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macfrog · 3 months

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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 –

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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vixensbrainrotts · 5 months

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Ran fucked up

Summary: so you found out that Ran is sorta-kinda using you for information, money and material for Tenjiku and took revenge before the damage was too heavy. Come the time when Ran was supposed to display results, he has some explaining to do…

Tropes: Tenjiku! Arc

Content warnings: none really, this time around its just kinda cracky, implied intentional accidents i guess? Idk let me know if there’s anything

Vixen’s two cents: I saw that prompt and JUMPED on the opportunity cause i had a silly little idea (lets pretend im not writing this in my theory of evolution lecture right now). This is such a funny prompt to me, I hope you enjoy. Prompt taken from @the-cypress-grove - prompt 131 (thank youuuuu) Remember that my requests are open if you have any ideas!

Rindou has never seen his older brother this nervous- actually, this is the first time he’s seen him nervous, ever. The man in question was pacing (to the best of his efforts) restlessly, and it was driving Rin insane. „It‘s your fault, you know?“ Rindou quipped from where he was sitting. „And you’re not fucking helping. Izana is going to rip me apart, if i survive Kakucho that is.“ Ran mutters more to himself than to his brother.

Rolling his eyes, Rindou decides that he has to take control of the situation. „Come on Ran, its best to get it over with fast, perhaps they’ll pity you because of your… state right now.“ Rindou makes his way to the door, shrugging on a cardigan and taking the keys out of the little dish by the door. The look that Ran gives him almost ignites a little bit of pity in Rindou. Almost.

20 minutes later the two of them are standing in front of the place of meeting and Ran is sweating bullets. „Come on..“ Rindou drawled again. Offended, Ran throws him a look „You’re not the one who’s about to get mauled.“ Ran crows in slight pain, but Rindou spared no sympathy, „Your fault.“ Rindou was the first to enter the area donning the heavenly kings‘s presence. He silently greet his colleagues with a curt wave, but felt a little puzzled when he didn’t receive one in return. The confused looks on their faces were almost comedic before Rindou noticed the distinct lack of brother by his side.

Rindou heaved a sigh and half-turns to face the entrance again, gesturing to the door for the Heavenly Kings to see. „He‘s coming, don’t worry.“ He assured and trudged on towards his place.

„Sit down Haitani.“ a sharp voice pierced the air as Izana spoke. A shiver ran down Rindou‘s spine, and all of a sudden he understood his brother‘s fear: Izana was scary as such, and blatantly terrifying when disappointed. Quickly, Rindou took a seat beside Mochi. Silence reigned after that. Not a word was spoken, not a breath was taken whilst they waited for Ran to enter.

Finally the tension broke when Ran walked through the door, his head low and limping slightly. „Were ya roughed up or something?“ Shion was the first to speak. „Well..“ Ran sounded a bit defeated as his voice trailed off, remaining standing at a respectable distance. „You’re here. And late at that.“, Izana‘s voice freezes the air as he speaks, „I hope for your sake that your little project proves to be as useful as you made it sound.“ Ran tries very hard to look anywhere but the Kings, instead trying to make eye-contact with his brother, but Rindou only raises his hands slightly in surrender and shoots him a look that says you brought yourself into this mess, im not gonna help you on this one.

„Do tell Ran. How‘s your little girlfriend doing, hm? Are you treating her well? Is the good service paying off? She give you somethin‘ yet?“ Shion has the gall to poke at Ran, stacking questions on him in a singsong tone. Despite the almost joking nature of the questions, they hang heavy in the air.

„I don’t think she likes me all that much right now.“ Ran finally says.

„What makes you think that?“ Kakucho is the one to speak this time, noticing Izana's annoyance and grasping the reigns of the conversation. Whilst he sounds genuinely concerned, Kakucho‘s half-blind eye does nothing to make Ran feel more comfortable, as he visibly shrinks beneath his gaze.

„She founded out.“ Ran breaks the news in a whisper, and the air around them changes into something much more alive, and much more electric. „What.“ Kakucho‘s voice is loud in stark contrast.

„She hit me with her car.“ Ran shrinks even further into himself when the guys surrounding him laugh. „Clever Girl!“ Shion quips between heaves of laughter, bracing himself against an also-snickering-Mucho who adds „What if it was an accident?“. Ran only shakes his head, face and neck ablaze with red as he puffs himself up against the humiliation. „She looked me dead in the eye and reversed!“ Laughter bounces off the walls once again.

#x reader #tokyo rev x reader #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #ran x reader #ran #ran haitani #ran haitani x reader #rindou haitani #tr rindou #tenjiku #tenjiku x reader #tr ran #tokyo rev x you #tokrev #tokyo manji revengers #tr content

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starrvsn · 3 months

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` ִ ꔫ ۫ ⊹ D.HUME ࣪ ˖ VICTORY BLISS.

﹙ MOVIE/FANDOM ⠆THE BOYS IN THE BOAT ﹚

PAIRING ⠆don hume x fem!reader.

CATEGORIES ⠆fluff!, lil bit of angst- drama for no reason.. for the plot HAHA, shy!don, slight ooc with the boys, don going through it, the reader is lovely i swear, the guys being the #1 supporters of don, bobby being his #1 protector, sassy!bobby, bobby’s kinda mean in this but he means well i swear!

WORD COUNT ⠆4,613 (fun!)

star left a message! this was actually my first draft i had of don and i finally came around to finishing it! this came out much longer than i expected but i hope you enjoy~!

𝟒𝟏𝟏. don finally garners the courage to ask out the girl he's had his eyes on since the beginning of the semester.

"don! hey! so how you gon' celebrate?" bobby calls, jogging up next to him. the faint sounds of the other guys’ voices behind them, they had just come back from germany and all still high from the victory bliss. don had just gotten over a horrible fever, thanks to the guys he didn't think he'd be able to row– and be there when winning gold. now that it's over, they want to celebrate as much as they can, take advantage of a golden opportunity.

"er, not sure— sleep it off maybe." don utters, stuffing his hands in his pockets as they walk further onto campus— towards their dorms, completely exhausted from traveling. the fact that they won olympic gold hadn't hit him yet and with their victory banquet in a few days time, maybe it would hit him then. the shorter man scoffs jumping in front of the taller, stopping him abruptly in his tracks.

"oh come on don, you gotta celebrate! you know soon enough girls are gonna be at your feet." bobby attests, arms flailing about in attempt to prove his point. don finds it almost comedic at how desperately bobby is trying to get through him, trying to hold back his laugh— he lets out "so?"

bobby squints his eyes looking a don incredulously "so? this time right now is your best shot— its now or never."

don could hardly speak to anyone, let alone girls— it became what he was known for. he didn't hate it because it was true, there was no room to deny it— it was just easier to manage, less to worry about but he could see where bobby was getting at, finally the narrative of seizing the moment getting through his thick skull after the many attempts of the team encouraging him to talk to girls more, so maybe this was it.

“i-i’ll think about it.” don nods, almost unsure of himself, he wasn't sure if he was saying it to satisfy his friend or to give himself some sort of encouragement. digging his hands deeper into his pants pockets. bobby’s face softens and he gives the taller male an optimistic smile, patting him encouragingly on his arm before joining the rest of the group. don heaves a sigh before continuing — his thoughts weigh his options for the rest of his walk to the dorms.

don mulls over what do over the course of a few days, with their banquet in a few days he knew had to do something soon. he had many ideas but one just kept coming back to him so he is putting all his chips in on this, hoping he doesn’t crash and burn.

don was nervous, he tossed and turned in bed just thinking about this. his heart beating loudly in his ears and almost out of his chest— he was sure people in the common room could hear it. he looks down at his feet, counting his steps as he approaches your table—trying not vomit from how on edge he was feeling. the words from bobby echoing in his head "this time is your best shot—its now or never."

taking a deep breath, he takes his gaze from his shoes to you. words couldn't describe how you looked, the sunlight peering through the window reflecting beautifully on your features making you look ethereal. he was enamored.

you were in the same physics lecture, you always sat two rows in front of him. he would catch himself drifting his eyes to the back of you head when the lecture got boring or when you turned to talk to your classmate, showing him your pretty side profile. he knew he was infatuated when you were paired during a lab and while don barely spoke– not even introducing himself. you were polite, nice and smart, a perfect trifecta. you always knew what to say and was so patient with him when you had asked him something and he didn’t respond right away. most times when he wouldn’t respond, people would get impatient or just brush him off; ignoring him completely. it was nice for someone to treat him with respect besides the guys on crew for a change.

breaking from his reverie, he realizes he’s stood before your table longer than he initially wanted to and yet you still haven’t noticed, to absorbed in your studies. don almost feels bad for interrupting and the thought of him just walking away and trying again some other day— or never crosses his mind but before he can even make up his mind, you finally notice.

"don! hi!" a soft smile peering at your lips as you stop writing, looking up at him. don's eyebrows jump in surprise, taken aback that you know him. a lump forms in his throat unsure what to say, awkwardly avoiding your gaze.

"yo-you know me?" letting his thoughts continue the conversation. he watches as you laugh- shaking your head for a moment before collecting yourself.

"it's hard to not know the stroke that won us a gold medal." you respond, voice laced with praise.

dons hand shoots up to the nape of his neck, flustered. "well i wouldn't say it was just me, it was all of us." he immediately denies, a faint blush glowing on his cheeks.

“i must give credit where it’s do, i mean you guys must’ve been amazing! well from what i heard on the radio at least.” you boast. his heart swells with pride hearing you sound so elated with how well they did— how well he did, in berlin. he felt his heart swell as you told him. his mouth runs dry as he tries to find the right words to continue the conversation and he kind of kicks himself for letting silence fall between the two of you. you speak up insisting you join him at your table, closing your books and putting them aside. he sits across from you, taking in your features that he thought about from time to time when he was away. you scoot you chair further in, knocking your foot against his, a shock coursing through him– no has ever made him feel this way.

“tell me about berlin, i heard you were feeling under the weather over there.” you start, quirking your head in curiosity awaiting his response. clearing his throat, don gathers his words.

“uh— yeah, it was an otherworldly experience. i never been out of country, out of state even but it was definitely different. an experience i would never forget” you can see his face brighten from talking about it, he speaks so descriptively about his time there it feel like you were there with him. “i was sick with some kind of bug. it was a grueling few days but was worth it after winning. it was amazing! i would do it all again if i had to.” you offhandedly realize that this was probably the most you’ve ever heard him speak and you find him so endearing as he spoke, he was so expressive when he was talking about something he was so passionate about and you loved it. you watch as he goes on about the olympics and the number of athletes he saw compete, you head rests on your hand watching him with attentive eyes letting him continue with his ventures.

minutes pass from dons tales and he realizes that he got lost in speaking about the olympics and droned on and on about it , he felt selfish for taking such time to talk about the most trivial of things— or so he thought.

“'m so sorry, i must’ve talked your ear off.” don cuts in the middle of a story he was telling, as he realized what he was doing. feeling guilty as he casts his eyes to his hands, falling quiet again. what he doesn't see is the small frown that casts on your face, your heart pangs at the thought of him thinking that what he was talking about wasn’t important, looking so dejected. a moment passes as he fiddles with his hands then he sees your hand coming into view clasping his. he raised his gaze and he sees you looking at him with a comforting smile smile.

“it’s okay, i like hearing your voice. i could listen to you talk all day” the compliment was simple but made his heart skip a beat. it’s now or never don gulps, his calloused hand encasing yours, giving your hand a gentle squeeze, you can tell he has something on his mind and he could take all the time in the world to say it and you would wait. “would you want to come to the victory banquet with me? it's in a few days.” his voice is timid and small, if the room was any louder you wouldn’t be able to hear what he said.

you face brightens at his proposal, accepting without a moment passing “i would love to.”

the next few days passes with a blur as don and the rest of the team were whisked away to do interviews and photoshoots on their ground breaking win. it all happened so fast and before they knew it; it was already the night of the banquet.

you had promised don you’d meet outside of your dormitory so you could walk together to the hall. he gets there a bit earlier than you were promised to meet, he was nervous— maybe that being the reason he didn't want to be late and have you waiting outside for him. a cool summer breeze passing through as he leans against the brick ledge accenting the dorm building, soon moments turn into minutes and it crosses don's mind that you might have stood him up.

the thought makes him feel hopeless, pulling up his sleeve to reveal his art deco watch- a gift from coach ulbrickson, it was 6:40. 10 minutes had passed since your agreed meeting time. soon 10 turns into 20, he wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt but you made him feel like a fool— embarrassed that he stood outside of the girls dormitory looking like some kind of perv. he rubs the back of his neck in frustration as he pushes himself off the brick wall, ready to leave. a part of him wants to wait— the part of him that hopes you lost track of time and were rushing out to him but to no avail. even in the moment more he waits, he ends up leaving with his heart heavy and pride wounded.

he thought you weren't like the rest. he was so sure you were different from the people who gave him odd looks or comments on how quiet he was. it makes him wonder if you even meant anything in the library that day, weighing heavy on his mind as he walks to the banquet, alone and dejected.

don was acting quieter than usual.

which, for anyone who wasn't close with don wouldn't have noticed but the guys on crew— who he spent almost everyday with, noticed. it was abundantly clear as they sat around the table at the banquet enjoying their dinner. usually don would laugh along with the jokes being made, react to when someone was telling a story— it was a small tells that he was having a good time but there was none of that. he sat in his seat— eyes casted down on his plate, pushing around his peas. there was something obviously on his mind; the guys could tell. they pass knowing glances around each other, unanimously decided they just had to know what was wrong.

"hey don, you okay?" joe speaks up besides don. he has a blank stare down his plate, lost in his thoughts not paying attention to the current conversation at hand. "don?" joe calls again, nudging his arm against don's, snapping him from his reverie. looking over at joe like a deer caught in headlights.

"i said are you okay?" joe repeats himself, his mates looking at him with concerning gazes awaiting his answer.

"hm, yeah— 'm fine." don lamented, sounding like he was more trying to convince himself rather than his friends. they had wondered where he was before the banquet started and didn't see him until the dinner. bobby raises his worry for don, the other boys agreeing. don continues to deny but they weren't going to let it go. he should be enjoying winning gold at the olympics, something never done before in UW history— they didn't want whatever was on his mind to hinder that.

