Rani’s tongue worked itself over her lips and brought his saliva into her mouth. “Tastes good, doesn’t it? Had a mint.”
Rani did taste the mint flavor and that exact flavor reminded her of her boyfriend. Her eyes started to well with tears as she thought about him- his smile, his laugh, his face, and how he could help her in this situation. She missed him. She needed him.
But he wasn’t here right now. His face wasn’t amongst these three men. In fact, no face was among the men, just masks, gloves, and distorted, modified voices. She didn’t feel like she was having sex with three men; she felt like an object only being used for their pleasure. It wasn’t the worst feeling, though. She’d spoken to Harry about a fantasy like this- her house being broken into by an intruder who would come across her and find ways to use her body for his satisfaction before he left with the loot. She was lightly enjoying this, she couldn’t lie. And it was obvious the men could pick up on that. She just wished Harry was one of the men under the masks.
He grabbed onto her shoulder and squeezed them to get her full attention before instructing her, “Turn around and get on your knees by the end of the bed. Now!”
Rani fell to her knees as she felt Pink Mask give her a push to the floor by her shoulders. Her knees buckled onto the floor, and her eyes met with Blue Mask, who made his way onto the bed and positioned himself in a way that made his ass meet with Rani’s face. She furrowed her eyebrows in confusion as she looked at what was before her, and she tilted her head at Pink Mask awaiting his further instructions.
“You’re gonna eat his ass,” he said sternly. “You understand?” Looking down at her, he could see her hesitation in her movements, but her eyes anticipated trying.
She had licked her boyfriend Harry’s ass before, but it was only two times, and she didn’t think she was that good. But Harry was always amazing at licking hers, and she tried to remember what movements he would make with his tongue to help her out in this situation. So, she placed her hands on each of Blue Mask’s buttocks and put her tongue to work, running it along the rim of his hole in slow and smooth circles.
Blue felt the dampness of her tongue move around his hole and, although distorted due to the voice modifier, whimpered at the feeling. He wrapped his hand around the shaft of his length and began to stroke himself. The feeling was just indescribable.
Pink decided that he wanted in on the action, so he kneeled behind Rani. He didn’t give her any warning before shifting her body in a way that made her go on all fours- he needed better access to play with her cunt as he was the only one who hadn’t even touched it out of the three, and the boys didn’t have much time left with the girl. They couldn’t risk doing this for much longer, and he needed to feel her.
Green Mask watched the scene in front of him- Rani’s focused face licking her tongue around Blue Mask’s ass with his face screwed in pleasure. “Yes, doll, lick his fucking ass like the slut you are,” Green Mask commanded with a laugh at the end of his statement. He was mocking her, but in some weird way it made Rani’s lower abdomen churn with pleasure. “Yes, Sir,” she moaned back at him, his words somehow encouraging her to lick with more vigor.
“Ohhhh,” Blue Mask emitted a moan and jerked himself off in faster strokes. His balls sat atop Rani’s forehead, and the friction between the body parts gave him more pleasure. “She’s too good at this, fuckin- shit,” he managed to get out of him amidst his moans and grunts. His accent (New York? Pennsylvania? She wasn’t sure.) seemed to get thicker with the more intense he felt.
Pink Mask slapped Rani’s ass, causing her to moan into Blue Mask’s hole but never ceasing her tongue’s movements. “She’s definitely done this before, yeah?,” Pink asked her, and she moaned loudly, which was seemingly her way of saying yes. “That’s a lucky partner you got, I’m sure of it.” His fingers started to rub against her pussy, dragging along the outside of her labia repeatedly before smacking at her ass again. “Dripping like a broken tap, love. He did a number on your cunt earlier, didn’t he?” He was referring to Green Mask, who was now by the duffel bag and bent over the floor, trying to find one of the items Pink Mask removed from the bag earlier.
Rani managed to crack some sort of smile as she continued licking at Blue’s ass. “Yes, Daddy,” she answered with a lisp since her tongue was busy.
“He made you feel so good, right, love?” He questioned again, running his thumb up and down between both of her holes, which surprisingly soothed her.
The girl nodded again. “Yes, Daddy, so good. Mister made me feel good, too,” she looked up at Blue, who forced himself to look down into her eyes at the call of his other name “Mister”. He smirked and groaned, “Yeah? That’s good. And you’re doing such a good job at licking me, sweetheart.”
Rani’s hole pulsated when Blue praised her, and Pink noticed from his view. He loved seeing her aroused, and Blue wasn’t wrong about her satisfactory work. But he wanted to end the praise session and intensify the situation for his own satisfaction, so he slapped her ass and spread her cheeks open as wide as he could. “Stick your tongue down his asshole and move it in and out, whore. And don’t say another word.”
Rani yelped at the feeling of Pink manhandling her rear, and simply nodded as she followed his instructions. Her tongue stuck out and found itself inside Blue Mask’s puckered hole, beginning her thrusts with her tongue.
