#but a part of me thinks maybe it’d be better if they didn’t? which is such an insane thought to have bc if people love you just let them

[pparacxosm]

wounded in

(blue-eyed son part 2: electric boogaloo !!!! ; (hate to be that gal but you may have to read the first bit for context); homeless era!patrick zweig x jaded businesswoman!reader; nonlinear narrative; tw office job; tw coworkers; tw mcdonald’s; the sound of music stuff is for myself; i fucking love sound of music; and i fucking love cats (the animal not the musical, though that's lovely too) so there’s that; pushing a patrick zweig can’t spell agenda; tw new england maybe; i gave new rochelle a better rap this time; kiss scene kindaaaa ??..? ; tashi coaching patrick after new rochelle is canon to me; tw descriptions of emojis; what if i told you there’s a part 3; then what)

You hold in a bout of laughter when Patrick brings the drinks to the table.

His hair is longer than the last time you saw him, which wasn’t that long ago, in scale. In bones, in feels like a while.

Dear old New Rochelle. Far enough out that the city is a twinkle on the horizon like a cluster of stars, far enough that there are some actual stars above you, now. It’s odd to see him in New England. It’s odd to see him in jeans. But then it’s September.

There are new lines on his face already. He’s aging quicker now, as if to make a point.

Drinks are on me,

Is the first thing Patrick told you, when you walked in in a juniper parka. Scanned the room, picked out his booth.

Is this the part where you tell me you’ve opened a savings account? you said, trying to seem completely blasé about it. It would have been childish to be thrilled by such meagre chivalry at twentyeight. I feel like I should pay, you’re in my city.

Yeah, but you’ve hosted me enough for now.

That’s what you are, half the time. A host to him.

A museum. Thumbing through a rolodex of all the different shades of blue his eyes could go in one humid night.

You pass on more nights out than you accede to. You got a cat. You’re getting LASIK soon. But what it really looks like is that you’re wearing glasses to show that time has passed.

“What’re you smiling about?” Patrick asks, placing the foamy mug of beer in front of you.

You wipe discreetly under your eyes, spreading the mascara smudge. “Just thinking about how my aweinspiring generosity has rescued you from the misery of total squalor.”

Patrick chuckles. “Well, they say to pay it forward.” He sounds pleased as he lifts his own mug with a wink.

You look out the window. There’s a film of dust on it. There’s dust on the faux-chintz curtains too.

You start to wonder if that’s what he really thinks. That this is him going forward.

Patrick picks up the plastic menu. “We ordering sidedishes or do we want a full dinner? What’s good in Wellesley?”

You try to laugh, though the noise has the distinct tender hue of a sob. But you’re sure you feel mostly fine. “What are you doing here?”

“Hm?”

“What are you doing in Wellesley?”

Patrick looks up at you with bright, twinkling eyes. “Challenger in Boston. Thought it’d be a waste not to come see you.”

You clench your jaw to prevent more runny mascara. It’s stupid. You don’t much like waste either. But you’re not going to weep in front of Patrick like a child.

“You hungry?”

You nod, picking up your own menu, hiding your face behind it.

His hand reaches suddenly across the table, trying to touch yours. You pull away, but make it look like you didn’t.

“Bet you had a hard time leaving Tobes for the night,” he says, trying to lift the mood.

“Um yeah. A little. I like to imagine what she gets up to when I’m away.”

“My sister had a cat, when we were young. My sister was, like, seventeen, and I was eight, so pretty big gap.”

Because he has to clarify those sorts of things. Because you don’t know he has a sister. You don’t know anything.

You find it hard to picture him pinned down in any humane way. It’s always his beautiful leg (now sheathed in denim) writhing in a bear trap. Always his papery wings unfurled and pinned against a picture frame like a butterfly. Something metamorphosed. Something capable of a great change, and that must be tortured for it.

“She found the cat in an alleyway. She called it Patrick.”

You lift your eyes. You feel it bubbling in you like magma, the urge to coo. You feel all soft these days. And maybe that’s just open heart season, and the passage of time. But you see a vivid meridian in your life, and it falls right along the night you met this guy. And this back half is all soft, so you sort of want to blame him.

You swallow.

“Well, that’s sweet.”

Patrick lowers the menu. “Nope,” he shakes his head, that huge smirk on his face, like his name is on every ticket of the raffle, like he’s cheating at something. “Let me tell you what she used to do. She used to put the fucker in, like, a blanket, right? And she’d lift it up like a sack, with him inside, and he’d obviously start clawing and making all of these noises—“

He makes the noises. Just starts whipping his head around and making kitten growls, imitating this cat with his name. You get the sense that this is one of those anecdotes that explains a lot about a person.

“—And she’d come into my room, in, like, the middle of the night—this is real psycho shit—and she’d lift my covers and drop the cat. And the shit would fucking claw at me and bite me, just—“

He’s doing the noises again. And now he’s clawing at the air with his hands.

He stops, and the way he closes his mouth around his grin makes his teeth look like they’re trying to escape past his lips. But it looks sort of lovely.

“When the fuck died, Saskia texted me. She was like, oh, he loved you so much, you should’ve said goodbye.” He pauses, widens his eyes, looks at you with the pointed intimacy of sharing in this ludicrousness.

You roll your eyes. But you catch yourself smiling. You like the idea of him being mauled like that, skin deep. You get the sense that life has done to him a lot of that—those growls and scratches. And that sounds a little fucked. But what you like about it is how he seems so unmoved now, by this psycho shit. This flailing animal, this torture device. Pinning him down. He's laughing.

You try to imagine him as a child, but the proportions are all comically bizarre, in your mind’s eye.

“Pork chops,” you say, throwing the menu aside. “I feel like stuffing my face.”

Patrick gets three sausage egg McMuffins on the way to the New Rochelle Country Club—and fries, and a hash, and a soda—and he’s eating the second by the time you pull out of the drivethru.

There is a compelling sense of chaos to how he drives. Like, he’s so bad at driving. Three different people honk at him in a dozenminute window. And you feel content knowing that whatever had had your heart thumping last night has not shrivelled and died with the morningtime. Though now it’s maybe a partial distress for your safety. But you get the sense that, maybe, this is actually the person you are now. The woman who sleeps beside a rugged stranger and buys him breakfast and doesn’t care how he speaks with his mouth open while he’s eating the fries. Doesn’t care about the writhing mire of half chewed potato on his tongue. The way his lips gleam pink with salt.

“I need to listen to really specific music to, like, get in the zone? If you don’t mind?”

He sounds so uncharacteristically shy, for brief a moment. You have to lean forward and look to see he isn’t joking. He isn't.

“Uh— yeah, of course. It’s your car.”

He slides a Sound of Music soundtrack disc into the mouth of the dashboard.

You laugh so hard you fold over.

He’s got one hand on the wheel, and shifts is his seat, peeling the unfamiliarly clean skin of his thighs off the leather before sitting back down. He’s tearing into his third breakfast sandwich with a reckless abandon reserved for death row. He laughs around the bite, glancing, bemused, between you and the road, and, ultimately, spending more time looking at you.

“What?” he laughs around a halfmasticated mouthful. “What?”

There are tears sluicing down your face. You can’t breathe. You think you can, and then you start laughing again, and you can’t.

“How do you solve a problem like Maria?” Patrick hums cheerily as he noshes. It’s a gross and wonderful noise, the food moving between his teeth, circumventing Hammerstein.

You think the large coke is probably no performance enhancer, not only because he all but tumbles out of the car when it’s hardly halfway parked (poorly, you’ll add).

“Fuck, need to piss,” he says frenetically.

When you know the notes to sing…, carols Julie Andrews.

You’re still laughing. Crying. Your tummy fluttering painfully.

Patrick makes you order dessert too, since you’re celebrating.

Celebrating what? you had to ask, though, at the time, you were wearing an impish, knowing, frankly celebratory sort of smile.

Patrick feigned great offense. He said, I’m fucking here, aren’t I?

He wants you to have sundaes together. You spill some ice cream on your skirt. He finds that funny. He’s always got this weasel smile, like he’s constantly ready for amusement. He’s shaved, at some point between now and then. The hairs on his face are sparser. The skin on his face looks milky and organic like a crinite litchifruit.

The frumpy diner was his idea too.

He’s spent some time on the veritable extremes of the economic spectrum—that’s what life tends to be for him; veritable extremes, scratching him meanly—and now he just wants to play at being the average wage earner.

“You really are welcome to stay with me, if you’d like.”

Patrick looks at you like he’d rather shoot himself.

You sort of marvel at his sense of pride, as if it were a rare stone, swallowing light and spewing it out at all angles. The Sociology course you took in uni had a whole two modules on personal pride. It is one of the few emotions that are unique to humans.

Patrick—for his weasel smile and beastly hunger and feline anti—is remarkably proficient in being human. In the real, visceral parts of it. In wielding his emotions like kaleidoscope hues. Dancing freely in confinement.

“When are you leaving?”

“Don’t worry about that. If you have time for breakfast tomorrow, we can—”

“Mm, not tomorrow, I don’t think. But I have no plans this weekend.”

You say it with this weird, bright intonation, like you’re jesting. Which—a lot of things feel like a bit of a joke these days. But he seems to understand you well enough. Delivers a curt, unspurned nod, and even a smile. Not the weasley, chronicling one. The wolfish one that makes his eyes crinkle up.

“Come here then,” he says.

Patrick leans in for a hug. You can’t avoid it. He enfolds you in a fascinatingly soft, burning embrace. He still smells sort of musky and acrid. Like even though he can shower regularly now, he maybe doesn’t as often as he should. But you find a gross comfort that. This pleasantly fetid, human man. His cologne smells like a wine cellar.

He says, “It’s nice to see you again.”

Something churns in your belly. Maybe the pork chops. Maybe the ice cream. This whole fucking day. You accidentally deleted some files and IT spent five hours trying to help you unsheathe them from oblivion. You felt like a failure. And now you’re here and,

“Fuck, you’re still so cool.”

You push away from him with a forceful laugh.

You used to be able to tell your sister all kinds of things. But, lately, you haven’t been able to talk to anyone about anything.

Working so many years for a soulless corporate hive mind has turned you into an expert at short, polite, and meaningless feedback that only varies with inflection.

“Right”, “Sure”, “Got it”, “Whatever you think is best”, “Already on it”.

Half the time you sound illiterate. The other half, you sound like you could have written Prozac Nation.

When your sister asks, how was New Rochelle? she expects you to say something annoyingly vague and ominous in your cool, collected adjunct’s voice, like: Everything is under control.

But, instead, you say, “Do you and Mark still go to mass? I really want to start giving more of myself away.” And you’re wearing this smile that’s utterly sincere.

That’s what spooks your sister.

Of course, you want to tell her more. Because your sister married a Herman Melville character; one of those grizzly, stinky, sacerdotal men who don’t want to work but don’t want to lose either. You know your tale of Linklateresque, serendipitous connection would render her mesmerised and marginally jealous.

But, soft and charitable as you may now be, you keep it all to yourself.

Patrick is still in Massachusetts a fortnight later. You say you’d have loved to come and see him play, but you’re really busy, and he says not to sweat it. Insists really. Maybe even begs. Do not sweat it.

You text him, presumably a day or two afterwards, and ask how it went.

Smahsed it!, he texts, and garlands the (misspelled) notion with eight sunglassfaced emojis. You counted. Dibner? he texts.

Then, a moment later,

*dinner?

You get to see your first New Rochelle sunrise.

You slink out of bed with toothfairy softness, even though Patrick is sleeping the sleep of death—with a deep, miserable snore like a resounding dirge to prove it—beside you. Your pillow wall, in the night, had collapsed like Berlin in 89.

You step outside. You check your phone, first, but you do go outside. You do believe in fresh air in the mornings, even if you don’t have the fortitude for mindfulness and journaling.

The parking lot is a vast open soul. Regretfully resigned and stunningly silent.

The sky looks like a bleeding mouth, but the hard grey edges around it don’t seem to care. The concrete enterprises and litter splay do not want anything to do with this bruise. A tart, sort of sewery smell makes your eyes water.

Cars drive by too fast. 

You think, in some faraway capacity, you can hear the soft, rhythmic thunk of tennis balls hitting asphalt. But it’s only your heart.

You hear things. You see things.

You don’t want to sound like some haunted Victorian heiress with a mystical past, but you do.

In the break room, mostly.

So you hadn’t noticed before. Your coworker, Sam, goes fucking wild for tennis. Sam’s slobbering lewd and voracious over tennis. It’s hard to witness. In fact, you feel dirty witnessing this. You should call HR. Sam’s in the break room doing an onanistic oneman scene play about tennis.

Or maybe he just kind of likes it.

And you hadn’t noticed it before.

There’s a lot, for your part, that you were content not noticing around the office.

But now every errant tenniscentric commentary makes your hands feel sore and weightless without the presence of a gun.

“No, you don’t get it, Deirdre, this is like if LeBron played a game at some random Y, and got dunked on by this fuckin’ nobody, and then just… quit the game.” He sounds tumid with bewilderment. “Just fuckin’ dipped!” Sam’s incredulous. “Forever!”

“LeBron…?”

“Fuck, Deirdre, you’re killing me.”

You slot the mouth of your bottle beneath the spout of the water cooler. You close your eyes—zombieleaden, uneven on the tiles; it’s only 10—and listen to the halting trickle, trickle… stream. The plastic goes cold against your palm as the water rises.

“All because of some… fuckin’,” Sam snaps his fingers, “Fuck, I forget the name.”

Peter Zeppelin, your mind supplies dryly.

It is then that Sam chooses to notice you. Points his finger. Wide smile. “Oh-ho, here’s trouble!” says Sam.

Sam and you have had enough one on one conversations for you to list on your one free hand, and you wouldn’t be spoiled for digits. But, all the same,

“Here’s trouble!” Sam announces, “Big shot boss babe, huh? Back from kickin’ rear in New Rochelle. I know you’re glad to be back.”

You don’t say anything. You feign responsiveness, flash a stilted smile. But you don’t say anything. Because what would you say?

Outside the men’s bathroom of the New Rochelle Country Club, you fidget awkwardly, standing against a wall and trying to look inconspicuous. Patrick’s duffel sits at your heels like a staunch hound.

Your gaze meanders around the venue with an idle sense of inquiry.

You’d expected a certain echelon of grandiosity, anyway. And the country club is nice—you feel silly casting any judgement at all—if a little outdated. All glossy wood-panelling and pea green outdoor carpet.

You can see yourself, warped and bleary, upon the polished floor. The bar flourishes a glassy sheen and cloistered amber rows of lavish whiskeys.

Through glass windows, golf splays unfurl, ceaseless viridescence, beset on all sides by sharpcornered hedges.

People mill about with the air of the lookedafter, and polo shirts as white as the maw of God.

Which is nice—it’s all nice—and all, but your chest seems to enwreathe a stark state of dread. You feel the sort of nausea that would rack you as a child. Floating in the curtains at your dance recitals, like an anxious little poltergeist.

When Patrick emerges from the loo, he is whistling. Fluting finely the swooping tune of ‘Sixteen Going on Seventeen’.

“You certainly seem unburdened,” you murmur, gaze shadowing him as he draws near. You know you sound unconvinced. For his part, he looks undeterred.

Slings his bag over his shoulder like it is floatable, even as you know it bears the poundage of half a man’s life.

He grins, flashing a canine.

To you, he has just eaten his weight in greasy, leaden carbcloth, and proceeded to piss for twelve minutes straight.

But Patrick seems imbued by morningshine.

He throws a heavy arm around you, squeezes your shoulder. Says, “Look alive!” Says, “I’ve had a good night’s sleep, a hot shower, the breakfast of champions, and I’m about to get paid!”

You wince a bit at his volume, and also because he seems to be emanating a bit of that morningshine. Not to speak of the heat. Searing from his very bones.

If nothing else you admire his buoyancy. In that way, the warmth—even as the sun blooms above you—is a fascinating comfort.

Like something to be shared.

You say yes to dinner.

You keep having dinner. He keeps taking you out for dinner, and to decent places, too, places you haven’t even been to around here.

You’re sitting across from him. You’re eating, as one does. He’s regarding you with something like awe. Though you wouldn’t know it, because he regards, too, his plate, when the waiter rests it before him, with a sort of comical reverence. Even though you’re pretty sure he’s not starving, anymore.

But hunger’s not always about those sorts of things, you suppose. Maybe he's just still hungry.

He’s winning a lot. Must be, if he’s taking you out all the time, and—hey—maybe you can get him to sign something for Sam. That’d be nice of you.

Patrick watches you eat.

You try not to stare back at him. As long as you keep chewing, you won’t have to ask why he’s still here.

“That’s a nice shirt,” he says after a long silence.

You smile. “Thank you.”

He doesn’t text you for months, many months, after New Rochelle. You’d given him your number, because you wanted to put the ball in his court, and—fuck—here’s hoping you didn’t say that.

But you can’t recall.

It’s been months.

So, when you do get the text, you’re pleased to see it’s aptly contrite.

ypu probably think I’msn idiot, it reads, and it’s late at night and you’re already in bed, stewing over NYT Connections.

You eye the ID. Maybe: Patrick Zweig, but that’s implied—so many implicit little shards—because not a lot of people are so tortured by the prospect of your opinion on them so as to text you at 1 AM. So.

Define idiot, you text back.

dictionary defenition is Patrick Rupert Zweih. There’s prpbably even a lil picture of me next to it.

A few moments.

A bad one.

Ten or eleven emojis of abject terror.

You consider this—not a bad picture of him (though he doesn’t quite strike you as wildly photogenic anyway), just... This Whole Wound—and tap the side of your phonecase in tentative thought.

Your full name is Patrick Rupert Zweig? Tough.

Like ypu didnt already look me up.

You blink. Whoa—okay.

Not a humble idiot, I see, you type.

You don’t know where you get the balls. There’s a sweeping litany of long, gorgeous miles between your bed and New Rochelle, but maybe he can smell you thinking as much because,

Im in MA next week

In the registration room, a man with a binder asks his name, and Patrick sheathes his canine in a way that makes him look conspiratorial and bemused. You suppose it’s become an inside joke.

The ATP official seems to gleam with recognition when Patrick does give his name—his real name—and he says, “Oh wow, that is you!”

You can’t see his face from this angle, but you can envisage the way his moue has settled in confusion.

Apparently, the ATP official was a line judge at the Junior US Open back in 06.

You try to think back to what you were doing in 2006. Probably populating your microcosm in The Sims. Trapping little imitations of those who had scorned you in swimming pools to drown.

“You were really something back then, huh?” says the ATP official.

Your eyes flicker to Patrick’s profile. He doesn’t quite know how to respond to that.

The official hands Patrick a packet. There’s a little map of the facility in there, in case he gets lost. His first match is against one Gonzalez, on court seven.

Patrick says, marginally halting, “Hey, so, is there any chance of an advance payment on the prize money.”

The official blinks.

“Because I know I’m guaranteed a minimum of four hundred dollars even if I get knocked out today—“

You frown a bit at that. The official frowns a lot at that.

“Well,” he says, “Generally we don’t give out winnings until a player makes his way through the tournament…”

A beat.

Then,

“You could always just lose today. Then we’d have to cut you a check this evening.”

Patrick hardens to bone. You hope he has another lifeaffirming piss in him. He doesn’t meet your eyes when he turns to leave, but flicks you a glance that seems to ask that you spare him the judgement.

You leave New Rochelle today. Good as the night’s sleep may have been, he knows better than anyone that life’s loveliest things are fleeting.

So—fine—you don’t begrudge him. Instead,

“He seems hopeful,” you say wryly.

“Must’ve been thrown off by my pretty caddie,” he says dismissively. Maybe a little bristled.

The warmup courts, deep blue plane, shimmer in the sunheat.

Patrick takes the asphalt, flicks his racket around by its handgrip as though refamiliarising himself with the palmfeel for the first time in a while. Which—well—doesn’t give you confidence, at risk of contesting Julie Andrews.

He practices his serve. Starts to work the ball up and down the court. Hits a few forehands, a few backhands.

Then,

“He was lying,” he yells to the bleachers.

The bleachers are mostly empty. A few errant loiterers. Bored spectators who have finished their lunch earlier than their friends. What have you.

He’s looking at you, though. With a staggering precision from so far away.

“What?”

“That guy. He was lying. Or… bigging it up. Or whatever. I wasn’t really something, I was just decent.”

He strikes a ball over the net. You can see, from here, the vibration ricochet through the racketstrings with a shudder that has you expecting music to flutter out.

You lean back in your seat, sort of sliding down against the glossy plastic, a tremor of induced electric tickling your bum through your jeans. You cross your arms.

“That’s kind of bullshit,” you call out.

He spares you a glance, sort of doubletakes, and you can see the corner of his mouth tremble with intrigue.

He takes another ball from the basket. Tosses it up. You watch the neon starsphere spin fleetingly in the air before being walloped to oblivion. And what do you know of tennis? But you do think his serve is a thing of beauty. Beauty measured in power and precision, sure (he hits the ball straight and hard and fast and low, just barely clearing the net), but you can also see the way his muscles work beneath his skin. Which—you know.

Patrick walks to the fence that partitions the courts from the stands. He leans over, rests his arms on the palisade, and looks at you.

“This was the whole problem,” he tells you, “Everyone was always telling me how good I was. And it got to my head. And now I’m here.”

It’s a shabby imitation of humility. What it really is, is an attempt to scale down the apogee, so the fall seems less mythic. So the years seem less unkind.

“I didn’t come here to watch you sulk just because some guy was nice to you.”

Patrick grins. His cheeks are flushed with heat, and there are little spots of sweat on the hollows where his skin and bones meet. But he seems to know not to exert himself fully right now.

“You think I’m sulking?”

“I think you seem pretty torn up for a guy who’s going to play a thirty minute match, and walk away a few hundred dollars richer.”

He makes a noise like you’ve wounded him, but he seems elated.

“A few hundred dollars?” he says, raising his brows. “So you’ve lost your faith in me.”

“I have some,” you allow, and you’re not surprised to find that you really do. “Just don’t choke.”

Patrick wears the smile of a newly crowned Miss Universe. He looks touched that you’re being so frank.

“I won’t,” he says, with a sense of finality and what you feel is an incongruous tenderness. “I’m pretty good at dealing with pressure. My parents always used to take me to work with them and tell employees to come to me at random intervals with madeup highstakes scenarios. Like, pretending to have a breakdown, and saying they needed me to help them out and make the final decision. Some of them could cry on command.”

You try and fail to hide a look on your face that divulges how demented you think that anecdote is. But you try to find something neutral to say.

“Well, maybe you’re lucky,” you tell him. “I was horrifically nervous as a child.”

“Not anymore?” he asks, swinging his racket idly, and you get the sense he’s actually very interested in how you will answer.

So it’s hard not to answer him honestly.

“I don’t know,” you say finally, and you look away from his eyes, and instead at the sky. You’re alarmed to find they are precisely the same tincture of aegean. “Mostly not. But if I have to give a presentation or speak up in a meeting, I have to take one of those beta blockers, you know? Propranolol?”

You are stricken, at odd moments, in New Rochelle, in Massachusetts.

You get the sense that he’s trying to be cavalier. But, at the same time, there’s this unmistakable fragility about him. Like it wouldn’t take much to knock him down.

You are stricken by how he’s managed to maintain this cocksure swagger for so long. With such a brittle, aching core.

How easily it all might’ve been shaken by the wrong person, and the wrong word.

You love the smell of your dear kitty’s head right after a bath. The fluff of dandelions and baby bird. You love toweling her, taking her little paws in your hand and prying the toes open.

Toby pretends not to like being fussed over, but she doesn’t put up much of a fight. In fact, most nights, she falls asleep in your arms.

When he pays you the visit, Ms Tobes is breathing evenly in your arms, your thumb caressing the organtender slope of her silky head.

You open the door, and great weeping gales have been jostling your windows all evening. But he is in shorts.

Patrick’s been in New England for nearly a month.

There’s an odd sort of look on his face, and an unlit cigarette behind his ear.

Hands in his pockets, he leans against the door frame, staring down at you. You feel a remarkable heat radiating from the downy flesh of his bare legs.

He doesn’t seem confident, nor does he seem unperturbed. He seems… pensive and maybe even penitent, but he wears it with a fascinating poise. There’s still something wounded and vulnerable about the way of his shoulders, the slant of his mouth. It's the softness that kills you, anyway, you think incoherently. 

You peer up at him, dubious, through the briar of your lashes. He looks down at Toby, at the sweep of your finger over her head. You do not know if it is he or Toby who purrs.

When he speaks, he is whispering very softly, though there’s a frayed, low seep of his voice in his throat. It feels revoltingly intimate.

“When Patrick died,” he says, “The cat. I felt so shitty. I had this weird feeling of—like—I don’t know. Shittiness. Because of how Sassy said what she said. You should’ve said goodbye. What am I supposed to do with that, y’know?”

You swallow. The hallway is so vacant and noiseless you can hear the plush shuffle of his running shoes against the carpet. Dutifully beyond the boundary of your home, even though he’s been here quite a few times now.

“Patr—“ you croak.

“I’m not in Massachusetts for a game,” he tells you, shrugging hopelessly and almost smiling. But failing to. Which you register. “There’s no challenger in Boston. There’s just you. In Wellesley. All these… fucking ponds everywhere. Private schools. Bunch of rich little assholes who need a tennis coach, I bet. All these res—fuck. You know,” he shifts, taking the cigarette from his ear and gesturing with it between the two of you, “We’ve been out, like, twenty times, since I’ve been here, and there’s still, like, fifty restaurants we haven’t been to.”

You stare up at him. Your palms, where they cradle Toby, grow damp. The throbbing organ of your heart takes up residence in your throat. There’s a sad sort of clanging from the clock in the hall.

You lift one trembling finger to your lips.

Please, don’t say anything else, you beg with your eyes. Please, not in front of Toby.

Patrick’s eyes glint ruefully. Almost ominously. He seems insulted by your gesture, but he understands. He always understands. He never holds anything against anyone.

“No need for that,” he says very quietly. “I come in peace.”

He moves closer, breaking the enclave where the carpet of the hall meets the vinyl of your floor, until he is inches away.

A head taller, yet shrinking, as if you were seeing him from across a room.

He smells very good today. He smells like spice and bergamot and the laundered fabric of his navy blue halfzip. You sort of miss the musk. Of course you think of New Rochelle. You think of Bob Dylan and Hello Kitty and thermostats. Fucking Sally.

You lift your chin.

“I’m not asking you to—“

Patrick leans forward, his nose touching your nose.

“I’m gonna do the tennis,” he speaks the words into your mouth, voice like gravel melting in the sun.

You part your lips. A part of you hates him, hates how he’s insinuated himself in your life without warning. Another part, however, is asleep and betrays you.

He shushes you, though you’re sure you haven’t said anything. It’s just that you’re crying now. Completely still and silent. Weeping like the dead, because the dead weep, too.

He shakes his head, his nose brushing over yours, says shhh like you’re a cat, and, even then, Toby only stirs between your fingers.

“It’ll be good,” he says, and you’ve heard him sound convincing. You know that right now he sounds… something else. And he’s still shaking his head as he whispers, “It’ll be good, I’ll be good. I have a coach, I’m not done, I love the tennis.”

You look up at him. Lick your lips, which, when you’re so close, also means sort of licking his. Sort of licking into him. You want to say, fuck your tennis and fuck you too, but you also want to fuck him and you want to fuck his tennis, too.

You think of New Rochelle.

Patrick’s hand meanders upward toward Toby, and, if his cigarette was lit, you’d see sweeping coils of smoke floating heavenward.

It isn’t lit, but still.

You catch him quickly. You hold him by the wrist.

His skin is nauseatingly warm.

“You love it?” You sound unimpressed now. Your mouth moves over and around and against his as you speak.

“I do.”

“You love it, you love the tennis?” You’re sort of spitting it at him, and he tastes it.

And he thinks of Patrick the cat, how he lay there and was mauled. Pinned down. He thinks he’d let you draw blood, now, if you really wanted to.

“Tennis doesn’t love you.”

“Do you?”

There is time enough for you to answer. But when a sound is finally made it is only Toby, who mewls.

Patrick smiles. You feel the seam of his lips touch your lower teeth. “Didn’t think so.”

He straightens, his lips swiping your nose on his way up. He gently removes his arm from your grasp, your nails scraping is skin.

You exhale sharply. You feel stung.

Poor Toby, caught between your beating hearts. Patrick steps away. He places the cigarette between his lips, and then you do not stop him from touching Tobes. He strokes her gently.

“You got a lighter?” he asks around the cig.

There are three aflame candles in your home right now. He can smell the vanilla. You shake your head. He smiles again. Toby purrs. Patrick’s fingers touch yours between the heather fur.

You feel a strange ignition in your bones.

The game begins.

Everything is quick and violent.

You don’t know if tennis is actually quick and violent, or if that’s just him.

You are astounded by just how much a man can sweat. You are spellbound by the visceral implication of being drenched in one’s own exertion.

Gonzalez is younger. A little bit more thrilled to be here. And he’s got the kind of easy, quick thoroughness that means he probably practices with a ball machine at home, but not a lot of real experience.

Patrick makes brutal work of him.

There is a certain way his muscles tense through his forearm and the pulse travels up his bicep when he strikes the ball. His shirt rises as he twists to send it flying over the net. There is so much laboured breath and dripping skin.

He has you sit exactly where you sat during warmups.

Between sets, he extends his arm, taut and sweatsoused, and points to you with the scratched edge of his racket, one eye closed like he’s mapping trajectory. And he does sort of have this bloodhungry precision in his gaze, like a marksman.

You feel it in your neck, the ache of your focus, how your eyes water for lack of blinking as you swivel your head side to side. You do not close your mouth once.

He hits the ball again, and then again. Each with an almost startling accuracy. Each with a deep and fleshsatisfying thwack that makes your very ear canals thrum with the sort of pain that has you expecting the warmth of dripping crimson on your shoulders.

But it’s not just the force that strikes you. It’s that precision. That bulletgleam precision.

He seems to know, with a profound, animalic certainty, exactly where to place each shot.

At times, they will land exactly where the last landed.

And by the time his adversary cottons on, he has set his hungry eyes upon another target.

It’s beautiful.

You start to wonder if you have ever—ever—looked so fucking beautiful doing any single thing in your life. This strange and beautiful violence. Refined and delicate violence. He is violent and graceful.

Patrick groans when he hits the ball. Makes a guttural sound, a pained sort of sound, like he loses something of himself with each forceful departure.

The sun beams down, and you see his beautiful legs flex aglow with the beautiful gleam of his abject labour.

You think, fuck—

New Rochelle is beautiful.

“You know, I could have gone pro.”

Sam leans back in his Herman Miller chair. Takes a deep quaff of his coffee before pointing to Deirdre with his mug.

“You played for two years in middle school,” Deirdre deadpans, her gaze unmoving from her monitor as she populates a spreadsheet with who the fuck knows.

“This is huge, D,” says Sam, unhurt, “This is like if Jamal Mashburn started coaching the fuckin’ nobody that demolished LeBron at the Y.”

Deirdre seems to have forgotten this analogy, which, for her part, Sam first made months ago now.

“But also if Mashburn was married to Lebron,” adds Sam.

Your computer screen casts depressing polygons across your glasses. You slide your AirPods in. You don’t want to know where Bob Dylan will appear on your Spotify Wrapped.

I met one man who was wounded in love. I met another man who was wounded in hatred. And it’s a hard, it’s a hard— It’s a hard, it’s a hard—

It’s a hard rain’s a-gonna fall.

[sea-lanterns]

Female lions usually grow manes due to lots of testosterone, so I really don't doubt that Deyha would grow one

Additionally, 'panther' isn't a species and it's just a term for a feline that has too much melanin. There's cases of leopards and lions becoming 'panthers', though jaguars get them most often.

Cougars/Mountain Lions/Pumas have also been called panthers (among WAY too many other names), even though I don't believe they've ever been all black before.

Additionally, snow leopards, tigers, and cheetahs, along with bobcats have never been recorded as being all black like panther be. They have been recorded as having melanism, but not hyperblack melanism like with what's seen on panthers.

Anyway, bringing this up because I've been wondering what kind of panther Arlecchino is.

And I thought it would be funny if she had a mix of all the traits?

Like, she can swim better than any other felid, because she's part jaguar (might even have extra webbing), the climbing prowess of a leopard (able to drag up to 220 pounds into a tree), and umm... I don't know much about lions, 'cause they're pretty boring to me, but maybe Arle has a mane too?

Additional fun-fact about lions. Ones with darker manes are seen as more attractive because darker mane=more testosterone, so if Arle does get a mane, it'd be funny to see how jealous Deyha is of it.

All this said, I just found out panther is also what a cougar is called, so maybe you just mean that Arlecchino is a cougar, if so then... uhh... I hope you found the random stuff I spewed cool :>

—🪽

The big cat infodump I didn’t know I needed until now :0

If we are talking about what kind of big cat Arlecchino would be as panthers aren’t an actual species, I’d say she’d probably be a jaguar like Xilonen! Ever since this AU started, Jaguar! Xilonen and Panther! Arleccchino have always been paired together as they have some sort of rivalry. I think it’d be neat if they were actually both Jaguar hybrids, but Arlecchino’s coat color has a lot of melanin which causes her to be called a “panther.”

Also the thought of Arlecchino being a black lion hybrid is so intriguing too! Since you mentioned that the darker the lion’s mane is, the more attractive they are to mates, I can see Dehya getting jealous because Arlecchino’s mane would be all pitch black! That makes her think you’d be more attracted to Arleccchino’e mane rather than hers! Even though Dehya’s mane is also pretty dark considering her dark hair…

Lol, imagine Lion! Dehya forming a rivalry with Lion! Arlecchino too! Arlecchino beefs with everyone no matter what species of hybrid she is, poor baby 😭😭

[ordinaryschmuck]

Why I Love The Owl House: Part 5-The Themes

Prev Part

Salutations, random people on the internet who are already skimming past this! I am an Ordinary Schmuck. I write stories and reviews and draw comics and cartoons.