"come on don, you can trust us— whatever it is we'll understand, even give you advice if you need." roger speaks up this time, his voice laced with comfort. as much as the guys teased and joked, they truly cared about each other— after all the hardships they went through together, they stuck close. the quieter male was heavy with emotion and with a lot of his mind. he confines in them, a reluctant sigh passing through him as he tells them— he wonders what went through your head the day he spoke to you and the days leading up to tonight. he was excited to see you again, talk to you, get to know you even better but it was all thrown out the window when you flaked on him. don tries to not miss any details and by the end of his explanation, the boys were feeling a mix of emotions. some felt bad that don went through all that— going out of his element to ask out a girl he was interested in and other were upset that you'd have the balls to stand up someone with the purest intentions. it's hard to dislike someone who you've never met but after hearing what was weighing heavy on don's mind, bobby had made up his mind that he didn't like you. though he would never tell don but if he were to ever come across you, he'd be sure to give you a piece of his mind.

don doesn't see you as the days pass.

he continued to wonder how you were, what you could be going through. he couldn't bare the thought of something bad happening to you and as much as the guys tried to steer him away; his mind always came back to you. practice helps him take his mind of you for a few hours, he knew better than to slip up during their practices— their tireless efforts to get better never ceasing even after their win.

it was around evening time when practice ends. they’re tired; mentally and physically— it’s been a rough week in general. the last thing don expects is you standing at the entrance of the shell house, rocking on your heels. don stops dead in his tracks, his jaw slacks and heart drops. he doesn't notice bobby almost bumping into his whilst walking closely to catch up to him.

huffing, bobby was about to ask him what was the matter when he follows the line of sight of his friend, before either two of them could say anything— bobby is trudging towards you, don just letting him go, still shocked.

"are you y/n?" a man with cloudy blue eyes glares at you, he stands square; inches away from you. his presence intimidates you— you glower under his gaze unable to stand your ground. you can barely speak up against him.

"y-yes, is don around?" your eyes wander behind him and you see don standing a few feet back. you try to move around the man in front of you but he stops you.

"who the hell do you think you are huh?" he accuses, leaving no room for you to respond as he begins again "you charmed don and lead him on— you made him get his hopes up! you know i'm the one that encouraged him to take advantage of this *pure winners bliss* but you just had to come around and screw it up huh? made his biggest fear come true and for what—? to make don the laughing stock for your friends? he had the best intentions you know, all he wanted was for you to give him a chance and it was just flushed down the drain!” the man was fuming, unable to keep his voice level as his emotions got the best of him. soon the guys who were still getting dressed peeked out to see what all the commotion was about. a heavy silence falls between the two of you, tensions high. you feel small in front of him as he berated you about what happened with don. your eyes cast down, wringing your fingers as you tried to compose yourself.

don heard everything, watched as bobby yelled at you for everyone to hear— he should've stopped him, stopped him from even approaching you in the first place but he couldn't, he froze in his spot the second he saw you, he felt *awful*— what happened a few days ago on the back burner. it wasn't until it was over don suddenly gained feeling in his legs again. he hadn't felt this nervous since their race in the olympics. as he nears the two of you he hears you speak up. voice small and meek.

"i deserved that."

their coxswain huffs– brows furrowed “you know what you don’t deserve? his forgiveness because—“

“that’s enough bobby.” don rests his hand on his friends shoulder, motioning for him to go. bobby was hesitant but reluctantly, he leaves but not before giving you another glare. that leaves you with don, the resting frown on his face as he looks at you– you avoid his eyes, sheepish and feeling embarrassed for what happened. you didn't even know how to begin, you weren't sure if he would even listen to you, give you the time of day but you wouldn't know unless you tried.

“don i–“

“let’s take a walk hm?” he starts past you before you have a chance to reply, following after him as he walks down the port. there’s knots piling in his stomach as he walked ahead, his fists balled so tight in his pockets they began to feel numb, he had no idea how to go about this. he wasn’t even sure if he was ready to forgive you— but after seeing you get yelled at and berated by bobby, something inside him felt off. he couldn’t stay mad at you forever, the least he could do is hear you out.

the water splashing against the wooden beams of the deck fills the silence as don stops at the end, his back facing you. hands stuffed in his pockets and heart heavy. he didn’t say anything as moments pass so you take it as your cue to speak.

“don… i know i have no place in apologizing but i’m sorry and i understand if you never want to talk to me or forgive me for what i did” you pause for moment, watching his back– waiting for him to say something but you’re met with silence so you continue.

“i-i really wanted to go with you, i did! i was looking forward to it all week… i had a dressed picked out and everything! but when the day came—" you fault for a moment, your hands fiddling with your sleeves. eyes cast down "m-my parents called and my sister got into an accident… i went home for a couple of days and the whole time i was there; i just felt horrible for leaving you, and knowing how much i hurt you. i would make it up to you any way i can if you let me…”

the silence was deafening, you try your best from losing composure and crying on the spot. overcome with emotion— the silence was killing you as you waited for don to say something, anything— he could tell you he didn’t want to see you ever again and that would be enough for you.

"is your sister alright?" you let out a sound of surprise when he asked, doe eyes looking at him. he’s turned around now– the sun setting a glow that illuminates against his figure. you eyes focus on his face, nose slightly red from the cold.

"yes, she's perfectly fine now." you nod, wringing your hands. tears threatening to spill as you look at him.

don turns to look at you with a mix of emotions, his eyes filled with hurt and longing. you can see the conflict in his expression as he tries to process what you've said. after a moment of silence, he takes a step closer to you, closing the distance between you.

“you really hurt me you know.” he utters, voice fragile.

“yes and i would do anything to remedy that—” you’re desperate for his forgiveness, your voice sounding aspirated as you tell him. you’d go to the ends of the earth just for him to forgive you.

“and yet no matter how much i felt hurt by you, i couldn’t get you out of my mind.” he confesses, his voice soft and vulnerable. "i was angry and disappointed, but deep down, i still cared about you."

tears well up in your eyes as you listen to his words. the weight of the misunderstandings and missed opportunities of that day feels heavy on your shoulders. you reach out and gently take don's hands in yours, holding them tightly.

"i'm so sorry, don," you whisper, your voice filled with remorse. "i never meant to hurt you, i should’ve told you somehow… i’ve never regretted anything more in my life.”

don's grip on your hands tightens as the other dabs at the tears that fallen on your cheeks, his gaze never leaving yours.“i’ve never felt this way about anyone y/n, i hope you realize. you plague my mind day and night, these past few days where i was supposed to be upset with you; i was worrying if something bad happened, how you were feeling, what you were thinking.” he confesses, sorrow and regret lacing his voice “i thought what happened that day would make me loathe and resent you for hurting me… but i could never hate you, i can’t let what happened define our relationship.”

you look up at him with a glimmer of hope. you watch as he takes a deep breath, standing ever so closely.

“i want us to start again.” dons eyes shine a soft amber as he looks down at you, the sun encasing his features with a soft glow. illuminating the freckles that litter his face; imitating a galaxy of stars. he’s a dream come true.

a smile tugs at the corners of your lips as you feel a sense of relief wash over you. his expression softens as he sees the smile he’s come to adore so much, the tension that had been building between you starts to dissipate, replaced by a sense of hope and comfort.

“i promise, i will never hurt you like that ever again.” you say, your voice filled with earnest. don feels as if hes back in the common room with you, talking to you for the first time. he’s lovestruck and there was nothing that could happen that would get rid of it. he’s sure you’ll never do anything to break his trust again, your devotion now so clear to him.

“i know.” a crooked grin plastered on his lips, his arms wrapping around you in a soft but tight embrace. as if he were to let go you’d be gone again. he felt content, all the stresses from the week leaving him as he’s in your arms. a feeling he will never tire of.

“so how should we properly start again?” you breathed, your face incredibly close to dons. a soft flush crawling on your neck as you flicker from his lips to his eyes, him doing the same. it feels as if time stops as you share this moment together, drawing closer until your lips touch. the kiss is slow and tender— moving slowly as he relished on the way your lips feel on his. they’re soft and plush, fitting perfectly against his, like a breath of fresh air. he thought about what it would feel like to kiss you but nothing could compare his thoughts to the real thing. it was just you and him. his his hands rest against on your hips pulling you flush against him, your arms around his neck as he slightly dips you back. passion growing ever so slowly as he continues to kiss you, his kisses becoming more heated, the addictive feeling of your lips on his. he couldn’t get enough of you.

you break away from him reluctantly, mirrored heavy breaths as you look at each other with affectionate gazes. he clears his throat, composing himself. he pushes your hips back to create space between you. trying to fight the nerving urge to kiss you again as he looked at your rose tinted lips.

“i propose we properly take advantage of this winners bliss everyone keeps talking about.” a giggle escapes you as you embrace him again, this time he twirls you, in your own little world—happy with a profound adoration for each other. the sun setting behind you, painting the sky with hues of orange and pink.

the fact they won gold really hitting him now, considering he had a win of his own.

bonus.

“bobby! what could i do for you?” your brows jump in surprise as you look up from the book you’re reading, you had thought it was don since the spot you were in wasn’t as well known, the last person you expected to see was bobby.

“i just wanted to apologize about what happened… a week ago.” he trails off, looking sheepish in front of you. a stark contrast to the man that defended his friend so willingly against you.

“did don send you here?” you tease, a playful smile on your lips. bobby huffs, denying immediately. no, don did not send him to apologize. he came on his own accord, after what happened that evening. don was lovesick the moment he entered the dorms and bobby felt terrible for what he had did, even if he thought you deserved it at the time. he knows now that you make his friend happy and that’s all he cared about.

“don’t worry bobby, i forgive you. i needed that berating, i deserved it. you’re a really good friend to don you know.” you state matter-a-factly. looking at him with appreciation, bobby’s chest puffs at your praise. he crosses his arms over his chest, proud.

“oh i know, i was the one who encouraged him to go for it remember?” you laugh, nodding.

you guess you have bobby to thank for this, you'd have to mention this to don later... speaking of you'd have to tell you're friends about your new lover... speaking of friends:

“hey you’re not seeing anyone by chance?” you suddenly ask, bobby falters—taken aback from your question.

“uh, no. why?” he responded, his head quirking in curiosity from the sudden and a bit uncalled for question.

“no reason, i just feel like a friend of mine would really like you.” you shrug, returning to your book. bobby takes the book from your hands, resting it on the table.

he takes a seat across from you, his hands laced together. as if in a business meeting “say no more, what’s her name?”

he’s all in.

(this is how you and bobby became bffs btw.)

stars ending-ment! i honestly love how this came out and omg is this a segway to a bobby fic????? who knows... it could be hehe. (lmk if you guys would want that lol)

ownership of starrvsn. please do not repost, modify or translate.

#(⁠´⁠ー⁠｀⁠) the boys in the boat #don hume #the boys in the boat #the boys in the boat imagines #don hume imagines #don hume x reader #fanfiction #x reader #don hume fanfiction #jack mulhern #the boys in the boat fanfiction

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kitkat-the-muffin · 1 month

Text

Tis a niche of its own

Sorry there is only two female characters, I kinda pulled these off the top of my head and probably missed a ton of other candidates. Reblog with an addition if you have one!

Edit: I forgot to make this poll a week long! Once this poll ends I'll remake it with new additions depending on the results (the characters with the fewest results will be replaced with suggested characters from the notes so be sure to suggest some!) in the meantime tho plz reblog to increase sample size

This follows my own definition of what "Comic Relief" means: A character that is used as a conduit for comedy in a piece of media

Through character studies I have determined that there are 5 types of comic relief: the Character Relief, the Audience Relief, the Tone Shifter, the Butt of the Joke, and the Slapstick. Characters that identify as "Comic Relief" usually fall into one or more of these categories

Further explanation under the cut

The Character Relief refers to a character who actively makes jokes to be funny in-universe through conscious humor. Examples from this poll would be Sans and Rayla, who go out of their way to make their friends laugh

The Audience Relief refers to a character who makes the audience laugh regardless of their impact on the story. Examples from this poll would be Lapis and Gus, who are often involved in comedic bits meant for audience entertainment that aren't acknowledged by the narrative as anything unprecedented

The Tone Shifter refers to a character who makes jokes to relieve tension and shift the tone of a scene, either consciously or unconsciously. Examples from this poll would be Jay and Leo, as they both consciously make jokes about grim situations to help their friends or family feel better. Additionally, Jay would do this unconsciously before his trauma made him start doing it on purpose

The Butt of the Joke refers to a character who is made fun of by other characters in-universe, whether endearingly or not. Examples from this poll would be Dewey and Lance, who are often met with insults whenever they do something wrong or silly. The insults are usually meant to be endearing and comedic, but they can still feed into the character's possible inferiority complex. This also applies whenever a villain hits them with a sick burn*

The Slapstick refers to a character who is made fun of by the narrative and the audience like a punching bag. Examples from this poll would be Sokka and Yusuke, who are sometimes put in troubling and awkward situations as a gag for the audience's entertainment alone. These gags are not fun for the characters yet delightful to watch

Most comic relief characters can be characterized as multiples of these. For example, Jar-Jar from Star Wars is both Slapstick and Audience Relief, and even if you don't find his jokes funny that doesn't change the fact that they were written with your entertainment in mind

If you're curious how a "The Narrative's Favorite (derogatory)" character would fit into this chart, they're likely both a Butt of the Joke and a Slapstick character, making their life absolute hell. To be honest, MK from Monkie Kid is an example of a character who fits all 5 categories, but he isn't blue so he isn't in this poll

*Ok if you've ever seen Phineas and Ferb Mission Marvel let me just say MODOK is a total Butt of the Joke and my favorite line in that special is when a TV announcer calls him a "Giant Chicken Egg with a Face" and I just had to mention that omg

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cloverstayy · 3 months

Note

Helloooooo, may I please request Chan’s reaction to reader having another groups tattoo?

I’m a Chan biased but have a Vernon inspired tattoo on my ribs

Thank you so much for this suggestion, Anon! I've got quite a few tattoos myself, (no SKZ ones...yet) one of them being a Fall Out Boy-related tattoo and I think I'd cackle listening to Pete freak out over me having another band's or group's tattoo. So, I kind of took the humorous route with this one and I hope that's okay! I also hope you enjoy it just as much as I did writing it.

I also apologize for how ridiculously long this got. 😂 I kinda let myself get carried away, but I think those kind of stories are the best anyways!

If you enjoyed this one, please, please reblog! I honestly do a little happy claps when I see anyone reblogging or interacting with my content. All the warm and fuzzies!

STORY RATING E for everyone.

TYPE Slice of life...I think?

CONTENT WARNING Quite literally nothing to note. Use of explicit language, but tons of comedic humor and just a smidge of fluff!

W/C 6,063

“I can only imagine the photos she took of you, JK.” Chan snorted, leaning his head against his fist which was propped up on several pillows.

JK stayed quiet for a moment, shaking his head at Chan before something began to develop across his expression, “Let me get back at her.”

Chan sat up, a bit perplexed at the request JK was propositioning, “What’dya mean?”