Once Green found what he was looking for, he walked over to Pink and, unbeknownst to Rani, handed him a tube filled with something clear. “She’s gonna love this shit, man.” he said to Pink, causing Pink to chuckle.
Rani continued her actions against Blue’s ass and managed to lick at his balls a bit as well. Blue was in heaven with this girl, he couldn’t believe it. He needed to break into more houses and find other kinky bitches to lick his ass.
A click was heard from behind Rani, as if something was opening. She didn’t think about it much until she felt something cold land between her ass and into her asshole, some even running down her vagina. She then felt something be shoved right into her asshole, spreading the hole wide and stretching it in a way that hurt a little. She’d never had anal sex, the furthest she had gone was getting licked there by her boyfriend, so the feeling caused her to jolt away from Pink’s grasp before he pulled her right back over to him. “Did I tell you to fuckin’ move?” He questioned her, slapping her ass a couple of times before removing the object from her ass.
She was about to answer until she remembered Pink demanding her not to say another word. Instead, she went back to leaving little kitten licks and sucks on Blue’s ballsack before, again, feeling an object being shoved inside her ass again, this time deeper than it has been before. She assumed if it wasn’t for the substance (she now realized it was most likely lube) dripped inside of her hole, the experience of this thing in her ass definitely would’ve felt worse than it did now. She only felt pressure and a stretch as the man behind her continuously thrusted the object back and forth into her asshole, using his fingers to rub at her clit which, surprisingly, also helped her be accustomed to this first anal experience.
Green Mask only sat back on a sofa Rani had in her room and watched what was happening in front of him, his cock dripping with anticipation to join in. But, he knew his place and knew what all three of them had in store for the girl next and decided to just wait his turn. Besides, he didn’t mind watching people fuck from the sidelines every now and then.
“Fuck,” Rani moaned under her breath and she threw her head down at the pleasure behind her. But, Pink didn’t like that and slapped at her ass with the object shoved as far as it could go into her asshole, causing Rani to wince in pain. “Shut the fuck up before I make you, pig.”
Rani didn’t say a word as she began to cry and went back to thrusting into Blue’s ass, Blue now jerking his cock at the sight. Her cries were so adorable, so thrilling, so sexy, and it made the pleasure he was receiving even more intense than it already was, as if that was even possible. “Fuck, you gotta stop it, girl,” he said, and Rani removed her head from between his ass until-
“Keep licking at him. And you’re not stopping until you cum for me,” Pink informed her, using one of his hands to shove her face right into Blue’s ass. Rani’s moans vibrated against Blue’s asshole as Pink shoved the object he was using into her even deeper and thrusted even faster. His fingers rubbed at Rani’s clit at a tantalizing pace, and Rani knew that if she focused on something else, Blue’s ass in this case, her climax would come faster. And so, she moaned into his ass and used her own hand to wank Blue’s dick for him. He wanted to protest against this as he went into this experience wanting to be in full control of his victim, but her smooth hand gliding against his cock felt too good to resist.
A few more thrusts went on before Pink paused, leaving the object inside of her ass as deep as he could, but continued his rotations around her wet, dripping cunt. He watched Rani’s facial expressions to the best of his abilities at his position, seeing that her face indicated her orgasm was approaching her once again for the night. He continued at the pace he was in, and Rani’s cunt pulsated as she neared her peak. “Alright, I want you to push your asshole as much as you can as you cum,” he commanded with a grunt, and Rani nodded as she followed his instructions, wincing out loud at the feeling of her pushing and her orgasm. Rani’s pussy finally squirted onto the floor, leaving a puddle that made a splash as the object once in her asshole landed on the mess.
Pink kept her ass spread and his eyes marveled at the sight of her gaped asshole and her pussy weeping in front of him. It was the most gorgeous thing he has ever seen. Quickly, he glanced over at Green Mask, who rose from his seat and went over to Pink and Rani’s ass knowing that it was his cue. He picked up a polaroid camera from the floor by the duffel bag and snapped a picture of Rani’s asshole and pussy from the perfect angle. He knew Pink wanted to savor this moment, as he had discussed this scenario with him before.
Rani finally ceased the thrusts of her tongue at Blue Mask’s hole and removed her hand’s grasp from his cock. She and Pink Mask stood up from their positions, and Pink shoved the fingers he was using at her cunt into her mouth for her to suck on. She sucked on them, staring into his eyes as she did so before he finally removed them from her lips abruptly..
As Rani looked at the floor, she noticed the object that was used in her ass: a dildo longer and thicker than a cucumber. She looked over at Pink and saw him smirking, knowing that that look on his face came from seeing her own reaction to the object.
She then heard Green Mask whistle and looked over his direction, noticing him laying on the bed. “Come on up here, gorgeous,” Green winked at her from under the mask and slapped his hands onto his thighs.