And we’re just two parts away from me never talking about The Owl House again! In previous parts, we’ve talked about the characters, their relationships, and the narrative threads that are closely tied to them. For this part, we’re now discussing the show’s themes and messages. And I’ll level with you all: I’m admittedly...faulty at this part of media analysis. Anything regarding the discussion of a theme or message that a story tries to tell is something I struggle to do right. I regrettably either come across a theme through luck or piggybacking off of what others have said and throwing my two cents in. When it comes to putting it in my own words, I just…have issues in describing what the theme is. Hell, this whole part was the hardest to write because I often drew a blank of what to discuss or how to dig into it further. A part of me, deep down, KNOWS what a story is trying to say but I, a lot of the time, struggle finding the right words to best convey it.

Yeah, isn’t that rich? An English Major with a limited vocabulary and an ineptitude towards analysis. My life sucks sometimes…

With that said, there are some things that I’ve noticed about The Owl House and what it’s trying to tell to kids and maybe a few adults. A lot of its messages are definitely simple to older audiences, but with the things it has to say to kids it makes The Owl House something important to watch if they’re to shape the future. And no, I’m not talking about those lessons told at the end of each episode, but overall themes that occur through the course of the series. As far as I can tell, The Owl House has about…thirteen things to say about life, love, the trials of growing up, and how to deal with people. Plus, much like the narratives, it’s all tied closely to the characters and their personal journeys. Does the show say everything it needs to say well? Or is this another case of “If the show had more time it’d be better” and all that yada-yada? Well, let’s find out together as we count off the things that The Owl House has to say. Starting with a point the series makes exponentially clear:

(Also, prepare thyself. This one is twenty-five pages)

Honesty is the best policy 

I don’t know if you noticed, but these characters tend to lie. A LOT. And we’ve already gone into great detail with how often Luz lies in previous parts. Whether it's to her mom, her girlfriend, or friend group, Luz tends to keep some dark truths from the people she cares about. It’s partially selfish, but it comes from not wanting them to worry about her when they’re the ones currently going through it. It’s part of Luz’s bigger flaw of caring more for others than she does for herself (Which we’ll get to later), but the point remains constant that if she told the truth sooner, she’d have saved a lot of pain and heartache for herself and others. Same goes for other characters who lie for similar reasons but with greater consequences.

Going from least hurtful to most, let’s start with Eda, the one who lies in two different ways. The most obvious lies come with her pain, primarily the curse. She initially chose to keep her mouth shut about it, hoping that it’ll never turn into a big deal or a problem. If you’ve been paying attention to her character’s journey, you can tell how wrong that assumption was. When keeping it a secret from the rest of her family, the Owl Beast came out at the worst possible time, making Dell disabled and Gwen desperate to get the beast out of her precious daughter. By underplaying how bad it is to Raine, it makes Raine think their relationship isn’t serious enough so they break it off. She didn’t even tell Luz and King until they met the Owl Beast themselves and tried to survive it. Eda had King in her home for eight years and this was the first time he’s ever known ANYTHING about the Owl Beast. And even then, she still hides that it’s getting worse by the day, giving King and Luz an IDEA of what Eda’s going through but withholding the part that could upset them. Just telling them about the curse is arguably Eda at her most honest about what’s wrong with her, and she still doesn’t want to reveal everything. It’s part of this underlying problem where Eda’s unwilling to reveal the pain inside herself because, well, she’s the big bad Owl Lady. The most powerful witch on the Boiling Isles. And with a title like that, she doesn’t want anyone to know that she’s fragile. She tried being fragile once in the beginning of “Keeping Up A-Fear-Ances,” detailing what the curse does to her, and it made her mother go a little overboard in wanting to help her precious daughter. Needless to say, she’s not willing to go through that again, especially since Luz and Raine proves her point by putting themselves in danger when knowing how much Eda hurts. When Luz learns about how bad the curse got, she practically threw herself into the arms of the Emperor to find this specific thing that could help. And with Raine, while Eda opened up more about the curse and how it affected her magic, she still remains tight lipped about another thing: Her kids. She never brought them up, hiding her turmoil about them leaving her for good and was lucky enough that Raine found out soon enough so that SHE won’t abandon Luz and King when they still need her. It’s fortunate that Raine found out by accident, but UNFORTUNATE that it led to them getting captured to save Eda so she could talk things out with her kids. In Eda’s eyes, vulnerability means that you need to be helped or protected, with the ones you love paying the price more. She hates that feeling and despises it even more when people she loves get in danger because of it. Eda eventually finds her way out of this mindset thanks to the love King and Luz share with her and how Hooty and Dell prove that facing pain head on is the only way to heal from it. It was a slow process, but one that eventually led to her opening up more, even allowing herself to cry when she would usually hide her pain with a smile or push it down for the sake of a brave face. She becomes honest with her own pain, with her curse, and how much she truly cares about her loved ones. However, that’s more of a general lie with Eda. There’s one specific lie that she told that went on for way too long.

Lying to King about being a King of Demons seemed harmless at first. Eda was just messing around with what she thought was a pet. Only for that pet to prove he’s more intelligent than she thought and, as a result, more delusional. King took being the King of Demons as part of his whole identity, with every action he made trying to live out that fantasy. By the time Eda revealed the truth, it’s like telling a child that there’s no such thing as Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, AND the Tooth Fairy all at once. Only the effects would be ten times worse because it would destroy all of King’s sense of self AND give him questions that Eda wouldn’t have any answers to. Eda knew this inevitability would come any day now, so she put it off as long as she could, initially hoping that King would outgrow this fantasy himself so she won’t have to rip off this particular bandaid. Only to be backed into a corner because King and the others almost got killed in trying to prove that King’s really, well, a king. This time, telling a lie actually put someone in danger, so Eda tried the truth for a change and, well…it crushed him. More accurately, it shattered King’s core identity and sense of what's real and what isn't. Eda saw this, immediately felt guilty for holding it in for too long, but never comes to regret this decision. It’s something she KNEW needed to be done from the start and accepts the “consequences” of what comes from this lie. I put “consequences” in quotes because aside from a lot of tears being shed, this was the first step to King growing up and he would come to appreciate the honesty (even though he had a long, emotionally draining road ahead). Eda telling the truth WAS for the better, even if she should have told it long ago. But, all things considered, the lie wasn’t THAT bad of one. It was done to keep King happy and let him have some childhood innocence for a while…As for the lie AMITY told?

All Amity had to tell Willow was that her parents are forcing them apart because Willow’s family isn’t rich enough. That’s all. It wouldn’t have been great, but it would at least be the truth and Willow could have understood…Maybe. Well, there’s a slight possibility that Willow would have tried talking things out with Amity’s parents or continue to be friends despite them, not caring what they’ll do to her. Amity, not wanting to take that chance, decided it’d be best to make herself look like the bad guy. So, she lied that she doesn’t want to be friends with Willow because her magic is weak, thus distancing herself from her first real friend. Was it an extreme decision that crushed Willow’s heart and left her unsure if she’s capable of doing anything right? Yes. But to be fair…Amity said that lie when she was probably seven years old. I’d like to see what morally correct decision you made at seven.

But the first lie isn’t the worst part about Amity’s decision. In actuality, it’s how she decided to keep the lie going for years until Luz showed up and intervened. In Amity’s “defense,” which is really a frail excuse, she didn’t have any choice but to keep up the act. She already said it, it did its job, and now she has to commit to her lie or risk putting Willow in the warpath of her parents. Amity says it herself that she’s not brave enough to fight them for Willow, so she instead puts on a mask that makes her appear to be a mean girl and further separates herself from her now ex-friend. This led to Amity disrespecting Willow and belittling her because it’s better to have Willow hate Amity instead of let Odalia follow through on her threats. It wasn’t until Luz showed up and started improving Amity’s life that she realized that being nice FEELS nice. Is that an oversimplification? You better believe it is, but I talked about these three characters and this aspect of Amity and Willow’s relationship three parts in a row so LET ME SIMPLIFY! Anywho, it is good that Amity told the truth and it’s even better that she apologized, but it doesn’t change how the initial lie made things worse. In an attempt to protect Willow from Amity’s parents, she left Willow to face bullies and judgmental peers without anyone to comfort her or be in her corner. At least, not until she met Gus and then later Luz. It was almost a well-intentioned lie like Eda’s with King, but while Eda put off the truth to protect King’s innocence, Amity destroyed WILLOW’S with a single lie. By the time the truth came out, it finally STARTED the healing process. It didn’t fully heal Willow, but it STARTED to, with her admitting that making things right with Amity is what jump started her having more confidence. Confidence that she’d have since the beginning if Amity wasn’t the one to crush it by saying Willow being weak is the reason they can’t be friends anymore. Amity had her reasons, and I went over them thoroughly enough in previous parts (Go read THOSE), but it doesn’t change that Amity caused a lot of damage to Willow by lying about why they can’t be friends. On the bright side, while she did keep it going for too long, she at least made things right in about a couple years down the line. It’s not like she kept this one lie going for a dozen years until adulthood and letting things get so worse that it was almost too late to fix things. That would be AWFUL…Anyways, let’s talk about Lilith.

Lilith proves that a lie of omission still counts as a lie. For YEARS she kept in the secret of cursing Eda and for YEARS let Eda’s life get worse because of it. I’ll get to how thoroughly screwed up things got with Eda in a minute, but to keep things brief: Things would not have been as bad if Lilith fessed up sooner. There might have been a lot of yelling, a bruised nose, and Eda proclaiming she has no sister sooner, but time tends to heal all wounds. And they would have had more time to heal if Lilith spit the truth out at fourteen. She would have more time to fix things and prove that she can help Eda, just like how Amity started fixing things with Willow once revealing who was the REAL weak one in the relationship. Now, these are two VASTLY different scenarios and Eda would most certainly have been out for blood immediately, but I’m certain that if the rage settled they could have worked things out and Lilith might have helped Eda with the curse sooner. And, heck, if you go back FURTHER, there’s a chance that honesty could have stopped the curse altogether. If Lilith was honest about her own inadequacy and confessed to Eda about how she’s POSITIVE that her sister would win, Eda would have just shrugged and given the Emperor’s Coven position to Lilith no problem. Granted, joining that coven would have been its own can of worms, but it would have certainly saved Eda a lot of emotional and physical pain. Unfortunately, problems with showing weakness apparently run in the family and Lilith didn’t want to admit that she wasn’t stronger than her sister. She needed to PROVE it…by cheating and completely derailing Eda’s life in the most outrageous fashion. And Lilith would learn years later that the truth really does set one free. But again, I’ll get to that in a minute…

We all have our reasons for being dishonest. They’re selfish reasons in hindsight, but we still have them. Sometimes it’s to stop others from worrying about us, other times it's to hide something we’re ashamed of, and most of the time we just want to stall a bad reaction that we KNOW is inevitable. What we need to learn is that the truth ALWAYS comes out eventually, whether it's through us or through others. We can try to deny the truth, bury it, and hope that it never gets out, but it always does. And what The Owl House tells us is that it’s a GOOD THING for the truth to be out there, especially for loved ones. There might be secrets we HAVE to keep to ourselves, but if you can’t be honest with the people you love, then they can’t effectively help you nor can you help them. It’s always important to be as honest as you can be, because the more you put off the truth the worse the consequences will be. Because you never know how bad one action can snowball into something worse. Which brings me to another theme in the series…

Your actions can have unintended consequences

There are two characters this applies to: Luz and Lilith. You can…probably see where this is headed.

Luz and Lilith tend to make mistakes in the series, Luz more so than Lilith. Granted, Luz’s mistakes mostly stem from her character flaw of not thinking things through, mixed with some impatience and being afraid of confrontation. In other words: She’s a teenager. Dumb teens are going to do some dumb things, and while Luz is smarter than people will give her credit for, she’s still the kid who angered a Slitherbeast by stealing Amity’s wand when Eda’s lessons seemed like they were going nowhere. And that’s just a MINOR thing in Luz’s adventures. We already went over the domino effect last time and how Luz texting ONE LIE to Camila ended up putting her in a more stressful position than how telling the truth outright would have. There are also the many times Luz almost got herself killed, sometimes due to overconfidence or being too emotionally driven to take down someone threatening the people she loves. Most notable examples of that second one definitely comes from being hyper focused on fighting Lilith and Belos in “Young Blood, Old Souls,” which led to the destruction of the portal door and Luz struggling to get back home. Or how Luz thought she could take Belos head on again in "King's Tide," nearly getting petrified in the process if not for smooth talk and tricking him with an invisible branding glove. As for her near death experiences caused by overconfidence, well, let’s see: You have her going on that fake quest for Adeghast, pretending to be an abomination, fighting Grom, challenging Boscha to a grudgby match (That might as well count), and trying to steal the healing hat. And that’s just the stuff that happens in Season One, with some of it carrying over to MORE consequences aside from just almost dying. The wacky adventures in Hexside made Odalia think she has a case to get Luz, Willow, and Gus expelled. And when getting caught by stealing the hat and Lilith consequently using her as bait, it leads to Eda’s curse getting irrevocably worse and Luz being forced to destroy the portal during her attempt to save Eda from Belos. A part of growing up is learning that if you don’t think far enough ahead, you could cause disastrous consequences. Thankfully, for each mistake Luz makes, she is often quick to correct it when the problem arises at any time. Plus, after so many near-death experiences, it eventually molded Luz into becoming the kind of person who doesn't wants lasting consequences over something stupid she did, trying to be more careful in her approach to something. Because Lilith proves just how disastrous it can be to yourself and others if you don't think about the consequences.

The thing is, Lilith PARTIALLY knew the repercussions that came from cursing Eda. Simply put, Eda would have lost the duel and not join the Emperor’s coven. It was a selfish plan made by selfish desires, but Lilith believed she had things all figured out and that things SURELY wouldn’t snowball from there. Turns out, she didn’t think ahead enough (Yeah, big shock). Because everything that went wrong with Eda’s life is all Lilith’s fault. The Owl Beast attacking their dad? Eda running away from their mom? The distance Eda has with her whole family? Eda breaking up with Raine? It all circles back to the curse that Lilith put on her. Now, Eda owns partial blame as some of these were caused by HER actions that no one forced her to make. Yet the curse didn’t help much, especially as it got worse the older Eda got with her magic fading away with the curse’s effects. Lilith excuses this by saying she didn’t expect the curse to last more than a day, as if that actually means anything. Look, I get that she was young and very stupid, with her hyperfixation on joining the Emperor’s Coven blinding Lilith from what was right and wrong. But she still kept that secret for YEARS, not wanting to reveal it until she got a cure for Eda, only to make things worse not just because the curse got stronger and the distance with Eda and Lilith became greater. It’s because., by the time Lilith DOES spit out the truth, Eda’s already at her lowest point with the curse and is furious at Lilith for kidnapping Luz. Just like how Camila would have been LESS upset if Luz told the truth sooner, Eda would be significantly less blood thirsty if Lilith came out and admitted her guilt from the start. I said it with the honest theme: Time heals all wounds, and Luz and Camila prove that forgiveness CAN come if someone proves they’re sorry enough and had more time to reflect on their actions. Lilith was just afraid of that inevitable confrontation that she kept her mouth shut for YEARS to avoid it. She was too scared of facing her own consequences, and it’s why it’s a smart decision to let Lilith decide to SHARE the curse. It finally allows Lilith to understand what she put Eda through and express her apologies far better. It finally hammers into her mind what she did was wrong and how she can take the steps to improve things…We barely see any of this, but at least she’s NOW experiencing consequences for herself instead of letting someone else’s life get worse.

The Owl House does a great job of showing that anything we do, no matter how big or small, can always cause big problems for ourselves and others. There’s no changing that, and what matters most is how we react. If we wait too long, things can only get worse and it’s for the best to fix things as quickly as possible instead of pushing aside the inevitable. And be careful of what you do because you never know when one stupid idea could lead to something even worse for your future. However, while The Owl House does show how our actions have negative consequences, it is smart enough to say that the opposite is true. You see…

Your existence changes lives in unexpected ways

Whenever we do something bad, the domino effect it causes could lead to disastrous outcomes that we could never prepare for, but that doesn’t mean our existence is nothing but accidentally causing harm to ourselves and others. Existence is actually about changing the lives of people around us, a lot of the time for the better. And there’s no character that perfectly proves this more than Luz Noceda, who is the very reason that most people in the Isles is living their best lives.

“She also caused Belos to—”

SHE IS THE VERY REASON THAT THEY’RE LIVING THEIR BEST LIVES! Nearly every person she's come into contact with is better than they were before meeting Luz because she has this tendency to make life better through mere existence. Sometimes it’s unintentional, with Vee being the first person Luz helped. When Vee saw Luz in the Demon Realm, she saw that there was a chance to escape Belos and took it with no regrets…That is, until Luz showed up again, but it all worked out for the best. Vee got a home she felt safe in, friends to spend her life with, and a family that treats her as one of their own because Luz unintentionally gave her an out. And when Luz officially met Vee, she did everything to secure her future sister a safe space to live in. As for other characters Luz more DIRECTLY changed for the better, Eda and King are the first in that regard. They were looking for someone to steal something for them, only for Luz to bring them together as a family. She became the daughter that Eda never had but likely wished she did as Luz is just as chaotic as Eda was but with more of a good heart. Luz gave Eda someone to care for, someone to FIGHT for, as she proves that having someone in your life is a lot better than living alone as a criminal with her son being misconstrued as a pet. With Luz around, Eda allowed herself to love again, letting other people back in because she needs to when taking care of this fun, energetic girl that practically crashed into her life. And with King, Luz gave him someone that is almost ALWAYS on his side, being protective and caring towards this cute little guy who never had a friend before. Luz was the first person he’s consistently interacted with that’s anywhere CLOSE to King’s age, and she was there to offer warmth and snuggles, endless support in finding the truth about his people, and inspiration on how to handle someone like The Collector. With Luz’s help, King went from a greedy demon hungry for power that will never be his, to a sweet boy who learned that all he ever needed was the found family around him. Luz met two misfits who often fought but cared for each other, and brought them to become even closer as a family. A family that would be nothing without her, with the same going for Luz’s friends.

Luz formed her very own squad of pals, all of them coming together because she was there to make them close. Willow and Gus were already buddies when they met Luz, but she was still there to make things better between Willow and Amity and, through inadvertently meddling in Hunter’s life, made him and Gus the best of bros. The most unlikely of friendships, one rekindled while the other forged through adventure, all happened because Luz showed up and improved all their lives. I already THOROUGHLY went over how she was able to change Amity’s life for the better, so…go read that. As for Willow, Luz acted as a cheerleader that often pushed her first best friend to do something that was stupid and reckless but ultimately for the best. Whether it’s pretending to be an abomination or playing grudgby against a team’s captain, Luz nudging Willow towards adventures allowed her to find her true magical strength, face her bullies, and become a confident witch that Amity would relearn to respect and for Hunter to love. With Gus, while neither are as close to each other as they are with Willow, Luz still helped him get something he always wanted: More friends. Before Luz or Willow, Gus was looking for someone to like and respect him instead of using him as a way to get something they want. Then here comes Luz to not just be another friend but unintentionally give Gus the chance to make more of his own. She gave him glyphs to help impress Glandis kids, only to grow closer to Matt when someone like Bria started showing her true colors. And, again, meddling in Hunter’s life led to him and Gus going on an adventure that brought them together as bros. Now, how did meddling lead to that? Well, aside from giving Hunter his first social interaction with someone close to his age, accidentally giving him an emotional support bird, and being the first crack in the wall around his heart, Luz also took Hunter into the Emperor’s mind and completely shattered his worldview. By the time Gus found Hunter, the poor boy was shattered and desperate for comfort, even if he didn’t want to admit it. Gus was just the one there to pick up the pieces with Hunter paying him back when it was Gus’ turn to need help. Luz created this friend group where the kids all care and help one another and gives them the opportunities to grow and better themselves for the company they want to keep. These four wouldn’t be as close as they are without Luz. Willow, Gus, and Amity might not even have the CHANCE to meet Hunter or know who he is if not for Luz intervening and helping him out of Belos’ hold.

“But she still help free The Collector–”

Oh, you mean the child who was falsely imprisoned and needed to learn how to play nicely and safely with others? The same child who wouldn’t have been better if not for Luz teaching him the value of a mortal life? THAT Collector? Because you’re right. It is good that Luz helped free them, even if accidentally.

“But she still helped Belos–”

OKAY! Okay. I get it. You have this weird obsession with Luz accidentally helping Belos and believing that everything wrong with the Isles is because of her, regardless if it was an accident or not. Good for you and go f**k yourself. But let’s not forget that Luz is the reason why Belos’ regime toppled. Heck, she was doing that before she knew Belos was a problem. In Hexside, they limit students to stick to learning one magic track before graduating and picking one coven. It’s a blatant display of preparing them for the inevitable, only for Luz to come in and allow Principal Bump to realize maybe it’s worth letting kids sign up for multiple magic tracks before making a final decision. The results make the adults remember how much they miss their covenless days and a character like Jerbo being inspired to change the system when he grows up. Luz already started the gears turning to tear down the systems Belos built ALL IN her first day at Hexside no less. By the time she does meet Belos and see how clearly evil he is, Luz still goes about trying to ruin every part of his plan. Luz slows down his plans to flee the Isles after committing genocide by blowing up the portal door, she saves the palismen Belos would have used to extend his worthless life, and goes so far to help Lilith and Hunter, his most loyal soldiers, turn their backs on him. Luz was cleaning up the “mess” she made for helping Belos long before she knew she was “responsible,” which she wasn’t. Belos knew this, and it’s exactly why he revealed that Luz helped him with his plans, even though he could have tricked anybody. He used this ploy to trip Luz up, only for it to make her more determined to stop him…until the guilt became too much to bare at one point, but that’s where her friends, the support group that SHE cultivated because of HER actions, came in to encourage Luz and tell her nothing is her fault. And when Luz came back…she died. But the Titan, the GOD of this universe, took note of Luz’s actions and all that she did to give King a good life as a shining light of kindness and would then give Luz the powers she needed to come back, rip Belos out of the Titan’s heart, and let him melt away in the boiling rain. You can claim all you want that Belos’ rule is all because of Luz, but Luz still ruined all of his plans and stopped him for good, doing it intentionally and unintentionally. Meaning that everything she “caused” was being fixed by her own existence.

…Okay, might have went on a bit of a rant there, But I can’t help it! You see, I made a post THREE YEARS ago, listing the ways Luz improved lives and how that wouldn’t have happened if she never came to the Isles. And one person, on THREE SEPARATE OCCASIONS, replied to that post and mentioned how those problems wouldn’t have existed if Luz never came at all. And it just feels like it devalues Luz’s accomplishments, the good that she did, and takes away some of the blame from Belos. Luz didn’t force him to use coven sigils or steal palisman or even commit genocide. That was all him and if it wasn’t Luz it would’ve been someone else he tricked to get what he wanted. We don’t blame Hitler’s dictatorship on the guy who stopped him from stepping into traffic before having the chance to DO all those bad things, and we definitely don’t blame the fourteen year old who couldn’t tell that the spineless, shaggy human would become the most dangerous person on the Isles. Because if you want to go so far back as to blame Luz, then you can blame Eda too. After all, she’s the one who told Luz about the time pools, she’s the one who allowed Luz to stay, and she’s even the one who’s responsible for Luz coming to the Isles in the first place! Yet you don’t see people blaming HER for all the world’s problems, do you? No, you f**king DON'T…Though, now that I think about it, if we could transition to this finger pointing and unnecessary blaming, there are some positive things Eda’s existence brought out into the world.

Real quick: I’m not saying that everything good that happened to the Isles and Luz’s friends is because of Eda. Only a lunatic would go that far. What Eda DOES get credit for is how she gave her kids a better life. Luz was from a world where most kids never got her or her weird interests and actions. She was a social outcast looking to be understood and Eda gave her that chance of understanding. She brought Luz into a magical world, protecting her from its darker edges, giving her a chance to explore, and letting her find her people. Eda found a kid who was alone in her own world and brought her to one that would eventually greet her with open arms. Things weren’t perfect at first, as Luz almost died three times within her first week, but with Eda’s guidance and care, she gave Luz a place she could call a second home and two people she could call an extension to her family. Speaking of family, Eda is the reason why King has one. She saw a little creature that lived in the cave of a dangerous monster, took him home with her, and that creature grew up to be her pseudo son. She treated him as a pet at first, thinking nothing of it, but as she grew to realize his intelligence and childlike behavior, she started treating him more like a son. Plus it’s a good thing that she got King out of that spire. He would have grown up alone as the last of his species with no one but the mute Jean-Luc as company. By taking him with her, Eda gave King a warm home, good food, and, eventually, Luz. All that is before King legally made himself a Clawthorne, making his family larger and causing Eda to cry tears of joy because she grew to love the little. She grew to love BOTH her kids as she wouldn’t be the same without them just like how they wouldn’t be the same without her. Eda didn’t think much when taking these two in, she was only being charitable. Still, regardless of intention, Eda managed to improve the lives of two innocent kids that needed more love in their life.

Life is a chaotic thing, giving us consequences to our negative actions but also rewards ourselves and others through the mere act of existing. Sometimes we’re rewarded and other times the people we love are. In either case, we can never truly know how much a simple action can affect someone’s life, whether or not we intend to do so. If Luz is any indication, as well as Eda to a lesser extent, then the show is trying to tell us that your life might seem small and your choices smaller, but you’d be surprised by how big of an impact you can leave on the world just by being yourself. It’s a beautiful sentiment that the show stands by, being one of several ways it tries to tell people that they matter. Especially with this next theme.

There’s nothing wrong with who you are

In case you’re wondering, no, this isn’t about how the show normalizes sexualities, genders, different races, and overall equality. Though, real quick, that IS a valid and important aspect of the series that not enough people took into account, meaning that we SHOULD spread that message more so that it can stick. However, for this theme, it’s more than just about representation and letting many different kinds of people feel seen as individuals. It’s more about the image issues that a few different characters have.

Starting with the most obvious, we have Willow, The Owl House’s shy girl. The poor girl starts off so unsure of herself because she’s not as good as others in one specific kind of magic even though it’s obvious to everyone in the room what Willow’s real talent is. It doesn’t help that most of her classmates judge and make fun of Willow for her “weakness,” with the time she had on the show being spent proving to herself and others that she isn’t weak. It’s why when Willow DOES mess up or feels unable to help that it causes her to break down and think that maybe she is just “Half-A-Witch Willow” like all of her bullies say. Thankfully, she has her support system to be there for her, Luz and Gus constantly acting as cheerleaders to raise Willow’s spirits and Hunter sharing how much he admires her strength and kindness. Interestingly enough, he also has the same confidence issues as Willow, having no natural magic and always pushing himself twice as hard to be seen as an equal among his peers, who are some of the best witches in the Isles. They’re also GROWN witches who had more time to mature their magical capabilities, but nonetheless, it made Hunter constantly feel like he wasn’t good enough either. It’s what makes him and Willow having each other in their corner kind of beautiful. Most of the people they see everyday look down on them, with Willow and Hunter not doing themselves any favors. But together, they can remind each other that they ARE worth more than anyone bargained for. Though, they don’t JUST have each other. Again, Willow has her cheerleaders and Hunter eventually has Flapjack pulling him in the right direction. To be honest, I’ve said all that I’ve needed to say with these two, how they grew, and how they affected each other. Or rather how Willow affected Hunter, as it’s still mostly one-sided. If you want to find out why, just go back and read parts one and two, it clears things up better. For now, I’ll say that these two definitely had their fair share of confidence issues, with Willow’s being obvious from the start while Hunter’s became more apparent the more his heart opened up. When you’re surrounded by people you think are “better” than you, it’s easy to feel like you matter less despite your own talents. But in some cases, a lot like Hunter, people are better at hiding it.

Take a look at Eda. With the amount of confidence that she has and the ego she flaunts, you wouldn’t guess she has image issues. But then you look at the curse and it all becomes clear. Eda’s regrets, nightmares, and worries proves that she does care about how others see her and react to her bad side. It’s not as prevalent or as evident as Willow or Hunter’s issues but it’s still there, with things getting worse when the curse took away Eda’s magic. She’s no longer the most powerful witch on the Isles, losing all the fear and respect she’s garnished and is now forced to relearn to be powerful in different ways. She bounces back but not without a lot of frustration, more towards herself if anything else. Eda hates the fact that she’s “weak” now and was desperate to get herself back to the top as quickly as possible. It’s not until she learned that her curse can become a strength instead of a weakness did Eda really begin to feel better about herself. I mean, I’d probably feel better about myself too if I could suddenly transform into a hot harpy. She certainly isn’t complaining, and good for her. She proves that you can always get over your issues, no matter how long it takes. For Eda, it might’ve taken her late thirties or…early forties? Regardless of how old Eda is, it definitely took a long time to get better and, even then, she still has The Collector's manufactured nightmare about people seeing her as a monster, which clearly got to her. The unfortunate truth is that it takes time to heal and you won’t be completely cured. There are times you will have good days or bad days, with Eda representing that through her false, and sometimes honest, bravado that tends to hide how messed up her issues really are. It’s good to show kids how slow that progress can be, even if it’s handled in a way that’s not as noticeable. However, while one’s issues can take time to fix, others’ tend to get worse with more time and, of course, more trauma.

Luz definitely had her issues, even before the whole Belos thing. She hoped being a “chosen one” would help her fit in, was worried about being seen as fragile, and became concerned about tanking her reputation on the first day of going to Hexside. Luz may be a proud nerd at heart, but she’s also one who cares about how others see her, whether it’d be her classmates or the people close to her. It comes with spending years of others signaling Luz out as “the weird girl,” with the Boiling Isles giving her a fresh start. Luz can be whatever she wants, even the hero of her own story…only to feel worse about herself once growing some attachments. Every time she accidentally caused troubles for other people, it caused Luz to sometimes believe she was a burden and needed to fix any problem she indirectly caused. Just look at how Luz reacted to accidentally making Amity lose her job. After getting it back for her, Luz was ready to accept that Amity would never want to see her again, despite Amity sharing the blame for it. Because Luz, at her core, is a good person, and it hurts her deep down when she sometimes hurts the people she loves in this world that she feels more at home in. It’s why Belos telling Luz that she helped him with his genocide affects her so much. It’s not true, everyone in the show knows it’s not true, and even members of the fandom who aren’t idiots know that Belos is full of crap. His actions are still his own and what Luz did is nothing wrong compared to his horrible deeds. Yet it still gets to Luz because it takes all of her issues of feeling like a burden turned up to the highest degree because she blames herself for the Day of Unity happening and all the craziness that comes from it. It hurts her so much that she forgets one important detail: She’s just a kid. Her mistakes are common, but nothing to beat herself up over. She’s still growing and learning to be better, not having the mental or emotional maturity to know better than to trust a shaggy man that claims to be on her side. As long as Luz makes it clear that she regrets what she did wrong and learned from it, which she always does, there’s no one with a rational mind that will blame her. It’s why it hurts that Luz doesn’t think she deserves it. Even though everybody constantly reminds Luz that life is better because she’s in it, it’s still something hard for her to accept. The times she accidentally caused trouble back home likely attributed this behavior, having only Camila in Luz’s corner as everyone else was busy calling her a freak or a problem child. Sometimes when you’re told your whole life that you’re a problem, it’s hard to stop seeing yourself as one. That’s Luz to a T, and it’s not until she found people that understood her and how she’s neither a problem nor a screw up did Luz slowly start to believe it, even though part of her can’t help but go back to the guilt she felt about things she didn’t mean to do.

We all have our reasons for self-doubt and sometimes self-hatred. It can stem from how others see us, how we see ourselves, or sometimes how we BELIEVE others see ourselves. And it can be an issue that could unfortunately last decades, where we get better but not completely healed of what hurts us. The only way to help ease that pain is remembering, simply put, there’s nothing wrong with who we are. Are there times when people SHOULD improve themselves? Absolutely. But if you’re anything like Willow, Hunter, Eda, and Luz, you should know that there’s not much you need to improve aside from your attitude. You’ll make mistakes, you’ll go back to how you feel, and you will find it hard to get over this problem you’re dealing with. But with the people you love cheering you on and reminding you that you ARE loved in this world, then that’s already the first step you need. And if you think you’re not someone worth the effort as there are more people suffering harder than you, just remember…

Your pain matters too

Sometimes, the nicest kinds of people tend to think that the problems of others outweigh anything that they’re going through. Especially those who lived most of their lives being told that they matter less than anyone else. And…you can already tell which two characters this theme applies to.

Luz and Willow are both victims of caring too much. You wouldn’t think that’s an issue, but it very much becomes one when helping others stop you from helping yourself. Luz is a more popular example of this as she will frequently throw herself into danger just to help the people she loves. She’ll even treat helping someone as a distraction to her problems like helping Eda reunite with Raine and getting Kikimora out of the Emperor’s Coven to forget Luz’s promise to her mom. Or using Amity’s desire to join the Bonesborough Brawl as a way not to think about her dad. Luz constantly decides helping people is more important than anything she could be going through, with Willow being in a similar yet less intense boat. “For the Future” proves this, with Willow hyper focusing on making Hunter happy and suppressing her own stress and anxieties of her fathers as she did so. It’s exactly what Luz does throughout the series, just as a one-time occurrence that Willow learns from quickly. Her caring for others more than herself fits her good-natured attitude, but after her talk with Hunter and Gus it’s likely Willow won’t return to this behavior again…Which in turn presents a problem with Luz and this theme.