Chan and you have been dating for the better part of a year and at this point, there isn’t much he hasn’t seen of you.

More than that, he’s asked about almost every single tattoo you have. Its honestly how you both became acquainted, actually.

He saw your obnoxiously bright dinosaur tattoo from some distance away; making his way over to you and managing to pull one of the smoothest attempts you’d ever seen any man manage to use to get your attention.

He was clearly successful, for transparency’s sake.

You were on vacation in Australia and enjoying your time beachside. Little did you know, Australia was his home country. There you were, minding your own business while waiting in line for a snow cone when Chan couldn’t help himself whatsoever from full bore running and stopping suddenly behind you in linewhen you immediately became aware of the labored panting of someone standing behind you.

Letting curiosity get the better of you, while still trying to play it off as complete disinterest, you turned slightly around to see a man bent almost in half as his eyes were glued on you. But don’t get it twisted, he wasn’t looking you in the eyes, not yet anyways. He was staring at you, his eyes feeling as though they were transfixed on your left arm.

Glancing around, expecting someone to have been chasing him or something…

Why the hell is this man panting so much?

After assessing your surroundings and realizing no one was actually chasing him, that he for some reason was behind you and panting up a storm like a dog after a run, you felt your brows furrow together before deciding to evaluate this seemingly poor man’s condition.

“Um, are you okay?”

It was only then his eyes snapped up to yours fully when he flashed one hell of a rage-inducing smile in your direction, sliding his hands from his knees and up to his hips as he stood up straight.

Who does this man think he is smiling like THAT?!

“Yeah, yeah! I’m great. How are you?”

Sheer confusion must’ve washed over your face as one of your brows pitched upwards, “Are you serious?”

This man couldn’t get anymore attractive to you at this point, you’re sure of it, but all of a sudden you’re pretty sure you witnessed the heaven’s opening up and the sound of angels began to fill your ears.

Okay, thats a bit of an exaggeration. He was…he was giggling. And he was doing it at you.

“I’m quite serious, actually. You getting a snow cone, too?”

“I’m in the line, aren’t I?”

The giggling you still weren’t sure wasn’t the heaven’s choir belting out your new favorite song of the summer, picked up briefly before settling, “You are.”

Shaking your head a few times, attempting to dislodge whatever spell this man had seemed to put you under, you just blink at him. Several times, “Can I help you with something?”

There he stood, his stupid smile on his stupid face with his stupid laugh. And he just smiled at you again before you saw him quirk his head to the side, raising his eyesight above your head, “Can I get 2 pineapple and cherry snow cones, man?”

Oh my god.

Did he just? Yes. Yes, he did indeed step in front of you. And still dazed as you you were, you spun slowly around with your toes digging into the sand and saw that he definitely had ordered for you.

Well, maybe he didn’t. Its entirely possible he ordered 2 for himself.

How long had you been looking at him like he had 2 heads and a halo?

Couldn’t have been more than a few seconds. But maybe it was longer than that and your turn had actually come up and instead of being vigilant, you waffled and he decided to just step ahead of you?

Amidst the poor attempt at logical reasoning you were facing in lieu of this man’s behavior, the smell of sticky sweet pineapple invaded your senses as you realized he was holding the other snow cone he’d ordered. But he was holding it in your face.

“Um, is that for me?”

Blinking your way out of disassociation, you glanced at the snow cone held tightly in his hand before looking up to him for confirmation.

“Sure is. My name is Chan, by the way. Or Chris. I honestly respond by both.”

Still unsure of what this man’s intentions were, but not above refusing a snow cone that you didn’t actually have to pay for, your hand slowly moved to take the snow cone.

Hesitantly, you wrapped your fingertips around the bottom part of the paper cone which cradled the sweet treat. Your hand inevitably came into contact with his as you did but…this man wasn’t letting go…not yet, anyways.

“Name’s Y/n. Is this how you typically pick up the ladies or am I the exception?”

Regaining your ability to speak and contribute to the conversation, you applied just a bit more force to the snow cone, pulling it out of his grip as he let out another angelic giggle before releasing it.

And the rest is history. Or so they say.

He asked you about a 100 questions about your tattoos, at least the ones he could see with relative ease as you were wearing an off white sun dress that hit right below your knees. He admitted to you that he’d love to get an entire sleeve of tattoos, but had no idea where to start, but that he was amazed by yours. You were flattered, really.

Of those 100 questions, of course, 2 of them were him asking you on a more formal date and asking for your number.

Up until this point, you knew Chan had seen all of you. You two had had sex. Showered together. Hell, you two had even cuddled naked together and how the hell had he never, ever noticed this one particular tattoo was beyond you.

You’re still not even certain how you’ve managed to make it an entire year without Chan having at least glimpsed at it. But there he was, arms crossed on the living room sofa, looking at you with one of the most unimpressed and unamused looks he’s ever given you.

“Christopher.”

“Y/n.”

“What do you want me to tell you? I’ve had this tattoo for years. Its not my fault you ever noticed it.”

He huffed out a breath, “You never disclosed it, either.”

You couldn’t help the bark of a laugh that ripped through you, almost sending you to the floor, “DISCLOSURE?! Christopher, you’ve got to be fucking with me right now.”

“And what if I’m not?”

“Then I’d asking you what in the fresh hell is actually wrong with you for being upset with me having a BTS tattoo!”

If Chan could’ve managed to roll his eyes any further back into his head, you’re pretty sure you would’ve been making a call to the paramedics, fearing that either his retina’s had detached or he was experiencing a seizure.

“Its not just a BTS tattoo, Y/n.”

“Roll your eyes at me one more goddamned time or so help me god, Christopher.”

His expression was so deadpan, you were certain he’d end up turning to stone with his appearance.

“It’s not just a BTS tattoo, Y/n.” He repeated, doubling down by readjusting his crossed arms and exchanging his man-spread position on the loveseat to throwing one leg over the other.

“This is because its about JK, isn’t it? Did he tease you about this or something?”

His eyes widened, “Why would he tease me about your tattoo, Y/n?!”

Oops.

You may or may not have told Chan about the time you had met BTS years and years ago while working at a HYBE event prior to and most certainly before knowing Chan or even Stray Kids existed.

And you most definitely did not tell him about the fact that you ended up working for BTS a few summers after having met them, doing event coordination for HYBE. And you were positive you never even mentioned to Chan that you got the tattoo as apart of a dare that you dared JK with. The means by which you managed to coerce JK into getting said tattoo was the embarrassing part.

It had never come up in conversation as he had clearly never noticed the tattoo you had on the inside of your right ring finger. Yes, it was small. But so was JK’s.

Yeah. He most assuredly had no clue JK also had a tattoo that was very similar to the one you had, but also different.

“Y/n…why would JK tease me about your tattoo?” He repeated, his arms slowly uncrossing themselves as he propped himself off the back of the couch with his hands.

“Uh…I-uh…Ihonestlyhavenoidea?” You presented him with your best attempt at a shit eating grin as you could muster, choosing to slowly make your way to the armchair that sat opposite of the loveseat.

“Should I just call JK?”

There it was. The threat followed by the growing smirk bubbling across his face as he began to formulate the beginnings of how this tattoo made it’s way to your finger.

“Oh gosh, Chris, no! You don’t have to do that!” You smiled again, placing both of your elbows on your knees as you threw your head into your hands and leaned forward into his space.

“No?” He’d managed to shift all the way to the edge of the loveseat’s cushion before he began to lean into your space.

“Nope.” You squeaked out as you began to slowly find yourself sitting back up, your hands removing themselves from under your chin as your back straightened.

“Y/n…don’t lie to me.”

“Chris, this is silly! It’s just a silly little tattoo.”

Clearing his throat, he stood on his feet and looked down at you. You had to crane your head upwards to meet his glance, feeling all the bits of unease and panic he was forcing you to feel.

Please do not call JK. Please do not call JK.

You kept uttering that phrase like it was some sort of new age mantra; repeating it over and over inside your head and hoping to whatever creator out there that Chan could hear you.

You fucking knew he couldn’t.

Like an 80’s montage but without the cheesy music and all the slow-motion action you could tolerate, Chan pulled his phone from his back pocket. And suddenly, the fast forward button had been activated as the speed with which he dialed JK was similar to that of a cheetah securing dinner for the evening.

“Chris! Come on, baby. It is not that serious! Had I known you were going to react like this, I would’ve said something a LONG time ago!” You pleaded, jumping to your feet and wrapping your arms around his waist.

He only glanced down at you before you heard the click of the other line and JK’s voice came through the speaker, “Yo, Chris! What’s up man?”

Chan cocked an eyebrow as he took his free arm and wrapped it around your waist, all but securing your body against him as he spoke, “Hey JK! Nothing much. I’ve got a question for you.”

A choked whimper was suddenly caught in your throat as you all but slammed your head into Chris’ chest, more or less embarrassed at the story he would be told about the origins of this stupid tattoo and less worried he’d be actually upset with you.

“What’s up, man?”

“Do you happen to know a Y/n L/n?”

There was a brief moment of silence and what sounded like shuffling of some kind on JK’s end, “Yeah…yeah, I do. Wait, why do you ask?”

Chan’s eyes looked down at you once again. He placed a perfunctory kiss to the top of your head because he couldn’t manage to make eye contact with your face to place one on your forehead. It was still pressed firmly to his chest as you now tried to wriggle out of his grasp.

“Well, she’s my girlfriend and…” Chan was cut off almost immediately by JK.

“Woah! Girlfriend?! You’re dating Y/n-ah? Bro, how long?”

“Just a little over a year. I love her to absolute bits.” He spoke, his voice just above a whisper as he leaned his head down so his lips would brush right against your ear while he spoke. This said whisper rattled you way more than it should have, but you knew that was the sole purpose of Chan doing it in the first place.

“Christopher, I swear to god. Please. Don’t.” Your words were so muffled and you knew Chan couldn’t understand you, but he began to giggle. The same fucking giggle that reminded you of Baby Jesus and Holy Hymns and Angels and shit.

“Congrats, man! She’s awesome. She worked for us for a bit!”

Chan’s arm only tightened around your midsection as you acquiesced to his grip, slowly coming to terms with the fact that he would soon hold the exceedingly mortifying knowledge of how you obtained the very tattoo in question in just mere moments.

“Oh, you don’t say!” He quipped, slowly turning the both of you in a circle by means of swaying side to side.

“Yeah! We met her forever ago through an event HYBE was holding and she ended up doing some event coordination stuff for us for about a year or two. She was fucking phenomenal. She doing okay? Why’d you ask?” JK’s tone sounded equal parts concerned and confused.

“Well, if I happened to say something about a tattoo, would that ring any bells?”

And with that, the loudest and most obnoxious laugh tore through the speaker as JK broke out into a fit of laughter, which only caused Chan to all but pick you up with the arm wrapped around you.

However, JK quickly managed to calm himself before you were actually lifted off the floor, “Oh man. Yeah, yeah that rings a bell. Why?”

“Well, you know she’s got a lot of tattoos…” Chris pauses, awaiting confirmation from JK.

“Of course.”

“And somehow, that little tattoo never managed to come up in conversation in the last year or so and well, today it has and I’m just curious about it. Y/n isn’t being as forthcoming about it as I’d imagined she would be.”

“Well, that makes sense that she hasn’t been,” He let out another brief laugh,” Is she there with you right now?”

Chan looked down at you, realizing that you had readjusted your head to keep your eyes on him, the pleading expression remaining permanently affixed on your face. The look he presented you with, however, was expectant one. And he expected you to answer.

“Hey JK.” You squawked, pressing your forehead against Chan’s chest once again.

“Y/n-ah! I had no idea you were dating Chan-ssi!”

“Well you know me, so good at keeping those secrets!”

Chan squeezed you tighter as your eyes shot up to meet his, brows furrowing together. The force of his constant entrapment finally caused you to mouth the word “ouch” to him.

———

THE DAY PRIOR…

“Hey man, long time no see!” JK greeted Chan, bringing the other into his embrace via their joined hands, but only briefly before they broke apart just as quickly.

“Oh, it hasn’t been that long, has it?” Chan pondered, questioning whether it had really been longer than he had remembered since he saw JK last.

JK nodded, taking a seat on his couch, throwing his body against it and suggesting Chan take a seat in the couch opposite him.

Chan obliged, pulling his keys and phone from his back pocket before doing so. However, once seated, he too fell backwards, allowing his back to meet the soft, plushy fabric of the couch as he settled in.

“Its been,” JK paused, one eye squinting in thought before it popped open, “At least 6 months.”

“6 months!” Chan chirped, grabbing the water bottle that had been set out for him. The sound of the plastic lid coming apart from the seal cracked under his palm as JK hummed in affirmation.

“Yep, I mean, we’ve definitely talked since then but we haven’t properly hung out in a while. Dude, how have you been? You and the kids are killing it out there! I’m so proud!” JK smiled, his lip ring catching the shine of the overhead track lighting.

Chan palmed the back of his neck, only slightly embarrassed at the compliment while briefly grabbing one ear before placing his water back on the living room table, “Ah man. Thanks. The kids work so hard, they deserve it.”

JK shook his head, “You all deserve it. That includes you, Chan-ssi.” His eyes focused in on Chan, encouraging him to not argue in defiance of JK’s compliment.

“I appreciate that. We all work hard.”

JK glanced at Chan, a smirk crossing his lips before responding, “So, how are you and Y/n? I still cannot believe you snagged her.”

Chan couldn’t help the small chuckle that bubbled up from his chest, the mere thought of you still gave him butterflies and made him nervous. How had he managed to snag you was still a mystery to him, but he was so thankful for you regardless. He tried not to make much sense of it because when he attempted to do so, he often found himself perplexed for hours, comparing and contrasting almost every detail of the last year and a half of your courting and the subsequent official ascension of the relationship.

JK, surprisingly, had also been one of the first ones Chan had told about you. Well, of course after he talked with Lee Know and Changbin, who after meeting you only one time, were convinced you were the person Chan would eventually marry and only encouraged him to continue seeing you. Chan would hush them every time they made those comments, not wanting to even put that jinx out into the universe. Of course, he would want to make you his forever, but he knew the both of you needed just a bit more time together as boyfriend and girlfriend before he even thought about asking you to be his wife.

“She’s fantastic,” The words left Chan a bit airy, almost as though he was describing how you managed to make him feel on a daily basis, “ We are doing great. She’s always challenging me and the kids, but is great at helping me decompress and she’s so, so creative. And well, utterly fucking beautiful.”

JK smiled again, though his lips stayed softly pressed together before he spoke, “She’s good for you. I can see the difference.”