Rani stood in place, not really wanting to join Green onto the bed. She knew he wanted her to ride him, but having another man penetrate her just seemed so… disrespectful to her. And it would be especially disrespectful to her boyfriend if he ever found out. Blue grabbed Rani’s shoulders from behind and began to walk her over to the bed before lifting her up and throwing her right leg on the opposite side of Green’s body. She was now in reverse cowgirl position, which surprised her, but she went along with it anyway, not really wanting to protest the men around her. But of course, the guilt of being fucked by another man still crept up on her and she muttered, rather shyly,-
“I have… I have a boyfriend.”
Green Mask paused his actions and brought Rani down to his chest, making her look into his eyes. “You’re telling us this now?” There was a pause before he let out a cackle, causing the other two men to laugh in suit. “After this man over here made you gape and the other one had his ass eaten by you? Now is when you say you mention a boyfriend? After squirting in front of three other men?” All of the men continued laughing. It was the most humiliating thing Rani was ever subjected to, and the tears on her face and whimpering of her mouth were proof of that. Yet somehow, it turned her on?
The man with the pink mask got onto the bed on his knees and slapped his cock onto Rani’s pussy as he spoke. “Well I’m sure your boyfriend wouldn’t mind if we played with his toy for a bit, huh?” Rani’s lower body jolted, not like she could escape the situation anyway. “Trust me, honey, you’re going to love what we’re gonna do to you. I mean, your pussy is kinda proving how much you love it already,” He paused to stick his tip in, but pulled it out before starting up his slaps again. “And even if you don’t, we don’t really give a fuck. This night is for us to enjoy. Your cries for help aren’t gonna stop us. Your little boyfriend isn’t here to stop us.”
The glow of Rani’s face washed away as she felt the pink masked man stick himself inside of her, inch by inch, slowly getting deeper. “Don’t worry, love. We’re all clean here. A little raw sex never hurts anyone if they’re clean,” he said, as if that would make her feel any better.
Rani didn’t even get to utter a moan before a cock thrusted into her mouth. The woman gagged and slobbered onto Blue Mask’s shaft as he forced himself deeper with every stroke. “There we go,” Green Mask prodded on as he watched Rani with Blue’s length. “You’re a pro at taking cock, sweetheart,” he groaned as he played with her tits from behind.
The feeling of Pink and Blue both inside opposite ends of her body made her gag and choke onto the cock in her mouth. Mucus fell from her nose and tears ran down her cheeks, the scene getting messier with every movement.
Green ran one of his hands down between her ass and his waist. He gripped his cock and gave it a few strokes before lining it up with her asshole, and Rani didn’t even realize this happening before he finally slithered his thick cock inside of her.
Pink Mask continued his own thrusts into the clenching cunt around him as he felt Green Mask’s cock glide against the wall that separated both of Rani’s canals. He groaned a low and drawn out “Fuckkk,” at the feeling; it was unlike anything else he had felt before.
Rani choked onto Blue’s cock, saliva spurting out from either corner of her lips, as she felt the intrusion of another cock into her other hole. Three men were not inside of each of her holes. “What the fuck was even happening anymore?” was the last thought that passed through her mind before all three men gripped at her body from their respective position and began to fuck into her relentlessly.
Pink and Green’s cocks moved simultaneously in and out of Rani’s cunt and ass, and they could even feel each other through the membrane that separated the two holes, maximizing the feelings they were already experiencing. Pink stared at Rani and watched all of her facial expressions as she managed to get fucked in her mouth by Blue. He paused the two for a moment and grabbed onto Rani’s jaw, forcing her to face him. His emerald eyes stared into hers, his eyebrows furrowed and forehead dripping with sweat just as she was, and Rani’s cunt clenched around him as she lingered in his stare. Everything started to make sense.
Pink pulled Rani towards him and sunk his tongue into her mouth, licking and sucking at her own tongue and her lips before he pulled away and slapped her back down to Blue’s dick. “Keep sucking on him, bitch,” he was able to grunt out despite him being overwhelmed by all that was happening.
The room was filled with sweaty, sticky bodies slapping into each other and gags and chokes that came from Rani’s throat as Blue skull-fucked her. The men continued to egg her on with their own dirty talk, but not much was coming from Rani’s end of the conversation. Blue pulled out of her and watched as her head immediately threw back, almost like her head and neck were too numb to stand up on their own. “Damn, that bitch is braindead,” he commented with a chuckle, and the two other men took notice of this mention.
Green slapped Rani's face a couple of times, but received no feedback from Rani other than a drunken moan. “Fuckin’ hell,” he muttered underneath his breath. He used his fingers of one hand to hook onto a corner of her mouth, which left her lips ajar, drool finding its way out from between. The drool landed onto her chest, as to which Pink bent over to lick it up and swirl it around in his mouth before spitting it back into Rani’s mouth. Rather, it missed and landed onto her cheek, but Rani was too intoxicated by her gangbang that she didn’t even flinch.