That moment between Gus, Hunter, and Willow in “For the Future” is great, but it feels like LUZ needed a moment like that with the people she loves. She KIND OF gets it with Amity in “Reaching Out,” but not to the same extent Willow got with her boys. Amity just boxed Luz into a corner and forced her to spit out what’s bothering her, with the truth and how Amity reacted to it making Luz think she can be a little honest with her feelings. Only for her to go right back to distracting herself so she doesn’t confront her emotions in the very next episode, with Eda helping out by telling Luz the story of how she first met Raine. Meanwhile, Gus and Hunter told Willow that they appreciate her and everything she’s done for them, but tell her it’s okay to feel sad and to let it all out. And…Well, since there was only one episode left after that moment and all of it was dedicated to fighting the bad guys and giving our characters happy endings, all we can do is assume that Willow DID learn from her adventure in “For the Future” and grew from it. Even though Luz sort of gets that same lesson, there’s never this explicit case that she’s growing from it. If you dig deep enough in how she slowly admits what’s wrong or how she’s willing to vocalize her journal entry about what’s bothering her, then you can see that Luz learns a little. But when she’s the character that constantly puts others' needs above her own, especially for mistakes she didn’t intend, then it feels weird that she doesn’t get the same thing Willow got. If anything, it makes what Willow went through feels more like a lesson of the week than an application of this underlying theme within the series. It’s still a valid lesson to teach, but if this was something both Luz AND Willow needed to learn then Willow needed more moments in the spotlight of putting others' needs in front of her own and Luz needed more of a scene like Willow’s to better herself. It’s still fine as is, it just could have been better.

Still, it’s an overall good theme to teach kids. The Owl House is clearly telling them to be kind to others, primarily through its main character being the purest one of the bunch. But as good and important it is to spread the message of kindness, it’s equally essential to let them know it’s okay to focus on themselves sometimes too. You’re not going to properly help anyone if YOU’RE not feeling good yourself. Whether you just need to cry it out or talk it out with someone you love, it’s important to think of yourself from time to time. It’s not selfish to care about your own well-being and you won’t be a bad person for taking a day to just…decompress. You can do much worse than make yourself happy. As for those who HAVE done worse, well, there’s a theme meant for them.

People can always improve

The Owl House is one of those shows that spreads the message of turning enemies into friends instead of leaving them as, er, enemies. And if it’s enough to piss off Lily Orchard (Don’t bother with her), then you KNOW the show is doing something right. But in fairness, the show makes it clear that this decision is best reserved for those who are explicitly complex. Just look at Amity, Lilith, Hunter, and The Collector, characters we would have never expected to be reformed by their first appearances. Amity started out as generic prissy mean girl #115, Lilith was a snooty witch with a stick up her bum, Hunter was a charismatic fighter who threatened the lives of “criminals,” and The Collector was a god-like being who seemed to take joy in wiping out an entire race of people. Not great setups for characters you eventually want us to find redemption. Thankfully, The Owl House is a smartly written show and knows that you got to show layers to a person and why they’re like a certain way.

Amity and Hunter are by far the best examples of this. Every episode they’re in shows a new layer to them and the lives they live. To keep things brief (because I’ve talked enough about them already), they’re both kids who grew up with parental figures that made them believe that you have to always do what you’re told to justify your existence. Odalia and Belos both proved that there will be major punishments for when Amity and Hunter fail, motivating them to do their best for the wrong reasons. And doing their best often meant putting others down or doing something without knowing better because…what else could you do? Run away? Fight back? Stand up for yourself? Yeah, easier said than done. Hunter is proof that it’s not that simple, with Belos physically mistreating Hunter whenever he spoke up or how Belos WILL send his guards out to hunt Hunter down. Not everyone can be like Amity who has a parent that EVENTUALLY cares enough to kick the more abusive parent out. Sometimes, when you’re on your own with no real support group, it causes you to do as you're told without learning until later that it was the wrong choice. Amity and Hunter both show that, and it isn’t until meeting their friends that things start to change for the better for them. And they sure did change, with Amity and Hunter always getting a little bit better, even if their living conditions made it a bit difficult to do so. Plus, they’re kids. Kids are allowed to grow and change, especially if they’re always learning from their mistakes before doing something TRULY unforgivable. Unlike…other characters that I’m not a fan of in a different show I tried so hard to love. And when it comes to fictional storytelling, especially ones aimed for kids, I usually try not to avoid the “They’re just kids” argument because…yeah, obviously they’re just kids. That doesn’t change how well the writers handle their redemption, because if I’m left questioning if this character is MEANT to be redeemed, something screwy is going on here. With The Owl House, the writers consistently remind you that these characters are young and naive, with that knowledge playing into Amity and Hunter’s redemptions as it makes it an easier pill to swallow. And it doesn’t work JUST for these two.

The Collector being a kid is the central point to their redemption. He literally doesn't know better and–I’ve also gone over this a lot too, I know. But the point keeps being valid every time you look at The Collector’s actions. Even with the way they put Luz, Eda, and King into playing his weird games, The Collector still sits down and mopes because they all kept winning. It’s very much the same as a sad, lonely child who doesn’t like losing or people having more fun than them. All The Collector wanted was to play and have fun, but was punished for it because his siblings abused The Collector’s naïveté and made it look THEY were responsible for the other Titans…going extinct. And being falsely imprisoned for thousands of years tends to leave one a little agitated, as well as overly excited to be free and let loose. He didn’t do better because they never KNEW better, with Luz understanding that after just ONE real conversation with the kid. She was as freaked out as anyone else when first meeting The Collector, but, just like with Hunter and Amity, the more Luz got to know him the better she understood why The Collector acts the way they do. Everyone has reasons for their actions, some of them more justified than others. And even for the unjustifiable, it’s not too late to turn things around.

Lilith’s redemption still has some issues. Again, I VERY MUCH went over that enough. Yet it again comes with the best intentions of proving that you’re never too old to change. Lilith cursing Eda was wrong. VERY wrong. But she at least admitted to it and put the work into making up with her sister, already off to a great start by sharing the curse with Eda. Sure, Lilith still felt aggravation towards Eda and would occasionally act a LITTLE stuck upish, but the more Lilith stuck around the more it’s revealed how desperate she is for approval. Even a quick bit of Lilith making a little ice sculpture of Luz as a teacher giving Lilith a gold star speaks VOLUMES of her need for authority figures to give Lilith approval. Even if said authority figure is a fourteen year old who just knows more about glyph magic than Lilith. It also helped that Lilith had Hooty there, bringing out her best and bringing some levity in her life. It makes her from thinking that she’s at the lowest point of her life to realizing that life just got started for her and that she CAN make improvements, have better connections with the people, and can be a kinder person instead of a cold, stick in the mud. And with each episode we see her in Season Two, Lilith DID get better as a character and as a person, finding her true self and proving that you don’t NEED to be dragged through the coals forever to better yourself…Even if a sick part of me kind of wishes she was. I just feel like everyone forgave Lilith a little too fast, and while improving herself is fine, forgiveness is a completely different thing. But I also went over THAT enough, so I’ll just stick with the fact that while Lilith’s redemption is the most flawed here, it still does the job to prove that people are never just one thing forever.

People can change, and a lot of the time it’s for the better. They might have done things they’re not proud of or learn to regret, but everyone has a reason for it. Whether it’s how they’re raised to act, how their goals blind their morals, and quite literally didn’t know better. For these people, it’s always best to give them a second and maybe even third chance, especially if they have a clear desire to change. Some certain cynical sycophants will sometimes say that a character shouldn’t be redeemed because they don’t deserve it, but that’s not really how redemption works. It’s not about DESERVING redemption but proving you’re capable of it. When a show paints how a character is always bad and needs to change yet consistently goes back and forth on them being better or worse without much apparent growth, then that’s where it becomes a problem within the story. But if the show reveals layers to a character, proving that they’re flawed but good deep down and allowing that character to better themselves throughout the story, then it’s writing the message correctly. There are cases where there’s a good person deep down a LOT of hot garbage, with a lot of morally dark actions burying them deeper, but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t forget that bright light of a human being that still wants to do good and trying desperately to claw their way out of their own pile. It’s…a complicated metaphor, but people are just the same as that: Complicated. We can grow and be better, it just takes time and love to do so. Although, to teach a message like that to kids, it is important to make one thing clear…

Some people don’t deserve redemption/forgiveness

This is the most ESSENTIAL distinction to make when writing a show about bringing the best out of others and getting them to change and redeem themselves. Yes, there are people capable of being good but there are still people out there who are too far gone to change or refuse to see how they’re a problem on all accounts. You can reason all you want with them or try your hardest to bring them out into the light, but no matter what you do, they’ll still refuse to accept that they’re the problem.

Kikimora is a perfect starting example of this. “Follies At the Coven Day Parade” was our first and…honestly, It’s our ONLY insight into there being more to Kikimora than a psycho who’s very okay with child murder. Luz catches Kiki getting stressed over not being able to see her family due to her duties being more important. The Owl House has done more with less when it comes to trying to hook viewers into sympathizing with characters worthy of redemption. I mean, just look at what they eventually try with Boscha. Besides, you don’t need a BIG reason to help someone into the light. As long as it seems like there’s a GLIMMER of a hope, then that can be enough to make it justified to help them. It’s only dependent on how quickly that glimmer gets stomped out that you realize mistakes were made in helping someone. To Kikimora’s credit, it seemed at first she was grateful for Luz and the others to help her be free of the Emperor’s Coven, even if a little annoyed by their flawed plan and ridiculous antics. It’s not until Terra (We’ll get to you in a sec) mentioned a promotion did Kikimora’s true colors show. When it seems like she’s at her lowest, Kikimora is willing to find an out so she doesn’t get disposed of like your average Golden Guard (Which she might have always known about?). But when it seems like she has a chance to be on top? Well, then Kiki will say her family could rot for all she cares if it means she’ll be seen as the best of the best. It’s that desire to inflate her already big ego, mixed with the insane drive to do so, that proves how Kikimora isn’t one to change because she has no desire to. Her only desire is to look out for herself and do what’s best for her, but to a selfish degree that often leads to others getting hurt. To Kikimora, the only problems that she needs to take care of are those who try to prevent her goals of reaching to the top. And she’s not the only one.

It still amazes me how Amity desperately tried to convince Odalia not to assist a genocide. I said it before, and I’ll say it one more time: This was Amity’s last attempt at proving that her mother isn’t evil. And we all know how well that turned out. The reason that it amazes me that Amity even TRIED because…there hasn’t been an ounce of kindness that Odalia showed to anyone. With Alador, there’s at least SOMETHING, whereas the nicest thing Odalia did was compliment on Alador’s work. Still, even then, it isn’t much given that she didn’t really know how much Alador would appreciate the compliment. So if Odalia never acted good, why bother reaching out? Well, as I’ve said several times before, it’s hard for a child to accept that their parent has ZERO good inside them. Amity wanted to see for herself, once and for all, if there’s really NOTHING good in Odalia and the answer…was exactly what she needed to hear. Even if it’s baffling that Amity tried to reach out, it’s still good that she did. It’s always important to at least TRY instead of giving up on someone outright. Amity more than anyone knows that not everyone is completely bad, so it’s great that she and kids watching understand that sometimes what you see really is what you get. A better example of this is Terra.

No one really tried with Terra. Specifically, no one in the CAST tried with her. The most people did was try to reign Terra in and tell her NOT to kill children and that didn’t really change anything. The fact that Terra RELUCTANTLY agreed just proves how deranged she is and how no sane person would want to change her. The writers knew this as even they didn’t try giving Terra that many layers outside of a crazy person who liked torturing the youths. And given that this is a series that loves showing how most of its characters are layered with a few of them deserving redemption, it’s perfectly fine to show one that’s one-dimensional and bloodthirsty. It helps sell the fact that not EVERYONE is redeemable, like having Season One Boscha act as a one-dimensional bully to make Amity’s redemption more digestible. You got to show a bigger bully to prove how the other isn’t so bad, and that’s what makes Terra so important. She’s the bigger bully, and her actions prove that while SOME people are capable of change, others like Terra are more than fine with who they are. And I’ll give Terra this, at least she’s sociopathic enough to understand she’s the bad guy and LOVES that about herself. Unlike others who genuinely believe what they’re doing is for the greater good.

Belos is the best example of how some people will just NEVER change. It’s never too late for one to redeem themselves in some way, but Belos has been living among witches and demons for CENTURIES. He had hundreds of years to see that there’s nothing wrong with who they are and take note that they’re kind people just living life and not really hurting anybody. Instead, he focused on the bad parts. The witches who made him dance for his book. Lilith, who punched him in the nose. And, of course, the witch who stole his brother away. These all circle around in his brain for as long as he lived, ignoring the TRUTH behind these responses. The Fang brothers and Lilith only treated Belos that way because he killed the Fangs’ brother and put Luz and Lilith in danger for his own reward. As for Evelyn, she didn’t STEAL Caleb away, he willingly followed her to a new world. Yet Belos refused to see anyone else’s point of view and that witches were ALWAYS the problem. Never him, and not anyone else. So he dedicated his entire life to fulfilling his plan, mutilating himself and becoming less human by the day, all so he could wipe out witches and demons from existence. He justified it because of his idea of the greater good, believing he was some tragic hero pushing himself to do what’s best for humanity. In reality, he was just a sad old man who never took the time to ask “What if I’m wrong?” And if he DID ask that, well, he likely suppressed that thought deep, deep, DEEP down inside himself so he wouldn’t have to think it again. Belos was a monster that would never change because he didn’t think he needed to despite having all the time, all the chances, to see that he could be wrong only to deny and refuse any other possible answer. Not even Luz, who forgave most of her enemies, wasn’t even willing to give Belos a chance, appealing only to his ego instead of his humanity as she knew full well he wouldn’t listen. The only person who really tried with Belos was The Collector, a child who learned the concept of kindness and forgiveness for the first time in their life and didn’t know better. If that doesn’t say a lot about Belos, I don’t know what does.

It’s always important to preach the message of helping people better themselves. There are good people in this world and it’s admirable to help those who want to be good but need to learn or relearn how. However, not EVERYONE is going to be like that. One way or another, they don’t see themselves as someone who needs to change. They either think there’s nothing wrong with them or believe that the rest of the world should change itself first. You can TRY to reach out to them and maybe you’ll succeed in some way with a few of these people. Just don’t feel too disappointed when it turns out that some people are too broken to fix. In that regard, there’s not much you could do to help them and you’ll often find yourself fighting against them. And you might want to make sure none of those people get too big of a dangerous job, because you’re not going to like what they’re capable of. You’ll see why in this next theme.

The ones who make the rules are sometimes the most dangerous

Not ALL the time, mind you. There are SOME nice people running things…probably. But not EVERY person should be in charge. There are those who abuse the system for the chance of lifting themselves up higher or hurting those whose only crime is existence. They have their “reasoning,” but it always boils down to excuses in some ways. It’s always based on “How they’re raised” or “It’s based on what their religion says.” While that explains their actions, never does it justify anything they’ve done as it’s a weak shield against the arguments about their moral character. Your upbringing and religion doesn’t stop you from coming across as a turd nugget, and if you’re wondering who I’m calling out with this, it’s the kind of people that Belos represents.

The absolute tragedy is that there are people in real life who are a lot like Belos. It’s just that he’s exaggerated for a storytelling effect and to keep things simple for the kiddos. Regardless of that, he still acts like those you’d see and hate. He’s a maniacal, manipulative leader who made the ranks through lies, smooth talk, and telling people what they want to hear. Because when you act like you know better than others, and do so with enough confidence, you’d be surprised with how easily people will be convinced to follow someone who speaks nothing but nonsense. And nonsense really is the name of Belos’ game, as he manipulated a group of people’s sacred beliefs and formed a religious oligarchy just so he could kill those he was manipulating in the first place. As far as my admittedly limited political knowledge goes, there hasn’t been a person that’s gone THAT far, as most of them actually believe the crap they’re saying. It’s just Belos who manipulates beliefs to get his way. The Witches consider the Titan their god? Then he’ll use that god to make them think he’s unhappy with how witches use magic. It’s similar to how people use the “It’s not what God would want” when making their stance on other people’s rights, except it’s not THEIR god that Belos believes in. He’s a puritan who thinks that all these sins he’s committing to the people of the Isles is worth it because it’s what HIS god wants. And for the record, I don’t think that there’s anything wrong with believing in God or any god for that matter. But if you really believe that God would want you to kill others to appease him when his teachings boil down to love and forgiveness, then I don’t think you’re worshiping God the right way. That’s something Belos doesn’t realize, as he would twist his own soul into a pretzel for the sake of his “holy mission.” Yet that mission was nothing more than a shield to hide behind his discrimination. Much like other “leaders” in the world.

Am I projecting how I see certain scumbags on social media onto Belos? Most definitely, but I feel like Dana Terrace is most certainly doing the same thing. Look at any conservative online and tell me that they don’t have similar mindsets to Belos. Because to me, they definitely do, and it’s the way Belos transformed the Isles that makes me worry about those real life dingles. Especially with how REAL the Isles feel in that regard. Oh, things seem fine. In fact, things are relatively normal with people living their lives without any real negatives. That is, as long as you join a coven, otherwise you’ll be marked for death if you break the one important rule. Everything seems to be alright for everyone who stays in line and follows the rules, much like real life society. We can live normally and be at peace as long as we ignore the problems that exist, do as we’re told, and never CONSIDER straying from the path. And that acceptance of how things are is exactly what the bad guys in charge use to get what they want. They spread their message to those who WANT to listen and are fine with what’s being preached, all while painting those who say otherwise as the purest of evil. When, nine times out of ten, it’s usually the person preaching that crap who turns out to be the real scumbag. They don’t want you to think differently or question why things are the way they are, either because they don’t want their own place in the world to be challenged or, like Belos, they actually believe that people who are “other” are actually evil. It’s why he gave these people, who were initially content with their lives, a system that seemed to encourage in-fighting, proving that you’re the best at a specific skill, and letting others climb to be the most powerful in the world for the sake of their god. Belos devised a way for witches to basically fight each OTHER, temporarily playing the long game so he can stall until finding a way to kill them all at once when his time was starting to run out.

I wouldn’t say that the show is ENTIRELY anti-government. If it was, the ending wouldn’t have implied that Raine and Darius have basically started their own. To me, the show is more likely saying that you need to be careful in who you put your faith in to lead you. Not EVERY politician is evil, but none of them are saints either. A lot of them have ulterior motives for letting them lead, with a person like Belos showing just why we should be wary of who to trust. Belos may be an exaggerated worst case scenario, but one that’s very much possible if we don’t prepare well enough to stop those just like him. As for who’s who, well, that’s up to your own beliefs and research to find out. Just remember that even though someone is in charge, that doesn’t mean they have your best intentions in mind. Though, keep in mind, this is mostly about the people in politics. There are authority figures you should be wary of, but most of the ones who know you personally are trying to keep you safe. It’s the ones that have known you for years. Ones who want to make sure you’re having the best life. And while they’re not always right, there are some out there who want to do right by you. And what authority figures are those? Why, your parents of course!

…Look, I wrote myself into a corner and I needed a good transition into the next theme. I know parents are nowhere NEAR the same government officials or those who uphold the law, but they at least uphold the law in YOUR house. Though, some of them aren’t perfect at it.

Parenting isn’t easy

There are a LOT of parents that do their best in this show. The only real exception is Odalia because…she’s Odalia. It’s the rest that shows they’re doing all they can to give their children a better life. Willow’s dads are willing to give up their jobs to continue Willow’s education when she’s expelled, Perry wants to support Gus’ talents, and, hell, even one of Boscha’s moms seems desperate to be a part of her daughter’s life by asking to join in on the Moonlight Conjuring. There are some decent parents in this show, but not a lot of them tend to get credit for their efforts. Mainly because, in some cases, their efforts aren’t good enough to those who’ve had…similar experiences that turned out for the worst. Those types of people tend to not feel good when a show says, “Give your parents the benefit of the doubt.” You can…already tell where this is going, and I want those fans to know that their emotions are valid and, if I were in their shoes, I would feel the same way. However, I think there’s some value in how The Owl House tries pointing out a parent’s love is the most essential part done right, even if some parents tend to fumble at first.

Starting with the most forgiving, we have…Camila.

“LE GASP!”

DO NOT get me wrong: Camila is still the best parent in the show and one of the best cartoon moms of all time…That doesn’t mean she hasn’t made any mistakes. In fact, Camila acknowledging her mistakes is part of what makes her one of the best parents. She was a single mother trying her best to raise Luz right, but got lost along the way due to how OTHERS perceived Luz, not so much how CAMILA saw her. She loved Luz’s wackiness and oddities, it’s what made Luz…Luz. Camila was just worried because not everyone would feel the same way, and that would mean Luz would not fit in with…anyone. And with everybody judging Luz and even judging CAMILA, it left her feeling pressured to make a change to fix the situation. Her fault was that Camila decided on sending Luz away to a camp in an effort to help her daughter, only for that to make Luz feel like SHE’S the problem. It’s not what Camila intended, but it’s how her actions came across, and it immediately left some bad tastes in some fans’ mouths. Some of it was very unwarranted as too many jumped on the hate wagon by calling Camila a bad mom who doesn’t love her daughter despite a fair amount of evidence pointing to the contrary. Still, when she does things like send Luz away or unintentionally guilt Luz into thinking she can never return to the Isles, some fans can’t help but see their own dismissive or possessive parents, even if Camila isn’t meant to be like that. She’s a mother trying her best and made a few mistakes along the way. She at least learned from her mistakes, managed to be better, and was given more depth for why she acted this way. And her character was certainly more well-received than other problematic parents doing their best.

If you couldn’t guess already, Gwen and Alador are the other two. I’ve said ALL that I’ve needed to say about them, there’s no need to stretch it out further, and so I’ll just speed by them. Firstly, they’re both characters where you understand the intention the writers were going for. They’re meant to be parents who genuinely love their kids but went about supporting or helping them the wrong way. Gwen was a mother who wanted to cure her daughter’s curse at all costs due to the pain it caused Eda and the rest of the family. She just ignored Eda’s feelings about the matter, not being satisfied unless the curse is gone FOREVER. And all that ignoring led to Eda distancing herself from Gwen because of all the intense and ineffective treatments, with an extra side-effect of Gwen ignoring Lilith because her problems weren’t as “important” as the one she caused. Though, that last bit might have been a thing long before the curse. At least, that’s what’s implied. Her actions were less than ideal, and to some fans, it would take more than a single “I’m sorry” to make things right. Unfortunately for Gwen, she never really got a chance to prove she’s forever changed like Camila did. Outside of redeeming herself at the end of her introductory episode. The next time we see her, she drops the news to Eda that Dell is about to visit, giving Eda no time to mentally or emotionally prepare herself for her father’s arrival. It was done with the best of intentions and Eda would have refused until the day she died anyways, but it’s still the same as Gwen showing up unannounced with a new and “totally legitimate” cure. Camila at least put in an effort to be okay with the Isles, even if some aspects freak her outyears after her first visit. But that’s the benefit of being a character who was allowed to grow and change because the writers found a way to include her in the main story. Gwen didn’t have that luxury, with the show barely having enough time to fit her in at all. I feel like the reason for that was because the writers didn’t have plans for Gwen outside of her introduction, so they just hoped that what she did in that episode would be enough. And…it is for a mostly one-off character, but it causes SOME reservations with fans due to the years of damage and neglect Gwen partook in. I would still personally say that what she does is enough, but I’m a person who didn’t have a mother problem like Gwen, and the fans who did are likely going to respectfully disagree with me. Though, I feel like I can confidently say that Gwen’s mistakes are an easier pill to swallow than Alador’s.

Alador is very much not an improvement as he constantly stayed out of Odalia’s way and did what she said to make her happy so she wouldn’t do anything WORSE to the kids. Even though what she already did wasn’t all that great to begin with, Alador kept telling himself that Odalia will somehow be even worse if she doesn’t get her way. He tried to SUBTLY steer Odalia off course, but still did next to nothing to really stop anything she’s done. He does when she finally goes too far, but to some fans’ eyes it’s too late. Now the question is: Is Alador stopping Odalia from assisting a genocide and promising to do better ENOUGH to accept? And to some fans…the answer is no. It’s a good start, but it’s hard for some people to accept an apology that seems to come too late. It’s even harder to accept because the show’s about over and there’s next to no time for Alador to improve himself as a good parent. I get that he WANTS to, but wanting to be a better parent and actually being one are two different things. Trust me. The epilogue hints that he did well enough for Amity to still be happy to see him, it’s just that we don’t get to see that change for ourselves, thus making it a harder pill to swallow that he’s really a good parent.

It is a good thing for kids shows to say that parents are doing their very best. I’m willing to say that there’s a VAST majority of parents who actually love their kids, even if they sometimes make decisions that could unintentionally upset the child at first. It’s nice to tell kids that their parents still love them, and it gives the parents watching The Owl House a chance to see some of their mistakes be painted negatively and it’s not too late to change. However, there are still teens and young adults who DIDN’T have the best parents growing up, and they’re going to be slightly willing to resent some attempts to make imperfect parents better. It at least works with Camila, with only those who disagree being fans who hyper-focused on her worst attributes and ignored her most nurturing moments for the sake of just…hating her, I guess. Ever since “Thanks to Them,” the hate train for Camila has LONG since left the station with barely any passengers on it anymore, and it’s all because of Season Three having her confront her mistakes and improve on herself. We don’t get that with Alador and Gwen, so saying that they’re parents doing their best doesn’t really cut it because we never got the chance to see what their “best” ever was. Both have their moments that make me appreciate the effort, but they’re a case of the intention being better than the execution, making this a lesson that needed better planning for its other parents. Though, in fairness, the lack of proper preparation for making imperfect yet loving BIOLOGICAL parents MIGHT have something to do with The Owl House LOVING the Found Family trope…

Family is more than blood

Ah, the found family trope. Something that’s genuinely wholesome every time it’s used. Whether it’s outcasts and weirdos finding acceptance through each other or poor sad sacs finally experiencing love for the first time with someone who isn’t a blood relative. The Owl House loves this trope, especially with its main trio. I’ve said…pretty much all I need to say about these three and how important their love for each other is. Their bond is at the core of what makes the show so compelling, and seeing them be happy together is what makes watching The Owl House great. On top of that, it also does a job of showing that you don’t need to be a child’s birth parent to be a GOOD parent.

Eda’s a surrogate mother to Luz and an adopted mother to King. Neither of them are her flesh and blood, but she will ALWAYS treat them as such. At least, she eventually does. Initially, Eda kept pushing the label of Luz being her APPRENTICE before sticking with calling Luz her “kid” and would treat King more as a pet before seeing him as a son. It’s partly Eda not wanting to accept that she likes having people in her life, and partly because the writers were not a hundred percent sure about character dynamics until almost halfway through the second season. Regardless, by the time everything is all figured out and accepted, Eda basically starts to become mom of the year. She prioritizes Luz and King’s safety above anything else, takes time out of her day to get those kids the things they need on the day-to-day, and will get extra murdery when someone so much as THINKS about hurting her babies. It gets to the point where if the pressure of her kids being in danger becomes too much, it’ll cause Eda to break, making her one of the few cartoon parents who absolutely refuses to let her children get mixed up in the danger. The parental figures of shows like these tend to accept that it’s something the kid HAS to do or begrudgingly goes along with it because…it makes the plot easier. Even the parental figures who tell their kids to be cautious when approaching danger tend to still bring their kids into said danger. With Eda, she’s the rare case where I’ve seen a mother actually cry from stress over worrying about her children, which proves how strong her love is for Luz and King. You don’t need to be a biological mother to love your kids, and Eda proves it. As well as a certain someone else.

I do want to gush about how Camila is the mother Vee never had, taking the poor little snake in when she had nowhere else to go. The problem is that there’s not really a greater focus on it, but, at the same time, there doesn’t need to be. We understand everything from something as simple as Camila running to hug Vee when she reveals her new form. At first, Camila may have been put off by the SURPRISE of Vee, mainly because the reveal of a snake demon pretending to be her daughter was a bit too much for her. But after calming down and seeing Vee for what she is (Which is a scared teenager with boatloads of trauma), Camila agrees to let Vee stay with her because the girl has nowhere else to go. That very act shows off Camila’s kindness, sure, but the little bits we get in “Thanks to Them” shows that this is more than a woman offering a teen a place to stay out of the goodness of her heart. There’s that first hug I’ve mentioned, sure, but we also have Vee learning Spanish fluently and a picture of Camila proudly teaching Vee how to make empanadas. It makes it seem like there’s a genuine effort to make Vee a permanent member of the family, with Camila not seeming to be against it. And her final hug to Vee at the end of the special cements that she’s more than happy to have Vee in her life, which is further confirmed in the pictures we see in “Watching and Dreaming.” Vee became a permanent part of the Noceda family, joining in on family outings and graduating with Vee in pure glee. She hasn’t been with them long, but Camila and Luz love Vee like a mother and sister would, being something that’s so genuinely heartwarming to think about despite how little we see in the show…It also feels more earned when compared to Hunter and Darius.

I still appreciate what was MEANT to be done with Hunter and Darius, don’t get me wrong. It’s sweet to give Hunter a father figure and someone to consider family outside of Belos because…it’s Belos. Hunter deserves SOMEONE to love and guide him outside of Flapjack, and Darius is revealed to be someone that was strict but understanding about Hunter being a teenager. Plus, with the information that he was close with Hunter's predecessor, and the knowledge of what happened to previous Golden Guards, you can take this as Darius wanting to keep his friend’s memory alive through Hunter. The potential of what they could be is there and what we see is still good. I really do enjoy that Darius seems ready to take Hunter in after Hunter was ready to accept that he has no one, even taking interest in Hunter’s love of wolves the second he talks about them. It’s certainly charming…but we also barely see any of it. More than that, we’ve hardly seen it built up. I know the same applies to Vee and Camila, but here’s what they have that Darius and Hunter don’t: Time and close proximity. Even when they’re off screen together, they’re still together and you can imagine the bonding they MUST be going through, even if they’re off-screen. You can’t live in the same house with somebody and NOT form some kind of connection with them. For Hunter and Darius, while they MIGHT live in the same castle, but they’re often both busy with duties and responsibilities to even TALK to each other. At least, that’s what we can assume from these two. Camila and Vee seem significantly less busy with one another, so it’s easy to imagine that they have all the time in the world to chat and bond. Hunter is rarely in the same room as Darius unless in uniform. I get that Darius cares for the boy, what with how overprotective he got and ready to rain hell once learning that Hunter’s in Belos’ mind too. But that’s the only real big showcase of their bond between “Any Sport in a Storm” and “Watching and Dreaming” that so much as hints to their relationship. It’s a decent attempt, but it’s another one of those things where I wonder if it’d turn out better if we had more time.

Regardless, it’s still an effective theme. Only a third of the found families here were allowed to have a lot of attention on them, but Camila and Darius were still allowed a chance to prove their loving parents despite not having a lot of time to show it. Familial love isn’t JUST defined by the blood one shares. It’s something experienced the exact same way through adoption or considering someone to be close enough where they might as well be family. Blood’s not all that binds us, and it’s sweet for the show to say that, not only for the kids looking for a new home but also for ones looking for an out from a hostile environment. They WILL get a better life with people who will love them regardless of being related or not. And it’s not just a familial bond you’ll get from people out in the world. Because while you might currently feel alone without anyone there to understand or love you, just know this:

You’ll find your people

This one…really applies to a lot of the characters in the series. One way or another, they each experience a state of loneliness at some point, having no one in their life for a period of time to then having the closest companions and romantic partners that make things…better. These are characters that likely thought they’d never find anyone, but they’ve either now have one person or a group of people that make them feel seen and heard as an individual. And I could go on entire essays about these characters…but this whole sticking thing has gone on long enough, so we’ll lightning round these examples.

Luz was your average nerd that no one understood, with her antics being too weird for anyone to even want to associate themselves with her. That is, until she found herself in a land that’s weirder than her, yet ironically remaining a social outcast due to her being the only human. Yet she still manage to befriend almost every person she met, with all of them showing up to celebrate her birthday. It made Luz go from the loneliest girl in her grade to basically the leader of her own squad of losers and town sweetheart to the lives she saved.

After losing a friendship with Amity, Willow spent a lot of her time all alone and struggling to catch up with others, bullies in particular calling her half-a-witch. But we already established where this led her. She got two personal cheerleaders and a boyfriend that all express how amazing and talented Willow is, having blossomed into the badass she is now. She even repaired things with Amity, making a friendship that’s stronger than it was before.

Older kids used Gus for his intelligence and didn’t respect him for his age. Now he’s the personal cheerleader of a whole group of friends who have his back and value both his input and needs.

Amity may have had “friends” like Boscha and the whole mean girl clique, but it never felt real to her. She was surrounded by people, but never felt more alone until meeting Luz and understanding what real love and friendship felt like. It made Amity want to be better as a person, giving her a chance to rekindle a friendship with Willow and making things better than they’ve ever been.

Hunter had NO friends his age, only having a bird as a companion that he had to keep secret from his controlling, bloodthirsty uncle. It wasn’t until the bird kept pulling Hunter in the right direction did he manage to become friends with a girl who acted like an annoying sister, a new best bro, and a crush turned girlfriend, all inspiring him to stand up Belos and be his own person. And also Amity was there.

Vee had next to NO ONE in her life, and she was a monster in the Boiling Isles that was hunted down by Belos. By coming to the Human Realm, not only did she find peace, but she also found a family, made easy friends, and became part of a group that likely makes her feel a sense of belonging she never experienced before. And you know what? Good for her.

Throughout Hexside, all Eda had was Lilith, which implied that not a lot of students were a fan of her chaos. That is, until she met Raine and finally had someone who both understood her as well as wanting to join the fun.