Chan’s gaze shot up from his feet, where they had been planted while he spoke about you, “Really?”

JK adjusted his position, throwing his legs over the edge of the couch as his feet firmly pressed against the stone flooring of his apartment, sitting up and leaning against the back as he did.

“Yeah. You just have this air about you dude. You come across way less…encumbered with the weight of quite literally everything. Which, I suppose makes sense,” JK winked in Chan’s direction, “You’re not carrying it all yourself anymore.”

Chan took a moment to really think about JK’s words and his gut response was to say that he was still the same old Chan he was before he met you. But, just as quickly as that impulsive assessment flew into his brain, it flew right out and was replaced with the knowledge that he was finally sharing the weight of life with…you. And sure, he let the kids carry some of the weight from time to time, but never wanted them to ever feel quite the same pressures he faced. He was the leader, after all, and that was his responsibility. But once you walked into his life, or rather he ran up to your’s, the weight eventually didn’t seem as heavy as it once did. And maybe that’s what JK really meant.

Chan’s face had softened in thought, his eyes casting downwards once again as JK let a brief chuckle slice through the comfortable silence between the two men, “I mean look at you, dude. You’re head over fucking heels for this one. When’s the wedding?”

JK always knew how to really wind Chan up, always saying just the kinds of things that would be only slightly out of pocket, but would still manage to make Chan flustered-or annoyed-depending on the context.

“Dude, shut the fuck up. Its too early for that.” Chan threw a pillow at JK, who easily caught it with another laugh.

“Just make sure I get an invite, yeah?”

Chan rolled his eyes, “Yeah, yeah. Of course you’ll get an invite, you ass.”

Both the boys laughed, sharing a moment of silence together before Chan was quickly reminded of something he wanted to ask JK about, “Y’know, that reminds me of something I wanted to ask you about.”

JK perked up, “Alright. Hit me.”

“So Y/n has this tattoo on the inside of her finger…on her right hand and I’m almost certain its the only one she’s never told me about. I remember seeing it one night when we were watching a movie on the couch. I was holding her hand and saw it and realized that it looked awfully familiar to one I’d seen before.”

Chan took a sip of water before continuing, “I know you have something to do with this. So spill.”

The almost instantaneous laugh that ripped from JK was jarring, causing Chan’s face to contort into a mixture of amusement and intense curiosity.

Without missing a beat, JK leaned over the small distance between him and the coffee table, offering Chan a glimpse at the ring finger on his left hand, “Yeah, I know a thing or two about it.”

Chan’s eyes focused in, brows pinching together while he really studied the small banana peel tattoo JK donned, “She’s got the banana.”

Chan said it so matter of factly, not only because it was quite literally a matter of fact, but because it was so innocuous but also just really weird. Weird to the point that it drove Chan to to even ask JK about it in the first place.

“So she worked for us for almost 2 years, right?” JK inquired.

Chan nodded his head, remaining silent.

“Well, during that time she did mostly event coordination for us. So like, red carpet events, tour and hotel stuff, comebacks…all of that kind of stuff,” JK ran his hands through the mop of brown hair on his head, “Well, she also helped with the variety shows we do, but specifically the BTS one’s we did for Weverse and HYBE.”

Chan signaled understanding, the look of amusement and curiosity only growing as JK continued.

“We did this one show, and I can’t remember the exact details or…what the premise was now, but I was dressed up as a monkey.”

Chan couldn’t help the boisterous cackle that slipped out of his lips, his hand immediately flying over his mouth at the thought of JK dressed up as a monkey, “A monkey?!”

It was JK’s turn to roll his eyes at Chan, looking at him through his brows, “Yeah. A monkey.”

Chan was gasping for breath at this point, the mere thought of JK in such a predicament only creating a place just for this image in his brain to live rent free. JK, having finally tolerated enough of Chan’s squeaky laughter, threw a pillow at him and landed it square across Chan’s face.

Chan flew backward a bit, caught off guard by the sudden feeling of fabric against his face. Chan caught the pillow and slammed it down across his lap as he forced himself to calm, realizing JK was waiting on him so he could continue, “Alright, alright. You can continue.”

JK shook his head, “Well, a few days after we had done the recording for that episode, I came to find out it was her entire idea. Like, I’m talking the entire premise for the skit from start to finish. She even had me eating a fucking banana, bro.”

Chan stifled the laughter that was threatening to spill, realizing that he didn’t want to be assaulted by anymore couch cushions, “That sounds so much like Y/n.”

JK nodded, “Yeah. Well, when she found out I found out, I couldn’t stop giving her shit for it. It went on for months. At one point, I was calling her my Little Capuchin.”

Chan’s eyes almost bulged out of their sockets as he threw his head back and finally allowed the laugh he was trying to suppress to come out. He threw both arms over his face as he let his head fall to the back of the couch’s edge. After a few moments, and after the heaving of Chan’s chest began to return to baseline, it was only then he sat back up, ruffling his hair before running both of his hands over his face, “So, the tattoo. How, how in the hell did that come about?”

It was only then JK finally let out a brief fit of laugher himself, “A dare.”

Chan’s eyes narrowed in on the man sat across from him, “A dare?”

JK nodded, “It was close to her end with us as she was leaving HYBE to go do work elsewhere and we were all a little bit,” JK held up his pointer and thumb, almost pressing them together to exaggerate that they were the opposite of a little bit, “Drunk. It was then I suggested we get tattoos to signify not only the end of her time working with us, but one that would also make her laugh any time she looked at it. But Chan, when I tell you she was tipsy as hell, I’m honestly not exaggerating.”

Chan had only heard the stories you’d told him about your time in college, driving several frat houses under the table, but he was certain you’d not divulged this particular piece of information about how you managed to acquire a banana tattoo.

He also knew that your days of drinking had come to an abrupt end once you began work in Korea freshly out of college, often times traveling back and forth to the states doing so. You soon realized mixing drinking of any kind and jet lag were things that should never go together. Fuck that, you’d told him. So, you only chose to drink on very, very rare occasions and only times when you knew you’d not be on a intercontinental flight.

JK, noticing Chan’s slight confusion decided to provide a bit more clarification, “Let me preface that by saying, we were having a dinner celebration. Kind of like a send off. She’d only had 3 drinks, but for some reason they hit her hard.”

Chan nodded, feeling a bit more clued in to the context of the situation, “So, it was a dare?”

JK shook his head, “Yeah, kinda sorta? I mean, I was drunk, too. But I remember that I kept calling her Little Capuchin the entire evening and I also remember RM threatening to slap me if I wouldn’t stop.”

JK shook his head, a smile blooming across his face briefly at the memory before he resumed, “I’m pretty sure it was just her and I that ended up going to see my artist because he was still in his shop late at night. I remember standing there with her in the parlor, debating with her on what to get when she basically shouted that we should get bananas.”

Both Chan and JK erupted in laughter, agreeing that the entire situation most definitely sounded like you.

JK took a sip of his water and set it back down on the living room table, “I told her I wasn’t going to get a banana tattooed on me and she dared me.”

Chan held up his hand, waving it about to signal JK to pause, “Hold on. So she dared you?”

JK confirmed with a quick nod, “Yup. And if I didn’t, she told me she’d post all the behind the scenes photos of us, including me in that monkey outfit, on Weverse. I balked at her but she told me HYBE had given her explicit permission to do whatever she wanted with the photos, even before the episode released. She took some real stupid photos of me, Chan.”

JK palmed his forehead, shaking his head in the pithiest way possible before looking back up at Chan, “So there I was, getting a banana peel tattoo because she insisted I was the peel to her banana.”

“I can only imagine the photos she took of you, JK.” Chan snorted, leaning his head against his fist which was propped up on several pillows.

JK stayed quiet for a moment, shaking his head at Chan before something began to develop across his expression, “Let me get back at her.”

Chan sat up, a bit perplexed at the request JK was propositioning, “What’dya mean?”

“She doesn’t think you know a thing about this tattoo, right? Well, after she’d sobered up and I told her she basically blackmailed me into getting it, she was honestly mortified. She wouldn’t stop apologizing. It was only after I told her she was fine no less than 10 times and I wasn’t bothered in the slightest that she finally decided to listen to me, but I know the whole thing still embarrasses the shit out of her. And thats probably why she’s never told you about it. Its small and she just assumes you’ve not noticed it yet, I bet.” JK explained, offering a very valid reason for Chan to agree to his request.

“I mean, sounds entirely reasonable why she hasn’t then. So, what’s your idea?”

———

Chan leaned down, pressing a curt peck on the tip of your nose as you were now unable to smash your face into his chest.

“So, she hasn’t told you about the tattoo?” JK’s voice trilled through the phone still snug in Chan’s hand.

“Nope, sure hasn’t.” Chan’s less than impressed expression fell to you again, after he brought you down with him against the couch. You both fell against it with soft grunts, him forcing you to basically sit glued to his side.

“Ugh! Do you both have to do this to me right now? Its just a stupid tattoo!” You bellowed, trying your best to turn inwards towards Chan to hide your face in any capacity you could.

Both of the men began to laugh, almost in tandem. Almost like they both knew something you didn’t. Your suspicions only grew when Chan’s hold of you began to lessen to the point you were able to turn inwards and watch his face.

He had set his phone down on the coffee table in front of you both, his face was red from laughter and slightly wet from the rather amused tears that quickly followed. You could only assume JK looked exceeding similar to the way your boyfriend did in that very moment.

You sat up, straightening your posture and looked between the phone and your boyfriend several times before you realized the both of them were playing some sort of something with you still.

“I cannot believe you two.” It was your turn to roll your eyes so hard, certain your retinas would detach as you scooted a few inches away from Chan and crossed your own arms.

Chan heaved in a large amount of air, hearing what you said during the brief pause in both his and JK’s laughter that he turned to look at you. He noticed the considerable distance you had managed to make down the couch away from him as his laughter began to quell, JK’s soon followed suit.

“Oh Little Capuchin, don’t be upset!” JK guffawed, himself being taken over by laughter once again. You glanced over to Chan, an eyebrow raised, and it was ever apparent he was suppressing additional laughter himself.

“Fuck you, JK.” You felt the heat of embarrassment flood your face; your cheeks flushed a bright shade of crimson at the pet name you’d not heard in so long.

“Aw, c’mon! You’re the banana to my peel!” He quipped, Chan only sporting one hell of an tickled expression.

“I’m fucking done with you, two,” Your brows leveled in Chan’s direction, “You knew, didn’t you? He told you when you two hung out yesterday, didn’t he?”

Chan only shrugged, a massive grin appearing on his lips, “I mean, we might’ve discussed it?”

“Bahng Christopher Chan! Jeon Jun-Kook! You both are menaces and I hate you both!” You stuck your nose up towards the ceiling, turning a quarter of the way away from Chan with your arms tightly crossed into one another.

The boys continued their dumb giggling, Chan only taking just shy of a few more minutes before you heard him hang up the phone. The soft thud of his phone settling on the table was heard next, followed by the feeling of the couch dipping slightly behind you.

Chan positioned himself behind you, pressing his chest to your back as his arms meandered their way around your midsection. His angular chin found purchase between your neck and shoulder before he spoke.

“Baby girl, I knew you had that tattoo months and months ago. I had a feeling JK knew something about it because I remembered he had a very similar one to yours. I did ask him about it yesterday and he told me everything.”

His words vibrated against your collarbone as he spoke and without any warning, his hold on you tightened as he fell backwards against the couch, pulling you on top of him still with your back against his chest. Instinctually, feeling like you were going to fall, you threw your hands out in a feeble attempt to catch yourself, but you weren’t falling. Chan had a strong hold of you.

You let out a massive sigh, your chest pressing against the strength of Chan’s arms as you did before you broke the silence, “This is so fucking uncomfortable, Christopher.” You couldn’t help the exceptionally minuscule grin that began to creep its way through the hardened expression you were trying to maintain.

“Well, seeing you genuinely embarrassed over something you shouldn’t feel embarrassed about is uncomfortable to me, baby girl.” He stated plainly, like this was a fact you should’ve known from Day 1.

You turned your head towards his, which was now nestled into the spot between his neck and shoulder, your faces met briefly before you turned it back to look up at the ceiling, “God forbid.”

Chan’s embrace stiffened as he applied a bit more pressure to your midsection, causing you to yelp out a large puff of air.

The sound that emanated from you caused the both of you to erupt in your own fit of mindless cackling, “What kind of sound was that?!”

Chan couldn’t help the yell of a laugh that flew from him as he managed to sit the both of you up on his lap, your hands bracing on either sides of his arms at the rather uncoordinated effort. Successful, nonetheless.

“You squeezed the air out of me, Christopher!” You giggled, gently slapping the hand he had pressed against your abdomen.

“I am sorry, baby girl! You okay?” He peppered a few kisses against your shoulder before placing one on your cheek.

“I’m okay, Chris,” You paused as you wiggled your way off of his lap to sit next to him, though you left your legs draped over his knees, “You really got me going there for a second.”

He brushed a few stray hairs out of your face, placing a few behind your ear, “Well, you set it up pretty well, baby. Walked right into it, even.”

You rolled your eyes, not severely as last time and definitely lined with way more sarcasm that before, “Let me guess, it was JK’s idea?”

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wildglitch · 25 days

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What if Zombies!Spidey x DCU LETS GOOOOOOOOO-

O K-

So, This is the (Probably not the last, don't worry) post with ideas for my What If Zombies!Peter In the DCU AU. This is the post that (Finally) Focuses on the DC side of things. This post Is also going to be mainly focused on Peter and what he's up to cause he's the focus of this AU, but I’m probably gonna make another post with info on the other heroes, so If your interested in that, don't worry cause I am thinking about them (Bucky & Loki = Brainwashed bros)

Its also part 1 of Idk since this post kinda got away from me with its length (oops)

Anyways, without further adieu, let's start :D

-So! starting this off with something fun and not that serious that I just found out. this should have probably gone in the first post but I didn't know this until now so here, a +1 info on “facts about the zombie apocalypse” tm.

Ok, so at this point you know I like to play around with the timeline right? Ok so, I’m researching the dates and events things take place in right? Turns out, the snap happened in either May or June, and one source even said that it happened on May 31. Now, with this in mind and the fact that I said the apocalypse lasted between 7-8 months, what happens if you subtract 8 months from May? You get October. And if you add the date to it? Guys…I accidentally made it that the zombie apocalypse starts on Halloween! That's just insane!