The two men fucking into Rani’s cunt and anus lifted up their hips to pick up their paces inside of her, Rani still too high to respond with anything other than a moan. Green let go of the corner of Rani’s mouth and gripped the back of her head to shove her mouth back onto Blue’s dick. Blue took the reigns and began face-fucking her again, this time with more desperation and speed.
All of the men were finally close to cumming after more thrusts and grunts, and they could all feel it in their lower stomachs. The first to release was Green, who shot his cum so deep into her asshole, but he held his cock in place in order to not let anything drip out of her, not yet at least.
Pink was next and did the same as Green, plugging his dick inside of her cunt and preventing any of his cum from spilling out of her.
Finally, it was Blue’s turn, and he shot his cum deep into her throat before smacking Rani’s cheek and grabbing her by her jawline. “Swallow my cum, whore.”
Rani regained consciousness from his grip at her jaw and somehow found a way to force herself to swallow his seed. She felt the thick substance slide down the walls of her esophagus and then looked at the two other men inside of her.
“We’re gonna pull out of you,” Pink started, “But we gotta make you cum first.” As he finished his statement, he and Green began their thrusts again. The thrusts of their cocks into her cum-filled holes caused their milky substances to squirt through the sides of her holes, splattering all over her bed. Pink rubbed at her clitoris while Green twisted her nipples and pulled at them before finally, Rani came. A loud pornographic moan filled the room as she climaxed, and she squirted all over Pink’s chest and torso. He and Green finally pulled out of her, and Pink watched as their beautiful concoction of fluids spilled from both of her holes. Blue had the polaroid camera in his hands and shot pictures of the entire orgasm. Pink knew he would have a fun time looking at the pictures later.
The three men in the room got themselves composed before they heard an attention-grabbing cough come from the bed. It was Rani, who was obviously composed and very aware of what just happened.
“Thank you so much,” she paused for dramatic effect. “Harry, for that wonderful night”
The man in the pink mask chuckled, and finally took off his mask, revealing himself to Rani as her boyfriend. “Glad you enjoyed this, sweetheart,” He blushed, “but what gave me away?”
“I looked into your eyes. No one has green eyes as beautiful as yours.”
“Oh,” he laughed again. “I guess I should’ve worn contacts.”
“Also, you were being really possessive about cumming inside of my pussy. I know how possessive you get when it comes to me,” she continued and smirked at him.
Harry laughed and went up to Rani to kiss her on her cheek, which was still warm and stinging from the men slapping her all night. “You’re right. Should’ve controlled that a bit more.”
“No baby, I thought it was really cute. I’m shocked that your friends agreed to this. Actually, I’m shocked that you thought of this whole thing in the first place.”
Harry let out a warm smile and brushed his fingers through his hair, which was matted from being confined to the balaclava. “Yeah, well remember the conversation we were having about our kinks and deepest desires? I wanted to do something special for my girl, especially since our anniversary is coming up. I wanted to help you mark something off of your bucket list.”
Rani scoffed, “More like a couple of things.” Then, she looked toward the Blue Masked Man. “And I mean, Jake?” Blue’s eyes widened and he let out a “whoops” as Rani continued. “You kinda slipped that one out, Timmy.”
Timmy, or Timothee, removed his mask along with Green Mask, the Jake in question, following him with his own. TImothee and Jake, who was the “Jacob” Rani thought of before, were Harry’s work buddies and best friends. “So it wasn’t really a business trip, huh, guys?”
Jacob raised his hand to butt in. “Well, you could say it kinda was. I mean it was a job we all took part in to help our friend. I guess?”
“Mhm, yeah, sure,” Rani said, “Anyway, I had fun guys. I don’t know if I’d ever do something like that again, though. It took soooo much out of me.”
Harry kissed her temple and smiled. “Yeah, well never say never.”
“By the way, we didn’t take anything from your house,” Jacob stated, lifting up one of the bags he and TImothee went around the house with at the beginning, and showed her the contents of it. “It was just styrofoam we brought with us to give that illusion.
Rani laughed and shook her head. “Y’all are just too much.”
The four of them sat in her bedroom and discussed what went on that night, watching as the sun rose from Rani’s window. Harry held onto his girl, feeling like such a proud boyfriend. He fell in love with Rani even more than ever.
#Harry Styles#harry styles smut#Dark Fic#darkfic#dark harry#imasinnerimsorry#jacob elordi#jacob elordi smut#timothee chamalet#timothee chalamet smut
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Yandere! Lin Kuei clan x Fem! Reader
Author's Notes: GUYS I DON'T UNDERSTAND WHY EVERYONE LOVES BI-HAN (Yes, probably because he has terrible tits- BUT THAT'S NOT THE POINT). I think that he is bitter from start to finish but IDK there are colors for tastes.
Also, this one-shots is from a Wattpad request
(Don't let my favoritism towards Tomas be noticed jsadhjasfa <;3)
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Yandere Characters: Bi-Han, Kuai Liang, Tomas Vrbada, (mention of Sektor and Bi-han, Kuai Liang and Tomas's father)
From the video game/manga/anime/series/movie: Mortal Kombat 1 (World of "the new age" as I investigated)
Case: Confinement, forced adoption, unhealthy obsession, extremely strange "family" relationships.