Speaking of Raine, they were a top student for sure but one that was looked down upon/underestimated due to being a bard witch. Eda was the one who saw their potential and talents, being an easy first friend and eventual girlfriend who brought more excitement to Raine’s life.

It is HEAVILY implied that Camila was a closeted nerd who never had anyone that understood her until meeting Manny. Those two geeks assuredly bonded over their shared interest in Cosmic Frontier, making Camila feel loved and understood by a man that I REALLY wish we got to see in canon. Just one flashback or SOMETHING!

Lilith likely didn’t have any friends in Hexside, though it’s possibly by choice. She focussed more on studying and being better than her sister, with that mindset carrying over to the Emperor’s Coven as she won’t give up unless EVERYONE recognized her for her talents. Friendship took second place to those needs, and, for all we know, means that Hooty is her very first real friend. And that’s sad because…it’s Hooty, but at the same time it makes their friendship all the more beautiful with how much Hooty makes Lilith happy in a time when she felt like there was no one who’d face her let alone like her company.

And finally we have The Collector, who was alone for EONS, wanting to just play games and make friends. The only snag was that he was too powerful and needed a guide, with King stepping up as the role of The Collector’s (forced) best friend. And while the job wasn’t the BEST position, King grew fond of The Collector, making them feel fuller as a person.

Like I said, a LOT of characters felt alone for so long. The good news is that they eventually found those who made life better just through their company alone. And that’s good to teach–GREAT, even. Because it doesn’t matter how long it takes for those who feel so alone. Whether you’re a teenager or even an adult, you’ll find people in your life who will effortlessly make you happy. You just gotta let them in when they find you and allow them to make life better. For some of you, it might be hard to let friends into your life because you feel too damaged beyond repair. And for that, there’s another thing to remember…

Love heals all wounds 

On top of being lonely, a lot of characters tend to be…emotionally broken. At the very least, a lot of them needed a hug more than anything ele. At most, they need a whole new life with people that actually understand the importance of love and kindness. And I…pretty much just speedran my way through most of those characters, as well as thoroughly going over the two biggest examples in this show throughout every part of this dang review series. Amity and Hunter are their best selves now because of the new friends that they made and the families they formed. Most of their baggage, bad behaviors, and worst memories are darn near forgotten due to those in their lives making things better. I’d just be repeating myself to an excessive degree if I went further with these two. They’re the best examples for sure, explicitly showing how much a person can become better off with someone showing them what love feels like. The same goes with, like I said, a LOT of characters on the show. Luz was in a depressive state, one that made her question whether or not people would be better off without her, and was only healed through reassurance and reconfirmation that people loved her and are happy BECAUSE she was in their lives. Eda was a person that pushed away everyone in her life, from families to romantic partners, until she had two kids in her life that gave it meaning and encouraged her to reconnect with those she left behind. And do I even need to explain Vee? The connections we make with people is only important because of the love we share with one another, in a variety of ways. Romantic, platonic, even familial, a person saying “I care” can do wonders to a person’s psyche in ways you don’t even know.I should know. I speak from experience as a person who often felt like no one cares about him or his existence. It means WONDERS whenever I hear someone say they value having me around. Reassurance that you’ll find your people is one thing, but being reminded that the love you get from them is as essential just feels…so right. Because, yeah, of course relationships and love go hand in hand. It’s part of why The Owl House is such a delight to see and why this next and final theme hits so hard. And while I say final theme…it’s really one of the first things the show ever had to say.

“Us weirdos gotta stick together”

On top of being lonely and desiring love, The Owl House is a show of outcasts. As Luz puts it best, they don’t fit in anywhere so they just fit in together. Our main trio, of course, are the primary examples of this. King’s the last of his species with delusions of grandeur that makes him difficult to socialize, Eda’s a criminal wanted by the Emperor for not joining a coven, and Luz was the weird girl in school that became too much to handle. The three of them never really fit in anywhere so they found unity through each other. They’re the only ones who really knew and understood each other better than most people and would go through so much if it meant making one another happy. They were weird, but that’s what kept them united as people who can be their true selves while being…mostly unjudged. There is some teasing and some questionable looks, but it often comes from a place of love as these three would do a lot to make each other feel loved. And it’s not just with their group. 

Luz took Eda’s words to heart, setting out to form a weird little group of her own. She went out to make friends who were social outcasts as well. You have Willow, the powerful girl who couldn’t get good enough with one type of magic, getting ridiculed by both peers and faculty. And Gus, a magical prodigy who is OBSESSED with humans. Both of them get along great with Luz, appreciating her siliness and joining in because it was fun for them. What’s even better is that they’re not the only weird bunch in school. The Detention Track kids also came together, due to a shared “oddity” of wanting to learn more magic by combining different kinds of spells. They went about things the wrong way and were definitely a little too chaotic, but that’s just what kept them all so close together. And “Any Sport in the Storm” showed them making new friends outside of their group, more so with Viney as the episode mostly hints that the same applies to Jerbo and Barcus. Speaking of Viney, though, she managed to become close with Gus, Willow, and surprisingly Skara, all of them sharing an understanding of being underestimated in one way or another. Weirdness tends to attract more weirdness, with The Owl House saying it’s a good thing. It furthers the theme about how you will find your people, with these little groups proving that you’re never too weird for EVERYONE. And, even further, your weirdness can inspire others to let out their inner weirdos. Amity was allowed to be a more of an open nerd, sharing her love of Azura with Luz, and Hunter was allowed to take interests and show off how he enjoys something without worrying about how others judged him. In fact, NONE of these characters worried about how they were judged as people because of the company they keep. Most of them may have been a little odd, but they all felt seen, heard, and appreciated for who they were. But that remains a final question: Who WERE they?

What does the show mean with the word “Weirdo?” What are “weirdos” meant to represent? There’s the obvious answer in saying that it’s meant to be more literal, saying that the show is speaking to anybody that’s more or less odd or goes against the grain, in a way. Although, even then, what does that mean? What counts as weird? Is it weird to be a fan of something you love? Is it weird to be unpopular or to not shine as brighter as others? Is it weird to…love someone…who happens to be the same gender…?

Maybe I’m overreaching, but this is where my mind goes when the show says “weirdos.” It’s a very vague term that can apply to a lot of people who don’t feel like they fit in for a variety of reasons. Stuff like loving a certain thing or loving a certain someone COULD fit into that and it makes the message of sticking together all the more important. Because it’s true, weirdos should stick together. Whether you like it or not, we’re all in the same boat. People will look down at us as if we commit the worst crimes, when all we did was act as our unique selves. We didn’t hurt anybody, we never PLANNED to hurt anybody. We just want to be allowed to exist, and it’s perfectly fine to find unity through that desire of existence. No matter how you’re seen as weird, from who or what you love, to the way that you act, and the way that you talk, you’re allowed to be who you are. We don’t like being judged, so we shouldn’t judge others who just want the same things we do. So unite, because us weirdos have got to stick together.

And that…is that. That’s all the things I figured that The Owl House tried to say to the kids. I may not have gotten EVERYTHING, but these are what stood out to me and they’re the lessons that I love most to have come from the show. If there’s any theme you want discussed, then by all means share. Tell everyone how there’s more to this series that makes it stand out from all the other kids shows with a point. And, more importantly, how it does it well. Because at the end of the day, while the messages can be a little muddled, I wouldn’t say that The Owl House has anything bad to say. At all. Its heart is always in the right place, and that’s what I personally admire most about this series.

Speaking of admiration, I’m running out of things to talk about why I love this show. So, tune in next time for the FINAL PART as I discuss more of what does and doesn’t work with this series as I finally conclude why I love it so much. It’s…likely going to be emotional, so see you then.

[metagalacticx]

.

[edge-oftheworld]

one thing I love about following celebrities/artists who are honest and proactive about their mental health struggles etc is I can’t count the number of times someone I know is going through something and I’m like ‘I’ve got a song for u’ and how much of my life involves telling myself ‘if [redacted] can do something/get better/etc then so can i’ (and having actual real evidence of it in front of me) and I can’t understate how much I appreciate these things.

but at the same time it involves a whole lot of watching people I care about suffer and you learn to read the signs and infer between the lines in songs and interviews, and yes we can never fully know what they don’t share with us, but when they do share things it’s not a big stretch to be like ‘this seems like it’s what life is like for you and I have taken encouragement from it but you deserve so much better’. and it’s easy to find ways to get angry at a predatory industry and realise things that could be hurtful if you’re already fragile.

and we can advocate for some things and help ourselves and the people around us feel better but it’s hard to meaningfully reach your faves as an individual. and there are things we can’t say on the internet in too much detail, speculation becomes the harmful kind of gossip, and so sometimes it’s a whole lot of internally saying ‘you’re doing incredibly well to have gotten to where you are but I wish for your sake things would get better faster’

[hon3y-y]

Roomie!sukuna; part 4

read the other parts here! : part 1 part 2 part 3

cw : smutttt & fluff<3, oblivious!reader, pervy!sukuna, sex toys, oral (m&f), p in v, dubcon(?), breeding kink, overstim, s*x tapes, somno(¿not really but maybe?), dumbification, big d*ck!sukuna, sub!reader, dom!sukuna, etc etc

*not edited*

wc ~ 6.5k

enjoy<3

Sukuna has been on lockdown since the incident with Gojo. He hasn’t spoken to you longer than five minutes in passing, always having “something” to do. It’s driving you crazy, and as much as you want to barge in and get him to speak, you noticed that trying to force proximity only made things worse and attempted to give him the space he wanted.

But you miss your best friend, the best roommate you could possibly ask for, and the silence between you started to make you feel physically ill. The guilt was eating you up inside, and you were scared that by breaking this boundary, you might have ruined everything. It felt different this time; the house felt extremely cold, unlike its usual warm and welcoming atmosphere. So, after Friday rolled around, you decided enough was enough.

You let out a breath before raising your fist to knock on his door, patiently waiting for an answer. “ryo..? it’s me.." You wanted to roll your eyes at your own words. I mean, who else could it be? You two would have bigger problems if random people were knocking on your bedroom door.

Before you could beat yourself up about it, Sukuna’s door flew open, revealing himself shirtless with a pair of grey sweats hanging loosely off his waist. He looked beyond good; that extra time spent in the gym was showing and made you want to drool. “what?”

You look up at him, feeling frustrated, confused, and a little horny by how his nonchalant attitude worked so well on him. “Ryo, I’m sorry.” Sukuna tilted his head in mock confusion.

“for?”

You let out a grunt; even when you try to be the bigger person, he always has to make it extra difficult, huh? You crossed your arms over your chest, the movement making his eyes zero in on your cleavage on perfect display through your tank top. Maybe if he does this long enough, you’ll flash him to make him feel better. Sukuna fought a smirk as he adjusted his eyesight back at your head, his face remaining stoic.

“I’m apologizing for how everything went with Gojo. I didn’t realize how much you two didn’t get along, and... Ryo, it wasn’t my intention to make you uncomfortable.”

“And yet, you brought him home?” he quirks his brow, hand reaching to grab one of his shirts and slip it on.

You let out another noise of frustration: “I thought it was a joke between you two! I mean, Gojo is really not that bad. He's sweet when you—“ Sukuna rolled his eyes, the hardening of his body language made you stop short. “That’s not important—I'm sorry, Kuna’. You should always feel comfortable in your own home, and I don't want you to think I don't value that.” You looked at him with sincerity, your hands dropping from their defensive positioning.

He stayed silent, his tongue pressing against his cheek while he thought. Sukuna scoffs, looking forward and away from you. “You’re a dumbass.”

His words made you smile, jumping up to hug him. Ryo wrapped his arms around you, a small grin on his lips when you let out a squeal. You look and sound so cute, it’d be impossible for him to stay mad. (Plus, he got to feel your soft, plushy boobs touching him which made his mouth water)

“I got our favorite snacks and have a whole list of scary movies for us to binge. no gojo included too?” You spoke, pulling away to look at him. “oh really?” He hums, his hand moving to push back some hair that covered your face. You nod, "I’ll go and get everything in the cute candy bowls we have!”

As you walk away, Sukuna leans on his door frame to watch the way your plump behind poked out of your shorts, eyes zeroing in to the exposed flesh. What a pretty little thing you are...

He pushes himself off the door and into the kitchen, standing behind you before leaning down to whisper in your ear, “You look great in those shorts, by the way.”

Before you can speak, he’s backing away and into the living room while you stand wide-eyed. it doesn’t take much for you to brush it off, sukuna is a flirt and does it to everyone, simply chalking up the comment as Ryo being a tease, nothing more. When you get inside, you notice Sukuna is man-spreading, nearly taking up most of the couch with his long legs.

You let out a huff. “Ryo, move your leg so I can sit.“

Ryomen hums, leaning further back. “What’s the magic word, princess?”

His words make you glare: “I’m not five sukuna.”

He scoffs, poking your side. “hey! I thought you wanted my forgiveness. This is just going to make me more mad.”

You bow your head, sucking your teeth in plain annoyance. “Please,” you mumble, your small voice barely being heard.

Sukuna smirks, enjoying this way more than he’s supposed to. “I’m sorry, I can’t hear you. y’need to say it louder, princess.”

You sneer, looking at him silently as if to ask if he was being serious or fucking with you, and after his face not changing once, it's safe to say he wasn’t. you clear your throat, “Please move.”

He grins, moving his leg to let you sit, which you do, but not without mumbling under your breath, setting the candy down so that you didn’t have to worry about it falling when you playfully shoved him. “You’re an ass.” Both of you laughed, with Sukuna pushing you back.

Sukuna sighs, and you notice the reluctance in his eyes before he speaks anyway, “I missed you.”

At his confession, you coo’d teasingly. “Aww, Sukuna has a soft spot!” poking his face, making him roll his eyes, and nip at your finger. although, if he’s being honest, he is anything but soft.

but you don’t need to know that. yet.

Sukuna picks a movie that has the best rating, hoping it’s enough to scare you into his arms (and it always is). You’re cuddled up to him, eating a nerd gummy cluster when you let out a high-pitched scream and cover your eyes. “What the fuck was that!?”

He lets out a chuckle, rubbing his hand down your arm to relax you. “Calm down—it wasn’t even that gory.“

“His head was just chopped off.”

“I’ve seen worse.” You glance at him with irritation before looking back at the movie. “Oh, sorry, I forgot I was watching a scary movie with Captain ‘I watched Gore at Five.’”

Sukuna didn’t need to respond, feeling you tighten around him as the movie got progressively scarier. To be completely honest, these movies were the least interesting part of the night. The way you clung to him was far more entertaining. you spent most of the time making observations about how ‘stupid’ the characters were, even joking to ease the tension, only to either jump or make some weird guttural sound that you attempted to hide with a cough or clearing on your throat. Thankfully, the movie started to play its end credits before you were scared into a premature heart attack, literally letting out a sigh of relief as the names rolled in.

Ryo stood up to bring everything inside, a bit disappointed that it was over because he was enjoying the way you relied on him for comfort. Just as he turned to exit, he was halted by you gently tugging on his arm. “Maybe we can play a game or something?”

“Are you... scared?” he chuckled.

“what!? No, I’m not—“ You let out a scream when the ending credits had a jump scare that was loud; your defense so high that you nearly punched him when he grabbed you. Sukuna stared at you with a blank expression. “Okay, it was a little scary.”

After what felt like hours of sukuna laughing, teasing, and poking fun at your fears, the two of you sat on the couch as a comedy show played in the background—anything to distract you from the thought of guts, blood, and murder. Sukuna suggested a few drinks would help you relax, so now the both of you sat on the couch, slightly tipsy, while playing a game.

you both originally tried to play monopoly, but realized how long it would take and gave up. Then you tried to play Trouble but realized half the game pieces were missing (courtesy of Sukuna’s baby brother Yuji, who decided to hide the pieces instead of play with them). and after remembering that you left both of your favorite card games at your friend's house, you opted for a more verbal one.

“Truth or dare?” he asked, eating one of his candies.

“truth”

Sukuna nodded, thinking for a second, “Have you had a recent wet dream, and if so, tell me who it was with and what happened?” He smirked, popping in a jolly rancher. “Good one, right?”

You rolled your eyes at him and retracted your words, "I pick dare.”

“Give me a lap dance.”

You let out a deep sigh. “You’re such a perv, you know that?” Sukuna nods, chewing his candy. “So, what’s it gonna be? Should I be playing some music?“

You shook your head. you debated what to do for a moment, measuring out what would cause you more embarrassment and made a decision. “I had a wet dream like..two months ago.” You refuse to look at him, instead taking a sip from the drinks he prepared for you two.

He nods, motioning for you to keep going. “I asked for a lot more than that.”

“i..don’t remember.”

He groans, “Cmon, just say it. We gotta play the game right.”

“It was about... Satoru—” Sukuna wants to stop the game, suddenly very uninterested in everything coming out of your mouth. In fact, he felt extremely tired and definitely needed to get some rest for whatever he had planned for tomorrow (nothing). “and…you.” That makes him perk up, feeling all the alcohol disappear from his body, like your words sobered him up.

“What about me?” a cocky smirk on his lips.

You take a big gulp from your glass, setting down the now-empty cup. “It was weird.” You started to explain the dream in the fastest way possible, talking about how Satoru had given you a remote vibrator and instructed you to wear it around the house. Well, Sukuna happened to be there, and after finding out, “you know...”

“I don’t know,” he replied quickly, invested in the story.

“It just got a little...rated R. and you were on the phone with toru and…yeah.. i mean, it’s not like those dreams even mean anything.” you tried to brush it off unsuccessfully.

Sukuna was rock hard, staring at you in awe. When you finished telling the story, you put your hands over your face, feeling uneasy. “Do you have one?”

“one what?” You peaked between your fingers.

“a remote vibrator?”

“That’s not part of the question.” Sukuna nods, letting it go (even though he’s never wanted an answer more in his life). “Your turn, truth or dare?”

“dare.”

The moment the words slipped from his tongue, you began to smirk, causing Sukuna to narrow his eyes, wondering what you could possibly be planning—

“Give me a lap dance.”

Ryo scoffed, shaking his head in a firm ‘no’ motion. “absolutely not, truth.”

“Tell me why you hate Satoru." Wow, well played. a double-edged sword. Why did he hate Satoru? If he were honest with himself, he didn’t have a completely good reason other than that he fucks you. Calling him annoying wasn’t completely true, and he knew you wouldn’t buy it.

What can he say anyway? ‘I hate him because while he fucks you, I'm forced to hump my fist like an out-of-control hormonal teenager and he’s living my dream. not to mention he gets all your attention while i’m left to feel like an intruder in my own home even though I had you before him’??? He’d sound like a fucking loser, and there’s no way in hell that you wouldn’t hold that shit over his head. With a sigh, he stands up, “you gonna choose the song or what?”

He can see the giddiness on your face as you immediately pull your phone out, “turn on the speaker, Kuna'” you scroll through your music, “What about this one?” You turn your phone for him to see. the song of choice? wine pon you by Doja.

Sukuna groans, “Can't you do the song that was in that movie with the male stripper?”

“pony? no. It’s been overdone.” you deadpan. He lets out a sigh, shaking his head while you grab a folding chair and place it down. “You better do it right.”

Sukuna would laugh at your comment if it wasn’t for the fact it was directed at him. While you start the music, he begins to sensually try and remove his shirt making you giggle. His body immediately goes rigid, tips of his ears turning red. “Alright, i’m not doing this if you’re gonna laugh at me the whole time—“

“i’ll stop! keep going!” You immediately cover your mouth. He lowers his sweats a bit, showing off more of his happy trail and glances up at you with an arrogant smirk. “Like it, hm?” You roll your eyes but stay quiet.

He starts off by bringing your hands up to caress him while he grinds against you, the whole thing is both attractive and funny because it’s him of all people. You can’t deny that he actually makes it look really good, especially as he kneels in front of you, leaning back on one arm while his hand drags down his torso teasingly.

He doesn’t make it through the whole song, sadly chickening out after the first chorus is over while you cheer him on, clapping. “Wait, do it again so I can record!” He laughs sarcastically before shutting off the stereo. “Fun's over.”

Once the two of you are back on the couch, he speaks up, “Truth or dare?” Just as you go to say truth, he scowls, “Don’t pick truth again, you chose it all game. What are you, 12?”

You let out a puff of air. “It’s truth or dare! not dare or dare.”

"Okay, and you picked truth all game so it’s been revoked.”

“That’s not how it works.”

“Yeah, it does.” Before you can protest, he’s already talking, “I dare you to let me go through your phone for five minutes. zero limits.”

“And what if I don't let you?” You narrow your eyes, crossing your arms.

He shrugs, “Then you lose. I mean, you lose most of the games we play anyway, so i guess it’s not new to you, hm?”

You want to argue and yell that it’s not true, but it kind of is… See, in the years you and Sukuna have lived together, you were forcibly changed from a sore loser to a quietly sulky one as to not embarrass yourself by the amount of times you and him have gone head to head and you come out the loser. You swear he cheats at most of them (he does), but there’s no evidence, and having a full-blown breakdown over board games is a little under your age range. But you technically can win this; it’s just five minutes?

You grab your phone, unlocking it to set a timer, and throw it on his lap, “Anything you find does not leave this room, you understand?” He ignores you, immediately picking it up and clicking the photos app (like a perv🙄)There’s a bunch of random photos, some screenshots of your home screen that you constantly forget to delete, and some weird selfies that make you grimace, “ew, ryo! Stop looking at it..”

He’s not really listening, though, admiring how even when you’re doing weird and stupid shit you’re just so adorable. If you weren’t intently looking over his shoulder, he would have sent them to himself (he’s so obsessed, he’d probably print them out and make a scrapbook like a little freak). It’s a side of you not shown publicly, and it makes his stomach feel warm and tingly. After about a minute of you non-stop complaining about his fascination with your stupid photos, he exits the app to open your messages.

You watch over his shoulder, cringing as he clicks on your recent chat with your newest fling, Hiromi. the whole chat full of flirty messages and light sexting, along with some photos of you in the purple lingerie set he bought you. “Should I send these to myself too?” Sukuna teases, glancing at the endearing pout you wore at his comment. He scrolled down, clicking on random chats, some more filthy than others but nothing too extreme.

He was about to click off the app when he noticed ‘toru💙’ and scoffed, “what is he? your little boyfriend?” tapping the chat to read through his messages. He wants to groan at how cute Gojo attempts to text you, using the 🥺 emoji after almost every message and using nicknames like ‘baby’ and ‘cutie’, it makes sukuna wanna barf.

While Ryo makes a remark about every “stupid” (his words) comment Satoru makes, you refuse to look, knowing the disappointment that will be very apparent in his face. You decide the ceiling is much more entertaining, resting your head on the back of the couch. see, if you were paying attention, maybe you would’ve seen him click on the shared photos icon, scrolling through until a certain thumbnail caught his eye.

It looked like him sleeping on the couch, but was too blurry to actually tell, so he decided it would be better to watch it, pressing play.

It’s very quiet as you pan the camera to where he softly snores on the couch, turning the camera back to yourself while motioning ‘shh’ as you sit on the couch across from him. You sit up, your legs spread as the camera catches a peek into your tiny shorts to show off your pretty white panties, moving the clothing to the side to show your glistening folds and what looks to be a pink tail peeking from your pussy..?

You bring the camera back up, having it far enough to capture his sleeping frame and your face, giggling quietly before your eyes flutter and a tiny whimper leaves your puffy lips, “oh—fuck!”

You were spaced out until you heard the noise, head immediately snapping up to look at what he was watching. Your stomach drops as you look at yourself literally being caught red-fucking-handed, and before you can snatch the phone away, Sukuna is standing up and turning away so you can’t. “Sukuna! Give it back, now!”

He ignores you, again, laughing at the video the longer it plays. “Oh wow, my roomie is a little porn star~” His eyes zero in to how your eyes cross, guessing that the vibrator went a little too fast and made you see stars. how cute. “And right in front of me? while i’m helpless and sleeping?” He shakes his head, glancing behind himself and at you in mock disbelief.

You’re beyond frustrated, tears of shame gathering in your eyes, “Sukuna! it’s not like that—“

“Then explain,” He turns back around to watch the video, looking at how you roll up your baggy t-shirt to expose your pretty tits. You nervously glanced behind you at his sleeping form before facing the camera again, “i hope he doesn’t wake up~” you pant, tilting the camera to focus on how you play with your swollen clit. “cause’ it looks like my pervy roommate was getting off on the fact i was unaware. hey, didn’t you say that this was just a dream? because this looks very real to me, princess.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, cursing. “i just—i told Gojo about the dream first and he wanted me to act it out but I knew I couldn’t actually get you to do it and so it was the second-best option! I’m sorry, sukuna!” your words jumble together as a lump forms in your throat, You didn’t even recognize how hard you were crying until it was physically becoming hard to breathe. “i’m—sorry!” You hiccup, arms covering your face in humiliation.

At the sound of your sobs, Sukuna turns around and realizes he might have let his amusement get out of hand, quickly shutting your phone and letting it drop on the couch. “w-why are you crying?” You don’t answer, if anything, it makes you sob harder and turn away from his strong gaze. Without hesitation, Ryo begins to rub your back, cooing in your ear, “it’s okay, just breathe”

You don’t believe it; this man just found out you’re a perverted freak, and he’s the one comforting you? You turn to look at him, tears still pooling in your eyes, “What? Why—aren’t you mad?”

Sukuna shrugs, “Should I be?”

“I—I mean, yeah? it’s justifiable…” You feel your stomach sink with every second of silence that passes.

“Why would I be mad?” You feel stumped. Is he trying to make you feel more humiliated? Is this a game? trying to get you to confess more and more to make you feel worse than you already do? “I mean, I guess I am a little. Why didn’t you wake me up anyway?”

His words make you freeze, confusion must be clear on your face because Sukuna continues, “not only did you not let me see it in person, but to not send the video either? That’s just cruel.” He’s smirking again, his signature, ‘up to no good’ look that makes you feel small back on his face. “I guess you’ll have to repay me, huh?”

You gulp, looking up at him. “repay you? how?" His smirk grows into a grin, so evil and menacing but so fucking attractive. “By giving me a live show, my little porn star~”

He instructed you to get dressed into the lingerie set previously shown in the photos you sent Hiromi. You’re not incredibly self-conscious, but as his eyes follow you when you walk into the living room, telling you to turn around and bend over to “give him a proper look," you feel a slight increase of nerves, hoping he enjoys your act of submission.

and he does. the way you nervously play with your fingers, breath hitching when you feel him creep behind you to look at how the lace of your panties cups your pussy. He’s been hard since he saw the video, but his need for you grows with every instruction you follow. so cute and compliant, wanting to do anything to make up for being so naughty. It makes him feel something he’s never felt before.

You’re gripping the back of the loveseat when you feel his fingers trace the slit of your pussy through the lace, pressing a little harder at where your hole is, chuckling when you push back against him. “Does that feel good?” You nod, trying not to speak to not embarrass yourself. He didn’t like that, making you yelp when he suddenly smacked your left ass cheek with a good amount of force, turning to look at him in shock. “Use your voice.”

“yes ryo…”

He hummed, peeling your panties to the side. You were so wet, Sukuna’s eyes were glued to the little strings of arousal that stuck to his fingers whenever he pulled them away, “What a nasty little pussy you have—oh look! She winked at me” You want to shove your head into a wall, feeling your body heat up at the way he talked. so shameless.

“Why don’t you go get me that vibrator, princess.” He gives you a kiss on your ass cheek, the same one he spanked, before pulling away. You obey, returning to the living room again, this time with the egg shaped toy. He makes you sit down, spreading your thighs as he teases you with it, dragging it up and down your slit to get it wet. Your hips gently rock against the sensation, getting choked up as he suddenly pushes it in and pulls your panties back into place.

He makes you kneel on the floor in front of him, already having downloaded and connected the device to his phone. Your eyes are still puffy, and you look up at him with such guilt. He can’t help but lean down to capture your lips, making out with you until you’re panting with your lips all swollen. When he pulls away, he decides to turn the vibration onto a low setting, enjoying the way your eyes become droopy and soft puffs of air leave your mouth. “You wanna suck my cock, pretty girl?”

You rub your thighs together, eyes finally looking down at the thick print he left in his sweats. You look up at him, nodding. "Yes, please” he leans back, getting comfortable, “then go ahead.”

You feel nervous as your hands begin to pull at the strings of his pants, tugging to pull them down. His boxers are tight, giving you an even better glance at just how big he truly was. Before your regular hookups started, you always fantasized about how big Sukuna was. Hearing girl after girl scream his name until their throats went sore and watching them limp out of the apartment the next day was kind of telling, but you were starting to think that you underestimated just how big he was.

With every ounce of courage you could muster, you began to peel his underwear off, your eyes widening when his long cock came out in all its glory. It was huge. not just in length, but in girth, and it was pretty. He kept himself clean, hair trimmed but not shaved, and his pretty tip oozed milky pre-cum, lightly dripping down his dick. “gon’ keep starin’ or what?”

Sukuna indulged in the look on your face as you stared at him, it gave him an ego boost when you tried to wrap your hand around his cock just to realize you couldn’t fully cover it. “t’s big right?” You didn’t answer, knowing he already knew what your response would be, and instead leaned forward to spit on it, your thumb moving to spread the liquid on his tip. He let out a breathy moan, cock twitching when you licked his vein hesitantly, “that’s it, good girl”

You attempted to take as much of him in your mouth as you could, ignoring the way your throat protested. Sukuna’s hands tangled in your hair, jaw loosening, while he watched the way you bobbed your head, looking up at him with teary eyes. spit seeped from your mouth, making it messy and noisy as the sound of your little gags filled the living room, “Oh, fuck yeah—take it all”

He began to fuck your mouth, pace picking up until he was roughly thrusting, eyes rolling back. You focused on ignoring your gag reflex until you suddenly felt a strong vibration in your cunt, immediately pulling away as you let out a cry. You had drool dripping down your chin, and your moans came out hoarse from his brutal thrusts, “Kuna'—too much!”

scoffing, he grabbed your head again, “keep going.”

you huffed, putting him back in your mouth when the vibrations increased again. you moaned around his cock, your head feeling empty as all you could do it suck on his tip haphazardly, pulling away to pant helplessly. you rested your head on his thigh, hand squeezing his length. “can’t do it, Ryo”

Your hips rut onto nothing, pathetically looking up at him as the toy brutally massaged your g-spot. You looked so angelic, messy with tears, spit, and precum all over you. Sukuna coo’d, hand reaching down to caress your cheek, “s’ too much?” You nodded, tongue lolling out as you began to feel the buildup of an orgasm, whining as your other hand gripped his. Your mind was going numb, sight getting splotchy.

Your hold on his hand tightened when your body began to squirm uncontrollably, a cry leaving your lips before your vision blacked out momentarily. You woke up feeling like you were in a puddle, Sukuna laughing as you looked down in confusion, “guess you weren’t lying, princess.”

You choked when you realized you had squirted on the floor, feeling embarrassed by just how easy he made overwhelming you. Before you could let the shame consume you, Ryomen was pulling you up and onto the couch. “Wanna try again?”

He tugged on the toy, playing with the different settings, until you became a babbling mess. He jerked his cock off lazily, getting off to the pleas of his name on repeat. his thumb reached down to play with your clit, your plush thighs immediately closing as your head shook back and forth, “n-no, hurts!” he pried your thighs open, spanking your cunt making you whine.

“Nuh uh, hold your legs open,” You struggle to follow his orders, shaky hands gripping your thighs to present yourself to him. He let a glob of spit fall out of his mouth and onto your already drenched pussy, spreading it with his fingers. He made you cum two times before he finally allowed himself to take out the tiny egg, throwing it carelessly across the room because now it was the least of his worries.

Leaning down, he kissed your swollen bud, a mewl escaping your lips when he brought it into his mouth and sucked. You swear he was making you see stars, Sukuna growled when he tasted your sweet nectar meet his awaiting tongue, hand reaching up to move your bra and pinch your nipple. The pleasure he gave you was immense, overstimulating not only your poor body but your mind. “s’kuna! wait—“

He shoved his fingers in your mouth, quieting your sobs as his cruel tongue played with your cunt. Everything he did was so vulgar, treating you like some whore, even letting little whispers of “my pretty slut” slip from his lips whenever you would buck into his mouth. “You wanna ride my face, pretty? that what you want?”

You shook your head, pulling away from his fingers, “Later—close l-like this!” Your words made him feel giddy, putting more emphasis into every movement of his tongue. later implied this would happen again and Sukuna was more than ecstatic to make this a tradition.

You let go of your thighs, your hands gripping his hair to push him closer. You were so close, practically tasting it. Two fingers slowly pushed into you, followed by another, scissoring you open and rubbing against that sensitive part of you that made your body heat up. You let out a wail, tugging on his hair harder when you felt yourself cum, basically riding his face until you went limp. The orgasm so strong you felt light-headed, ears ringing, barely noticing Sukuna pulling away to show off his wet grin.

He loved how fucked out you looked, barely conscious and twitching. Without thinking twice, he reached down and ripped the fabric that was semi-covering your chest. It took you a second to register what happened, looking down at how the lilac fabric was now in multiple pieces and frowned. “h-hiromi got me that..”

Sukuna nodded, rolling his eyes, “So?”

You couldn’t even argue with him, brain fuzzy and most of your short sentences came out slurred anyway. Sukuna took your silence as a win, leaning down to lick and suck at your tits, leaving hickies all over the surface. You hummed, mouth opening as you felt the tip of his cock tease your entrance, slowly pushing into you. Your shaky hand pushed against his stomach, “Ryo! t’s too big!”

but he just shook his head, moving to kiss you softly while his hand moved yours away to let him push in, lacing your fingers together by your head. It burned, the pain almost too much. However, Sukuna slowed his movement, letting his free hand go down to rub your clit. “It's okay, baby, jus’ lemme in..” He went back to kissing you, continuing to thrust into you until he bottomed out.