The official timeline now is 8 months of the zombie apocalypse, no more no less, sorry, I don't make the rules :^ (omg I made Antman & the Wasp a halloween movie lmao. It fits)

-Alright so, Peter, Head Scott/w the cloke and T’challa are on a plane on their way to Wakanda when all of a sudden, well, how many of you seen the Young Justice Episode s1e19 Misplaced? (Btw have I talked about how much I love Billy batson? I will one of these days ok, and that's a threat) well anyways

Airplane squad: *”peacefully” traumatized on a plane to Wakanda

Airplane squad: *the people on the plane fucking fazes out of reality leaving him alone to fly the plane*

Peter: *Panik*

Peter: *feels a pull wanting to take him but fighting it off as he tries to fly a fucking plane*

Peter: *also fades out of reality but much later the other and is now falling to certain doom in the middle of the ocean*

Peter: “Oh What the F-”

Ya that-

I mixed aspects of the snap and scene from misplaced as their way of splitting up. And, they did split up. A high speed plane plus the time it took them to disappear firmly separates Peter from the rest of the heros. And thus the adventure commences

-unlike Billy who can fly, Peter falls head first at top speeds and a thousand meters high into the ocean. This can happen a few different ways

1) Peter is stranded, and is found by Young Justice or any superhero team that was passing through the ocean and thinks “Oh shoot, that's a child”. And this is how he ends up with the league. This one is kinda fast and there wouldn't be any identity reveal since at this point this Peter has no concept of such a thing. But a good way to work around this is memory loss. Not really my cup of tea but I can very much see this happening considering how hard he hit his head

2) …So Peter fucking dies-

Listen! I somehow started off with my 2 most opposite extremes of ideas, but hear me out. The fall? It kills him. But lets say that some cult or the league of assassins or some shit find his body, realize he’s a “meta” and decide “Yeah, this is a good revival candidate” And they revive the poor sucker. He is held captive HYDRA style and they try to turn him into a weapon. Obviously, he escapes, set free onto the world with a few months of trauma and a stolen one way ticket anywhere. And that anywhere just so happens to be Gotham. I’ll let your mind take it from there

3) This is the last version of events I’m gonna mention and I think this one is the one I'm sticking with, purely for the comedic potential I can see coming out of this. So Peter fought back the spell right? Well unlike the snap where he was fighting a force of nature were he would not have won, Peter was fighting Loki off, which,

Yeah, so since Loki had to focus on getting that idiot spider child to cooperate, he loses track of everyone else, and all of a sudden, the fuzzy mental image he had of everyone dissipates, and Peters becomes the full focus. This lets him save the kid from the crash, but he now doesn't know where all of the others are, including his brother, and now he can't really get to any of them.

Peter: Fighting off that staticy feeling that's trying to take him

Loki: *Genuinely struggling to get this non magic kid to corporate with him*

Loki: Damnit CHILD! I'm trying to save your worthless life!

Peter: *Legit almost wins and gets left by himself in the zombieland*

Loki: …What did they feed you?

-Peter is saved with a spell that's basically the bubble from steven universe but Loki style. He can breathe just fine, but he can't get out or call for hell. He spends many Hours like this.

-Ok so, Loki is a god. We have established this, I keep mentioning it (sorry) he himself brings this up multiple times. What is something gods tend to have sometimes? Avatars, people who act out their will on Earth. You see where I'm going with this? Since Peter is the only mortal from his world he has access to, and because he is stuck on the watchtower, he decides to make a deal with Peter to make him his Avatar and have him look for the others (Thor). Peter, after having most of the situation explained to him, accepts his offer, with a few conditions here and there that prevent Loki from taking full advantage of him. But at the end of the day, they are both desperate and accept the others' offers and conditions with little fuss.

-Deals and conditions for the avatar contract between Peter and Loki

Loki’s Mission: Find the other mortals and spread chaos as his agent Loki’s Offer: Slight magical aid, “ability boost”, Protection from other magical entities, Godly guide and knowledge and Loki wont force Peter into doing anything too grotesque Loki’s conditions for Peter: He will be able to access anything Peter is seeing and be able to take control of any situation if he sees it fit, he must go on the missions he sends him on, And if the situation ever truly demands it, he will listen to everything Loki tells him to do Peter’s Mission: Finding his friends and finding a cure to his world in this new one as Loki’s Agent. He must also make good impressions on other Magical being in this world as to not shame the god he’s representing Peter Offer: His loyalty and tentative trust, he won't argue too much and will do his absolut best to find Thor. he will Listen to Loki and do what he says Peter’s Conditions for Loki: Will become his Avatar as long as he gets to keep being a hero and doesn't have to hurt or kill people. He will only do a mission once a month, and he will not advertise the Avatar bit. Peter gets free will, He can refuse to do something as long as he isn't demanded of it.

With this, a hand shake, and some blood, The deal is made in the bubble in the middle of the ocean.

-Peter is now Loki’s Avatar, Moonknight style, Yay! They don't really like each other that much due to circumstance but it's fineeeeeee. I did this because 1) I thought of a scenario that didn't really make sense unless Peter was somehow talking to him 2) It’s a little nod to the fact most of the fics have the snapped souls with Peter on his adventure. I thought that this way he can still have his voice in his head , it's not that crowded because it's only one voice, and it's not that Intrusive because Loki isn't going to be with Peter 24/7 only when he needs him, he's using some of his powers, or when he can sense distress or danger coming from Peter- Other than that he's stuck at the watchtower trying to plan his next moves. And 3) Cause the thought came to me and i thought it was fucking Holirouse.

-With Some trickery, Peter sneaks onto a boat and spends his time hidden under the deck pretending and hides like a corner spider the whole trip

-Peter in his, Hasn't been around actual living breathing humans for such a long time, self, breaks down and cries at the docks. Coincidentally, The bats are doing a drug bust there and a wearhouse not 10 feet away from him blows up.

-Peter in his typical fashion, Puts on his mask and runs into the building looking for survivors.

-The bats, not knowing what happened, see’s this costume stranger helping the thugs get away and immediately clocks him as a villain. Opps

-They fight, misunderstandings happen and now, The friendly neighborhood Spider-Man Is on the front page as gothams hottest new Rogue. Well shit

-Peter being the smart guy he is, squats at an unoccupied apartment and claims it as his. Then Loki shows up after weeks of radio silence, takes one look at the place and says, hell nah, and fixes the place up with magic making the place more than livable. With some (probably magical) persuasion, the guy renting out the place actually puts him on the lease with 50 bucks of monthly rent. Does Peter feel guilty…well? Gotta roll with the punches man. Plus, this place looks nice, ignoring his 20 something neighbor that has enough blood on him to turn his white hair dye red that had sent his spider sense. This is fine.

-With some help from the voice in his head and walking through dark alleys at night, he finds a guy that works for immigration and was selling sketchy (But legit) identities. Not really trusting the guy but in desperate need and ID for the lease he was about to sign, He coughs up all the savings he had, took a Photo, and Ben P. Riley was born. He said he didn't trust the guy.

-Peter has decided to go by an alias for a few reasons, like not knowing if there was already another Peter Parker in this reality and not really wanting to risk it or the plain fact that he didn't really trust anyone in this new reality with it (Loki and his magical guidance, he has firmly decided to never give out his name so freely ever again). His name is one of the last things from his past life that he can call his own, And if his “Villainous” identity was revealed as Peter Parker, he didn't know if he could handle it. The most simple reason was that he just missed his family and wanted something in this new life he was making for himself to remind himself of them. Ofcourse, he still added that P in there middle so as to not completely erase himself.

-Peter spends a full month just trying to get used to living in a society again, This causes some problems and misunderstandings.

-After many series of misunderstandings and mishaps, everyone thinking he's evil, Peter decides, YK what's, If I can't beat them, join them. Peter starts going out as the “Villain Spider-Man” doing sketchy shit (normal teenage shit) and causing a commotion in Gotham. Peter counts this as his act of mischief and Loki agrees when he sees the kid sell his own photos to the newspaper. Peter isn't actually doing anything evil, it's just his presence that brings fear. The fact that the bats have caught him breaking into multiple high security facilities doesn't really help his case

-Peter spends his months looking through files and files of info searching for the others, but has just about no luck on anything.

-Peter, forced by a mission, goes undercover in Gotham prep to follow one of Loki’s leads. He doesn't really know what he's doing here, but this Tim guy is pretty nice

-Cause of the amazing pictures he keeps selling to the paper, the company hires him full time as their photographer for special events and even lets him write a few articles when they see the notes he puts next to his pictures that provide contexts and stuff like that. This job opens Peter to search to a whole new horizon.

-With Peter's new job, hes sent to many different cities which introduces him to many different people

-He meets Jimmy Olson on a trip to Metropolis and hits it off pretty well with the older man. Jimmy introduces him to his friends and coworkers Lois and Clark, both of whom are just a delegate. Though that Clark guy as not stopped setting of his spider sense since he met him

-The next place he went to was a city called Fawcett, where he was sent to help with a story with one of the local reporters who was apparently his age.

Boss guy: Ben, meet Billy. You two will be working together on the report for this years summer festival

The two sniff each other out as godly “employees” and exchange numbers. And thus, a friendship was born as Billy decided to keep an eye out for any other reality travelers, and Peter is put as one of his emergency contacts to help him get out of shit since he was “technically 20 according to his ID”

Peter: *Looks at Billy*

Billy: *Looks at ‘Ben’*

*Insert that one Spider-Man meme*

-Peter is also sent to Gothams sister city Bludhaven. Peter,ends up meeting a weird police officer that keeps expecting him to take pictures of the guy. But he's nice enough and bought him a hotdog and a cinnamon roll(even though he now thinks he's allergic to them), so the weird outweighs the good.

-On his trip to Bludhaven, Peter decides to go out as spider-man. Not to cause trouble, but to go sightseeing and swinging without the interference of a bat. He ends up sitting upside down on an old building (like that one Atsv scene) working on some leads he has when all of a sudden, Nightwing appeared right behind him dangling off the side of the building like a mad man giving him a heart attack. Nightwing is about to confront the spider after his sneak attack was caught, but before he does, Peter holds out the cinnamon roll towards the vigilante as a peace offering rushing out the words “Please don't hit me!” and Nightwing just stares. He stares long and hard looking between the treat and the Spider mask. Peter was about to run from them when Nightwing sort of just…sits. Or sits at the best of his abilities with no gravity defying powers. He actually does a pretty good job at it. Nightwing takes to offering with a nod and the 2 just sort of sit there in silence. It's awkward and weird, and quiet but for some reason he doesn't feel as uncomfortable as he thinks he should. Even less when he feels the ringing of his spider senses slowly die down as the minutes pass until it's just a constant hum at the back of his head

-They don't talk after that but from here is a turning point as to how the Bat clan view the spider.

More? Nay I say! (There will be a part 2 to this specific post, but it has gotten too long and I need to go to bed. So hopefully this will do for now :^) Plus this feels like agood stoping point since I feel like that ending would mark the ending to an arc

Please let me know what you think of this AU. I love seeing other people's ideas and thoughts. It fuels me lo

And make sure to keep an eye out for Part 2 of this post.

Later

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cup1dt3a · 10 months

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what if y/n or reader was the villain in the show welcome home puppet show and had a crush on one of the character

There was only one person who did this so far and i loved it

would the reader go easy on them or harder so no one would know

would they show concern when there crush is crying

would they stop there plans all together if they were asked by that person (only for a day maybe)

Tysm for the request and love the idea! And I’m doing this with 2 of the members in cast if that is ok because no on was specified on here and I just really want to write about Julie! Also this is fan content of welcome home that has nothing to do with the lore!

Oh to be the antagonist of this story is very “interesting”. You’re always the cause of the moral of the story on why doing whatever it was is bad. Or you just sabotage them throughout the show.

But mostly sabotaging the main character Wally Darling. Always messing up his paintings by adding yourself to the picture. Literally you just crudely draw yourself right beside him. Even going as far as to cross a few of his friends out or replace their heads with yours. While always leaving a signature evil as yours right next to his with a little heart. All over yours and his neat signature. Sometimes putting a heart around both your signatures as a way to circle them. You thought it was cute and a sweet sorry. While Wally was sometimes annoyed by this you would always cut him off before he could say anything.

Most of the time apologizing with “ I’m so so very very sor-sore- sarh- sarh-I think I’m gonna puke! SORY! I said it now you can’t be mad at me…oh geepers my tummy is all topsy turvery now I hope your happy!”

Yes for comedic purposes you could never say sorry without almost puking it was a curse and a gift.

You would always go the hardest on him. No matter where or who he was with Wally would always be your main target. He was just so much fun to mess with. Such as putting the blame on him in Howdy Pillar’s shop by stealing an apple from its once neat stand. Leaving a mess for the yellow man to have to clean up himself. As they all fall you disappear with a clever disguise. Glasses and a mustache. The perfect disguise no one can recognize you! Well kinda? Howdy and Frank always know it’s you and you have no idea how. You fooled Julie and Barnaby with it. Even Wally you think? So how are they exposing you like that!?

For anyone else maybe a few pranks here and there but Wally oh dear sweet Wally will always be victim to your harshest pranks.

But Wally was also the only person you ever listened to that made you stop your devious plans all together. One little “ No, not today Neighbor.” And you’re done for. Fully defeated, and devastated that your plans were cancelled. Not really to be honest you could always do them next time.

Crying. Is something you’d never really try to make anyone do. Really it’s all harmless fun until someone gets hurt. And if Wally do happened to get hurt or start crying your the one who is literally comforting him. Pulling out tons of tissues from your pocket. Panicking over the fact that you made him cry. So you’ll disappear for a few days and go very and almost too easy in everyone especially Wally for once.

You were once again in your unnoticeable disguise. The same one you always wore as you walked around the colorful road of the neighborhood to find Wally. You the came upon the man asking what to paint. Excitedly rushing over onto his shoulder.

“ I think you should paint me~!” you announced dramatically catching the blue haired man off guard.

“ Sure neighbor.” He said gaining his composure now catching you off guard.

Now this was a surprise as you blushed. You quirked your eyebrow at his calmness and to the fact that he willingly without hesitation said he would paint you.

“ Fine then…stranger! Paint me as if I’m the most amazing person in the world! Because I am!” You proclaimed in a dramatic pose.

“ Whatever you say ___.” He said with a sigh as he started to paint catching you fully off guard.

You panicked declaring an answer on how he knew it was you.

“ You use the same disguise and put a different mustache on every time you’re doing something no good.” He said as you huffed.

You thought no one would notice especially with the purple mustache. Come on it was purple and very long and pointy too. And you even got different shoes. This is so unbelievable the nerve of that pretty man!

To be the antagonist of the story and have Julie as your main “victim” is the hardest thing ever. She always laughs and says “ Oh neighbor you’re so silly!” or “ Can you teach me how to do that!?” and even “ Hear let me help you I know an easier way to do that.”