Warnings: NO, SUB-ZERO'S FATHER AND DOES NOT WANT TO FUCK THE PROTAGONIST, HE WAS OBSESSED WITH HAVING HER AS A DAUGHTER (I'll clarify just in case)
Finished: Yes
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You still had vague memories of the last time you were free, or the last time you were with your mother. For many nights the question of your mother's whereabouts echoed in your head. However, it wasn't that long before your father's disappearance knocked on your door.
In the middle of the night, a group of warriors from the Lin Kuei clan found your dying father, who only had one last wish; Let the men who found him take care of his little daughter.
He didn't know them, he didn't even know their names, but something in his heart pumped in such a way that it only announced his time, and only "Protect my daughter" came out of his mouth.
He didn't even know why he said it, but in his heart there was only the desire to protect that little girl that he adored so much.
The warriors who were in charge of burying your father had to notify you of your existence, and the existence of a now orphaned girl generated some curiosity in several warriors.
And when the leader of that generation of warriors learned who the man who had died was, he only generated some surprise and anger.
It is there that, after asking the universe so much and mainly asking himself what he should do, he decided to call a clan meeting.
In the midst of all the doubts about why the leader called all the Lin Kuei, there was only one sentence which unleashed the beginning of chaos.
—One of my best friends, one of the people I loved most in my life, died in the hands of some thieves —The man began —, and his daughter, (Name) (Last name), is lost in the middle of the crowd, in "A town not far from here." The man looked up, the crowd realizing the seriousness in his words. His last wish, as the father of a little girl, and of a warrior who once belonged to this clan, is that we take care of his first-born daughter.
All the men and women present noticed that, amidst all the façade of concern for a friend's last will, they noticed that there was a hint of insecurity behind his words. It was a sensation that generated some intrigue as to who this young woman was.
—I strongly request that you investigate her whereabouts, and bring her to be part of the Lin Kuei from now on.
The chaos had begun, and the woman behind the mirror only longed for one thing from the bottom of her soul; May she find an escape from the chaos that was to come.
Even Liu Kang himself had a bad feeling, which heralded a change in the most powerful clan in the entire land. A change which began a breakdown in the clan's principles.
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The dawn marked her presence in an imposing manner with its tormenting solar rays, while the crowing of the roosters echoed in all the nearby fields, a harmonious song that seemed to strain their vocal cords just to cause such a noise. And it was a noise that was as annoying as cutting onions.
The glass of the window collided with the first rays of the sun, and the temperature of the room began to rise where the solar lights shine. And just as those lights collided with the fabrics covering the young woman's body, a grunt of protest came from her, her body moving off the mattress, the friction making soft noises throughout the room as she felt the cold of the dark wood against her. the transparent fabrics.
Even with the discomfort of the floor, her heavy, closed eyelids refused to move even an inch, and her muscles only relaxed against the coldness of the wood.
Three soft knocks against the wood sounded from the other side, while the young woman only pressed her face against her wrinkled pillow.
—(Name), Are you awake?
She pretended not to know anything, and her head was cradled against the soft, cotton-filled fabric. Her fingers approached the fabric that covered the rest of her body, and her nails dug against the loom, only dragging to cover a part of her jaw and leave the soles of her feet. in the air.
—(Name), I'm going to pass.
The screech of wood opening and old metal moving invaded the woman's ears, generating a certain tremor in her eardrums. But even then, pr
He continued without separating his eyelids.
The man moved quietly, the softness of his steps at the same time as he tried not to move too much to the bed. The soft aroma of the lavender scented sheets and the sound of the leaves moving to the sound of the wind, gently colliding against the wood of the house. With each step, he just tried to see throughout the room some trace of disorder, but he was all pretty well done to make a complaint.
Since the girl took charge of issuing a complaint when she felt how her only free hand was suppressed against the ground.
The man took several steps back, now giving more firmness to his posture in his final retreat.
—What the hell is wrong with you?!
The brown-haired man's gaze lowered gently, noticing how a figure emerged from the ground, barely lifting his body. A sudden movement of the woman's wrist was heard as more moans came from her lips.
—That hurts… —she whispered with her voice barely high-pitched.
The man noticed the mistake he had made in taking steps, and only gasped angrily, lowering his shoulders along with the tension in his body.
—Are you sleeping on the floor again?!
—Stepping on my hand again, Liang?!
The two exchanged glances after a few seconds, a stinging pain spreading tension and burning through the skin and muscles of her injured limb.
—How many times do I have to tell you that you shouldn't sleep on the floor? —The man in yellowish clothes complained —, it's not healthy, and you leave everything lying around as soon as you get up.
—Yes, yes, yes… Whatever you say —The woman clicked her tongue, —, not even your dad was so complaining about me sleeping on the floor.