When he pulled away, he watched how your face contorted and your eyebrows furrowed together when you felt the double stimulation. When you began to babble, hips pushing into his, he started to thrust, picking up speed with every second. His hand still held yours, the moment feeling incredibly intimate.

He was losing his mind. Your tightness felt unlike the pocket pussy he used to fuck. No, this was completely different. He liked holding your hand, feeling you grip onto his with such need or maybe it was the way you gazed into his eyes like he was the only man on earth… Either way, there was a warm feeling in his stomach and a need to prove himself. His movements were smooth as he thrusted into your sore cunt, enjoying the squeals you let out when it got too much, ignoring how you begged him to slow down or you’d cum. He felt like he was on fire, sweat dripping from his brow. He wanted this all the time, seven days a week.

He wanted you.

“Oh, fuck—I'm gonna put a baby in you—you like that? want to make a little family?” He sounded arrogant, like he had already made the decision for you. and maybe it was because of how fucked out you were, but his words didn’t seem to bad..if anything, they made you squeeze him tighter and nod. “Yes! Please, Kuna! want it—so bad”

“oh yeah? gonna cream in this pretty pussy—fill you up nicely,” you agreed, legs locking around him. “Make you the prettiest mommy—oh fuck!” Skin on skin along with the soft ‘plap’ from your dripping cunt echoed in the room, so loud you would probably get noise complaints, but that didn’t matter.

All Sukuna could think about was breeding you, knowing that you would have to get rid of your little fuck buddies if he put a little spawn inside you. He could picture everything: the proposal, marriage, little children running around the house he’ll buy you two. And the best part: it’ll be free from Satoru.

He knew you were close when he felt your walls flutter, pleads getting higher before they got stuck in your throat as your eyes rolled back. He kept thrusting, working you through your orgasm before he finally released, pushing himself as deep as he could. He kissed you again, savoring the taste of your mouth and how, with every breath you let out, he sucked in.

He let you rest as he got up to clean. You would have offered to help if it wasn’t for your brain fog and limbs that felt like jelly. You can’t even remember how you got into your room—only the way he curled against you, placing delicate kisses all over your collarbone and neck, the sound of your giggles making his heart swell. He couldn’t help but watch you as you drifted off to sleep, hoping that in the morning you wouldn’t make an excuse for why this couldn’t go farther.

The thought made him anxious, preventing him from closing his eyes because, in truth, if this was the end, he wanted to prolong it. He took in every detail of your face, listening to the sound of your patterned breathing and the feeling of your soft skin in his hands. His eyes grew heavy eventually, closing before he had the chance to fight it.

You woke up sore the next morning, feeling a muscular arm wrapped tightly around you. You didn’t move, trying to plan out how to approach this situation. On one hand, the sex was amazing and you’ve wanted him for years. and on the other, this could easily be nothing and confessing that would be useless. You were beyond frustrated and had a slight migraine, but refused to disturb him by getting up and having to face the conversation prematurely.

So you waited.

Minutes passed like hours; the longer time went by, the more anxious you grew. This felt so different than your regular hookups—at least if things got complicated with one of them, you could just leave. but this was different. he’s different.

Sukuna slept quietly next to you, arm wrapped around you protectively. He shuffled slightly, signaling he was waking up. The realization made your heart beat faster, second guessing everything you'd prepared in your head until the sound of his raspy morning voice broke the silence, “Good morning…”

“Morning,” your reply was quick, your back still facing him. He hums in acknowledgment, body shifting closer to you to firmly mold against your back. he moves into the crock of your neck to inhale how sweet you smell before pressing soft kisses onto the skin, the feeling ticklish and would have been enjoyable if it wasn’t for your racing head. “sukuna?”

“mmhm?” He hums against your skin, sucking small markings onto the surface. You pull away to look at him, making sure to hold the blanket over your exposed chest, like it mattered. You had so much to say and yet didn’t know where to start.

at the feeling of you pushing away, his eyes open, curious as to why you created the distance (and mild irritation because he liked how you felt against him). The arm he had around you moved to hold up his head, eyebrows raising. he studies the look on your face, noticing the tenseness in your movements. “What’s on your mind, princess?”

You debated how to approach this, but you were truly stumped. You’ve had plenty of hookups, but this isn’t the same; you didn’t really care for them. “What did last night mean?”

He was silent for a moment before a smirk graced his lips, hand reaching out to brush a stand of hair away before making its way to delicately cup your chin. “So straightforward, huh?” He pulls you against him, arm wrapping around you to keep you flush against his chest. He watches you intently, looking for any reaction, “What do you want it to mean?”

You can’t deny it catches you off guard, your breath hitching in your throat before you shrug, “I don’t know... I guess if you just want it to be friendly—“

His jaw tightens for a moment before a scoff leaves his mouth. His hand travels to your hips, fingers gently tracing it before gripping the soft flesh, “You only see me as a friend?”

“no…”

Your response puts a sly grin on Ryo’s face. “Then why don’t we cut the bullshit,” He gets impossibly closer, lips brushing yours teasingly. “Because we both know we’re not friends…”

You can’t stop the stupid smile that takes over your face, “Does that mean that you’re my—“

He doesn’t let you finish that sentence, a possessive glint flickering in his eyes as he cuts you off. “I’m gonna stop you there, love…” pushing you to lay on your back while he leans down over you. he moves closer, his mouth hovering next to your ear, his warm breath fanning across your skin “…because I’m going to make it very clear who you belong to.”

a/n: and it’s done🙏 although this is the last in the series, i still have some drafts/asks that i may get to at some point but i wanted to give you guys some type of ending :) was gonna post this yesterday but didn’t like the original ending i had so i had to redo it. also, did y’all notice the jungkook easter egg👀

tags (ignore)

@smolbeanzzz @mwtsxri @call-memissbrightside @iluvjjkmennn @evieluka @celestep004 @ermatfhh @lenalondon985 @peregrine-nation @1dk-anym0r3 @noblogname-exe @theobsidianempress @silverserpentsofhogwarts @mr-mafias-wife @idkccdfnfz @thejujvtsupost @bbnbhm

[gurugirl]

The Babysitter - Again | dad!harry x babysitter!reader

Part 2 of THIS

Summary: Harry and the babysitter do it again.

A/n: Requested!

Word Count: 2,537

Warning: smut, cheating, inappropriate relationship/power imbalance, etc.

. . .

While Harry fantasized about fooling around with the babysitter more often than not, he didn’t believe he’d get another opportunity. His wife didn’t leave for work trips like she had the one evening. In fact, she was usually always home by the time Harry got home after work, and the cute babysitter was already long gone.

He did see her that morning, though. And what a surprise it was too. She arrived early, before Harry had rushed out the door to head off for the day. He heard her voice just as he was fixing up his tie, stopping the task midway to peek into the living room.

Holy shit… he muttered under his breath as he let his eyes slink over her long legs and the little shorts that hugged her ass just so. She was adorable, as always, but it’d been a bit since he’d seen her in person and immediately his mind worked its way through some very filthy thoughts about what he had done with her that night.

She laughed and turned toward the tall archway where he stood in the hall and smiled at him. He wasn’t one to get flustered but damn if the babysitter didn’t do it for him. She always had, but especially now, knowing what they’d done. Knowing what her body looked like under her little outfits, the kinds of noises she made, how good she felt around him, and how wet she got for him.

He blinked and turned back, face flushed hot from the salacious memory. Something he’d been reimagining over and over again since that fateful night.

Harry palmed at his crotch to tame the growing lump underneath and he sighed before grabbing his briefcase and car keys.

With a quick check of his hair in the mirror he stepped into the living room where Y/n was sitting on the couch with her left leg crossed over her right as his wife went to get their kid.

“Hi. You’re here early,” he looked her over again as she lifted her gaze to his and stood up.

“Yeah. Woke up early and figured I’d get a head start. Here,” she stepped in closer and took his tie, fixing the bit he’d forgotten about when he realized she was there. She kept her hands on the knot and looked up at him. There it was again. That doe-eyed fuck me look that had him plumping in his pants.

She released the tie and moved back as she looked behind Harry toward the hallway and back up at him, “How’ve you been?”

He nodded, “Alright. And you?”

She shrugged, “Okay.”

“Just okay?”

She offered a small smile and nodded, “Just okay.”

Harry didn’t know if she was trying to tell him something or not. Maybe it was school that was difficult or boyfriend issues – he didn’t think she had a boyfriend but he’d never asked either.

“Anything I can help with?” Now he was speaking low and quiet, curious what she might say.

“Mmm…” she pursed her lips to the side and shrugged again, “Probably.”

He knew exactly what she meant when she looked back up at him through her lashes and bit her lip. Goddamn, he could get into so much trouble.

Harry clenched his jaw and looked behind himself and with the coast still clear he reached for her fingers and whispered, “Would love to help. I just don’t know when I could ever do it again, Y/n.”

She nodded, “I know. I just can’t stop thinking about it.”

“Y/n!”

Harry watched his boy run toward the babysitter and break the spell. Which was for the better. He didn’t need to be fucking around like that. What he’d done with her was a one-time thing. As much as he’d love more of her, that just wasn’t in the cards for them.

.                 .                 .

It was 1 o’clock when he got the text from his wife. She’d gotten off work early and was already home. Which meant she’d relieved Y/n. And she was at her dorm apartment with nothing to do. Perhaps even alone.

Harry gulped down the saliva that had pooled on his tongue just imagining what he could get up to with Y/n. But he had a pile of work to do. There was no way he could leave the office and still get his project ready by Friday.

It was such a bad idea to even be thinking about it. Yet there he was sliding his files into his briefcase and making the decision to finish some work at home later that night. He’d definitely lost his mind as he sent a text to Y/n asking her if she was home. And her nearly immediate response – Yes. Alone – had him rushing right out the door and jogging to his car to travel across town to Y/n’s apartment.

He wasn’t really even thinking. Not with a rational mind. If anyone saw him coming or going that might be bad. Though, he imagined no one would know who he was anyway. He was just a regular schmo after all. Who would be the wiser?

Y/n met him in the foyer and pulled at his hand before pushing a door open that led to a stairwell. She was only up one floor. Her small dorm was a one-room apartment with a separate bathroom attached.

She turned to face him when he closed the door behind himself, “My roommate has two more classes before she’s done for the day. My only class today is at 7 so…”

Harry grinned and stepped in, placing his meaty hands on her arms and bringing her closer, “So that means we have a little bit of time. And you need my help with something, don’t you?”

She puffed out a laugh with a nod, “I mean if you want. I know…” She sighed and blinked her eyes, he could tell she was nervous, “This is wrong, but… it’s just…”

“It’s just so good, though, isn’t it?”

She nodded again, teeth digging into her bottom lip. Fuck she was cute.

Y/n didn’t need any cues. She lowered her sight to the belt he had on and began to unbuckle him with deft fingers before she undid the button on his pants and pulled at the zipper.

He helped her push his pants down as she lowered to her knees and took her palm over his crotch, softly rubbing upward over his underwear.

“You get so hard… and so big…” She peeled his briefs down slowly once his cock was at full mast and the moment the fabric was pushed under his balls she wrapped her fingers around his rigid shaft and placed soft kisses along the thick vein underneath, licking over his tip and placing him in her mouth.

He put a palm at the back of her head as he watched her suckle around his crown and then pull him deeper into her mouth, tongue swirling and sucking as she looked up at him.

“Baby doll… fuck…”

Harry was so worked up. The last person he’d had sex with was Y/n and now here she was again with her pretty lips stretched around his length, tugging at his base with everything she had in her. She wanted to make him feel good and she was eager. It was no wonder he was so anxious to get to her apartment and flaked out on work. Flake out on his wife. If this was his reward, he’d continue doing it every fucking chance he got (which he knew would be rare).

Soon he had her on her bed completely naked and spread out with his mouth on her cunt. He didn’t even remember the last time his wife let him lick her pussy. His sex life had grown so dry. Hardly a smidgeon of foreplay before they were both rolling over and falling asleep.

But Y/n was moaning and pulling his hair, smearing her juices all over his face as she writhed and quivered from his fingers gliding against her front wall and his lips suctioning to her clit. Honestly? She was a breath of fresh air. Another person who liked sex as much as he did. Harry thought he had been doomed to a life with boring and barely palatable sex (that was when he could get it). Y/n could be the answer to that problem.

He loved the noises she made when she came. She was just loud enough that anyone walking by her door could hear her, but not so loud that everyone in the hallway would know what was happening in that room.

Harry’s cock was so hard as he let go of her thigh and sat up, reaching a hand up her body to smooth his thumb over her nipple, wiping her arousal all around it.

She was breathing heavily, a small, cute smile on her face as she looked at him and kept her legs parted before saying the hottest thing he’d ever heard, “You can have me now.”

Her wet pussy was a decadent treat just for him. Sliding himself right in she inhaled through puckered lips at the stretch and he groaned from relief. And once again he gave it to her bare. No condom. He was insane, he was sure. He’d pull out before he could come, just like the first time, but he was obsessed with how she felt around him, all squishy and warm and soaking wet.

Her bed was cheap with a metal frame and Harry was a big man with a lot of endurance and pent-up desire. He was a man who was getting his cock wet by a girl who wanted it and he was not going to worry about how quiet he was. In fact, the bouncing springs, and frame slapping into the wall only heightened the experience for him. He not only loved the way sex felt and smelled and looked, but he also loved how everything sounded. The way her cunt gushed wetly every time he plowed in, her little squeaks and moans, skin patting together when his hips met hers, and the screeching and bouncing bed they were doing it on were all music to his ears.

“Oh god!” She cried when he ground in, swiveling his hips, buried into the hilt, slushy wetness seeping down to her ass.

“Mmm… fuck, Y/n…” Harry was in heaven as he fucked into her. His balls were squeezing and his cock was throbbing. Perhaps a condom would’ve been a wise decision, especially if it meant he could hold out longer. But he hated the thought of not getting to feel her as nature intended.

He smeared his lips against hers and she rolled up into him, moaning into his mouth. He was sure he was driving deep in her guts, stuffed up into her tummy every time he bottomed out. She keened and cooed and quivered under him.

His chest was pressed against hers and he felt her nails scrape into his lats as his glutes flexed with every thrust. They were pasted together, the only bits moving were their lips and tongues and Harry’s thighs as he worked his girthy dick into her, dragging through her tight walls.

Rocking down hard into her, he wanted to make sure her clit had enough friction. His chest was sweating and his insides were boiling. He was so close to his end.

But then he felt her squeezing in pulses and then clamp down, her mouth dropped open and she halted her kisses as she began to moan loudly, “Mmm… coming… want your come. Come inside of me…”

Harry closed his eyes and tried to ignore the way his inner demon told him to fuck it and give her what she wanted. Fill her up with his come and push it deep into her tummy. He was already playing with fire.

Gritting his teeth he endured the way her cunt was siphoning around him, pulling and fluttering… she felt so good on his cock. Nothing had felt so good in a long time.

And the moment his balls began to constrict with that tell-tell throb and pinch he pulled out with a filthy groan and wrapped his big hand around himself to spurt his come over her pussy, a few ropes coated her clit. But then Y/n scrambled to sit up and she practically dove forward with her mouth wide open, tongue jutted out, and sucked him into her mouth. She placed her hands on his hips and drank him down, moaning around him and sliding her lips down his shaft as far as she could take him.

“Fuck! Oh, fuck me!” Harry rasped out in a deep voice as he placed both palms on her head and rutted inward to let her suck him dry.

When Y/n could tell he’d calmed and he let go of her head she pulled off of him, strings of saliva and come connecting her lips and his cock. It was dirty.

She blinked her bleary eyes up at him, “Why didn’t you come inside of me?”

Harry pulled at her and brought them down to lie on their sides facing one another, “Because that seems a little reckless. Don’t you think?”

She sighed and drew a finger over his swallow tattoos, “I’m on birth control. And… I’ve only had sex with one guy and that was like a year and a half ago. I mean…” she looked up at him with innocent rounded eyes, “I know it’s bad I just wanted to let you do it. Maybe feel it later while I’m in class.”

Harry’s brows shot up at all of this new info.

Looking into her eyes he wrapped his hand around the front of her throat and pressed his mouth to hers. She was gonna be trouble if she was talking like that. Those words… that was every straight man’s fantasy right there.

He parted from the kiss and she gasped as if he’d just given her the headiest kiss she’d ever tasted, “Baby… fuck…” he shook his head and sat up, “That’s… alright. Next time we’ll talk about me filling you up. Preferably before you start to come. Okay?”

She watched him dress himself as she lay in her bed still naked, “So you want a next time?”

Harry let out an incredulous laugh, “I hope there’s a next time. Can’t promise anything. Kind of hard to find moments like these.”

She nodded, his trousers pulled up as he buttoned himself in. Chest still bare and broad and strong.

He grinned when he noticed she was staring at him. He hadn’t been ogled in a long time either. Everything about Y/n was what he’d been missing in his marriage. Which was a fucking shame when he sat and thought about it too much. It was sad that he had to get some of his most basic needs met by someone else. He should have been doing all that with his wife.

But again, there was no remorse or guilt. That hadn’t come yet. He was just going to enjoy the ride while it lasted and hoped he didn’t get caught.

. . .

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[bigfatbimbo]

Take a Bite

1.5k words,, Bill Cipher x Reader

summary — Bill and the reader have sex, which has proven to be very difficult seeing as he isn’t doing anything, and, of course, things are never easy with that insufferable brat.

warnings — SMUT, bill being annoying and toxic, dom!reader, sub!Bill, heavy pain kink, bill’s human form, the fat fuck not the twink

a/n — Admittedly, this fic only happened because I never see Bill sub in fanfics and i’m very interested in what the dynamic would be. You’d be like… domming with a risk of death.

“Well, slick,” Bill leaned back and gestured up and down his body, “Give it your all.”

Amusement was thick in his voice, along with bubbling giddiness. He fumbled with the seams on his pants, not out of nervousness, but as if he had forgotten how to take them off and was looking for some kind of zipper. One, admittedly, that he would not find on slacks. 

“Wow, human clothes are just as bad as the fleshbags. So needlessly complicated,” He sounded on the verge of a laughing fit, “Oh, and toots? Before you dig in, remember to leave marks. I wanna see how durable this thing is.” 

His amusement was not matched on your part. The situation invoked dull curiosity at best, in your opinion. The idea of harboring a wanted criminal, ex-overlord, god-like demon in your house challenged your idea of a good time. Having sex with that demon was even harder to swallow.

Then again, any situation with bill warranted an ungodly amount of stress. 

“Whatcha’ thinking about over there, sweet-cheeks?”

You smiled at that; of the few advantages you have, being in gravity falls for weirdmageddon proved to be one of them. You know of his powers, and with that, vague guesses on how to prevent them.

Tinfoil-lined bobbie pins were one of them. A guess, granted, but a good one at that. Really, not that complicated when you recall every alien movie you’ve ever watched. 

“Upset you can’t tell?” 

He laughed, “Upset for you, maybe. Trust me, it’d be so much easier for both of us if I could just read your thoughts. I’m already your roommate, how much closer could we ge- Ah.”

You brushed his pants crotch, and began to unbutton. For all his mightiness, the guy couldn’t work pants. “Careful, human body’s are touchy.” 

“Touchy,” He repeated, “Tell me about.” 

Getting his pants off was a task harder than it should have been, no thanks to Bill, who seemed to have taken to just lying there, occasionally flicking you, and then himself. 

When you finally peeled all of his clothes off, you warned him to brace himself, to which he ignored you. On top of that, the entire time Bill had been talking, droning on about ‘the last time he’d been in a human body.’

You wondered vaguely if he’d ever done this with someone else. In the time he’d been at your house he’d mentioned some ‘sixer’ ex-thing-ish of his. But you doubt he’d done anything with him.

As he’d mentioned, he hadn’t perfected his human form until very recently. Perfected is a strong word, he was pudgy and short, remanisent of a human peanut. And his teeth were terrible. 

Either way, you’d gotten him ready, and began your work. Laying a light finger on the tip of his dick, and running it down the base of his length, you got Bills first reaction: a short sniff.

Recovering fast, he adjusted his seat, “Yeah, tick tock, toots. This better be good.” 

It was his idea, you thought, but continued. Your fingers wrapped around the entirety of his cock and you began to stroke it. 

A sigh left Bills mouth, “Oh, this does have a kick to it. Maybe you’re not so bad, after all.”

Over the course of the next few minutes, you’d grow angrier and angrier. Although you were clearing making him feel good, he’d never shut his snide mouth for two seconds. 

“Jesus, slow down, pal— I just perfected this flesh-bag, at this rate your gonna break something—“ 

You didn’t realize how much your hand sped up. You thought for a moment, before completely stopping. Bill looked taken aback.

“Hey! what’s the—“

Without warning you grabbed his dick with full force and squeezed. He yelped, before giggling at the hurt.

This made you more mad, “God, do you ever shut up? I wish you’d lost your voice when you lost Gravity Falls.”

He stopped giggling. “I’d watch what you say, if I was you, kid.”

You threw your head back and laughed, running your hand slowly up his dick and then slamming back to the base of his cock. Finally, a reaction other than knowing bliss: anger. Weakness.

“Oh dear god, rearrange the features of my face then, Billy. See if I give a shit when you don’t have a place to live.”

His face turned red with rage, and he recoiled at the mention of your upperhand. And then, finally, at the slowing of your hand, a small, wavering whimper. 

You both caught it, and he was quick to put a hand of his mouth, “Sensitive human bodies - Hey, don’t look at me like that, that was not my fault.”

“God, you’re such a brat.”

“Oh please, what are you gonna do about it?” And he was completely serious.

Without much hesitation, you took the moment as an opportunity to abruptly sink yourself onto his dick. He sucked in a breath but you didn’t give him much time to do anything else.

“Ah- Now we’re talki—“ You slapped him hard across the face, and grabbed his cheeks with your hand, squishing them together, mockingly. Stifled laughter from Bill. 

“This is the form you spent all that time perfecting? I can barely feel anything. It’s worthless!” You sped up riding him, loosening your face to give the illusion you were bored, “You’re worthless.” 

His eyebrows arched down and his eyes widened, “I can kill you with a snap of my fingers! You think I need this sex— You think I need this hous— ah, ah—“

The unknown pleasure was getting to him, making his brain foggier than usual, and it was showing. Human senses were a key factor in your ability to keep the high-ground. Just as long as it felt good enough, he wouldn’t go back to his original form and… well. 

You wondered vaguely if you were actually going to be in mortal parole after this. But then again, the look on his face was almost euphoric, despite the anger. Thankfully, Bill was selfish, he’d probably chase the high again

You sighed, “Oh, you do need this house, Billy. Where else would you go? Everyone else in town has already forgotten about you, and your little maniac friends are no where to be seen.”

You sped up once more as your hands danced up his body, and continued, “With this whole out-of-sight-out-of-mind routine, i’m giving you something you won’t be getting anywhere else: attention.”

“You— Ah, curse this feeble human body! I’ll make your life a living hell-“ He whined, actually whined. 

Slamming yourself down on him, he cried out and then scowled. You raked your nails down his chest, deep enough to bleed, drawing out a  giggle from Bill as he felt the littlest bit of blood start to pool.

“You’re lucky this meatbag is— ah— funny enough—“ He was cut off with a gargle as a your hand sharply wrapped around his throat, and squeezed tight. 

“It’s not luck, i’m good at what I do, Billy. Not that you would know what that’s like, you pathetic shitbag,” although that insult wasn’t particularly true, you didn’t give him a chance to snap back, and instead put your other hand on his neck as well. 

You rode him with more speed than ever now. His eyes fluttered open and shut slowly, and he leaned into your hands. 

His face flushed, but a dreamy smile spread to the edges of his face as you made sure to leave bruise marks on his throat, still slamming against him. 

Although, you didn’t want to actually break him, so when his face began to turn purple, you let go. He gasped for air and let out a raspy, crazed giggle that went on for too long, and ending in a moan.

“I’m— “ Bills eyebrows furrowed, as if he was trying to decipher what the amusing thing the human body had planned next, “Somethings— somethings happening.”

His voice was broken, neck bruised, cheek red with a slap mark, eyes foggy, and chest bleeding from your nails. 

Before you dig in, remember to leave marks. I wanna see how durable this thing is.

Clearly you’d kept your end of the deal, and from what you’ve gathered it was time for the finale. You chased your own climax now as well, even though, admittedly, you hadn’t been thinking about it the whole session.

Annoying as it was that Bill still managed to make something all about him —and he definitely knew, mind reading or not— you still kept up your pace. 

“You’re close?” 

He smiled blissfully, and nodded.

What the hell. You smiled, “Good boy.”

His reaction was… startling. He leaned his head back, let out a small half-whine half-laugh, and arched off the bed. Finally, he released.

[jjkamochoso]

How do you think jjk men would court their crush? Feel free to add anyone you want but I would love to read about Choso.

OMG SO CUTE!!!! Thanks for the request and I hope you like it <3

JJK Men Courting Their Crush

A/n: okay so for this, I chose to depict most situations as their first time doing a certain courting activity with you so they’re a lil nervous and haven’t made their crush on you explicitly clear🫣 I hope that’s alright and makes sense!! And I can do a part 2 of them doing the same courtship things but with a confession, just lmk if that’s something you guys want🫶 please enjoy below!!

JJK men x gn!reader

Warnings: none

Yuji: cooking for you

“So, y/n, what do you think?”

Yuji was standing over you as you took a bite of the dish he made. Nervous energy was radiating off of him. He didn’t have much experience in the romance department but knew that usually the quickest way to someone’s heart is through their stomach. He wanted to treat you to some of his favorite dishes as a way to show you that you mean a great deal to him and hopefully get to know you better over a good meal. He had prepped in the school’s kitchen all day after spending hours trying to decide which entrees you’d like the best. He thought back to the times you all went out to eat in the city and what you ordered, then thought about what recipes he knew that were similar. As he was cooking, he hoped you liked what he made enough to where he could eventually do it for you every night.

As soon as it hit your tongue, you felt the warmth of the lovingly cooked food spread through your body. You could tell he spent lots of time on this for you and you were extremely flattered that he would go out of his way to do something like this for you.

“Yuji, it’s absolutely divine. I haven’t had something this yummy in years.”

Yuji put a hand on the back of his neck, sheepish from your compliments.

“I’m really glad you liked it. I have some more recipes that I’ve been meaning to try out and you would be the perfect taste tester if you’re up for doing this often.”

Your eyes lit up. “That would be amazing! But are you sure you wouldn’t mind cooking for me that much?”

“Of course,” he said earnestly, “it’d be tons of fun. Besides, I really like hanging out with you.”

And I really like being the cause of your adorable smile! he wanted to say, but decided to save those words for another time. Chatting and laughing with you was enough for now—maybe he’d cook up enough confidence one day to tell you how he really feels about you.

Megumi: making you playlists

Megumi couldn’t stop fidgeting as he waited for you to meet up with him before class. You had mentioned that you wanted new songs to listen to so when you asked him for recommendations, he took the collecting of songs very seriously. He was never good with his words so maybe you’d get the hint that he had a crush on you from some of the songs he chose. He heard your steps coming down the hall and it was like he forgot how to stand and breathe like a normal human being. He shoved his hands in his pockets and studied a stray rock lying on the ground to look busy.

“Hey Megumi!” you greeted, making him jump slightly. He mumbled out a “hello” and immediately dug into his backpack, a CD emerging from its inky depths.

“Well, I, uh-I didn’t know if you used Spotify or YouTube or something else but I know you mentioned having a CD player so… yeah. Here.”

He thrusted the CD into your hands without meeting your eyes. The plastic case held a disc that said “Y/n’s Playlist” in sharpie.

“Thank you so much!” you said, inspecting it, “I’ll give this a listen after class. I really do appreciate you taking the time to do this for me.”

“It’s nothing,” replied Megumi, running his fingers through his hair.

“Oh wait, I won’t know the song names or artists when I listen to this. Wanna come over later and help me make a track list?”

Megumi felt his face burn up with a blush. “Y-yeah. That, uh, sounds great.”

He’d definitely have to make you more playlists and keep forgetting to include that pertinent information!

Yuta: complimenting you nonstop

“Y/n! I like your shirt!”

“Y/n! Great fighting form!”

“That joke was hilarious, you’re so funny, y/n!”

These were things you were used to hearing when you were around Yuta. He was always showering you with compliments, not that you were complaining. He had a major crush on you and wanted to start letting you know that he saw, appreciated, and admired you without revealing his full feelings for now. You and your classmates were training on the field and Yuta was your sparring partner.

“Wow, you really pinned me down quick! That was amazing,” Yuta said as you extended a hand to help him up.

“You’re always so sweet, thank you,” you replied. “You were really good, though, too! I’m sure you’ll get me next time. You’re super strong.”

Yuta felt his breath hitch in his throat. He was superb at giving compliments but horrible at receiving them.

“Geez, that, umm… it means a-a lot coming from you because you’re so great. Thank you.”

“Please, I’m not that cool! You’re awesome as well,” you told him.

“Yeah, but not as awesome as you!”

It seemed that you two were stuck in a never ending cycle of compliments. After a few more rounds of back and forth, you agreed that you were both cool and strong and whatever other positives you could think of. Yuta left the field in high spirits, thinking of all the creative ways he could tell you how cute you were the next time he saw you.

Inumaki: giving you flowers

Toge stood, clippers in hand, eyeing the flowers in front of him with an intensity rarely seen from the blonde. He was trying to decide on which flowers to cut to make you a bouquet. Taking flowers for personal purposes would normally be extremely frowned upon but he was the plant caretaker and figured he could get away with snipping a few here and there. He thought back to all of your previous conversations, wracking his brain for any moments you might have mentioned a favorite all those times you walked here together. He remembered you’d said you liked them all so he really couldn’t choose wrong. When he made up his mind and clipped his picks, he smiled under his pulled up collar. He walked over to your dorm, an extra pep in his step.

“Toge! Hi!” you greeted kindly as you opened your door. His collar was now pulled down and you felt your heart swell at seeing his cursed marks curled in a happy expression. You were afraid you were about to get pranked when you saw he had his hands behind his back, but your fears were quelled when he presented you with a small bouquet of flowers.

“These are for me?” you asked, surprised.

He shook his head. “Salmon.”

“You’re the best! Thank you!”

You grabbed him into a hug, careful not to crush the flowers. He’d keep bringing you bouquets until either you got the hint that he liked you as more than a friend or he got the courage to write out his feelings.

Noritoshi: writing you letters

It was hard to make friends at the Kyoto school since your classmates were always so on edge about letting people get close, but you and Noritoshi had somehow bypassed that fear and your acquaintance turned into something deeper over the years. Unfortunately for Noritoshi, his feelings now dove even deeper than that, finding himself in the throes of a crush. Unsure of what to do, he’d tried ignoring the nagging feelings in heart every time you spoke to each other, but it never work. After much introspection and consideration, he determined that it would be wise to see if you felt the same. If you did, great. If you didn’t, he’d be released from the constant “what if’s” running through his mind. As he started putting pen to paper, he felt his confidence falter. Who pours their feelings into a letter instead of speaking face to face? Is that cowardly? He changed gears; this letter wouldn’t be of romantic intent, per se, but just of a way to get to know you better and show you he cares about what you think, how you feel, and whatever else he managed to write before his fingers failed him. When he nervously slipped the sealed paper under your dorm door a few days later, he anxiously awaited to see when you would mention it in your face to face conversation with him—you didn’t.

Imagine his surprise when he was greeted with his own letter hours later! You had expressed your delight in his letter and wanted to keep him as a consistent pen pal for the near future. Noritoshi’s hands grasped your letter, fingers tracing your words. With this new open view of each other’s hearts, your private conversations safe from prying ears, he yearned for the day he could tell you the truth of his heart before it was spilled in ink.

Todo: carrying/lifting things for you

Aoi knew you were more than capable of handling things yourself but he wanted to show you that he’d be your perfect, strong protector so he’d always offer to carry whatever you were holding, no matter how big or small. At school? He’d carry your books. Grocery shopping together? He’d lift all the heavy items in and out of the cart. Need to move your car but you’re too lazy to get up? Consider it done—he just picked it up and moved it. He hoped that by continuing to show up for you like this, you’d see how much he really likes you. Of course, he wouldn’t be afraid of speaking to you about his crush on you, but he would rather go out of his way to impress you first before stating his obvious attraction to you.

“Y/n! Let me get that for you!”

Your dorm room door was propped open and Aoi had shown up, seemingly out of nowhere, when you were struggling to move some furniture around in your room. He lifted the couch with ease and shot you an award winning grin and wink.

“Just tell me where you want it.”

You pointed to a spot near the window and he put the couch down gracefully, barely making a sound.

“Anything else I can help with?” he asked eagerly. He’d rearrange the layout of the entire school if you asked him to—anything to make you happy!

Gojo: buying you gifts

Satoru was not the type to outright tell someone he had a crush on them. You know, the whole “love is the greatest curse of all” thing? He’d much rather ignore those feelings in hopes of them disappearing. So when he found himself fawning over you nonstop, he didn’t know the right way to convey his desire to connect with you on a deeper level. He might’ve been running on empty in regard to romantic skills, but his bank account was severely overflowing. He began to take mental notes on everything you looked at and put back while in Tokyo during your shopping trips and visited those places to buy all of it on his own.

“I got this for you.”

Satoru had several bags by their handles that he gently nudged toward you. Confused, you opened them, greeted by multiple items that you had taken notice of but didn’t have the funds to purchase. You didn’t remember Satoru even being there when you were browsing them in the first place.

“Satoru, how did you-”

“I pay attention more than people think,” he shrugged, glad to have his blindfold covering his eyes so you couldn’t see how they softened when they met yours.