She is too nice to you. She even laughs when you’re doing your evil laugh too! It throws your whole vibe off! You’re supposed to be the evil villain that strikes fear and misery. Not the joke of a villian with some stupidly adorable blonde who always helps and complements you! No she’s supposed to fear you not hug you right after you just tripped over falling face first from your epic exit!

With Julie you go harder on her than anyone else! Not because you like her no it’s because you hate that she is supper nice and supportive; She’s always trying to help you become a better person and…she needs to be stopped. Julie is always thought rushed away from you when Frank is near. The man pulls her away as she tells you “ Bye ___! Hope you have a good day!”

“ Guys I think they just need a chance!” She’ll say while being told “ THEY JUST TRIED TO TRICK HOWDY INTO GIVING THEM OWNER SHIP OF HIS OWN SHOP!”

Making Julie cry is the worst thing you could ever do. Literally if you’re the reason she cried or because you ran into the always happy blonde crying you better give her a hug. It’s technically illegal not to. She is just a ball of pure sunshine that is too nice. If you don’t hug or try to comfort her you’re a heartless monster at that point. But if you are the reason she cried because of you. Do not show your face for a few days. Never show your face again you monster!

“ Hey Julie….Um so I’m sorry about what happened yesterday… I brought you flowers.” You sighed as you handed her the huge bouquet of all her favorite flowers.

“Listen I swear I didn’t mean to ruin that feild of flowers…my Poison-inator3000 somehow malfunction and-“ “ Oh Neighbor! You’re the best!” She gasped hugging you around the neck with a loving squeeze.

She happily smiled at you as you just stood in show with the bouquet still in your hands. You slowly hugged her unsure how to huge her in your akward position and mental state. The sweet blonde is hugging you. Repeat the sweet adorable blonde is hugging you.

Sorry for the wait I’ve been busy recently. So expect me to post more often! Hope you’re all doing well or things are getting better!

Sincerely-Cup1dT3a💕

#julie joyful #wally darling #welcome home x reader #julie joyful x reader #wally welcome home #julie joyful welcome home

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perfectlyfinespacebacon · 7 months

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everything now netflix

some spoilers!! and apologies for the long post.

i honestly really enjoyed it! it was almost like a skins/euphoria but imbued with like a heartstopper/sex education vibe in the sense that it dealt with serious teenage issues/mental health but light enough that it doesn't weigh down on you. my character thoughts:

mia was so infuriating almost at all times. obviously under the circumstances, it makes sense but there's this level of likeability that was missing for me. maybe it was the writing or the acting who knows but in my mind it's like this: im making an albeit an unfair comparison to effy from skins or even rue from euphoria, but they were battling their demons and making all the wrong choices but there was still this level of “i want to root for them” that's missing with mia personally.

in a similar vein with alison, she is meant to be this popular rich mean girl archetype who surprises you but obviously in the first half of the season she's supposed to be kind of unlikeable but i found her very endearing. as for the relationship, alison and mia DO NOT belong together. like at all. i am not rooting for them. alison in a way forced a relationship with mia and then also mia was like too scared to say anything about it. its clear that alison liked mia waaaaay more than mia liked alison. like carli says in the last ep as well, “to learn to not be a fantasy to each other”, alison needs to take mia off this pedastal she has for her. i'm very interested to learn more about her character outside of mia though if they hopefully continue the show. i have a feeling that we are supposed to think that she and cameron hooked up at the end or something but i'm rlly hoping its a red herring.

carli is also a character i would love to learn more about. she definitely has more chemistry with mia and i love her for standing her ground against mia, as she needs to help herself before she can be in a healthy relationship. but i will say it was pretty shitty stringing cameron along.

speaking of cameron, i didn't quite expect to like his character as much as i did. in a way his arc in the season is battling toxic masculinity as he kinda seems to come off as this laid back, bro kinda guy but he cares and loves so deeply. it wasn't right calling bec a "sket". i'm not british but obviously its like equivalent to slut, and im very glad he owned up to it. i'm also really interested to know more about his family and stuff.

i love bec as well. she deserves all the happiness in the world. im glad she was able to air out her things with mia, albeit in a very treacherous way and i also love how her mom was supportive of the abortion. i'm honestly kinda tired seeing the mom kicking out the daughter for getting pregnant trope so it was nice to see a mom just being supportive. bec is just such a wonderful friend and mia honestly has a lot to make up for. re not telling mia about her and cam, it was honestly frustrating seeing mia be so petty. i understand that its a big secret and she felt like everyone was hiding things from her but its also right to have secrets amongst friends, idk that really stuck out to me.

will for me had the weakest arc as in it wasn't the most interesting to me. don't get me wrong, i love the character but it just wasnt giving a whole lot to me. i recognize him as more than the comic relief but also at the same time he was stirring the pot in a lot of the arguments / blowups the group had, consciously and unconsciously. though i will say will x theo <3 but comedic duo of the century is will x alison. the little song they did for mia's birthday is stuck in my head.

tldr; great characters and great show. it's really hard to find a show about teens as a 25yo living in a 16yo body that i enjoy and don't find annoying. i just love how each character was able to be so nuanced despite being an ensemble cast.

but knowing netflix's track record it's gonna get cancelled because a) it's good b) has wlw content... but i really hope not.

#everything now #everything now netflix #mia polanco #becca #cameron #will #alison #carli #sophie wilde #niamh mccormack #jessie mae alonzo #harry cadby #lauryn ajufo #noah thomas

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lillazyboithings · 5 months

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thoughts on different rtc ships?

I'll start listing off all the RTC ships I can recall, by that, I mean EVERYTHING

Nischa (Noel x Mischa): OTP, my beloveds, you can literally see how much I love them just by scrolling through the nischa tag on my blog

Spacedolls (Ricky x Jane/Penny): they're okay, they vibe together, I like it, they're like little skrunklies that I put in a cage and feed cookies to

BlackRose (Constance x Ocean): I'm sorry but no, just no, no thank you, not even my cup of tea but I will respect if you ship it anon, whoever you are

Perfectdolls (Jane/Penny x Ocean): also okay with it, pretty cool! They're like character foils of eachother

Mischalia (Mischa x Talia): also cool, there's also an understandable canonical basis for it the same way nischa has, also literally has a song so fbsnvdnsvenw

Sugardolls/sugarsheep (Constance x Jane/Penny): love it, they're my beloveds, pry it off my cold dead hands you cretins /j

Sugarspace (Ricky x Constance): absolute cuteness overload, they're like a domestic couple, I love it

Spacerap (Ricky x Mischa): not my cup of tea but I can see the appeal, they're cute actually, they're homies, they definitely hang out together

Starrypoet/HornyBoys (Ricky x Noel): also not my cup of tea, but I really like the dynamic that they have, like they both use their imaginations to be someone else, there's potential, also hella gay /pos ( laughing my ass off because horny boys is a funny ship name, congrats on the bonus points for this)

Topcomment (Mischa x Ocean): pretty cool ship despite not me seeing much content for it, it's like good girl x bad boy, I'm sure there's people out there who really love it but for me? No, I don't like it. It's cool but just no.

SoundCloud/Candyrapper (Constance x Mischa): also pretty cute but I see them more as siblings than a couple

Rosenpotts/gingerspace/perfectspace (Ocean x Ricky)(idfk what you guys are called AUGH): also kinda no on this one, but I will respect your opinion if you want to ship it. They're more friendly that coupley in my eyes

Perfect angel (Ocean x Tammy): I do not see potential for it, ocean and Tammy definitely have a frenemies dynamic because of their belief systems

Perfect bride (Ocean x Talia): how??? Ocean is literally the one to say that Talia is fake, I mean, I will respect your opinion but just know I will stare at you like I will be studying you as part of my research project next year.

Perfect love (ocean x hank): no, hank is already dating her cousin in some canonical iterations

Perfect rap (ocean x corey): pretty hilarious, same comments as topcomment but more to the left, also to whoever wrote that one fanfic I saw for them on ao3, shout out to you

Perfect bugs (ocean x trishna): I don't see potential, sorry. They're just not the right people the other would date

Frenchrap/Norey (noel x corey): I love them, they're the kind of couple to be MESSY. THE DRAMA. Comedic fr fr (helps that this is technically a predecessor to nischa)

Tragic Love (noel x hank): I don't think these two would go well together tbh since there's not much in common (lack of hank content)

Rap Dolls (Mischa x Jane/Penny): I kinda also don't see potential with this, they're more like chaotic siblings in my eyes tbh but if you ship them, good on you

Rap Angel/Angel Accent (Mischa x Tammy): guys, what??? To the 0.01% who ship this, I need to know who you are, scratch that, come here I need to study you under a microscope

Love Rap (Hank x Mischa): I'm praying for you and your one way trip to rarepair hell because oh boy, I'm so sorry for you and its lack of content (for everything hank is involved in, in general)

Rap Battle (Mischa x corey): the ride or die duo, these dudes will literally get each other arrested, and would release shitty rap together

Rap Bite (Mischa x Astrid): What??? Huh??? I am questioning your life choices to whoever ships this (not in a judgemental way, more like I'm genuinely curious what's going on inside that head of yours) anyways rarepair hell to you

Rap Bug (Mischa x trishna): same thing as LoveRap, there's also kinda no dynamics to base these two off so I can't really see anything for it

Angel Cats (Tammy x Ricky): okay, cute, I will respect that but there's also kinda something conflicting between Tammy's Religious beliefs and Ricky being SABM

Space Bride (Ricky x Talia): ???????? Huh ??????? Okay, questionable, maybe online relationship? Rarepair hell either way, I'm sorry

Space Love (Ricky x hank): okay, understandable, nothing much to say about them tbh

Space Battle (Corey x Ricky): really? Horny boys part 2? /J. Okay but in all honesty, I feel like it wouldn't mingle well together unless you want it to have the same dynamic as SpaceRap

Cat Bite (Ricky x Astrid): maybe?? No??? I can't see potential, down to the rarepair hell for you

CD player (penny x Tammy): you guys really went ham on these two when y'all read the Legoland script, I like it lmfao

Love Dolls (Hank x Jane/Penny): rarepair hell to you

Battle Dolls (Corey x Jane/Penny): and you

Doll Bite (Astrid x Jane/penny): and also you

Bug Dolls (trishna x Jane/penny): okay I can see potential, girlies are just curious of the nature around them, just one is curious about bugs while the other is curious about life itself and why she's there-

Bride Dolls (Talia x Jane/penny): rarepair hell to you as well

Sugar Angel (Constance x Tammy): Sweet (pun intended), also very domestic in my opinion

Sugar Battle (Constance x corey): rarepair hell to you, also I don't think constance would love being in a long term relationship with this sleazebag rapper

Sugar Love (Constance x hank): Cute, but also rarepair hell to you

Sugar Bite (Astrid x Constance): rarepair hell, also if we're basing off fanon + canon depictions, I don't think they'd be a good match with each other

Sugar Bugs (Constance x trishna): domestic, fluff potential, adorable, no judgement on my part

Digital Cafe (Constance x Talia): shout out to zolarianstarman for unintentionally making me see how cute this ship is

Love Angel (Hank x Tammy): I think I can see potential with the boy next door x religious girl type, not the best pairing though but oh well

Love Battle (Hank x corey): it kinda like a vague predecessor to spacerap if you think of the timeline as to how the characters got to where they are. But I feel like they'd be more on homies than dating

Love Bite (Hank x Astrid): canonically engaged, beautiful (cut) song, I love them

Love Bride (Hank x Talia): rarepair hell. No exceptions

Angel Battle (Corey x Tammy): dayum, the "I can fix him" couple but it's a shitty YouTube rapper and the very religious Catholic girl

Battle Bite (Astrid x corey): the only way Astrid is gonna even touch Corey is kicking his balls and punching him, I rest my case, they're siblings, your honor

Battle bugs (Corey x Trishna): I can't see the potential, I'm sorry, rarepair hell to you

Battle Bride (Corey x Talia): also rarepair hell, I literally cannot see anything for this

Angel Bite (Tammy x Astrid): so the pink soft girlie x "I bit my cousin with no regrets" girl, got it

Bug Bite (Astrid x trishna): cute, I can see potential, a girlie interested in bugs and her vaguely European girlfriend who would love to listen to her talking about bugs

Bride Bite (Talia x Astrid): rarepair hell button has been pressed, no more other comments

Bug Angel (trishna x Tammy): I feel like this would work out I think? This is kinda normal tbh

Bug Bride (trishna x Talia): rarepair hell to you, I'm sorry but it's true

Angel Bride (Tammy x Talia): ah yes, we're shipping the two girlies who have not made any canonical appearances in their respective musicals besides mentions from the established characters there

Electricity (Karnak x Virgil): guys, why are we shipping the rat and the fortune teller? Funny, but I question us as a fandom sometimes LMFAO

Polychoir (basically all 6 of the main characters): cute, but noel stays platonic with the girlies, okay?

PerfectSugarDolls (ocean x Constance x Jane/penny): girlies squad assemble be like

SpaceRapDolls (Ricky x Mischa x Jane/penny): chaos trio, no more comments, your honor

SugarSpaceRap (Constance x Ricky x Mischa): I mean...sure??? Okay? You do you pooks

Nischalia (noel x Mischa x Talia): I like it, Noel and Talia would definitely be best friends, and do rock paper scissors on who keeps Mischa for the weekend (loser keeps him/j), also Mischa has two hands, of course this is possible

PerfectEggDolls (ocean x Mischa x Jane/penny): I'm sorry but are we seriously gonna let Ocean practically date(babysit) two of the most chaotic beings in that choir?

TragicSpaceRap/Escapism trio (Ricky x Noel x Mischa): they need to get out of uranium together tbh, I don't make the rules, get them outta there

PerfectSugarSpace (ocean x Constance x Ricky): okay, understandable? Maybe? I respect your opinion tho

PerfectSugarAccent (ocean x Constance x Mischa): respectfully, I can't see potential, I'm sorry *presses rarepair hell button*

Stargirls (Ricky x Jane/penny x Constance x Tammy): the ship name sounds like they're all in a band together omg, but yeah, it's cute in my eyes, whoever ships this, you guys are chill

PassionFrenchRap (Corey x Noel x Mischa): LMFAO noel and his two rapper boyfriends, bro literally got duplicates of the same boyfriend

FrenchPassionSlutCats (Corey x Noel x Mischa x Ricky): hectic. That's all I'm gonna say, they're all hectic and gay together, good on them

LuckySugarStars (Jane/penny x Constance x Ricky): aweee they're so adorable together guys, I can't, help me, dhsnshsnhwje

LoveBugBite (Astrid x trishna x hank): yes, cute, adorable fr fr (Winona if you're reading this, you have definitely influenced me)

Special mention:

Mookie (Mischa x Cookie): perfection, 10/10, I refuse criticism, the highschool version of the script definitely influenced this.