The man rolled his eyes, before kneeling on his feet. His gaze was fixed on the injured skin, and the circular movement that (Last Name) exerted with her wrist, trying to keep her body from focusing on the stinging burning in her hand. A somewhat heavy sigh left him, before her hand took his hand, her fingers taking gentle walks over her skin.
—It hurts?
A question so stupid but so loaded with worry that he asked her between nausea and wanting to jizz in her face, but he just shook his head, taking her wrist now. The man, even with his muscular build, allowed himself to be manipulated by the woman's soft movements.
—Yes, you idiot —she joked, before releasing the wrist of the man in front of her —, but I just need an ointment to calm the pain."
The look of doubt on her face didn't leave her grimace, but she just accepted her hasty excuse.
—Why did you come so early? —The woman asked, before taking the pillow and placing it on the mattress again.
Liang wasn't specifically someone who liked to interrupt people, especially her, so the few times he did, it wasn't especially for pleasure.
—Things happened, —he whispered, before moving from her position to get back up. —Can you go to the living room? Tomas wanted to tell you something.
The woman's face scrunched up a little, confused as to why the gray-haired man wanted to talk to her, but she assumed it was some kind of warning or something.
—Alright.
She gave gentle tugs on her muscles before moving her feet to stand up. The woman looked quite overwhelmed by the lights coming from her window, but she just ran her palms across her eyes, her back leaning back solely to stretch her lower back muscles.
It had been some time since the war, and she heard only prattle of the events of the great war that had been fought between this world and others. For some reason, a deja vu passed through (Name)'s mind after hearing what happened during those fights, as if in her soul, she knew something about the events of the war.
However, she just shook her head. The grimace on her face changed to a gentle smile as she greeted some newcomers from the clan, while her rigid body became accustomed to moving around the large place that until that day you dared to call home.
And at one point, she ran into someone particularly well-known, mostly because of her distinctive hair color. She smiled, giving a gentle click of her tongue against her teeth as her steps quickened a little, but maintained a certain stealth.
(Name), being close enough to the man —Particularly a couple of centimeters from his body, or rather her back—, she almost jumped on top of him, wrapping her arms around the edge of the waist of her. A soft gasp came from the man, his body generating some tension as he felt her hands so close to the gray garments, gently squeezing the fabric against his skin.
The man smiled after realizing who had made such a 'deadly attack', and her shoulders released their tension after a few seconds.
—Hello, (Name) —The man greeted.
The woman smiled, before walking away from him.
—How have you been, Tomás? —The woman asked, now located next to him.
—I'm better than I expected, luckily, —he replied, his gaze escaping to rom where he was looking to admire the girl next to him.
The two exchanged words, a conventional conversation typical of two people who had known each other for years that resembled a sibling relationship more than anything else. However, that was the thought the woman had about how they both looked in the eyes of other people.
He told her what the end of the war was like, and the "extra jobs" that both he and his brother did after said event. Even as boring as what he explained to her was, you just nodded silently while he continued talking to her.
But, to (Name)'s surprise, the people that she previously found everywhere around the house began to leave, or rather, began to stop appearing in her circle of vision, but the woman was not very focused.
It wasn't long before they arrived at a vast place full of plants and flowers, the bright colors spread harmoniously throughout the place, with a table in the middle of the grass. From the warmest colors to the coldest and dullest adorned the place, while the metal table and chairs of the same material with a spongy padding on the part where the weight of the body rested.
It was a special place for her, being one of the few outdoor places that she could access without having to ask the grandmaster for permission, and one where she hung out the most with your best clan friends.
When you sat down, Tomas sat next to her, his words pausing for a second as both of them gazed at the soft colors that adorned the garden.
—(Name) —He called you.
—Yeah?
—There's something I've wanted to tell you for a while —the man said, —, it's something I wanted to tell you but I never found the words to say it correctly.
—Well, that's new. —She leans back gently against the chair —, so, tell me.
—It's… complicated, you know? After so long of us being friends.
Her words seemed to take a very obvious direction, but the young woman did not seem very excited, just curious about what her best friend wanted to tell her.
—It sounds like something important, may I know what it is?
But there was no response, and not specifically because Smoke wanted it that way.
—Smoke! —A scream was heard in the distance.
Both of them looked at who called the man near them, turning out to be the young man that you and Smoke had known for a long time, but never as well as Smoke or Bi-Han, or his brother.
—Sector? —Smoke asks, intrigued —what's going on?
He stands up from the chair, moving to stand in front of she. She didn't notice it because she only saw his back, but there was a serious grimace on his face, knowing that a bad event was approaching.
—I need to talk with you.
His brow furrowed, as that feeling in his head that something bad was about to happen grew like a graph rising exponentially. The gray-haired man asked her to go to her room, which confused her, after all, why did she need to get away from someone she knew as well as Sektor?
She shook her head, her eyes closing for a moment before she snapped back to reality, and decided to get up. Obeying the request—although it was more like an order—from her best friend, she couldn't even say goodbye to Sektor, because the tension in the air didn't allow it.