“You didn’t have to do that, you know,” you said, trying not to cry tears of happiness.

He chuckled. “I know. You deserve nice things, though. If you can’t treat yourself, then allow me to.”

He was glad he turned infinity off to feel your arms wrap around his in a tight hug. Even if the words evaded him at the moment, he’d be sure to keep showing how much he cares for you by giving you things to remember him by.

Geto: taking you to the farmer’s market

“Come, y/n, I have a fun morning planned for us.”

Suguru had texted you and invited you to the local farmer’s market. You, of course, accepted readily, and now that he was here to pick you up, he was starting to feel a little nervous. Your friendship was a wonderful thing but Suguru craved to get to know you better and see if you shared the same romantic affections he was feeling toward you. He figured that going somewhere low key like a farmer’s market would be great to cultivate easy conversations. As you two walked together, admiring the handiwork of the local artists, you shivered from a cold breeze that kicked up. Suguru was quick to remove his outer layer and drape it over your shoulders.

“Oh, Suguru, I don’t want you to get cold.”

“I’m alright, I promise. I’d rather be a little chilly than see you freeze on my behalf. May I buy you a warm drink as well?”

After that, you were nice and toasty and he glad he could help in any way he could. When the market was closed and you two walked back home, you decided to make a visit here an every week occurrence. Suguru was sure that in a few weeks’ time, he’d prove to you that he’d be a great partner.

Nanami: cooking with you

Kento wasn’t sure how to approach the topic of his romantic feelings toward you. He valued straightforward communication, but he couldn’t find it within himself to outright express his desires for romance right now. Instead, he opted to show you he cared by inviting you over to cook a meal together. He had asked you to pick a recipe and went shopping for all the ingredients. Now that you were finally over at his place, he felt his palms getting sweaty as saw you chopping vegetables, looking extremely cute while doing so. You gave him a sweet smile when you noticed him staring and he quickly looked away, a blush apparent on his cheeks. You dropped the veggies into the hot pan and he started cooking them. You two worked well together, never in each other’s ways and able to partake in conversation while keeping the task at hand. When dinner was ready, you were ecstatic that everything tasted delicious.

“Is it alright if I ask you to join me again sometime soon?” Kento asked.

“I would love nothing more,” you replied sweetly, his stomach now teeming with butterflies.

Choso: stargazing with you

Choso had zero experience with any type of romantic love. He was the expert in familial loyalty, a prime example of being a great big brother, but being a boyfriend? Not his forte. However, his desire to woo you outweighed his nerves so that’s what led him to call you and tell you to meet him outside one night. He read online that looking at the stars is a good way to induce romance and he was determined to prove to you that he’d be a worthy partner. You were taken aback when you saw he had set up blankets on the ground and put out picnic baskets of snacks. He had even wrapped you up in another blanket so you didn’t get cold! Once you were settled, you both chatted about anything and everything as you gazed at the wonders of the night sky.

“Choso! A shooting star, quick, make a wish!”

It was quiet for some time.

“What’d you wish for?” he asked, breaking the silence.

“I’m not supposed to say or else it won’t come true,” you teased, nudging his arm. “What about you?”

He was studying the sky before he looked back at you. “I wished to keep having the privilege of sitting here with you as many days as I can.”

You felt yourself go shy at his confession but it certainly wasn’t unwelcome. After that, you had plans in place to meet up again in a few days to do it all over. Choso was hoping that his next wish would also come true—that he’d be confident enough to bring the true feelings of his heart to light.

Toji: inviting you to local music shows

There was nothing better to Toji than a cheap activity, an attractive person by his side, and the promise of alcohol. That’s what led him to extend an invitation to you to join him at a small concert being held by a band you both liked. When you met him outside the run down venue, Toji felt his heart rate pick up as he saw how good you looked. His calm and collected demeanor didn’t change a bit, though, as he lazily threw an arm over your shoulder and walked with you inside.

“This place is super cool, Toji,” you said, taking in your surroundings.

He smirked. “I knew you’d like it. Wanna get something to drink?”

Toji wasn’t known for having tons of money but he liked you enough to pay for the first round of your drinks. As the band finished setting up their equipment and started playing their first song, you had a blast dancing along while he kept stealing glances at you between sips of his drink, relieved that you were having fun. You were able to convince him to dance with you after a few more drinks (not that the drinks affected his decision making—he just couldn’t deny a request from someone as hot as you). As the night wound down and he walked you home, he felt an excitement spark in his heart that he hadn’t known in a long time. He hoped that one day he’d stop being a coward and tell you he really liked you, but for now, he’d be content just holding you in his arms—and definitely keeping an eye out for flyers with information for the next show.

[dadsbongos]

how to (unintentionally) drive away a suitor

5.4 k words / warnings - misunderstandings, you're manipulative but in a marriage-seeker way, lame ass exposition dump at the beginning sorry

summary - you go to The Island in hopes of finding a suitor better than what your parents picked, you meet Laios. disaster ensues.

posting while bleaching my hair send hlep ~~~

When you were five, your father’s first hunting dog died. Matilda. A hound mix he praised as if she were his firstborn, and that would sound neglectful if she didn’t feel like your eldest sister. When she died, a true member of the family died. Your child heart exploding out of your little chest with the mosaic of grief ripping you this way and that. It was so ugly, you hadn’t expected to feel that way until your parents or a human sister croaked on you.

It’d also inspired you to do better for yourself than what destiny had in mind. As the youngest in a long line of children, you had little hope of a large inheritance from your well-off father. Instead, you would marry rich and smart and handsome.

Leading you, with a throbbing disinterest in the suitor picked by your parents, to set for The Island in the year 510.

Where you met a very strange man named Laios Touden.

Denial

Month 1 - your first proposition

“We should celebrate with drinks,” you skim a finger along the waistline of his cuirass, “Another dive with no deaths.”

“Oh, yeah,” Laios nods, grinning blandly at you, “You think I could rope Shuro into sticking around this time? He usually skips nights out unless Falin asks.”

“I was thinking something a little more private. Just you and me, maybe?”

“Sure,” suddenly his brows furrow, a serious ridge setting across his lips, “Is there something you need? I know rent in the western part of The Island is starting to go up, do you live there?”

“Laios, I- “ you cut yourself off before reminding him you two live on the same street because a sudden idea strikes you. He’s doing this on purpose. Of course, he is. He’s the type of guy that wants you to actually ask for it, “I mean, if you really want then I guess everyone coming isn’t so bad.”

But two can play at that game.

“Okay, great! I’ll let the party know,” he gives you a thumbs up and turns towards the rest of your group as they pack for the surface.

You watch him wrap an arm around Toshiro and beam at the withdrawn man. You deduce that he’s the type that likes to be chased. Which you feel is a little beneath you, but you’re willing to play a long game as long as he makes it worth your time.

Month 2 - the time you take him to dinner

“This place is so quiet,” Laios murmurs, both hands splayed across the table.

You study his fingers, thick and red at the joints -- you bet a gold wedding band would glitter nicely on his hand. Candle light flickers suddenly, a shadow sharpening across his face as he looks around. This snags your attention, you lean forward and curl both arms on the table, chest pressing into the well.

“Well, it’s nice, right?”

“I guess,” he avoids looking you in the face, instead focusing on your painted lips before flitting to the table, “I just feel like it's more for couples, right?”

This is it!

“Huh, you think so?”

“Mhm,” his eyes settle between your own, observing the curve from your forehead to your nose.

“I bet we make a pretty couple, then.”

“Oh,” he nods slowly, mulling over the suggestion, “Probably. I’d say we’re both decently attractive people.”

Is this it?

Just as you go to ask what exactly he means by that, your food is ready and Laios starts rambling about how hungry he was regardless of the awkward atmosphere. It makes no sense, but he’s the next village chief of his hometown so you let it pass.

Month 6 - the time you two take a walk

“Thanks for accompanying me.”

Laios waves off your gratitude, “It was nice to find out we live on the same street anyway.”

You bite your tongue from telling him that he should already know this in favor of boldly wrapping an arm around his. A rehearsed yelp splices your throat; practiced stumble rocking you askew. Immediately, you set to memorizing the feel of his beefy bicep around yours, wondering how his waist feels. His thighs. His neck and calves and cheeks.

“I saw a rat,” the lie slips easily, spare hand coming up to coyly cup your own cheek.

“Really?” he peeks over your head, “Where?”

“Laios, that’s not important!”

“I didn’t hear any squeaking, do you think it was trying to be quiet?”

“Laios!” you pinch his arm, apologetically rubbing over the tender skin when he whines, “I hate rats…”

“They’re just- “ your sudden furrowing brows and massive scowl halts the rest of his sentence, “Sorry. Are you scared of them?” before you can respond, he spins you towards his other side -- arms still linked tightly, “If you heard it over here, it’s probably best I stay on this side.”

“Aww,” you tilt your head against his shoulder, “That’s actually so sweet, Laios. Thank you.”

“Uh-huh,” you’re too blinded by the gesture to notice his intense stare scavenging along the dark ground, if you did then you probably would’ve realized he just wanted to see a rat.

Month 11 - the time you find his gourmet guide

“Is this why you started a party?”

“No,” his face flushes rogue from forehead to collarbones, eyes darting away from you. Hands twitching to rip the book from your own.

“You’re an awful liar,” you wave the stained, peeling green book -- careful to not rip any of his carefully placed tabs or note cards in the swaying, “Why hide this? Everyone already knows you’re chock full of monster trivia.”

Laios sighs quietly, reaching out for the book, and he seems genuinely surprised with what little fight you put up. He smooths one of the curling edges of the cover under his thumb, “This book hasn’t gotten the best reception before. It's easier to just avoid people seeing it.”

Somewhere in your chest, there’s a twinge and ache before you’re speaking again -- for once no plan or motive to your words, “That’s terrible, Laios. You should be able to show it off.”

“You think so?” he grins.

Technically comforting him will only advance your plan to wed, but strangely you’re finding that you just… want to. You don’t want him to filter himself to live, that sounds cruel.

“You can talk to me about it anytime,” you don’t find monsters so fascinating -- to you they’re no different from a common beast, what does it matter that they’re eaten by Laios? Despite your own indifference, you want nothing more than to indulge Laios, “I’d love to hear about how they taste.”

And you’re not sure where that desire comes from.

“I haven’t been able to eat one yet, but I’m hoping to. I can’t find time to traverse the first few floors by myself.”

You just know that it feels right to see him excited.

“You don’t have to go by yourself now, I can join. You’ll be able to go deeper that way, right?” you laugh at his flaming cheeks, “And what luck: I’m a support mage, you couldn’t ask for a better setup.”

“I’ll have to see when our next rest period is, that way we won’t be exhausted before going on our own.”

And when you’re in bed alone later that night, you justify to yourself that having a secret between one another will lay good foundation for future intimacy. You pretend that was on your mind the entire time you made the offer.

Year 2 - the time you invite him into your home

“I have lychees. It’d be a shame to let them go bad, you know?”

“What are lychee?” Laios glances from your neck to your room door.

“You’re kidding,” you twist the knob and swing it open with the weight of your body, thudding against the wall to allow Laios entry, “They’re fruits! Imports from the Eastern Archipelago, I would’ve thought you’d hear about them since you pester Toshiro about the area all the time…”

Laios’ head is on a full axis swivel to find anything unfamiliar, ready to taste all your excitement about the fruits, “No, never came up,” he watches you stride past him to a cabinet, “By the way, whose Toshiro?”

Quietly, you laugh to yourself, pulling down a rocky, pinkish ball. Laios is too busy thinking about the damage it’s looking to do to his bare hand to process the fact you never answered his question.

(you thought he was joking)

“Consider this a gift for walking me home again.”

“You asked,” he shrugs, watching as you squeeze around the fruit until it cracks in the middle, then peeling the shell away, “Besides, we live on the same street so it’s not out of my way.”

You hope he says that because he remembered, rather than having ‘discovered’ it for the fourth time. To stop yourself from asking clarification, you slice the pearly fruit in two, plucking the dark seed before handing both halves to Laios.

“I’ve heard some people just pop the whole thing in their mouth, but I’ve never tried it that way,” you confess, watching him roll the fruit from one cheek to the other before chomping down.

Laios’ eyes flutter shut, a muted moan following, “That’s sweet.”

“I know, right?”

“But I still get hints of citrus.”

“I know, right?!”

He points to the other lychee in your palm, “Do you have more, or…?”

You don’t.

“Have it,” you peel and deseed the one in your hand to press against his lips, “Say ‘ahh’!”

He smiles faintly at the cooing, popping his mouth open for you to slide the fruit past his teeth and onto his tongue. A soft kiss tickles your fingertips as he mutters, “Thanks.”

“Uh, yeah,” you pull back slowly, tangling your fingers behind your back and rocking onto the balls of your feet nervously, “Yeah, of course.”

You’ve never been nervous this way around a man before. You’ve felt fear and you’ve felt hatred and you’ve had crushes, but none of those have made your heart pound quite so hard.

It’ll be good to be attracted to your husband, you think, anybody can marry into power but it takes a real hunter to find power so handsome and polite.

Year 3 - the time you ask him to marry you

“We should get married,” you blurt, interrupting Laios as he ponders aloud the best way to safely boil a scorpion.

Laios darts up from his book, wide eyes unabashedly boring into your soul, “What?”

“You and me,” you’ve chased enough, now you’re ready for him to get serious -- you can’t live like this. Dangling just out of reach, only to be abruptly yanked at his whim. Your parents want to meet your fiance, the one you’ve abandoned home to find: the one you’re apparently certain is better than their choice for you. You need him to admit defeat before you go insane, “We should get married.”

“That’s what I thought you said, but I wasn’t sure,” he closes his beloved gourmet guide around a bookmark you crafted specially for him from braided yarn and beads. It had multiple tassels for slotting various spots through the guide simultaneously to more easily find sections he was currently occupied with rather than sort through tabs. He loves its practicality, and he loves it more when he thinks about how you made it with him in mind.

He thinks you’re nice. He thinks you’re charming. He likes spending time with you. You even already know about his monster obsession, and you’re on-board!

Which is basically the best he can get, right?

Dinners with his parents were silent, and the room’s temperature would sink to match their chilly demeanors.

Dinners with you would be warm, and the quiet moments would be comfortable.

“Sure,” he eventually answers, when he finds no protesting nausea bubbling in his gut he takes it as a good sign, “We can get married.”

Not the exact response you’d been hoping for. Though, you should’ve been more direct, Laios is stubbornly socially inept after all.

You’ll mark it as progress anyway, overjoyed Laios is baseline willing. Which is enough for you.

Definitely enough.

Definitely. Just. Enough.

Anger

Upon arrival to the dungeon three years ago, you found it difficult to acclimate to the fact that death was not the end down here. When you saw your first corpse on the second level, you were nigh inconsolable in the weary arms of Toshiro as he mumbled assurances in your ear.

Now, as a seasoned adventurer, you’re reasoning that coldblooded murder isn’t immoral in the dungeon.

(of course, it is, and also of course, you won’t murder anybody. but- )

You rather like the image of the woman flirting with Laios exploding

Honestly the longer he goes without refusing her, the more you like the image of him exploding too.

“Laios is an idiot,” Toshiro again is the one to comfort you, “It’s best not to watch.”

You’re sure he’s right. You’re also sure you want to keep watching -- which will entirely ruin your mood for the crawl ahead of your party. This is only your first day, on the first level, during the first meal before you all officially set off. And Laios is explaining to a strange, yet beautiful, woman the way a slime can seep out overhead and suffocate her to death. She isn’t even appreciating the knowledge, she’s just staring at his stupid pink lips.

“Once she hears what he’s saying, she’ll lose all interest,” Toshiro adds, then continuing as your glare fails to subside, “It isn’t like you two are actually married. She probably thinks he’s single.”

“He is single,” Chilchuck buds in, hands locked behind his head, “Inter-party relationships are bad news, you know? I’ve seen lots of people fall apart because of jealousy and cheating,” he shoots daggers at Toshiro briefly, “Pining is just the first step to an all out collapse.”

You gasp at the accusation. You are not pining!

“I don’t even like him that way. We should just get married for the land and wealth advantages!”

You entertain his monster fantasies for the money, you feed him lychees for the status, and you’re fiending to rip that woman away for the property expansion. That’s all! His being handsome is just a bonus, not a factor. His soft heart is a neat detail, not something you dream about holding.

Chilchuck doesn’t believe you. And you don’t think you believe yourself at this point either.

Depression

In the wake of Chilchuck’s ominous warning: you’ve been avoiding Laios. You’ve been avoiding most of your party, actually. First to lay and last to rise from your bedroll to most effectively close yourself off from nipping at Laios again.

He hadn’t even managed the nerve to ask what had you so perturbed following his conversation with the floozy on the first floor. He just strolls along, normal as he could hope to be while you languish in the back of the party with Toshiro. You wonder if Laios notices you’re not at his side, you wonder what precisely is going through his head. Did he notice she was flirting? Did he care? Is he still keen on marrying you?

Was he ever?

Toshiro catches the sudden exasperated huff you let out, you rub at your aching eyes. While he detests Laios’ clueless and overly familiar nature, he does feel grateful to work with you. He’d consider it a massive shame if you were to drop from the party because of emotional duress.

“Read any good books lately?”

Your hands lower, eyes blinking sluggishly until you’re staring at him with full inquisition, “What…?”

Maintaining a forward stare, Toshiro reaffirms his resolve, “Humor me.”

“Uh, well…” you comb through your brain for any answer other than the honest one, exhaustion and melancholy blurring your lying ability, “Just one.”

Eager to strengthen your bond and hopefully secure your stay in the party when this Laios fiasco fully explodes, Toshiro smiles softly at you, “Tell me about it.”

“It’s, well, old. Really old. A little gourmet guide…” you pout, “Laios and I read it together.”

“Oh,” Toshiro clears his throat, “Sorry.”

Bargaining

Laios could not seem to care less as the handsome dwarf perched at your side pays you yet another compliment. A shred of you feels terrible, terrible pity for the man as every other second your attention sears across the packed tavern to your party. To the blondie still in his armor; the blondie not even looking your way.

“Another drink, then?”

“Hm?” you beat ungracefully, forgetting you were meant to be charming the man.

“Would you like another drink?” he gestures to the barrels behind the bar, “On my coin, of course,” his tone falters, head shifting to follow yours, “I get the idea you need to forget this night.”

“Oh, I- no, it’s nothing…” you risk another peek at Laios, finding him somehow more disinterested in you than before -- thoroughly enjoying a one-sided conversation with Toshiro, “I’m not…”

“Better ways to get your mister’s attention than flirting.”

“Oh,” you’re embarrassed to be figured out like this, “I’m sorry. Really, I can’t- God- I’m sorry.”

“He’s lookin’ this way.”

Chancing it, you confirm that Laios is now looking at the both of you. His amber eyes flit from your face to the man beside you, to the floor. He returns all focus to Toshiro.

“Wow.”

From pitier to pitied at breakneck speed is more jarring than Laios’ carelessness.

“He said he wanted to marry me,” you reason.

“Did he now?” the dwarf so obviously disbelieves you, you’re sick just hearing his voice.

“Yeah!”

The dwarf nods slowly, a sarcastic lilt in his following words, “Seems like he meant it.”

“I’m not drinking anymore…” you slide off the bar stool, pausing when the man’s voice punches your gut once more.

“You should find someone more attentive to you.”

Racing away from the dwarf, you tug Laios away from your party’s table by his elbow. You’re glaring, you’re glaring so hard and so viciously that it genuinely startles him.

“Are you okay?” his neck cranes to gaze upon the dwarf, “You were talking to that guy, right? Did he freak you out?”

“So you knew I was with him?” you scoff, “Don’t you care at all?”

Laios shrugs, he didn’t see flirting -- he has no idea what you’re talking about, and he doesn’t want to seem like a nightmare boss, so… “Not really, I guess.”

“Are you serious?!”

“It’s not a crime for you to unwind at a bar. Besides, it isn’t like we belong to each other or something.”

You turn suddenly, back completely to him before charging out of the bar -- Laios chases, disliking how this conversation is slated to end. He slams into you at the edge of the street, and when he tries balancing you by the shoulders you knock his hands away.

“I thought- “ you circle back to stare at his face, “I thought we were… I was always on top of you, and we- I said- you said we should get married.”

Laios squirms with humiliation, then irritation, “Well, you said it weird. Marcille says that stuff to Falin all the time. Why didn’t you just ask to be together?”

“I did!”

“Did you?”

“All the time…”

Acceptance

Laios squirms with humiliation, then irritation, “Well, you said it weird. Marcille says that stuff to Falin all the time. Why didn’t you just ask to be together?”

“I did!”

“Did you?”

“All the time…”

“I never knew,” he blinks at you, and the most dreadful thing is you know he’s not bluffing. Laios is a terrible liar, you’ve prided yourself on plucking his fibs apart in the past, but this is not one of those times.

“You didn’t notice?” you’re lightheaded at his nonchalance, arms coiling around your waist as if to belt your insides right where they are, “You seriously didn’t notice?”

“No,” Laios’ pretty lips tear in a frown, “Should I have?”

He means it literally: are you terribly sad or can we start all over again?

You assume he’s being himself, oblivious and avoidant and so, so, so annoying.

“I’m…” you stumble back, face so hot you’re seconds away from blacking out with terror. Stretching out to steady you, Laios continues to play the kind leader, and it only makes your dinner lurch up your throat. Instinctually, you clasp a hand over your mouth, shaking your head and taking a step back toward the bustling dirt path, “I’m going home.”

“Are you sure? You don’t have to, we can- ”

You shush Laios, memories whacking you over the head every millisecond just to taunt how stupid you were. Indignity blinds you, eyes snapping shut, “I’m going home, Laios.”

Panicked, you stammer a goodbye before lugging yourself away. Laios watches you fade into silhouette, drowning under the clogging crowd by townsquare until not even your head is visible. His fists screw at his sides, knuckles burning white, his feet feel the phantom pummeling of a rush against the ground; urging him forward. That might scare you though, and you already seemed awfully upset, so Laios figures it better to let you sleep off tonight. The two of you can rekindle tomorrow.

Peeking over your shoulder, you spot no broad shoulders or sandy blonde hair looming over the rest of the townsfolk.

Call it melodramatic and frustrating, but you were hoping Laios would follow just to grab your hand and ask you to stay. Not that you should be surprised. More often than not recently, you’d felt a burden on the party. Perhaps Laios is content you’re removing yourself. Perhaps he’ll be relieved you’re no longer pestering him. Perhaps he’ll walk inside and out your feelings to the rest of the party for them to share a laugh over.

(you should know him better than that, but you’re not in your right mind: storming into your room, a teary-eyed mess, to throw your things into bags)

Laios feels a lithe hand dig nails into his arm, he squeals sharply at the sensation and rips back to see Marcille gaping up at him. She throws an arm out toward the dirt road, “What are you doing?!”

Falin gently pries the elf off from Laios before humming thoughtfully at her brother, “They seemed really distraught. What happened?”

“Where’d you two come from?” Laios twists toward the tavern door, “I didn’t hear you at all…”

Flustered at the questioning, Marcille scoffs and drags Laios inside toward their table, “This isn’t about us! Have you never read romance before?! That was terrible!”

“They were upset, they probably wanted space,” Laios reasons, slumping into his seat at the head of the table, “We’ll see them tomorrow, we’ll talk again.”

“What’d you do now?” Chilchuck lifts a bottle of wine to his lips and tosses it back in a way that makes Toshiro cringe.

Namari quirks a brow at the man, waiting until he’s finished gulping to ask, “I thought you hated personal relationships and work?”

“I do, but if he just got rid of our other cleric then we should probably know about it.”

“I didn’t get rid of them!” Laios folds his arms with a sigh, “We’ll sort everything out tomorrow when we’re well-rested.”

Toshiro debates even opening his mouth. Laios is a one-man paradox, somehow well-meaning and belligerent in one breath -- overbearing and entirely hands-off. Laios’ spot in Toshiro’s heart is a complicated one: at this very moment the spot is incredibly tender. Down to that part of a night out where Toshiro empathizes with how clueless the bumpkin is, and it's that part of his brain that chastises him. After all, if it were him and Falin, he would want someone to say something.

“They’re going home,” Toshiro mumbles.

“Huh?” Laios cocks his head at the input, “I know, buddy, she told me she was heading home.”

“No,” be nice, be nice, be nice, be nice, “Home off The Island. No returning to the dungeon.”

“How’d you get all that?” Marcille leans onto the table with both elbows, nervously brushing long flaxen locks behind her ears.

“When we first met, it was something we talked about,” Toshiro confesses, “If they couldn’t marry on The Island, they’d have to take the suitor arranged by their parents back home. This rejection must be the final one.”

With Falin around, he decides to bite back his next statement: I’m not sure why Laios caught their eye in the first place, though.

“Pretty ditzy of you, party leader,” Chilchuck’s jab echoes into the bottle already resettled against his lips.

Laios stands, unsure of why except for the fact he cannot take the news lightly. His heart is racing in protest, one word jamming another in his hurry to speak, until he finally stutters out, “So?”

So, what should I do?

So, why wouldn’t you mention that?

So, why did he let you walk home alone?

“So…” Falin jumps to respond first, settling a massassing hand on Marcille’s shoulder to subdue the fuming woman, “If you want to smooth things over, you should probably go.”

Laios charges from the tavern despite Namari’s scolding that tonight was supposed to be on his tab.

Quickly coming to terms with the fact you’re long gone, Laios heads straight for the inn he and Falin live above. Certain once on that road, the memory of which hostel you’re renting out of will flood back to him.

. . .

You’re jamming bags puffy to the clasp when overzealous knocks threaten to rattle your door from its hinges. The only reason you don’t flee via window to shake the banging madman is because you recognize his voice: Laios, calling your name.

You sigh, forfeiting, “Come in, Laios!”

Despite your own disinterest, you want nothing more than to indulge Laios. It seems that this is something you’ll let devour you.

Flinging the door open and shut behind him, Laios stares at you -- slack jawed and pupils eating away irises. He stares into your face.

“What is it, Lai- “

“We can actually get married!” he blurts, stunning you into utter bewilderment, “You don’t have to take a suitor, you can marry me for real! I don’t care much for inheriting the village, but we can tell your parents I do.”

“Laios…”

“I don’t have much to throw for a wedding, though, so it’ll have to be something quieter than you probably imagined.”

“Laios.”

“Huh?”

“I can’t marry you,” you turn away from his confused pinch, now sweeping a finger along the scratched edge of your nightstand, “You don’t get it.”

“So make me get it,” he says so casually, you almost believe it’s really that easy.

“I can’t marry you because I don’t care about your dad,” he’s struggling to hold in the confused puppy-head-tilt of questioning, you can sense it, “I stopped throwing myself at you for stupid titles a while ago. For a long time I did it genuinely. Because I wanted to.”

“Because you liked me.”

“Now he gets it,” you huff bitterly.

“I can hear you,” Laios steps bravely to be beside you, “Do you still like me?”

You laugh because that’s all you can think to do. The sun just asked a daisy if it enjoys photosynthesis. A rhino wonders if the oxpecker is well fed. A black cat curls around an orange one in a window sill. Weeds grow so tangled up they need to be ripped as a knot. Two moth-gnawed coats hanging in the back of a rich man’s closet. Stars scorching at one another, colliding lightyears ahead. Squiggly stick figures holding hands in a defaced oil painting. Two eagles clawing at one another as they plummet from the sky.

“I don’t know if there’s a plane where I don’t.”

His morbid fascination and tactless enjoyment of life have you in a chokehold, one so fatally unshakable you’re certain he’ll someday kill you. Eventually, he’ll say something so thoughtlessly true to himself, with so much excitement it oozes from his pores, that you’ll have a heart attack then and there.

“So, why not stay?”

One day, he’ll lead you so deep into the dungeon that you cannot escape.

“You know what you’re implying, right?” your voice catches behind chattering teeth, a nervous whisper all you can manage, “I couldn’t, not if you’re just saying this out of guilt.”

“I know what I’m saying, I want you to stay so we can be together,” his face flushes, “I know how selfish it is, but I don’t want you to go home and marry someone else for your family. I want us to marry each other because I like you.”

His abrupt and daring confession has you petrified. Only your jaw is capable of movement, and the most it can do is dumbly drop before you gargle out a stunted, “Okay.”

“Okay!” he excitedly flails out both arms before crushing you against his cuirass, intensely aggressive and deeply endearing at once, “Do I have to meet your parents now?”

“Yes, that’s kind of the reason they let me stay here, you know? To see who I’d find on The Island instead of home.”

“I hate meeting adults… they’re so… weird.”

You choose not to point out that he, as well as everyone he associates with, is an adult.

“Just be yourself,” a sudden, maybe minorly manipulative, plan roars behind your eyes, “You’ll impress them so much, they’ll leave me alone forever!”

Hope

“And since they’re slimes, if you poke their eyes they stay perfectly calm! Which is another good way to tell them from the human they’re mimicking,” your dad made the mistake of asking Laios what he studied, misinterpreting your use of ‘fascinated by nature’ to mean ‘biology scholar’. Laios immediately began ranting and neither of your parents had reawakened from their shock yet, “Succubi can also duplicate people, but that’s usually when taking the most desired form their target has. Which is mainly sex appeal, so for me it’d probably be, well you know!” he affectionately squeezes your hand in view of your parents. You watch a little more of your dad’s soul crumble within his eyes, “The strangest is probably mirror monsters though, since they reflect what they see. They rely on flattery and illusions to swap with humans. I’d love to meet one so I could see their lure techniques in real time.”

“Wow, honey,” you grin, peeking at your parents across the table, “Can you circle back to how the shapeshifters make their copies? I just can’t wrap my head around why they’d use memories instead of the real things!”

“Oh, so it’s actually pretty simple!” Laios devolves into another ramble, eyes alight with excitement.

You’re just as glad to be feeding his need to talk about monsters as you are to be terrifying your parents.

“And you have a village in the North?” your father finally coughs out, holding a hand up to silence Laios.

“It’s my father’s,” Laios glances at you through his peripherals, visibly unsure how to carry out the conversation. To his credit, he’d pestered you about what exactly you wanted him to say about his father, and you only brushed it off as something you’d take care of.

“You’re the eldest, right?” your mom chews her thumbnail nervously, “A son at that!”

“Yes, yes, he’s a firstborn son,” Dad looks to you, “It was in the letter!”

“I am,” Laios’ foot taps beneath the table. Again glancing at you for further prompting.

“We’re not moving from The Island anytime soon,” you return Laios’ previous hand-squeeze, hoping to ease his nerves. You sit up straight, “We want to keep exploring the dungeon.”

“Yes, but after that?” Dad’s eyes are wet with concern and dread, “You’ll have to settle down eventually.”

“We’ll be fine, Dad. I’m fine living like this, I’ve had lots of fun -- I want to keep having fun. I’m excited to marry Laios, and he’s excited to marry me,” to add to your point, Laios nods enthusiastically, “I’m happy marrying for love, and I don’t care what it implies about me as your child.”

Meeting Laios was like striking gold. He’s different from anybody you grew up with, and you’re content to be with him as you continue to grow old.

“If you’re sure,” Mom lays a hand on your father’s back, as if to wrangle a dog before it bites, “Just visit more often, okay?” she catches how Laios perks up at the mention of more traveling, “And bring Laios, too. He’s very… interesting…”

You know. That’s why you courted (suffered) him for actual years.

[say-al0e]

Hypothetical

Rating: PG-13

Summary: Eddie asks a lot of hypothetical questions, just to hear your answer. The answer to this question was more real than you wanted to admit. Warnings: Tiny bit of self-doubt, idiots to lovers. Pairing: Eddie x fem!Reader (think it could be read as GN but just to be safe) Word Count: 2.7k

“Would you fuck my clone?”

The question, asked as casually as if he were inquiring about the weather - though, to his defense, he’d asked weirder - rose above the sound of chainsaws emanating from the television and earned a confused frown as you spared him a sideways glance.

Eddie’s attention remained mostly on Leatherface, chasing unsuspecting victims, but you caught his curious glance as you laughed. Those were the first words spoken in over an hour, certainly a record for your verbose best friend, and you couldn’t help but ask, “What the fuck, Eddie?”

“What?” From his position at the end of the couch, feet propped on the coffee table and head lolled onto the cushions, he shrugged. “It’s a simple question. Would you fuck my clone?”

A beat of silence passed, in which you realized this was one of those moments where Eddie wouldn’t let the question go until he was given a satisfying answer, and you sighed. “I don’t think that’s the question, Eds,” you countered. “Isn’t it usually, ‘would you fuck your own clone’?”

With a dismissive wave of his hand and a scoff, Eddie finally sat up and turned his full attention to you, screaming teenagers and chainsaws forgotten now that he had something better to capture his attention. “That one’s boring,” he reasoned. “We know all the arguments. This is a different question, new arguments.”

“I think we’re fine without arguing,” you teased, reaching for the nearly half-empty bowl of popcorn. “Just watch the movie, Eddie.”

From the corner of your eye, you watched as a look you couldn’t quite recognize flickered across Eddie’s face. However, just as quickly as it appeared, it was covered with a raised brow and a teasing grin. “We’ve seen it a hundred times already. Anyway, what I’m getting from this is, you would fuck my clone. Interesting.”

Eddie did little to hide his amusement as you rolled your eyes and tossed a piece of popcorn at him. “I didn’t say that,” you argued, despite yourself - despite knowing that you were walking into a conversation you weren’t yet sure you wanted any part of.

A hum, unconvinced, met your ears as he reached for the bowl and plucked it from your hands. “Okay,” he prompted, ignoring your outraged huff. “So, tell me. Would you?”