Noel x Any girl: fuck you (in a negative way), he's canonically gay and if I see you ship him like that outside of platonic ones, I'm sending you GAY to hell.

Tags: @joeseventies (credits to them for the master list doc of all the ship names), and @witchstormm because you asked me to, have fun reading

I'm so sorry anon if this took so long to answer but here you go

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deliciousdefendorinternet · 2 months

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if/when we do get a Bro zone centered Christmas Special how do you think Branch will be around His Brothers?

so the story options are either he's still pretty scared of them leaving again if anything goes wrong so he's basically a nervous wreck on Christmas trying to make sure things are perfect for them.

or now that the High emotions of the events of TBT have had time to wear off Branch has gone back to being a bit bitter towards them especially since its coming up to Christmas and all it makes him think is how they were never there for any of the Christmases he's had in the past.

and maybe the Bros keep attempting to Reach out to him but he keeps just making passive aggressive Remarks and pushing them away again and again maybe to the point some of them eventually wonder if its even worth trying since it seems like he may never be able to forgive them.

but Floyd or maybe even Bruce gives the other Brothers a kick up the backside basically saying that they've all already done enough giving up when it comes to their family and that they still shouldn't just give up even if he does never forgive them they should just keep fighting for the family and being there for him.

tbh even tho I wasn't too keen on the idea at first the more I think about it the more I love the idea of Branch going back to being a bit bitter and resentful towards them.

leaving aside the comedic aspect of it but actually just thinking out that little story scenario made me think there could legit be some cute potential as well in him going back to being mad with them now that the High emotions of the events of the Third film have died down.

as the Bros choosing to not give up this time and stick at trying to have a nice Family Christmas Despite Branch seemingly trying to give up on having any kind of Relationship with them would be a nice little story I think and would be a good way to actually show Bro zone trying to Redeem themselves somewhat.

anyway what do you think? I'd love to hear your thoughts I tend to kinda get lost in my own head sometimes when thinking about this stuff lol.

#brozone #trolls brozone #trolls 3 #branch trolls #branch #trolls dreamworks #trolls band together #dreamworks trolls #trolls branch #trolls

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mortal-kombat-1 · 3 months

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what is your opinion on johnny cage's character?

Oh boy, this took me a good bit to think on and type out, lmao. Like, would have it all ready to post then think of something else to add. Thank you draft option 🙏

Overall, I think he's more complex than a lot of folks make him out to be. Yeah, its really easy to just think he's the comedic relief only when the game(s) kinda lead you to believe that. You can't really judge him based on one timeline since the plots/stories keep changing with each game (even if you add in the comics and movies). There's no connecting the dots when it comes to MK lore, lol. You gotta be fairly new to the franchise to think otherwise if I'm being very honest.

But given this blog is primarily MK1 Johnny, that's the timeline/version I'll jot my thoughts out for.

He's obviously not a parent in this timeline unlike 10 and 11, so we can scratch even mentioning that. But, he's once again married, not to Sonya but to Cris. Even so, his ego, money spending and his need to be the prime center of attention gets the better of him causing things to sour in his marriage. Of course ending in divorce. I won't stick up for him, he has his flaws, Cris was definitely in the right to divorce 'em. She deserved to be treated better. I'm not saying the man didn't care for her, it was pretty damn obvious that he did. He's very protective and regrets how he's done her -- he made that clear in a couple of intro's. I really felt like he got into the movie business not only because it was something he always wanted to do, but to make a better life for the both of them at some point, but I think he kinda let it all get to his head and let slip away the reason he was initially doing it all for. So in short: He's gotta take responsibility for his own actions. Nobody else is to blame but himself. But even with that being said, he struggled, obviously an alcoholic -- he's mentioned recovery to Ashrah in one of their intro's; though I'm really convinced he started drinking to forget about certain details of his past... and maybe stress because Hollywood. We don't really get enough information on his childhood other than whats mentioned in intro's with other characters. And even then, they never really seem good nor happy. So I like to think his need to be a people pleaser really stems from his parents. That is in no way me trying to make an excuse for his character, though. The man isn't a child/teen, and I've seen people on here and elsewhere, thinking he's in his 20's or early 30's. And after going through some of the files in the game, a lot of the things he's won or collected were from the 90's -- awards being more specific. So I tend to say he's in his early 40's at the youngest. Also, he's mentioned getting someone younger to take on his role so yeah.

I like how even though others might find his tactics and odd sense of humor (which happens 99% at the wrong time) annoying, they still want him there. And he knows that, the damn smirking gives it away. Does he mature in any way in this timeline -- eventually, but I wouldn't say he's changed completely or he wouldn't be Johnny Cage. I'd say he finally realized there's more to life than money and fame when you got the right people surrounding you, and he gets that by the time the game ends.

Also, that damn boopable nose... they ever change that I'm gonna riot.

I could keep going on about this idiot, but I gotta stop there or I will never shut up sdfghjkl;. It's one of those "I see so much of myself in this character and I'm gonna glue myself to them" type of thing.

#**#I'm sorry if I went in circles or if there's typos scattered about in this; I said to hell with proof reading lol

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citadelsanchez · 2 years

Note

If you'd like too, Rick with an s/o that collects cute things! Like they fawn over cute plush toys and threatens people that try to touch them without permission?

The cutest prompt! Sorry it's a bit short. This is also the first time I've put Rick in a real world setting but it felt fitting for this one. Hope you like!

(Also side note: 'bbs' plushes aren't real, I made em up lol)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"It's not funny, Rick." You glare at the elder man, your eyes glowing in a burning fury.

His cheeks puff as he starts to snicker before he turns his body away from you to shake with laughter without being seen.

"I CAN LITERALLY HEAR YOU LAUGHING" you say, giving up and stalking out of the kitchen you were both standing in and back to your shared bedroom. Well, technically, your bedroom but Rick might as well have lived there too.

"Boooo, y-you're no fun at all" you hear him say, trailing behind you slowly.

Earlier, you had walked into the Smith's living room to find the absolute horror of Rick dangling two of your BBS plushes in his hands in front of Morty and Summer, giving them exaggerated voices. "I'm M-Mrs. Lumpy Fuckins and my owner Y/N won't brush my hairrrr." This was met with laughter by Summer and an uncomfortable "geeezz" from Morty.

You stood at the doorway with your mouth agape in shock before Rick made eye contact and immediately dropped them onto the couch. You had turned on your heel and locked yourself in his room for a while, giving him the silent treatment even after he portaled inside and prodded you to talk to him, with still no apology in sight in true Rick fashion. And he was clearly still amused from his inability to take you seriously.

"You're no fun for mocking something I love" you scoff, plopping onto the bed and turning away from him once more.

"D-don't be a sourpuss, I was just showing them your interests a-a-and being comedic in the process," Rick says, almost sounding remorseful before reverting back into his righteousness. He sits on the bed now, holding your gaze with a frustrated facial expression.

"Oooh yeah, so funny when I've TOLD you not to touch any of them. I have them arranged the way I want and you can't even respect me enough to leave it be. Don't you remember when Summer wandered in here like two weeks ago on accident and picked up Benji and Phoenix and I yelled at her without realizing?"

"B-because those are the m-most rare ones you have?" He asked and you were slightly surprised that he remembered. It symbolizes that at least on some level, he actually listened to you.

"Yes" you respond weakly, still feeling embarrassed about the entire situation but unwavering on your annoyed outlook.

"O-okay, come with me" Rick belches out, pulling his portal gun out to shoot a green swirl and unexpectedly dragging your hand with him through it.

You go to cuss him but stop when you realize that you're in a strange setting. Very familiar to you but not anything you were expecting from the portal gun. You were surrounded by neon lights on red walls and people pushing carts in all directions.

"Rick... why are we in Target?"

He sighed. "You'll s-see, just follow me."

You furrowed your brows in confusion but didn't hesitate to walk behind him. You know that he hates being in stores- especially ones like Target where there's an excess of ignorant human beings and overstimulating lights and noises. You could practically feel his skin crawling. And you'd hold his hand in comfort but you know that he's not a fan of PDA from previous experiences of your attempts at affection with him around others.

He leads you into the toy section and down an aisle when you see it. Pompa, the newest lion BBS plush that came out a few days ago, which you weren't aware of and only had dealing with Rick's antics constantly to blame.

Rick picked one off of the shelf and petted its head. "It is, uh, kinda c-cute I guess," he says before placing it in your arms instead. "I-I shouldn't have fucked with your plushes earlier, s-so have this as your reward for dEALLing with me," Rick burps out, standing a little sheepishly.

You reach up to engulf him in a hug. "How'd you know about this being released?"

"Just you know, a-ads and shit," he murmured.

You smiled warmly at the gesture and the kind hearted deep down Rick you know. "Apology accepted."

#rick sanchez #rick and morty #rick and morty season 6 #rick sanchez x reader #morty smith

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mirai-e-jump · 7 months

Text

Uchusen Vol. 76 (Spring 1996) Choukou Senshi Changerion Segment ft. Toshiki Inoue Interview (translations below)

Publication: June 1, 1996

BIRTH OF THE CHANGERION

Choukou Senshi Changerion, which began airing on April 3 as Toei Hero's third slot, is an extremely ambitious work that aims to create an epoch of 90s styled heroes.

First, there's the visual shock of the hero, with the heavy use of transparent materials. Shinohara Tamotsu was in charge of the design, and Rainbow Zoukei, which was in charge of the modeling, even installed new equipment for Changerion.

The result, as you can see, is a super battleship like suit, with two layers of crystals and mechanical parts throughout its body.

Another ambition of Changerion, is its spirit. As those who have seen the show already know, Akira Suzumura, the main character, is a person who has no sense of being a hero or having a mission.

With this character image at its core, the story is light hearted, with a comedic touch. At the moment, Screenwriter Toshiki Inoue's unique world is unfolding, as he handles all of it by himself. We'll leave the details to Producer Shirakura Shinichiro's comments, but, it's a completely new tokusatsu hero work that aims to be an anti existing hero. A new program with 100% expectations, keep an eye out for future developments! _

Staff Comments

Design: Shinohara Tamotsu

"Based on the premise that the suit is made of a transparent material, the key idea is to give off the image of a, "Demon in Angel's clothes." Both order and chaos are coexisting. For the transparent parts, I tried to create a godly feel with wings and muscles, which are associated with Greek mythology, while inside, I tried to create a rough feel with the complicated mechanics. It's true that the mechanics inside are so complicated, that it alone is like a demon…."

Modeling: Maezawa Nori (Rainbow Zoukei)

"Changerion is an idea that I've always wanted to try someday. That's why we tested it carefully, and finally completed the project after many retakes, until the very end of the permitted production time. I'm confident in saying that I've reached a level where I'm not embarrassed to consider this a modern tokusatsu hero. I'll continue to challenge myself to create new concepts whenever I have the opportunity, so please continue to support us."

Producer: Shirakura Shinichiro

"Our first priority when planning Changerion, was to create a true to life hero. For humans, I don't think they'd suddenly feel a sense of justice or mission when suddenly told that they're heroes from this day forward. Everyone wants to have fun and enjoy life. From that perspective, what kind of drama can we create? That was the theme. To achieve this, I wanted to establish the appeal of Akira's character as a human being, and make him the driving force for pulling the story along. For that reason, Inoue-san was the best choice for screenwriter. Another thing is that I want people to think is, "This is kinda stylish." I want it to give off the feel that this is a story that's happening right now, in the year 1996, and no other time. I want to properly capture the feeling of "Now" in my work. In that case, we, the staff of Changerion, are thinking of creating a completely new work without being bound by the existing image of a hero, so please look forward to it." _

Main Cast

"Why is this guy like this? And of all people…he's Changerion."

Suzumura Detective Agency Main Character: Akira Suzumura, is the head of the detective agency. Although he pretends to be a first rate detective, the work he receives is always something like searching for lost dogs and cats, and, he's constantly running into debt.

Akira Suzumura (Takashi Hagino): A naturally happy go lucky person. By chance, he's exposed to the Crystal Power and gains the power of Changerion, but he's not aware of being a warrior. He loves banana parfaits.

Akemi Tachibana (Mie Hayashi): A college student and a part time employee of the Suzumura Detective Agency. She's a reliable person and is practically in charge of the office. Her family runs a guest house in Iwate.

SAIDOC Members: Katsuhiko Hayami (Kazunari Aizawa), Takeshi Munakata (Noboru Ichiyama), Eri Minami (Chika Kochihira) A special agency established by scientist Takeshi Munakata in preparation for the DarkZide invasion. As a trump card, he carries out the Changerion Project using recovered DarkZide technology, but, all of it was accidentally taken by Akira, and the agency is in trouble financially.

Super Light Knight: 3 droids developed by SAIDOC to support Changerion. Each of them has the ability to transform from robot mode to vehicle mode.

DarkZide: Higher life forms that emerged in the Dark Dimension and evolve differently from humans. They disguise themselves as humans and hide in society. They're monsters whose purpose is to absorb "Larmu," the biological energy of humans. _

Interview with Toshiki Inoue

-Akira is quite honestly an incredible superhero-

"Inoue-san, have you been involved with Changerion since the planning stage?

Inoue: I have. We've been planning since the days of "Android Hakaider." So, since this would be the start of a brand new show, I thought it'd be better to break away from the existing hero genre. That being the case, I was certain that comedy was the way to go, and that comedy is the way to go from now on. I don't have anything to back up this claim (laughs).

"How did you create the main character?"

Inoue: In the beginning, he wasn't going to be a detective. He'd be a "fugitive". Like that old American TV series. I was trying to do a comedy with "The Fugitive" in mind, but it just didn't work out. It ended up becoming too dark (laughs). It's funnier when fugitives run away laughing like crazy. And since they're never in a single spot, it's hard to determine their location. That's why I made him a detective.

"In reality, being a detective is pretty plain, and isn't a very cheerful profession."

Inoue: That's right. Akira used to do pretty boring work before he became Changerion, didn't he? But, he's got a playful spirit even in his mundane work, so he has fun carrying a gun and acting pretentious. Characters like that are so important to me in that, it doesn't matter what their occupation is. It doesn't matter if he's a fugitive or a detective. He happened to become a detective by chance because it'd be easier to tell the story as a detective.

"The fact that the main character becomes a hero by chance is similar to Jetman."

Inoue: That's right. That's why there's only two ways to create a hero. Either it's someone who's selected and chosen, or it's someone that shouldn't have been selected but becomes a hero anyway. For me, I like the latter.