She left the garden, getting away from everything to be able to access her inner thoughts, which you always kept locked in her room. In her face, which was always that of someone carefree, dropped to a thoughtful grimace; It had been several weeks since she stopped seeing Bi-Han, and both Liang and Smoke refused to talk to her about him, dodging your question almost in an Olympic manner.
You shook your head, trying not to go overboard with her thoughts, so as to vent the darkness of her soul on pages full of ink in Morse code. However, when she opened the door, she was surprised that someone was already waiting for her.
With his characteristic bluish clothes accompanied by his hair tied up and a permanently serious face in any situation —which he did not let her see because he had his back to you—, she saw him, the man from whom she heared so much expected even to know his whereabouts.
—"It is then that, by mere self-awareness, I notice that nothing is the same. For a long time I mistakenly thought that they were only kind to me, but inside me, very buried deep in my soul, I knew that the lie was extensive, a which had invaded my life and brought me to a point of no return, now I ask myself, over and over again, what can I do to escape them?"
A noise of piles of pages suddenly colliding with others in a book is heard. It is then that he extends that dusty book into your range of vision, allowing you to see where he had gotten those words from.
—I always figured you weren't as dumb as the former grandmaster led us to believe, —Bi-Han explained, his serious voice sounding surprisingly relaxed —after all, you were going to be my wife one day.
The woman shook her head, her jaw rubbing against her bottom and top teeth.
—My father taught me that I should get a woman who had a lot of intelligence, one who could help me and that I would give her the same help in return —He began his explanation—, and when he picked you up from that house, I thought you were going to be that woman.
He got up from the ground, while (Name) stepped back, but the moment she wanted to open the door and leave, she realized that it was closed, and locked. When trying to push against the door, someone responded by exerting much more pressure against the wood to prevent it from being opened.
—But, I was unpleasantly surprised that he didn't want you for that —The man threw her book on the bed —, he wanted you for himself, he wanted you to be his perfect daughter, the girl who was destined for a life of her own. , or rather, to a life with him.
She shook her head again and again, her gaze dropping to the ground, fixating on the remains of destroyed metal on the ground in front of the window.
—He wanted you for himself, he wanted you to be just his daughter until the end of his life, and that when he died, you would be left alone, taking care of this place as if it were yours —The man gritted his teeth —, and he became obsessed with the idea that you really were his blood daughter.
The woman's heart palpitations were such that it seemed like it was threatening to break the bones in her chest, she felt as if the air did not seem to reach completely into her lungs, as if it had stopped in the middle of the breath. veins of her.
—Kuai Liang and Smoke believed the same thing, that you were destined to give them orders, and they took care of you in a cradle of gold —He continued, now taking slow but forceful steps towards her —, you grew up away from the world, and they taught you what was necessary to that you could do everything from here.
She shook her head, her hands going to her ears, applying pressure, as if she wanted not to hear the reality behind the man's words, however, he took the woman's hands, easily forcing them to stay in her ears. shoulders.
—And Liang and Smoke became obsessed with the idea that you were weak, that you needed protection, that you were destined to lead from this damn room while they risked their lives for you—He press her hands against the wall—but I know better than that. You deserve so much more than that, someone like you needs much more than these four walls.
Her cries of denial echoed through the room, a wish that someone would magically appear and save her from Bi-Han's words. But she knew it was reality, that she couldn't deny the fact that she was like a bird in a cage full of harmless traps to keep it locked there.
—I will give you the life you deserve, and I will not let either of these two interfere in our destiny —He brought her face closer to her neck, pressing gently—. I am not alone, both Sektor and other Lin Kuei know what your destiny is, and they are willing to do everything to make it come true.
The poor woman sobbed, her arms too weak to fight someone as big as him.
But then, an explosion of smoke covered the place, while both of them heard the door being torn out. One arm took hold of her waist, taking hold of her body and stepping back with her in her arms.
—I knew they were up to something, —Liang whispered, before setting her down again —. Don't you understand that this is not right?
Smoke took her into her arms, pressing her face against her neck, while her hands clung to her body.
—You speak as if you know what she wants, —Bi-han replies, leaving the room —. Do you really think that someone like her deserves to be locked up in this place forever?
—Shut up now!.
It was the first time in a long time since she had heard Kuai Liang respond with such aggression, and in fact, she had never heard him speak with such expressions of anger.
—You don't know her, you just made yourself sick with the idea that she deserved to be by your side —Liang says, taking the blade out of his pocket —You already betrayed all of our father's will, what do you think gives you the right to also kidnap our future leader?
It was strange to hear him use that word, being that the idea that she was secretly in charge of keeping the clan alive in the new generations, but now that that idea had become a reality, she just wished it was a lie, an ugly one and horrendous lie.
Smoke walked away from the fight, carrying (Name) in his arms to safety place.