There were a handful of ways you could respond to his probing. The first, shut down his question with a point blank refusal, phrased as a light-hearted joke that did little damage to his ego and even less to your already fragile nerves. The second, play into his game and debate the pros and cons of sleeping with his clone, the ethical ramifications, the conversation he clearly wanted. Or, the third, admit to him a fact that you’d concealed since the summer of 1984.

Any way you could have him, real Eddie or clone, you would take it.

That was, solidly, not in the lead. So, you opted for the second approach.

“Jeez, Eds,” you sighed, stealing popcorn from the bowl now resting on his lap. “I don’t know. Maybe,” you conceded. “Depends, I guess. Is he, like, total you or some weird, kinda fucked up clone? Like, is he totally evil or incapable of coherent thought or, I don’t, off somehow?” As an afterthought, you joked, “More so than the real you, anyway.”

“Rude.” There was no bite in the declaration, only a fond amusement that made your chest ache, but you did your best to ignore it as he hummed. “Clone’s a totally normal, complete carbon copy. Everything about him is exactly the same, down to the last hair.”

“So, no aspirations to rule the world or become, like, the next Leatherface?”

Eddie grinned. “That’s my backup plan, you know, if music doesn’t work. So, guess it’d be his, too,” he admitted, only breaking into laughter when you grabbed a pillow and smacked him with it. “Seriously,” he relented, “nothing weird. Just another me. Everything you know and love, times two.”

With a sigh, you lifted your legs onto the couch and hugged your knees to your chest. “Then… I don’t know,” you admitted, voice barely audible over the screams still echoing from the television. “Maybe?”

“It’s a yes or no question, babe,” he reminded you, brows furrowed and eyes narrowed as he studied you. “Shouldn’t be this hard.”

That look, the one that you had difficulty placing, returned and despite your uncertainty as to what it was, you were certain that you didn’t like it very much. Doubt, or maybe hurt, were the closest emotions you could identify though neither made much sense to you in the moment.

Still, rather than ask, you rolled your eyes. “What’s the point of this conversation?”

There was none, it was just for fun - a debate, like the thousands of others you’d had over the course of your friendship - and Eddie said a much as he shrugged. “Isn’t one,” he declared, offering you the last handful of popcorn. “I just want to know if you’d fuck my clone.”

When you refused, he returned the bowl back to the coffee table before reaching for your ankle. With a gentle tug, he encouraged you to rest your feet on his lap as his fingers began to tap a beat that only existed inside his head against your skin. “Why does it matter?”

Eddie shrugged once more, though this time, he glanced at the television rather than you as he answered. “Because I asked and you always answer.”

“I do,” you relented, sighing as you also spared the screen a glance. “Well, what’s the right answer, then? There has to be one.”

This time, he shook his head as the tapping of his fingers grew a touch faster. “Right answer’s the true one.”

For a moment, you simply studied Eddie. His side profile, bathed in the warm glow of the television, was the picture of concentration as he watched a scene you’d seen a thousand times before. Only, you knew him well enough to see the telltale signs that he was in no way paying as close of attention as he should’ve been.

The slightest tick in his jaw, the quick bite of the inside of his cheek, the delayed blinking; all signs that he was waiting more intently for your answer than he wanted you to believe.

Rejection - no matter how hypothetical - never seemed possible when it came to Eddie. So, you sighed and conceded, “Okay, fine. Sure, I’d fuck your clone.”

Eddie hummed, seemingly unsurprised and feigning nonchalance as he nodded as if the answer confirmed something he already suspected. And there were a thousand ways in which you expected him to respond; none of which could’ve compared to him declaring, “So, you’d fuck my clone but not me.”

Again, rejection was not an option. However, you had no intention of admitting to him that you’d wanted him for years. There was no world in which you could see yourself admitting to him that you thought he was beautiful - with his doe eyes and playful grin. Telling him how you felt would likely end in an awkward silence at best and a ruined friendship at worst.

So, you opted for a careful denial. “What? I didn’t say that.”

“But you’re not saying anything to the contrary,” he countered, turning his head to spare you a cursory glance. There was something there, beneath the amused glimmer in his eyes, that unnerved you - something far more serious than you were expecting - but as quickly as it appeared, it was gone.

When you shot him an unimpressed glance, cutting your eyes at him before returning your attention to the television, he shrugged, teasing grin never faltering. “I never said that. I answered a hypothetical and you’re reading into it.”

Eddie met your perhaps too sharp denial with a raised brow as he gave up the guise of watching the movie. “So, am I wrong?”

“Would you stop putting words into my mouth?” You huffed as you reached for the bowl of popcorn, desperate for something to distract yourself from making a confession you knew you would regret. “I never said that. All I said was that I’d fuck your clone, I answered the question.”

“Okay, fine. You never said you wouldn’t fuck me but it’s never happened. Never even sort of, almost, maybe happened,” he reminded you - as if you needed it. “So, you would fuck my clone but not me. Why?”

“Because we’re friends, Eddie,” you shot back, resisting the urge to roll your eyes as you popped a piece of popcorn into your mouth. “I’ve known you since I was ten.” 

The excuse sounded weak in your own ears, but it was all you could muster without breaking down and confessing that you would, in fact, sleep with him. If only he’d ask. If only it wouldn’t destroy your friendship. If only it was that simple.

Still, Eddie was relentless. “But my clone would have all my memories, totally the same person,” he reminded you. “He’d be your friend, just like me. But you’d fuck him. So, why not me?”

“This is stupid,” you huffed. “Why do you care?” He’d never pushed so hard, not in pursuit of a hypothetical question meant to pass the time, and you were genuinely curious why he seemed so interested in your answer, or your lack thereof.

“I’m a naturally curious person,” he argued, shrugging as he squeezed your ankle. “It’s just a stupid hypothetical. C’mon, why would you hypothetically fuck my clone but not me?”

There was little doubt in your mind that he would continue pushing until he got the answer he was looking for, especially as it seemed that he’d already made up his mind that he was right, so you shifted yourself in a huff. With your legs now hugged to your chest, eyes on the television to avoid meeting his gaze as you admitted in a snap, “God, okay. I’d fuck your clone because it’s the closest I’d get to being with you without actually destroying our entire relationship. Happy with that answer?”

“What?” Eddie sounded genuinely surprised and you could feel the warmth of his gaze burning into your skin as you purposely kept your gaze on the television.

“If your clone is you, all your memories, your mannerisms, your looks, I’d fuck your clone because then I’d get to see what it’s like to be with you,” you admitted, words escaping despite every fiber of your being telling you to be quiet. “I’d get everything without the risk of losing you when I fuck it all up.”

Eddie shifted closer then, careful to keep a few inches of space between you but no longer nestled into the opposite edge of the couch as he tipped his head to get a better glimpse of your face. “What do you mean, when you fuck it up?”

Frustrated tears - at admitting a secret you swore would follow you to the grave, at allowing him to get under your skin when he was simply asking an innocent question, at allowing yourself to get so worked up over something so simple - stung at the backs of your eyes as you huffed. “I’m… you know me, Eddie. I don’t,” you sighed, cutting yourself off, before taking a deep breath. “I’m prickly. I don’t do well with romance. I freak out and run,” you reminded him. “Even if you felt the same, if we worked out enough to not have our friendship go down in flames, there’s still a chance I’d fuck it up and I don’t want to do that. I don’t want to run from you.”

“Hey.” Eddie shifted even closer, close enough for you to feel the warmth of his body, and sighed when you refused to glance at him. Regardless, he exclaimed, “That’s why we’d be different.”

“What?” Of all the things you expected him to say, that was the last. With furrowed brows and tears still lining your lashes, you tipped your head to glance at him. “Why?”

“Because,” he began, meeting your eyes for the first time in what felt like hours, “when you try to run, I know what you’re doing. When you get all weird or try to push me away, I know it’s not really you wanting me to go. I know you. I get you, just like you get me.”

“Eddie.”

Of all the ways you’d expected him to react, of all the ways you expected him to acknowledge your feelings for him, returning them was not on the list. For years, you’d convinced yourself that there was no way he would return your feelings, there was no way you would ever be able to acknowledge those feelings without losing your best friend, and there was still a deep-rooted fear that, despite his seeming certainty that his understanding would make a difference, any attempt at a relationship would only end in heartbreak.

That didn’t seem to matter to him as he pressed on. “I’m serious. It’s us,” he continued, this time reaching out to press a hand to your knee. “It’s always been us, always will be us. There’s nothing you can do to get rid of me. Not now.”

“You can’t know that,” you sighed, though it was nowhere near as confident as you hoped it would be. “We can’t see the future.”

“We can’t,” he agreed. “Not yet, anyway, but the nineties seem promising.” When you rolled your eyes, barely suppressing a smile, he laughed. “But that’s the fun part. We do our best to make our own future. It’s always going to be together, might as well come clean and really be together instead of making ourselves miserable pretending.” Before you could respond, offer another half-hearted refusal, he pressed on. “What do we have to lose?”

“Everything.”

Eddie shook his head, completely unconvinced that anything bad would come of allowing yourselves to try. “I don’t believe that. Whatever happens, we’ll figure it out. We always do.”

“How can you be so certain?” You wished you had an ounce of Eddie’s certainty, his true belief that the pair of you could make it, but you were skeptical. Neither of you had much luck in life, neither of you had much outside of one another, and losing him would be far too great.

However, you were tired of pretending that a shared future was not what you wanted. 

The possibility that your future could go up in flames, that you could destroy the best friendship you’d ever had, worried you. It kept you awake at night. But now knowing that Eddie felt the same, that he wanted the same future you did, there was no way you could turn him down.

For all your fear, for all your hesitance, saying no was not an option.

“Because we’ve been in love for years and nothing bad has happened yet.” He said it as if it was the most obvious answer he could give, as if it made all the sense in the world, and if you really stopped to think about it, it did.

“Can you promise me something?”

Eddie shifted ever closer, nodding easily as you reached for his hand. “Anything.”

“Can you promise me that no matter what happens, we’ll always be friends? Even if we don’t work out, if something happens, promise me that we’ll still be there for each other.”

“I promise. Nothing hypothetical about that,” he agreed, corner of his mouth lifting when you offered a soft smile.

The moment stretched around you, nothing existed outside of the pair of you as Eddie tugged you into his side. It was easy, natural, and you melted into his touch despite the fear lingering in the back of your mind.

There was a brief worry that this could be a mistake. That allowing yourselves to intertwine your futures so thoroughly would only end in heartbreak, but he was right. For as long as you could remember, it had been you and Eddie. There was nothing that had managed to wedge you apart yet. And pretending had no guarantee of working in the long term.

So, you decided to dive in to the deep end and allow yourself to truly fall. There was no situation, real or hypothetical, in which he would allow you to hit the ground.

No matter what, you knew that he would be there to catch you. 

________________________________________________________

Author's Note: I spent my entire day in meetings. All the meetings. So many meetings. I also have a dentist appointment on Wednesday and I am Terrified. So have this.

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[mikkomacko]

need a sequel to the NYE nico fic ! like maybe she tells him she’s pregnant on valentines day

Well this definitely got away from me but ask and you shall receive!

Nico Hischier x reader

Warnings: smut, daddy kink, breeding kink

Part two of this Next part

You can hear him pacing through the door. Maybe it would have been better to just let him wait in the bathroom but you couldn’t risk ruining your surprise. Even if it meant you had to drive Nico insane for a couple days.

Besides, he seems to play better hockey when he’s frustrated anyway, something you’ve always admired. Nico doesn’t shut down and run in the face of adversity, he pushes harder and harder, grows even more stubborn than he already is.

Which is how you ended up with a daily sex schedule on a shared doc after Nico discovered that his drunken New Years Eve romp wasn’t as successful as he thought it’d be. He was determined, and you weren’t complaining. You’d take any chance to have set pillow princess time with Captain Nico.

“Please tell me it’s been 10 minutes?” He whines through the door, and you bite back a giggle at his tone. The pregnancy test you’d just taken rests on the counter in front of you, a bright and clear positive sign on it.

Butterflies swarm in your chest, your suspicions true after the past couple days of tender breasts and raging hormones. You have to swallow a couple times to clear away any happy tears, quietly stuffing the positive test in your old box of tampons.

“Like two more minutes, Nico hold on.” You call back, deciding to hide the test in your bathroom junk drawer instead. Nico has taken up the habit of checking your tampons and pads to see if you started your period lately and the last thing you need is him ruining his present.

After tucking it away, you fish out the negative one from awhile back that you saved just for this. Steeling yourself, you force the smile on your lips into a frown.

“Nico,” you say softly, your voice cracking because you do feel bad lying to him and you feel like crying over anything and everything right now.

“Yeah?” He calls back through the door and you can practically see him pressed into it on the other side. “Come out please? I need to see you.”

You flick the lock and open the door, clutching the negative test in your fist. Nico is crowded in the door way, big brown eyes already looking at you with an unusual droopiness. He doesn’t even look for the test in your hand, just takes in the tears in your eyes and the way you’re biting your lip nervously.

“Aw baby,” he mumbles, opening his arms for you. You step into his embrace, resting your cheek against his chest and wrapping your arms around him. He squeezes you tightly, large biceps caging your body to his and his fingers tangle in your hair. He nuzzles into the top of your head, and you feel his chest rise with deep breaths as he pulls himself together.

“I’m sorry Nico,” you say, sincerely knowing he’ll think you’re apologizing for not being pregnant. But you’re more apologizing for lying to him, for disappointing him one last time.

“No,” he says firmly, and you let him wordlessly walk you towards the bed. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for. We’ll get it, I know we will.”

And there’s that determination. You lighten up a bit at that, realizing that maybe this didn’t hurt him as much as you thought it would. Pulling back from his embrace, you look up at him to find a wetness in his eyes that wasn’t there before and your heart falls to your stomach. Instinctively, you press your palm into your belly, wincing at the way your gut twists with guilt.

Frowning, Nico takes your wrist and pulls your hand back, placing it over his heart instead. His heart thuds against the pads of your fingers, strong and steady like him.

“I didn’t mean to make you cry,” you whisper, looking down at your hand. He’s in the same black shirt he wore that night at the bar. You almost smile, thinking about how sweet and excited he was about starting a family.

“Not crying,” he insists “just a little water.”

You laugh gently, meeting his gaze again to find him smiling. “That is crying, for you.” You argue and he scoffs, shaking his head.

“No, you’ll see real bawling like a baby tears from me when we get our baby.” He promises. “And I don’t want hear sorry then either.”

You simply nod, heart warming at his words. Nico’s always so positive, so ready to take on anything with you. Prepared, he’s always a step ahead. You hope that this time you’ll finally catch him lagging. He’s a hard man to surprise.

“Give me a kiss and let me take you bed.” He requests, tapping the top of your head like you’re one of his teammates that’s just scored a goal. Giggling, you stretch up to seal your lips with his, sinking into the haze that is Nico in love. You don’t even pay attention to him slipping the negative test from your hand until he’s pulling back from the kiss and hiding it behind his back.

“Fresh start,” he says, stepping around you to take it to the bathroom. He tosses it in the trash, flicking off the light before joining you at the bottom of the bed.

“Thank you,” you murmur, kissing his chin before taking him by the hand to his side of the bed. Instead of climbing over to yours, you peel back the blankets and lay against his pillow. Taking a moment to fluff everything how you like, you open your legs for him and pat your thighs.

His eyes crinkle with his laugh, cheeks turning pink and you giggle when he knees way on top of you. You give him a sec to settle in, laying on his tummy between your thighs with his elbows on either side of your head.

“Night my love.” He whispers, resting his nose against yours and pecking at the corner of your mouth. You pull the blankets up over him, letting him reach over to flick off the lamp before he slides further down your body in the darkness.

Nico rests his head on your chest, one hand holding your thigh and the other sliding under the small of your back. He can’t stay like that all night but for now he’ll try.

“Night neeks,” you mumble into the top of his head, closing your eyes and stroking your fingers up and down his broad back. He adjusts his head, a curious noise coming from his mouth.

After a moment, his voice breaks the stillness.

“I thought you were pregnant,” he whispers, and you hum to let him know you’re listening. “Your boobs are bigger,” he continues and you blink your eyes open to stare at the ceiling.

Of course he’d fucking notice that.

“And you cum really fast now,” he adds as an afterthought. “Like really fast, always so wet too. I don’t even have to try anymore.”

Of course he’d notice that too. And it’d be hot, the cockiness of his words if they didn’t drip with disappointed confusion.

“Oh,” you mumble, unsure of what to say.

“Maybe we should see someone?” He prods, and his fingers nervously stroke over your thigh. You realize he’s feeling insecure about this, about not being able to get to you pregnant. He feels at fault, like he needs help somehow. Your heart almost breaks at the thought and you so badly want to tell him the truth.

When you don’t respond he continues, “I just, not that I think anything is wrong with us but I…”

You bury your other hand in his hair, scratching his scalp to soothe him.

“I want this so badly,” he confesses. “And I want it now.”

Guilty and unsure of what to do, you hold him tighter. “I know Nico. But it hasn’t been that long and maybe we just need to try more?”

“Yeah,” he agrees quietly “yeah but I think I’m still gonna do research, ok?”

You smile in the darkness. Always ready to go, to do more. You’d expect nothing less of him.

“Ok baby,” you agree “now get some rest for tomorrow. That schedule of yours has us down for like 3 times.”

He giggles boyishly and you swoon like a school girl. “Not that you need it since I’m apparently easy now.”

Nico snuggles further into your chest. “Nah think I’ve just spoiled you with good dick too often now.”

You can’t deny his words so you just kiss his forehead, shushing him to sleep. Hopefully you can keep up this act for the next couple days.

~

Nico came home to a romantic dinner on Valentine’s Day. This year it was your turn to plan, so you’d made his favorite pasta dish and set the table up all nice and pretty with pink and red confetti and candles and heart balloons.

Dressed up in his favorite little red silk dress you owned, you two talked and laughed over dinner, him sipping his beer and you water as you simply caught up on everything. You’re lucky to have Nico as both your lover and best friend, it makes conversation easy and fun, and kept it away from the topic of a baby. You figured a break from it would be refreshing, especially after that damn schedule of his had almost half the day blocked away for sex.

“Extra on the day of love,” he’d explained with an innocent smile and you let him be.

You needed him happy and distracted until dessert. And he was, so happy he didn’t even notice your lack of alcohol or the way your hormones had your eyes on his lips and half unbuttoned dress shirt all night.

Finally, at dessert you sealed the deal. Perched up on the kitchen counter with your legs swinging, you dipped a mini marshmallow into the chocolate fondue he made. Popping it into your mouth, you admired him as he poured two glasses of sparkling cider, in a bottle you made look like champagne.

Nico handed you your glass, parting his lips for a bite of chocolate covered strawberry that you fed him. You caught his lips right after, enjoying the sweet taste of dessert on his tongue.

“You know,” he murmured “I think we’ve still got an hour on the calendar.”

You laughed, peeling back from him to take a drink from your glass. Nico watched you with big moony eyes, dimples in his cheeks and his free hand wandered to your hip to hold you. Catching the way his eyes fell to your cleavage, you kicked at his thigh to keep him from staring too long. The last thing you need is him noticing that your boobs have grown even bigger in the last two days.

“Drink your champagne and then maybe,” you instruct and he huffs, rolling his eyes before bringing the glass to his lips. You watch him take a drink, notice the way his eyebrows furrow and he quietly smacks his lips afterwards.

Looking at you curiously, he frowns. “Baby this isn’t alcoholic?” He takes another drink before you can answer, still smacking his lips before setting the glass down.

“What?” You play along, slinking down from the counter and moving to the other side of the island. Nico pays you no mind, grabbing the bottle off the counter and lifting it to read the back of the label.

“What kind even is this?” He mutters, ever the Swiss wine critic and you smile as you dig out the positive test from where you hid it in the kitchen drawer.

Bouncing on your toes, you return to his side just as he turns the bottle to the front. It takes him a moment to fully read it. The custom label you made that in fancy lettering reads

Baby on the way!

Congrats daddy!

2024

“What?” He mutters confused, but you can feel the excitement bubbling in his chest as the words start to click.

“This might help,” you offer, placing the test on the counter in front of him. You attach yourself to his back, arms around his waist as you bite back a smile. Nico immediately picks it up, and you feel his whole body tense.

“No fucking way,” he mumbles, bottle and test clattering to the countertop. Nico shakes your hold off, spinning around to you. “Baby w-what? Are you-what?”

He grabs your face between his palms, eyes already filled with happy tears as they bore into your own watery ones.

“We’re pregnant Nico.” You confirm, laughing wetly. It’s as if he’s unsure of what to even do with himself, going between clutching your smiling face and raking his fingers through your hair. Finally he settles for wrapping you up in his arms, spinning you around the kitchen and hopping around like a giddy child.

You paw at his neck and shoulders, needing something to hold onto because he feels like he’s going to float up to the ceiling with you in his arms.

“We’re having a baby!” He cheers through a laugh “A baby! My baby!”

By the time he’s placed you back on the ground you’re breathless and dizzy from laughing. You cling to him, happy tears rolling down your cheeks and you’re so glad you decided on no makeup tonight.

Tear tracks stain his cheeks, his smile so big you think it might fall off his face and his neck has gotten all red and splotchy from excitement. You coo at him, tracing your fingers over it as if trying to soothe him.

“How long? I mean just the other day-“

“I lied,” you admit, frowning guiltily. “The test I showed you was old but I wanted to surprise you. I know you wanted this as a birthday gift so I figured I’d just make it a Valentine’s Day gift. I’m so sorry-“

His lips cut you off, sweet and passionate as he teasingly traces his tongue over your bottom lip. Nico backs you up into the countertop, moaning softly when your chest presses into his.

“No apologies,” he insists when he pulls back, still smiling. “This is the best gift.” He kisses you again, softer and shorter this time.

“Do you know how long?”

You play with the top button of his shirt. “I haven’t gone to like a doctor or anything. I only realized it last week and I took that test two nights ago but I think I’m a little over a month.”

A shit eating grin overtakes his face. “News Year Eve I knew it!” He exclaims, kissing at your cheeks and you laugh. “Or maybe my birthday. God we were so good on my birthday.”

“We’re always good,” you argue, pressing your front into him. You can feel the bulge of his cock in his jeans against your lower stomach but you don’t comment on it, waiting for him to do so.

“Yeah,” he agrees thoughtfully, eyes raking over your face. You bat your eyes at him, smiling shyly until he chuckles.

“I’m hard,” he admits as if you didn’t know. You hum your agreement, slowly working the other buttons of his shirt undone.

“Let’s go take care of it,” you murmur into his ear, breathy when you add a sly “daddy” to the end. Nico’s knees shake, a painful groan escaping his red lips and he’s scooping you up and hurrying to the bedroom.

You whine, pointing toward the couch and kicking your feet in protest. “It was so much closer,” you complain and he grunts in disgust.

“Not fucking my pregnant girl on the couch on Valentine’s Day,” he argues, tossing you gently into the pillows. “M’gonna take good care of ya.”

Shamelessly, you watch him unbutton the rest of his shirt and strip it from his body, squeezing your thighs together as he moves onto his jeans. He drops them and his boxers in one go, eager as he crowds over you on the bed, cock red and dripping as he goes.

You almost moan at the sight of him, hungry and desperate for him despite how often he’s been between your thighs lately. Nico notices, simpering as he works your dress up your thighs and torso, revealing the white panties you wore underneath with a simple red heart on the front. You’d forgone a bra early today, knowing it would just be uncomfortable and awkward and Nico mumbles his appreciation when he gets the dress up around your neck.

His lips find the swell of your left breast, kissing gently at the swollen flesh as he blindly works your clothing over your head.

“My pretty girl,” he says more to himself than you, moving to the other breast as you toss the dress to the floor. “God I knew something was different.”

You laugh, tangling his hair in your fingers and drawing his mouth up to yours. He kisses you sloppily, hands moving to your underwear. Nico doesn’t even tease you before he’s pushing them down and you help wiggle out of them impatiently.

Your cunt throbs, wet and raw and desperate to feel him again and again. You whimper into his lips, slinging a leg around his waist to draw him closer.

“Need you now, Nico please.” You beg as his mouth moves to your neck. His hand blindly reaches down to fist himself, and he obediently obliges your begging by burying his cock in you, one swift motion.

You gasp for a breath as your toes tingle, pleasure swirling in your belly and Nico moans in your ear, voice husky and broken. He’s just as desperate as you.

“So fucking wet, Jesus,” he mutters in astonishment, lifting himself to watch you writhe beneath him. “All needy and horny for the cock that put a baby in you? Always ready for me weren’t you? Should fill you up, put another one in you right now huh?”

You slur some sort of agreement, as least something intelligible enough for Nico. His dirty mouth continues, working you tighter and tighter as he steadily ruts into you.

“Did I take care of you sweetheart?” He asks lowly, mouth hot against your ear. “Before? When I didn’t know?”

Your jumbled, sex fogged brain clicks for just a moment. He’s not just talking dirty, not trying to get you to cum. He genuinely wants to know if he fucked you good enough all those times before. When he didn’t know you were dripping into the mattress because your pregnancy brain was all hot and bothered over him 24/7. Because he was so focused on just putting a baby in you that he didn’t pay attention to the fact he already had.

“Yes!” You gasp, digging your fingers into his shoulders. You meet his gaze, eyes glossy and wild with love. “So good Nico, every time. Felt like you knew.”

His hips slow, rocking into you softy. “Yeah?”

You nod, frantically, the slow drag of his cock against your sensitive walls driving you mad. “Didn’t even notice,” you admit to him, earnestly “but you got so soft, so strong and instinctive like…”

Like a parent, you realize. He always fucked you like he was trying to thank you for giving him something so precious while also taking care of you.

“Like I wanted to make you feel so fucking good without hurting our baby.” He fills in, because he’s realized it too. His mind may have been in the dark before, but his body wasn’t.

“Can I cum?” You ask pathetically, fighting to keep your eyes from rolling to the back of your head. Nico coos at you, sympathetic and gentle when he slots his mouth to yours for a quick nip at your lips.

“Always, can always cum for me baby.” He promises, pressing his chest down low to yours. His knees dig into the mattress, steeling himself as he draws his cock out to the tip and then fucks into you with earnest.

You cry out, the head of him nudging into you so perfectly you could melt. Nico kisses you as best he can around your blubbering noises of pleasure, the flames of your orgasm licking at your core.

Nico’s fingers find your clit, the pads of them rubbing tight circles in time with his thrusts. White bursts behind close eyes, your toes curling and ears roaring as you reach your high.

“Ooh,” Nico breathes into the side of your face “yes sweetheart, come on my cock. So good, you’re so good to me.”

The rest of his needy mumbles are lost to you, your mind occupied with the wave of pleasure that sweeps over you, pulsing with each pass of Nico’s fingers and each thrust of his hips.

Foggy and hazy you hear him whimper, find enough of yourself to kiss him slowly as his cock twitches and throbs, filling you with his cum. His lips are languid and hot against yours, broken breaths and moans falling from them as you both come down.

Finally he settles into your neck, taking one last deep breath before he’s holding you tight to his body and rolling to his back. You go with him easily, falling into his chest like a rag doll and curling up. Unsure if it’s him enjoying the moment or habit by now, you sit comfortably on his softening cock with no protest, exhaustion pulling at your bones already.

“All I want to do lately is jump your bones or sleep,” you mumble to him, yawning afterwards. His chest rumbles with laughter, hands running up and down your spine in some unknown pattern.

“I can live with that,” he says, “like fucking you so good you get all sleepy afterwards. Snuggle into me so nicely.”

You smile, eyes falling shut as you curl your arms around him. The room falls silent save for the sound of you two still catching you breaths, and the rise and fall of his chest is lulling you to sleep when he speaks up.

“Thank you,” he whispers “for giving me a baby.”

You can hear the emotion in his voice, how it sticks in his throat and weighs down his words. If you look at him you don’t imagine he’d be crying, but pretty damn close you think.

“Don’t thank me until the baby is here,” you reply, and than just because you can feel him starting to slip from between your thighs you add. “Besides, this is the work of you and the pretty cock of yours.”

Nico jolts as if you’d just pinched him, hips pressing up into you and his cock twitches with interest. You giggle, amused at his predictability as he whimpers.

“You’re gonna have fun with this aren’t you?” He asks but he doesn’t sound too upset.

Tired and content, you nod. This is going to be a fucking blast.

[hellfirenacht]

C'mon, It's Just One Night (Part 2)

Summary: After getting a fake love note in your locker, you ask Eddie to help you mess up some bullies plans. 

Tags: Eddie Munson x Reader, smut later, fem reader, reader wears a dress at one point, mentions of bullying, actual bullying, three-shot

Master List

3.8k Words

Part 1

You and Eddie didn’t talk about the plan again until the night of Homecoming. Most of the chats you had about what was going to happen tonight was about the secret show that Corroded Coffin was going to do right after the dance. 

Honestly, you had heard a few kids quietly whispering about the show, which surprised you. You wondered how many people were interested in the music versus wanting to see the Freak and his band play. After all, Corroded Coffin only really played The Hideout on Tuesdays, which wasn’t exactly the best time slot for high schoolers. 

It was about a half hour before the dance was supposed to start, and you had spent the whole day distracted. You kept reading that stupid note over and over again, and anyone watching you would think that you were just excited about a secret date. The truth was that you hoped that the note would somehow give you any sort of clue about what was planned for you when you made your way into the gym that night. 

You’d convinced the rest of Hellfire to try and gather any information on what was going to happen, but no one came back with any information. Even Lucas, who was a jock, couldn’t get any information from anyone. 

Maybe this would be a Carrie situation. 

Having telekinetic powers could be cool though. 

You stared hard at the brush on your desk that night, trying to make it move with your mind. Nothing happened. 

It might not have moved because as you were glaring at your brush, a knock came at your bedroom door. It was your mom, wanting you to come outside and take photos of you in your outfit. And yeah, you were a little excited to do that after all the work that you had put into looking this nice for a fifteen minute bit. It wouldn’t hurt to have proof that you looked good tonight.

You stood up and smoothed out your dress before walking outside into the front yard as your mom called out that she’d be out there in a second as she grabbed the camera.

You didn’t expect anyone else to be outside, but when you stepped out the door you were greeted with the sight of someone standing on the porch.

It was Eddie.

Eddie Munson. 

His hair was freshly washed and his waves were framing his face perfectly. His leather jacket had been discarded for the night and he was wearing a dark gray button-up shirt that looked almost black with the top two buttons undone. The closest you’d ever seen him wear a button up were a few flannels that he wore in the fall and winter. His jeans looked... they looked new. New and dark blue with no holes in them to be seen. The only pieces of his outfit that you recognized were his rings and his reeboks. The twilight had cast a near purple haze over your neighborhood, and Eddie... Eddie looked good in that fading light. 

“Holy shit.” You said, after staring at him like an idiot for a moment. “Who are you and what have you done with Eddie?”

“Ha Ha.” Eddie fake laughed. “I could say the same about you.” 

You felt your cheeks grow warm, unsure if that was a compliment or not. “I... You look good.” you said more genuinely. 

This caused Eddie to shift slightly on his feet. “You look better.”

You could have died on the spot. 

“Wait, what are you doing here?” you asked. “I thought we were meeting up at the school?” 

“You’re coming to the show with me after this anyway.” Eddie explained. “It’d be easier if I just drove both of us. We can still pretend that we didn’t meet up, I can drop you off at the school where no one will see us together and I’ll follow you inside after a few minutes.”

That made sense, you were going to be helping out with set up after the dance anyway. 

“You might have made a mistake coming out here to pick me up, you know.” you said. “My mom will be out here in about two minutes and if she sees you, she’s going to make us take cheesy photos together.”

“I can humor your mom for a few minutes for this.” Eddie shrugged. “Besides, I owe her for being such a loyal customer.”

You stared at him. “Eddie... what do you mean by that?”

He gave you that trademark shit-eating grin, the one that he often used during club when he knew he was about to royally piss everyone off. 

“How else do you think I was able to buy new jeans?” he asked, his brown eyes shining in the lingering twilight. 

“Eddie Munson, you motherfucker, do not tell me that you sell drugs to my own mother-” 

Speak of your mother, and she shall appear with a smile and a camera in hand. You were going to have a long talk with Eddie later about boundaries and selling weed to your mother, even though you knew it wouldn’t change anything. 

Your mom quickly ushered you to take some solo pictures of you, and Eddie stood behind her watching with amusement as you awkwardly posed in the way you had seen in some teen magazine that you’d browsed when waiting in line at the grocery store. You felt stiff and awkward until Eddie started making faces behind your mom’s back that had you breaking out into a fit of giggles. He was totally going to give you shit for this later, but you knew he’d have his moment in the spotlight in a moment as well. 

Eddie was next up, but somehow he had no problem casually posing and smiling for your mom’s camera. Asshole. 

Then the couple’s pictures came and your mom made it clear exactly how she had wanted you two to pose. Eddie didn’t even hesitate wrapping his arm around your waist and holding your hand. 

For a few moments, you forgot what was supposed to happen that night. In this moment, you could really believe that you were going on a date with your best friend, and that he was holding your hand because he wanted to, not just because he was being forced to because of a favor. Eddie had always been a good actor, and you thought that if he wasn’t such a metal-and-D&D nerd, he could have been great in the theater department. 

Eddie really was a storyteller at heart. In music, in Dungeons and Dragons, in his doodles, the way he played up his Freak persona, and in this moment with his arms settled on your hips and his head on your shoulder. If Eddie wanted to captivate with a story, he could. 

It’s a shame that a story was all this was. 

Once the two of you were finally released from the watchful eye of your moms camera, Eddie led you to his van. He opened the passenger seat door for you, and even helped you into your seat as if he were a real gentleman. You didn’t think anyone had ever done that for you before. 

“So... is there a plan for how we’re going to do this?” you asked. “We haven’t really talked about how this is going to happen.” 