"The enemy's setup isn't really depicted within the show."

Inoue: Executives are becoming alot more unnecessary. When I start a show, even if I want to do something new, I don't change my mind so quickly, so I thought that things like an evil organization and other detailed settings were all necessary. But, as we started and the drama progressed, my expectations became different in a positive way. I began to think that we could do without all that. I can say that because the story is moving along. So, you know, it's easier to understand Changerion if you think of it as just a detective drama. It doesn't have to be a so called hero story, where it's split up by allies and enemies who then fight each other. It also doesn't have to be like a final episode, where the enemy is finally defeated and the story ends. But, the scenario is difficult. If this were a normal hero story, I could do the whole show with just one idea, but it's a comedy, so I have to come up with alot of material, so it's…..it's abit tiring, isn't it? (laughs).

"What would Inoue-san consider to be his image of a hero?"

Inoue: It would be a guy who's complacent. When faced with a crisis, everyone goes into a state of panic, so I think that having composure in such a situation is a strong point. That's why Akira is quite honestly an incredible superhero, now that I just thought about it (laughs).

#inoue and changerion have recently taken over my mind #changerion #choukou senshi changerion #suzumura akira #akira suzumura #katsuhiko hayami #hayami katsuhiko #uchusen #my scans #my translation #tokusatsu #toku #toshiki inoue #hagino takashi #takashi hagino #interview #magazine #asakura takeshi

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apples4day · 23 days

Text

BLAME || Yandere! TDWT x Fem! Reader

2/2 EPISODE ONE (Walk Like An Egyptian)

This is part two

Ugh this chapter was so boringggg

You figured a flight from your starting point to Egypt would be a few hours, and in that time you decided to take advantage and get buddy buddy with a few team members. But first you had to get your head straight. You stood up from your seat next to Noah and made your way to the confessionals, not noticing the many eyes watching you.

Noah for one, had noticed you hadn't attempted to talk to anyone yet and were likely strategizing who would be best to talk to. she smells really good..like vanilla?

Courtney had also been watching you, not in the same way Noah had. She was just taking in your looks. She thought you were pretty but didn't want you anywhere near 'her' Duncan. new girl is kinda cute..I guess

And then there was Alejandro. He only took glances at you, as he did everyone. Simply to observe. See if you would be a good pawn. No current thoughts on you...just observing.

Heather was another person watching you. She had screwed up her chances of becoming friends with the people here in season one after becoming a total back stabber and manipulator. Her plan: become your friend and then dispose of you when you no longer had any value. Right now she was looking a little crazy and desperate in her corner of the plane.

CONFESSIONAL- Y/N

"To be honest...I don't really know what to do!!"

You paused and sighed.

"There are so many people here that could be useful but at the same time it's so hard for me to talk to people!"

"I think my best plan would be to..ugh! Is this even recording??" You hit the camera before laughing awkwardly after realizing it was in fact..recording. "Oops..embarrassing! Anyways! My best plan would be to find someone to be friends with, literally anyone. That way I have someone on my side always. And then find someone like Heather or Alejandro to use for their skills." You shrugged and stood up. "They won't know what hit em'..yeah"

CONFESSIONAL- Y/N; ENDED

You made your way back, this time noticing the people watching you, one of them being Noah. Perfect! He can be my friend. Also he has some sort of..comedic relief thing going for him so that's a plus.

"Hey! You're Noah right?" You asked, sitting next to him again. "No im just some random intern- yes im Noah!" He said looking annoyed and closing his book. "Okay chill it Empire State Building for a forehead, I just wanted to make a friend." He raised a brow...not like he wasn't half the time, "sorry pinkie pie, I'm not very fond of making friends with a pony." He took a hit at your very obvious pink aura.

"So what is it? Am I pinkie pie or a mystical elf?" You asked letting out a small giggle. He paused for a second looking in shock before continuing. "Actually, I said magical elf. And both." You hummed in agreement and took a peak at his book, "whatcha reading nerd?" Noah looked at you like you were tweaking. "Do you read?" He asked. You crossed your legs, "sometimes." Noah scoffed, "sometimes isn't good enough for me to tell you." He stood up, leaving you sitting next to Izzy.

CONFESSIONAL- NOAH

"That girl...she's cool I guess. Nothing special." He said looking unimpressed before he bit his lip awkwardly like he was trying to keep himself from saying something.

"SHE GETS MY HUMOR! SHES AMAZING!" He finally broke, yelling that out before pausing and looking scared like he just let his deepest secret out.

Noah started grabbing the camera violently and trying to pull out the tape, "I want the tape back! Give me it!" He let out a girlish scream when a rat crawled out.

CONFESSIONAL- NOAH; ENDED

You had spent the rest of the ride talking to Izzy, trying to figure out if she was smart or just crazy. Noah would sometimes butt into your conversations with yet another snarky remark and insult. Then the ride ended.

"You guys ready for a little fun?" Chris was being carried by two interns and seemed to be enjoying Egypt. "Wow! Its a scorcher out here huh? I call todays challenge Pyramid Over Under!" Leshawna looked fed up.

"An eleven hour flight, chefs in flight cuisine, and a forced musical number, now we've got a challenge?" Chris began getting fanned by an intern as Leshawna looked more and more pissed. "Don't cha love this game?" He said, raising the drink he was holding.

Harold was sweating more than anyone else. "Its like being cooked in a giant oven!" He acted like he didn't have aluminum foil on his head. Leshawna sighed, "it might help if you weren't dressed like a giant baked potato." Harold continued sweating, "aluminum foil means the aliens can't reach your brains, it's a real problem in this area!" You rolled your eyes, "pack it up Ron Weasley." This earned a chuckle from a few contestants like Gwen, Duncan, Noah, Heather, Courtney, and even Alejandro. DJ let out a small chuckle too before Leshawna glared at him.

Leshawna looked over at you, "excuse you?" You paused remembering that Leshawna and Harold had some weird relationship going on, and insulting one was insulting both. "Sorry girl, I like your earrings by the way." Leshawna got flash backs to Heather fake complimenting her in season one before she realized you had nothing bad going for you yet so what's the point in immediately thinking you're like Heather.

"It's all good..thanks." She smiled at you before turning back to Harold.

BANG

Chris hit two cymbals together and called the noise satisfying. "Alright! Pyramid Over Under means YOU choose how you'll get to the finish line either over or under the pyramid! Got it? Ready! Set!" Someone cut off Chris again. You already could tell by the voice it was Ezekiel. How the hell did he get here? Wasn't he eliminated!

Ezekiel approached Chris, "wait up guys! Wait up! I told you I wasn't gonna lose this time ay!" You rolled your eyes again, it was becoming a real bad habit to roll your eyes. "Didn't we leave you in like Halifax or white horse or WHATEVER!" Chris was annoyed and a bit confused. Ezekiel smiled, "it's called landing gear homie! I climbed it and hid with the cargo." Chris began smiling again deviously. 😈

"Impressive! Butttt you're still out." Ezekiel continued digging his grave, "no way! I'm in it to win it! Word!" Chris gave up on getting rid of him, "oookay it's your funeral. Set! Go!" He slammed the cymbals in Ezekiel's face which made you giggle, everyone began running towards the pyramid. You paused and turned around, "nice one Chris." Before continuing.

"Care to accompany me Señorita? We can go up together." Alejandro winked at you, gesturing towards the top of the pyramid. Your first thought was to make some mean insult but you remembered that it would be better to get on his good side, "oh..um. I'm okay! It's a bit too hot for me to go over, I'll see you around though!" You smiled at him before running inside the pyramid, your smile immediately dropping once you were out of his sight.

I don't fuck with playboys.

You were next to Leshawna now as you all decided which way to go. There were multiple paths. Heather looked like she was up to something.

"Hey Sierra! Which way do you think we should go?" Sierra looked happy to have someone asking her opinion, "me? Um! Ehhh..um!" You crossed your arms. "We should all split up, I'm going to take the first door." You said walking towards it, you stopped however realizing this was your chance to get on good terms with Heather and Sierra, "care to join me?" They went with you.

It was kind of dark and a bit eerie. "So..Sierra, I know you're on good terms with Cody but how about anyone else?" She smiled and nodded rapidly, "of course I'm on good terms with Cody! He's literally my boyfriend!! But I haven't talked to a lot of other people..." You nodded, a smile creeping up on your face as a plan began forming. Heather noticed.

Sierra was walking in front, Heather behind her, and you in the back. Sierra stepped on a trigger, you realized and immediately pulled Heather down, she grabbed Sierra. "Watch where you step next time," you said lifting them both up. "Oops! Sorry Heather and Y/n!" Heather looked pissed before putting her persona back on, "honest mistake! Could've happened to anybody!"

"Good eye Y/n!" Heather complimented, you smiled. "Couldn't have my friends getting hurt now could I?" You said, hoping this would lead to them becoming close with you. Heather smiled even stronger, you couldn't tell if it was fake or real. Sierra laughed and clapped her hands together. Seems I won't have to put in as much work trying to get Y/n in an alliance with me, Heather thought.

You guys continued walking. Somehow Sierra had caught Cody and was now carrying him, and now you were running in front of Sierra and Heather was running behind Sierra. "Guys, look the exit!" You announced, we all sped up. "I'm so happy we found you, aren't you guys so happy?!" Sierra said referring to Cody. Heather looked annoyed and you honestly didn't care. "Yeah sure whatever," you mumbled. "I'm so happy I could scream," Heather said annoyed.

You all made it past the finish line, you first. "We did it! Group hug! Come on guys!" Sierra said, pushing Cody into her chest. You and Heather rolled your eyes and then looked at each other, you whispered to her. "She's totally obsessed..." Heather nodded in agreement before walking to Sierra, you following behind.

You both fake smiled while hugging, and then Chris cut the hug short. "Thank god," you whispered. Heather heard you and let out a small laugh. "Sierra and Y/n get behind the number two! Heather and Cody you'll be on team three." Harold was about to begin a fact, but you and Chris both said at the same time, "No one cares" which led to Chris once again looking over at you awkwardly.

Why does that keep happening? Chris thought.

"Where's Gwen? Not that I care! Just..curious!" Cody said. You looked up at the pyramid, "she's up there with Gwen and Duncan" you pointed out. They were all arguing. A ding went off as Chris taunted you all, the musical bell. "Recognize that sound? Time for whoever's not finished yet to give us a little musical reprise!" Chris said pointing to all three of them. Duncan looked like he was about to lose it, "you said one song per episode!" Duncan corrected him. Chris smiled, "yeah AND this is a REPRISE not a new song, so if you don't sing you're out! Now let's hear it!" Duncan was done with it, "you know what? No! Nonononono!" Duncan jumped down.

Since all three were tied together, Courtney and Gwen were dragged down. "Three hours of these two squawking on this stupid pyramid in this stupid heat and you want me to sing?! Forget it!" Duncan yelled. Chris raised a brow, "dude you have a contract." Duncan got closer, "eat it McLean, if you need me I'll be in the plane waiting for a ride home cause I'm out!" Duncan pulled out a knife and spun it around before slicing the rope that tied all three of them together.

"Done! I quit!" Duncan walked away and Courtney and Gwen gasped on the floor. Cody took this as an opportunity, "hey looks like we're teammates!" He gave a hand to Gwen.

CONFESSIONAL- CODY

"Girls on the rebound are the best! They cry and then you get to buy them a pop and listen and then..well they still won't go out with you but you get to buy them a pop!"

CONFESSIONAL- CODY; ENDED

Izzy came running out of the pyramid holding a mummy in her hands. You gasped, what the fuck? "Izzy no!" Owen yelled. "Put that mummy down!" You yelled too, putting your hands on your hips. Noah hid behind you, "you're carrying the undead!" All four of you, including Alejandro looked absolutely terrified. "Cool! Bite me and I can be your undead friend like Frankenstein!" Izzy stopped in her tracks and looked at the mummy.

The mummy began growling and moving till it jumped out of her hands. "Thanks for all the help ya knobs!" Ezekiel announced, he was the mummy. "Izzy go join team-" Chris was cut off by Harold, "talata or three." Ezekiel rushed up to Chris, "c'mon guy! After all this you gotta let me back in the game!" Chris hit Ezekiel which made him fall over, you laughed. Chris looked annoyed at Ezekiel.

"Fine but only cause we're down a man thanks to Duncan quit-ie pants. Go ahead and join team one." Ezekiel started celebrating. You were all ready now. "Okay teams talk amongst yourselves and determine a team name, you have three minutes while I enjoy this ice cream cone."

Team one- "Team Victory!"

Team three- "Team Amazon!"

And now you and the rest of team two were trying to figure out a name, everyone talking over each other. Once they were quiet you suggested the name Team Jewel, to which everyone except Sierra had agreed. Alejandro spoke up to Chris, "We decided on the name-" and then Sierra yelled out the name Team Chris is Really Really Really Really hot, interrupting Alejandro. You sighed in disappointment as Chris thought that name was awesome. "And here are your rewards!" Alejandro glared at Sierra but then realized it would earn favoritism.

"Team Amazon you win a camel! Team Chris is really really really really really really hot!" Alejandro interrupted him, "I think there were only FOUR really's." You nodded in agreement. "You win a goat!" Chris threw a goat at Tyler which made him fall over. "And team victory..here ya go!" Chris said while holding a stick. Leshawna looked unimpressed, "so the guys who come in last get a camel and we get a stick?"

Chris reassured them that each team has their own advantages and then began his outro.

"I'm glad to be on a team with you Señorita." Alejandro said to you, kissing your hand.

—

CONFESSIONAL- Y/N

"This guy honestly thinks he can woo me? Please! I'd rather kill myself than let myself fall charm to his victim...wait no! Victim to his charm. How did I mess that up?" You sighed, face palming.

"Anyways...our team sucks."

CONFESSIONAL- Y/N; ENDED

—

"Oh..I wish I could say the same, Corazón." You flirted back but also played hard to get, pulling your hand away. It was hot as fuck and he radiated warmth.

—

CONFESSIONAL- ALEJANDRO

"It's only a matter of time before they all become puppets to me. However I wasn't expecting Y/n to know any Spanish." He shrugged.

CONFESSIONAL- ALEJANDRO; ENDED

—

This was NOT proofread

I'm kinda disappointed in myself these two chapters are lowkey kinda boring, Y/n has little to no personality. I'll fix that next chapter.

Next chapter already out!! 🙏

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#character x reader #tdwt #character x you #fanfic #fanfiction #td alejandro #td courtney #td duncan #td heather #td noah #tdwt noah #yandere various #yandere x reader #yandere #x reader #various x reader #part two #total drama world tour #total drama

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