She knew the truth, she knew she had to take a path, one that was always going to be linked to obsession, and a sick feeling of horror invaded her chest at the idea that, wherever she went, it would always be the same.
Sorry if it took me too long, I was working on some headcanons that I had pending on Tumblr, soon there will be more one-shots and headcanons <3
#yandere#obsessive love#poppa thoughs#yandere x you#yandere male#poppa things#Yandere#Yandere mortal kombat#mortal kombat 1#Yandere bi han#Yandere kuai liang#Yandere tomas vbarda#Yandere male x reader#fem reader#Yandere lin kuei#Mortal kombat#harem x reader#yandere harem#yandere harem x reader#yandere harem x female reader
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A Latina singer who does sings in English and Spanish who's actually very famous who has been dating Enzo for years but people are just now finding out and putting it together. People now realizing there's been so many sightings of them together or him at her shows.
🎤« 𝐀𝐍 𝐈𝐑𝐎𝐍 𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐍 𝐓-𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓 | ENZO VOGRINCIC
𖥔 ࣪˖ pairing: enzo x latina!singer!fem!reader
𖥔 ࣪˖ summary: enzo and you have been dating for the past 3 years. nobody knew you guys were a thing but after reaching his peek after the drop of Society of the Snow, fans begin to piece pieces together.
𖥔 ࣪˖ warnings: only fluff I believe
𖥔 ࣪˖ note: I love this idea!! did this in headcanons. I hope you enjoy this anon and everyone<3 for the sake of the fic i’ll say she wrote some of the songs but all credit goes to its respective well talented owners.
☆ You and Enzo had met at a cafe. A classic frankly. The thing was that you had a concert in the city and Enzo was just visiting. The two of you hit it off well.
☆ You weren’t sure if to feel surprised or not at the fact that he didn’t know who you were at first. But later he told you he didn’t know much about famous people so that fairly made you understand. In some way, it also made you feel better at the fact that he wasn’t dating you because of your fame but because of the kind of person you were.
☆ If the man had the opportunity, he would go to your concerts. He would even take pictures of your fabulous outfits and of the whole arena filled with fans. It was as if you had your very own photographer.
☆ You would write him songs. There was no denying it, and he would know. One of his personal favorites was Lover. When you wrote it, both of you had just turned one year. To you, it felt like you had been dating that man for years instead of one. You were in love, and the fans knew it.
☆ Your favorite song for him was Disfruto. Not only because it was in Spanish but because that was your way of expressing that you would do anything for Enzo to feel safe with you. Never let him down since he is the one you want to grow old with and spend every important moment with.
☆ Later on, fans began to spot Enzo in your concerts. The thing was that in most of your shows, he wore hats, and due to the dimness of the light you wouldn’t be able to see much from his complexion, only his apparel. They would ask themselves. Who is that guy? However, overall they were happy for you.
☆ When the movie dropped, everyone was going insane with Enzo. That also entirely complicated how the two of you would have your relationship established now. Your fans knew you had been dating someone, and you somehow managed to keep the man a secret. But did you?
☆ When Enzo got his fans, and his media only grew bigger, a lot of pictures were revealed on the internet. Some of them would be from the movie, with the boys, from previous years, him as a teenager. There were specific ones of him with an Iron Maiden shirt. For some reason, the fans recognized the shirt.
“I swear I’ve seen that shirt on before him before.” They would say.
When they also went into one of his highlights out of curiosity and found a picture he had taken at one of your concerts. At first, they assumed he was a fan of you, but later when videos of the mysterious man at your concerts started to pop up again was when they began to question. Since some of the shirts Enzo would wear, he would have pictures with them. But fans still wouldn't be sure.
☆ Until there was a picture. You had posted a picture years ago of Enzo but you couldn’t see his face completely. Only a tad bit of his eye and nose. He laid on your legs as he napped, while your hand rested on his cheek. It almost covered most of his face, and he wore the Iron Maiden t-shirt. You had taken that picture down but of course, screenshots exist.
☆ Fans were jolted by the image and asked when that picture was taken. Everyone was saying that the picture was from 2 years prior, and that was when they started to connect everything thoroughly. That Enzo was the mysterious man in your concerts and the picture he had taken of the arena was just him being supportive. And that from that very picture was where they recognized the shirt from.
“YOU GUYS that was Enzo all along!”
“you’re telling me we’ve seen this man even before he reached his fame???”
☆ Enzo and you had gone public officially, after a month since the two of realized the fans already knew. You would go on dinner dates, breakfast, and brunch. And of course, if he had time in his schedule, he would still be there at your concerts. Videos of him would be on the internet the next day. With his camera resting on the strap around his neck and a huge smile carved on his lips with the glint of love in his eyes.
“Guys, look at Enzo being the best supportive boyfriend he is.”
#enzo vogrincic x reader#enzo vogrincic fic#enzo vogrincic blurb#enzo vogrincic#enzo vogrincic x you#enzo vogrincic imagine#enzo vogrincic one shot
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