“What time is your secret admirer supposed to show up?” Eddie asked, the sound of his mixtape crackling through the air. 

“7:30.” 

“Then you’ll go in about five minutes early, stand in the middle of the gym, and at 7:30 I’ll burst in, sweep you off your feet, and then we can blow this joint.” Eddie said. 

“I could use a joint.” you sighed, looking out the window as reality came back. You weren’t a princess, and this wasn’t a fairytale. Eddie was only doing this as a favor, nothing more. 

“I’ll let you have one after we set up for the show.” He promised, pulling his van up to behind the school where no one was going to be dropped off for the dance. “I’ll see you inside in five minutes.” 

You gave him a nod. “See you on the other side, Freak.” 

You slipped to the entrance of the gym, and walked towards the booth where you presented your homecoming ticket. Homecoming had started at 7 pm on the dot and most students were already inside, dancing and giggling and having fun. The sound of the latest pop songs were echoing through the halls outside of the gym. The cheerleader running the ticket booth looked you up and down with a giggle.

“I love your outfit! It’s so... unique!” she gave you a smile that was way too wide and you grit your teeth at the false compliment. You shoved that anger down into your gut, and gave your best fake smile back, hoping that you sounded more sincere. 

“Thank you, so much!” Your voice came out a bit higher pitched than anticipated, but the cheerleader didn’t seem to notice. 

“Your Secret Admirer is going to love it.” She continued, and you felt your stomach twist. Shit, the cheerleaders were in on this too? You wondered how many people were in on this. “He asked me to give you this when you got here.”

She handed you a note, in the same sloppy handwriting as before. 

Meet me in the center of the dance floor at 7:30. 

It was 7:26 right now. You were tempted to make the assholes wait, after all, you wanted to make sure Eddie had a chance to get here before they could. But the cheerleader obviously saw you read the note, and there was no time to turn back. 

Just show up for me. Eddie. You thought to yourself. Although this had been your idea, you were feeling nervous now. You really were about to put yourself out on full display to the school, willingly offering yourself up on a plate to your peers for humiliation. What if this didn’t work? What if Eddie didn’t make it in time? What if something worse happened with Eddie here? 

The short walk from the entrance to the middle of the dance floor felt like slow motion. Your mind felt fuzzy and you hoped that you weren’t shaking from nerves. You stood in the center of the dance floor, and turned to face the single clock in the back of the gym. You could barely make out the time with the distance and dim lights, but you knew it was almost time. 

7:27

7:28

You could do this

7:29

Almost time....

7:30

7:31

Where the fuck was Eddie?

7:32

Did he get held up?

7:33

Did he change his mind?

7:34

Fuck, you could hear the giggling.

7:35

You felt a tap on your shoulder. 

This was it. 

You turned around slowly, waiting for the worst. 

Eddie stood before you, corsage in hand, on one knee as if he was proposing to you. 

Maybe this was the real prank. Maybe the real prank was the one you played on yourself to be able to see your best friend kneeling and smiling up at you, offering you a corsage. 

Time froze for a second as you took in the sight and committed it to memory. 

“I’m glad you made it.” Eddie said, loud enough for anyone to hear. He really did have that natural projection that should have had the theater kids begging him to join them. “I knew you’d respond to my note.”

There was a dull murmur of confusion behind you, and you saw Eddie’s eyes flicker to something that you couldn’t see and he gave you a small nod. 

Fuck, that was your cue. 

You brought your hands up to your mouth, acting like all of the actresses you’d seen on tv who’s characters had been proposed to. You began nodding and accepted the corsage, letting him slide it onto your wrist. 

How had he known what color to get to match your dress? 

Eddie stood up and you threw your arms around him. “I was hoping it was you!” you said loudly, no need to act for this part. Eddie wrapped his arms around your waist and picked you up and spun you around once. He really was deceptively strong, and you giggled as he set you down. Your lips met his cheek. His arms stayed around you. 

Eddie smiled at you in a way that made your cheeks heat up and your knees feel weak. 

You two were staring at each other. 

The music changed. 

Eddie moved one of his hands from around your waist to grab yours, and the two of you were slow dancing before you even fully knew what was happening. 

“Eddie, what are you doing?” You asked, following his movements. 

“You said you wanted to really sell this that we were together now.” Eddie said, keeping his eyes on you. “I don’t know how many people would believe it if I showed up and we immediately left. It wouldn’t exactly be memorable.” 

“Right, good point.” you agreed. 

“I always have good points, that’s why I’m the dungeon master.” Eddie chuckled, “Besides, it’d be a shame that you put in this much effort to look good for little old me to not show you off. What kind of boyfriend would I be? I have to make sure that I get a reputation for being a mean and scary freak, but also a decent date.”

Boyfriend. 

“Shit.” you said quietly. 

“What’s wrong?” He asked, brows furrowing with a frown. 

“I didn’t think about what happens after this. You agreed to be my fake date, but I don’t want you to feel trapped with me after this.” you said. “Yeah, this’ll get everyone off my back for now but when school starts again, I don’t want you to feel like you have to act like we’re together.”

“Don’t worry about that.” Eddie said. “It’s not like my dating life is thriving here anyway. Between you and me, I’m a little too old for those who dare try and get with the Freak here.”

You let out a small laugh. “Tired of one night stands with girls who just want bragging rights?” 

“After the third time, I was starting to feel like I was cheating on my right hand.”

You pressed your forehead against his shoulder, erupting into a fit of giggles. This felt right, this relaxed moment with Eddie. This is how it was supposed to feel with someone, right? It was supposed to be easy, and with Eddie it always was. 

“Thank you, Eddie.” you said after your giggles had died down. “I really owe you one.”

“I thought this plan was me owing you one.” Eddie asked. 

“This is honestly above and beyond helping you get a passing grade for a test.” you admitted. “I know you have your show tonight, and you hate doing anything for school. Plus, you showed up wearing this and you spent money on jeans and the corsage- oh, thank you for the corsage-”

“Hey,” Eddie snapped you out of your rambling. “Don’t act like you forced me to do anything. You said I had full creative control tonight. I chose to do all this for you.”

“Why?” you asked, meeting his eyes. “You could have so easily told me to just fuck off and said no.”

“I’ll admit this wasn’t exactly my idea of how this night was going to go.” Eddie said. “But then you said that you wanted the Freak to show up for you. I wanted to know what would happen if it was just Eddie.” 

“Just Eddie...” you said quietly. Not the Freak, not the satanic cult leader, not the dungeon master. Just Eddie, your friend. “I’m glad that just Eddie was the one to show up.” your mouth went dry. “I- ...Eddie I-”

The two of you had stopped moving in slow circles, Eddie was closer than he had ever been to you before. You forgot where you were and Eddie was leaning closer to you, his mouth opening as if he was going to say something. 

And that’s when it happened. 

Whatever it was, it was room temperature, and sticky. It dripped down from your hair, down your face and onto your dress. You looked down to see pools of red flooding below you on the gym floor, and then your head shot up to see Eddie, covered in the same sticky substance with a dumbstruck look on his face. 

Blood? Was that actually blood?! Was Eddie bleeding? Were you? Wait, had someone actually dumped pigs blood on you?

Eddie wiped his face, smearing the substance on his skin and hand and carefully brought it to his face and sniffed it, and then gave it a small lick.

“Corn syrup.” he said and looked at you, his eyes wide in shock. 

“You mean this was a Carrie situation?!” you asked in a loud whisper as the two of you stared at each other. You looked around, and saw the group of jocks laughing and high fiving each other. One of them was holding an old paint bucket. Your body froze, and you couldn’t believe that this was actually happening. Those assholes had thrown fake blood on you and Eddie. They won. You fucked up. Eddie did so much for you tonight and you never even considered that the jocks would be smart enough to adjust their plans to account for Eddie being here-

Then Eddie started laughing, like really laughing. It was that genuine laugh that you’d heard a hundred times when the party came up with a stupid plan to get past one of Eddie’s challenges in Hellfire. 

He looked at you, with a spark in his eyes and a grin that was manic. 

His laughter was so contagious, that you found yourself laughing as well. You heard the laughter from the jocks start to die down and turn into mutters of confusion. The whole gym seemed to go silent, and you think the DJ stopped the music but you were laughing too much to care. 

How fucking rediculous was this? It was almost too obvious what they had set up, but you didn’t think they were this unoriginal. How did they even sneak in the bucket? How did no faculty or staff react to this?!

“I guess the Freak is showing up, anyway.” Eddie laughed and looked at you. “Let’s give them the show they want.”

Eddie’s hand wrapped around the back of your neck and started pulling you in. Instinct took over and you gripped at his stained shirt and then your lips met. The kiss was met with gasps and oohs and shouts from around you, but you didn’t care. Eddie was kissing you, and you were kissing him back. The two of you must have looked like a spectacle, covered in fake blood and making out with him in the middle of the dance floor after laughing like maniacs.

“Stop that, right now you two!” you heard a teacher yell, and that’s when Eddie pulled back.

“Feel free to kill me for that later, okay?” That wild smile was still on his face. 

“I think we should run now.” you agreed, deciding that whatever had just happened within the last 30 seconds could be processed later. You could see a few teachers starting to finally take action and start to run over, and the jocks were now scattering. Even though you and Eddie were the victims here, you didn’t really feel like sticking around. Whatever would happen with the school, could wait until Monday.

Eddie grabbed your hand, flipped off the few jocks that were still gawking, and the two of you took off running through the exit doors of the gym, the two of you laughing and cackling like mad. 

“Fake blood!” you yelled as the two of you dashed across the parking lot. “They threw fake blood on us!” 

“They actually spent money to get that much corn syrup and dye!” Eddie laughed, opening the door to his van for you again. 

“Shit, it’s gonna get all over your van.” you said, taking your seat anyway and buckling up. 

“That’s the least worrying thing I’ve spilled in here. Don’t worry about it.” He said, hopping into the driver side seat. “Jesus Christ, I didn’t think they had it in them!”

“Eddie, they ruined your new clothes.” You frowned, looking at him. The fake blood was starting to dry to your skin, and you could see it starting to give Eddie’s hair an odd texture in certain areas. 

“They also ruined your dress.” 

“Yeah, but I was never going to wear this again.” you said. 

“And I was going to ruin these clothes anyway.” he shrugged and started the car, peeling out of the parking lot like a bat out of Hell. Eddie’s lead foot hit the gas and the two of you were speeding down the road, out of town towards the quarry. 

“Holy shit.” you said, leaning against the seat as the adrenaline faded. 

“I think that could’ve gone worse.” Eddie said, still smiling. “I think the blood really adds to Corroded Coffin’s whole thing.” 

You shook your head, grabbing some napkins from the floor and wiping your hands off. “Shit, do we owe them a thanks now? Should we send them a fruit basket?” 

“Nah, they’ll get what they deserve. A slap on the wrist for pulling this stunt at a school function.” Eddie glanced at you with a wry grin. 

“Right, why do I feel like they’ll get off easy but somehow we’re gonna be the ones in trouble on Monday?” You rolled your eyes and lowered your voice in a horrible imitation of Principal Higgins. “Yes, those two played a harmless prank by dumping corn syrup on you, but you two displayed unsightly behavior in front of everyone in some sort of Hellish ritual-”

“Ouch. I didn’t think I was that bad of a kisser.” 

You stopped talking and suddenly the corn syrup felt sticky and uncomfortable. You still hadn’t been able to digest the fact that the two of you had kissed- no, you two had full on made-out in front of the whole student body. Had there been tongue? You honestly couldn’t remember. 

An awkward silence settled over the two of you and you were unsure of what to say. You wanted to tell him that no, he wasn’t a bad kisser at all. You wanted to be smooth and say something like “Well, I wasn’t really paying attention before, how about we try again?”. You wanted to say anything to indicate that you liked it and very much wanted to do it again. 

Instead the two of you sat in the loudest silence you had ever been in as the two of you drove the long strip down to the quarry. You scolded yourself, thinking that saying anything had to be better than saying nothing. 

And yet no words came out.

This was supposed to be a one shot in April. Now it's a three-shot. Do NOT let me write more than three chapters. The third chapter is almost done. There will be smut.

Divider by @strangergraphics

Tag List: @supernaturalstilinski @wonderlanddreamer @princesssunderworld @kores-mun-son-n-more @munsonfiles

@ladysilence @ghcstpyre @avalon-wolf @huffledor-able541 @sheneedsrocknroll92

@i-trash-about-things

[sapphicantics]

Two Sides of the Same Coin | Chapter Two

Pairing: Regina George x fem!reader

Summary: After a nobody destroys the Jocks and insults the Queen Bee without a care or an apology, you get catapulted to the top of the social food chain next to aforementioned Queen Bee, Regina George, who now has to learn to share the spotlight with North Shore’s new bad girl. | Or alternatively, your ‘don’t give a fuck’ attitude sucks you and Regina into each other’s worlds sending you down a path you never expected.

Word count: 1.5k

Contents: mentions of violence, reader might be coming off a bit toxic but she’s meant to be cocky, angry!Regina, sexual tension???, explicit language, a little stalking, more shitty comebacks, think that’s all let me know if I missed any

Note: Well, this chapter took a different turn than I was expecting but honestly I think this is better than what was originally planned. Certain parts of this chapter made me cackle while writing and I hope it makes you cackle too so enjoy my shitty sense of humor

Intro - Chapter One

— — — —

Assuming it’d be a hell of a day might have been a little dramatic.

It’s been a day so far, sure, but nothing different than what you’re used to.

You’ve got a busted lip and your knuckles are sore from, for lack of a better term, bashing Christian Wiggins face in this morning and sending him to the nurse’s office. Perhaps, you’d feel guilty if it wasn’t for the fact that he busted your lip open first.

As often as you have been getting into fights, you thought someone would have noticed by now that you don’t ever throw the first punch - thus granting you the excuse of self-defense.

Though, even if they did know the jocks have far less self control than you and would never be able to refrain from reacting to the things you say.

Speaking of refraining from reacting, Regina has been watching you all day. She still is, right now. Well, technically Gretchen is watching you, but you know she’s doing it because Regina told her to and you know she’s gonna report back to Regina immediately because Regina told her to.

Seems a little obsessive of her, really.

Which is funny considering.

Whatever, you don’t have anything to do with that. If Regina wants to have her little minions following you around then that’s her business.

Also you’re pretty sure Regina intended for Gretchen to be discreet and not make it obvious that she’s watching you, but maybe you’re wrong. Maybe Regina wants you to know she’s watching.

That sounds like something she’d do as an act of intimidation, or even just for fun so you wouldn’t put it past her.

Either way, you know Gretchen is there.

You wouldn’t find this weird because you two do share this class. Normally, you guys sit on opposite sides of the room from each other, but Gretchen is now sitting three seats behind you - not too far away where she can’t see you clearly, but not close enough to where it’s obvious.

( Or maybe it wouldn’t have been obvious if you showed up to class on time, but since you didn’t it was immediately apparent that she switched seats. )

You ignore it because one: you don’t care, and two: what exactly are you gonna do about it? Gretchen’s already anxious enough having to deal with Regina’s bitchiness daily, you’re not about to worsen it by confronting her over something so trivial.

You catch her taking pictures of you and typing rapidly on her phone moments after you have this thought, and now you just have to confront her.

You catch her after the bell before she can escape the classroom, throwing your arm over her shoulder and steering her away from the door. She squeaks as you do so, tightening her grip on her belongings. “So Gretchen, mind telling me why you were taking photos of me when you thought I wasn’t looking?”

She stammers, her eyes widening. “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about. I wasn’t taking pictures of you.”

“Right. So if I took your phone and went to your messages with Regina I wouldn’t find pictures with live updates you’ve been sending her during class?”

Gretchen’s hand tightens even more on her phone if that’s possible, her knuckles turning white with how hard her grip is.

That’s answer enough for you.

“Yeah that’s what I thought. Do me a favor,” you hum, leaning closer to Gretchen. “Tell Regina, and I want you to tell her word for word what I’m about to say, to stop acting like a little bitch and sending her minions to spy on me instead of coming to see me face-to-face.”

Gretchen’s mouth drops open. “I can’t say that to her! She’ll kill me!”

“You’ll be fine as long as you mention my name immediately,” you wave off her concerns which is kind of a rude thing to do, but the whole school already thinks you’re a rude person so may as well uphold the reputation. “Word for word, Gretchen. I’ll know if you don’t.”

That sounds vaguely like a threat that implies you’re gonna come after her if she doesn’t say it word for word. You’re not, but she doesn’t need to know that.

“Go on, Gretchen, you’ve only got a minute and a half before the next class starts, and I’m sure you know how Regina feels about being kept waiting.”

You take your arm off her shoulders and after a moment, she peels out of the classroom, rushing off to Regina.

You sigh and shake your head, you feel bad for that because Gretchen did not deserve your threats and she doesn’t deserve the ire she’s about to get from Regina.

You’d apologize, but you’re sure you’ll never be able to get close to Gretchen again after this.

It’s too late to take it back now so you exit the room and head off to your next class on the opposite side of the school.

— — — —

North shore doesn’t allow students to leave the school early without prior consent from a parent or guardian, or under special circumstances, which you have neither of right now. They don’t really have a way to stop you from leaving, but they will call home and Principal Duvall will pull you into his office in the morning for a lecture, and those are headaches waiting to happen that you’d rather avoid. So even though you’d rather be anywhere else, you’re spending your free period — your last class of the day — lounging around in the cafeteria.

You’re sitting criss-cross atop a table, elbow resting bent upon your knee while your chin rests in the palm of your hand. You’re staring out the window, a single earbud in while Hayley Kiyoko plays in your ear.

You hum along under your breath, a faint clicking noise drawing your eyes to the cafeteria entrance. The doors burst open and in walks Regina, her eyes honing in on you like a target. Her fury is palpable even from here and it makes you smirk knowing you’re able to get under her skin — knowing you’re the only one able to get under her skin like this.

Does this say a lot about you? That you find joy in making Regina angry?

Yes, probably, but why shouldn’t you find joy in calling a bully out on their shit.

Regina slams her hands on the table in front of you interrupting your thoughts. Her glare is intense, and if you were anyone else you’d be cowering under her gaze. Instead, you cock an eyebrow, completely un-phased by the blonde in front of you.

“Something I can do for you, George?”

“You think you’re such hot shit, don’t you? You think you can call me a bitch and get away with it; with no consequences?”

“Oh, no, does the big bad Queen Bee not like being called what she knows she is?” You pout mockingly at her. “Is that all it takes for you to lose your cool, being called a bitch?”

You laugh loudly at that.

It stokes the flames of Regina’s anger and she yanks you up by your collar, your shoes scraping the edge of the table before landing harshly on the floor as Regina slams you against the wall.

Huh, look at that. Prissy pink princess Regina George has the muscles to throw you around.

This is quite the development.

“Congratulations George, you’ve made it about two steps further than anyone else ever has. Think carefully about your next move, lest I let my instincts take over and I fuck up that pretty little face of yours.”

“You have no idea who you’re messing with. I will ruin your life.” She growls at you, ignoring your words.

“Threatening to ruin my life,” you tilt your head in amusement, leaning your face closer to hers. “Seems rather obsessive of you, George. Perhaps you wanna kiss me first. That’s quite on brand for you.”

Regina’s jaw clenches and her grip on you tightens. She goes to speak, but the bell ringing to signal the end of the day cuts her off and you smirk. “You might wanna let me go. If anyone walks by they’ll think you’re making out with me and then everyone will be calling you Sissy Liz, and we can’t have that, now can we?”

Wow, threatening to fight Regina and bringing up her old friendship with Janis — twice, in two different ways — all in a span of like forty-five seconds is absolutely insane.

Regina scowls at you, her eyes practically alight with malice. She doesn’t want to let you go because if she does that means you win, that means you get away with disrespecting her for the third time with no consequences, and no one wins against her, no one is supposed to win against her ever, but you’ve done it twice now and you’re about to do it again.

She shoves you harshly against the wall one last time at the realization and, wow, you’re really priding yourself at the moment because the fact that she’s still standing when anyone else would be on the ground right now speaks volumes to your self-control, but then anyone else would’ve hit you by now so maybe it speaks more to Regina’s intelligence that she’s not.

“This is not over.” With that she turns on her heel and storms away, leaving you with a smirk as you watch her retreating figure.

[annwrites]

we're home

— pairing: billy hargrove x fem!reader

— type: part of a series

— summary: you've finally reached california & found your happily ever after.

— tags: settling down, love, happiness

— tw: none

— word count: 1,092

— a/n: thank you all so much for the support. it has meant the world to me.

You lean over Billy’s chest with crossed arms, studying. You look at him. “Does it hurt?”

He glances up to you, shrugging his right shoulder slightly. “Not really.”

You roll your eyes. Tough guy.

He looks up to you again then. “Don’t tell me you’re ready to chicken out.”

You shift on your feet. “No.”

He smirks. “Good, ‘cus you promised me forever.”

The tattoo artists glances between the two of you with a raised brow, then continues. “The ink will be, if nothing else,” the man throws in.

Billy closes his eyes. “I know what I’ve got.” He smiles to himself, rubbing a thumb along his wedding band.

You glance down to your wrist, the name Billy written in small, delicate cursive across the width of it. You then glance across the car, to his bare chest—your name inked across his left pectoral. You smile to yourself at the sight.

It’d taken the better part of a day, but you’d finally made it. You were in California, sitting in a parking lot in Billy’s car, just looking out the windshield at the ocean in the distance. Something you’d never seen before. Never thought you’d set eyes on. You listen to the waves crash against the shore.

You turn in your seat, looking at your husband. Husband. He was your husband now. And you his wife. It still felt so strange to even think the words. But every time you did, you filled with warmth and happiness. And maybe your panties with a bit of wetness…

He rolls his head to the side, reaching up, gently running his knuckles along the soft skin of your cheek. “We’re here, baby. We’re home.”

You nod, leaning over, pressing your lips to his. When you pull away, there’s a gentle smile on his face.

“Do you remember that dream I told you I had? The one before…that day in Texas?”

You think back. That had been the morning he’d apparently realized that he was in love. With you. Something about making love in his car, wasn’t it?

You nod, smiling.

His caresses your cheek. “Want to help me make one more dream come true?”

“Daddy!” You clutch your pregnant stomach as your son’s hand slips out of yours, running in the direction of his father.

Billy drops his surfboard on the sand, smiling, picking up the four-year-old spitting image of him, tossing him in the air—your heart jumping nervously at the sight—then settling him against his hip.

When he sees you, he smiles, whistling. “Man, that is one hot mama.”

You roll your eyes, coming to stand in front of him as he lowers Warrant back to the sand. “Yeah, I feel hot. What is it that does it for you, huh? The big belly, swollen ankles, or the-”

He smirks. “Whole package, really, baby.”

He reaches out, cupping the back of your head, crushing his lips to yours, which taste pleasantly of salt water.

“Ew, what the hell dad?”

You pull away, looking down at Warrant, who’s staring up at the two of you from under a mop of blonde curls. You look at Billy then. “Do you see what you’ve taught him?”

He smirks, shrugging. “Going to punish me for it?”

You shake your head. “I should be spanking someone.”

He raises a brow. “Mm, pick me.”

He pulls you in again, kissing you, then moving his lips close to your ear. “You’re lucky I’ve already got you knocked up. Because if I didn’t?” He pulls back, staring down at you. “You’d be on your back right now getting bred.”

You flush, but tell yourself it’s only from the heat.

Warrant speaks up again. “So gross. Stop kissing.”

You both smile at each other.

Billy speaks, tenderly tucking a lock of hair behind your ear. “Trust me, kid, you could do a lot worse when it comes to parents.”

A few years after your daughter is born, Billy stops competing in surfing competitions, telling you it was time. You’d tried to encourage him otherwise, but he’d said he had more important things to think about now.

He still did it for recreation. Had even taught you shortly after arriving in California, which had involved a lot of cursing and you nearly drowning once or twice, but it had been fun while it lasted, until you told him you preferred watching. Unable to help himself, he’d of course made a filthy joke out of that comment.

Warrant loved it, however. Living on the beach gave them ample opportunity every day to get out in the water. And through that—teaching his son, watching him thrive on the waves—is how he realized that he wanted to do it full time: teaching, training. Particularly kids. You knew why: he saw himself in all of them. Young and full of passion for something so much larger than themselves, just needing someone else to show them the way.

He did mechanic work on the side for a bit of extra cash, but also because he still loved getting his hands dirty and messing around in a garage.

Speaking of which, he kept the Camaro. Took it out for a spin every now and again. Usually just the two of you in the front seats. Sometimes you’d sneak away just to screw in the backseat of it. It’s how your daughter had been conceived. Not that you hadn’t been trying.

A few years after Warrant was born, Billy had suggested that the two of you stop using protection. That ‘whatever happened, happened’. And during that time, you’d barely been able to keep him off of you. But you’d repaid the favor when you got pregnant again. Your hormones taking the driver’s seat for months. Billy didn’t complain once.

As for you? You were a full-time housewife. You and Billy had discussed it very early-on after coming to Cali. You had worked some to help with saving up enough to buy a house, but once you became pregnant, Billy made it clear that he’d never stop you from continuing to work if that’s what you wanted, but he ‘never wanted you to feel like you had to’. That he intended to keep that promise to take care of you. Both of you. All of you.

So, you settled into a daily, yet hectic life. But every time you felt overwhelmed—like maybe at times you had a bit more than you could handle—all you had to do was look at them, your family, and know: you had just exactly enough.

The End.

[fkinavocado]

in which your husband and Harry’s wife dragged you both into a situation you didn’t want to be in, but as it turns out, everything happens for a reason

Loved, heard, seen- Masterlist, Author’s Notes & Warnings 

Part One/ alternatively, read on wattpad

Part Two (word count: 3.4k)

“Hello?” Harry brought his phone to his line of vision, making sure he’d actually picked up the call, “Uhm,... hello?”

“Hi. Is this a bad time?”

Harry racked his brain to place the person’s voice, the fact that he didn’t have the number saved in his contacts made it even more difficult. It sounded awfully familiar, though… “Oh! It’s you!”

She never did give him her name. And neither did he, come to think of it. He only gave her his number before she got out of his car after he drove her home. Just in case.

“You remember?”

Harry sighed heavily. “I wish I could forget everything about that night,” he chuckled nervously. “No offence.”

“... I can't forget, either. You were right.”

“Oh?”

“Listen… would it be too… upsetting, if we met up? You’re the only person that’s been in my shoes that I feel I could open up to about this. It’s been… very lonely, eating at me… Maybe talking would help make better sense of it…”

Harry didn’t have to ponder. He’d wanted the same thing all along. He was glad she reached out to him, since he couldn’t contact her. “Name the place.”

*

Harry wondered if he looked as broken as she did but had just gotten used to seeing his miserable face stare back at him in the mirror every day. It’d been close to a month since the… circumstance that had brought the two of them together. Admittedly, he hadn’t paid close attention to her appearance back then, but, seeing her now, he definitely recognized some changes, albeit subtle. She appeared more frail, her under eyes darker, the polish on her nails chipped off, her lips chapped and bitten, her clothes wrinkled. He observed her over the cup of coffee he was sipping on on that rainy afternoon as she talked about how it’d been like trying to move on from that night.

“You were right. I did know, even then, that this was going to ruin us. But I kept lying to myself, thinking I could just pretend it never happened. Hoping that he’d gotten it out of his system and that things would go back to normal. You know I even dared to believe things would get better? I thought maybe this would put things into perspective for him and make him realize what a good thing he’s got going at home… Was I naive or what?”

Harry furrowed his brows compassionately, “You and I both. Believe it or not, I also hoped for the same. But, assuming things went for you guys the same way they did for us… it wasn’t quite the case, was it?”

She shook her head solemnly, staring into her cup of coffee. “He never asked me how things went on my side. He doesn’t even know I never went through with it. The following morning, he called me at around 11am. That’s… extremely late for him. He’s an early bird, chronically so. He’d been clearly… distracted. So when I told him I’d already taken an uber home he didn’t question it. He then came home and acted like everything was normal. He didn’t talk about it, I never asked him any questions. He didn’t care to ask me any, either… I wouldn’t say we’re pretending like nothing ever happened, because that’s not it at all. This… unspoken, huge thing that happened is always looming over us. Now whenever he’s late from work, he doesn’t even tell me why he’s late. It’s like… I know why. I don’t have to ask. He doesn’t have to tell me.”

“Jesus…”

The woman nodded, fidgeting with the corner of her paper napkin. “Things are better at your end, then?”

Harry almost laughed at her assumption, “To tell you the truth, I don’t even know which of us has it worse. When I got home after I dropped you off, I called her again and it went straight to voicemail for the hundredth time, so I texted her letting her know I went home and to call me to go get her if she didn’t feel like ubering. She never called for me to get her, thank god, but when she walked through the door and I asked her how her ride was she told me the guy had driven her. I was speechless, she’d actually disclosed where she lived, what else did she share with him? Aside from the obvious… Like, was this gonna be a thing now, between the two of them? I had so many questions, but then I couldn’t really say anything, could I? Since I offered to drive you, too. I’m fairly certain their report in that regard was much different to ours though… but even still, I couldn’t get myself to tell her off for it. I mean… he fucked her. Did the fact that he knew where she lived really make it worse?...”

Harry sat back in his chair, forcing himself to take a breather and calm down a bit. He was getting worked up. But when she encouraged him to keep going, and his restless leg wouldn’t stop bouncing beneath the table he gave in. “She was fucking beaming! She wouldn’t stop talking about what a good thing this is for us, how finally she feels like she can breathe, how she can’t believe we waited so long to try this… confirmed that she’d already made plans with this guy for the following weekend. I just froze. I couldn’t believe she was really saying all that. She never really asked me how things went for me, either. She just kept putting words in my mouth. See? Wasn’t it fun? You’re such a lucky bastard, men can only dream they could be in your shoes with their wives giving them this much freedom! Hell, even pushing them to do it! Can you imagine? You’re living the dream, baby.”

“Oh, God…”

“Then… one night soon after that she wanted to play and, brokenhearted fool that I am, I went along with it even though what I really wanted was for us to sit down and really talk about it. But I just couldn’t get myself to open up the subject, mainly because I already knew what her stance on it was and what it would lead to, and I wasn’t ready for that… kept thinking I could try doing this to save our marriage. I’d agreed to it, even though she’d coerced me into it if i’m being honest… but I did agree. I couldn’t blame her for the repercussions, I knew what I was getting into. So I felt like I had to see it through, had to try and make it work… 

“So when she came to me all loving, and I missed her so much, I gave in, I needed to feel like us again… Make her forget about anyone else. Make her only want me. And then… in the midst of what I thought was one of my best sexual performances… she tells me she wants to try something this guy had asked her to do to him and I–... fucking lost it. I jumped out of that bed as if it were on fire. I’m sure I could’ve handled it more maturely but I locked myself in the bathroom before I said something I would regret. She kept pleading from the other side to open up and talk to her, tell her what was the matter. I realized all I had to say to her were hurtful things. I chickened out when I opened the door and saw how genuinely worried she was. She literally has no clue what I’ve been going through since that night… in her head, we’re heading in the right direction and this is only going to bring us closer. 

“So, I asked her not to tell me about any of it, going further, and promised I’d do the same. That I couldn’t handle talking about it. At least not for a while… She agreed, said she totally gets it. And then we went back to bed and I never got to see what that son of a bitch asked her to do to him because ever since, I’ve avoided all her advances. She keeps making little quips such as uh-oh, running out of stamina huh? Save some for me next time. Then she giggles and asks me to just spoon her instead and I just sit there for hours on end mulling everything over while she’s sleeping soundly in my arms.”

The woman sat silent for a long while, visibly saddened. “Jack never initiates sex anymore. Like… at all. I don’t know If I’m glad for it or if I should feel even more hurt. I’m not sure I feel anything at all anymore. I feel… numb.”

“... Me too.”

After a long pause Harry added, muttering, “Fitting name, though.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Since he’s such a jackass.”

The woman laughed, which made Harry smile in return. He wondered whether this was the first time the two of them had done so since that night. 

“You must have a really nice name, then.”

Harry’s smile lingered. “In that case, I’m sure the same goes for you.”

“You first.”

“It’s Harry.”

“Y/N.”

“Yeah. See? Nice names for nice folk. Wouldn’t hear of people with such names going around causing so much heartache, would you?”

“Absolutely not. Felicity is also… fitting in a way. Only cares about her own happiness.”

Harry gave her a look. “You actually remember my wife’s name?”

“Yeah, it’s a rare name, stuck with me.”

“True. And you’re right about her. I’ve always known it… But nobody’s perfect. Thought I could compromise on some stuff. Didn’t realize it would compromise our marriage in the end.”

“That’s… pretty huge, Harry. I know it sounds awful, but hearing you say so valides my own feelings. Like, I worried I was overreacting, thinking my marriage is over because of this. But that’s just how I feel. I can’t see us ever recovering from this mess.”

“Neither can I. It’s killing me on the inside the longer I go along with it. And even if I do speak up about it… I know it’ll never go back to how things were, which admittedly, weren’t great to begin with. This whole thing kinda helped put everything into perspective. She was right, we did need something else, be both did… I was willing to do whatever to please her, but that’s not exactly feasible in the long run. It was just a matter of time before we faced some hurdles. We’re just not on the same page sexually. I was just fooling myself thinking I could deny my own needs and that she could suppress hers.”

“So… what now?”

They both sat in silence for a long while, the coffee had gone cold and the rain outside was pouring even stronger than before.

“It’s inevitable. We have to talk to them.”

“...End it?”

Harry nodded solemnly and when her eyes immediately glazed over and she stifled a sob, he reached his hand out to cover hers reassuringly. He moved to sit on the chair next to hers and eventually wrapped his other arm around her shoulders, bringing her in to rest her head on his own. She tried to keep quiet, not to disturb the cafe’s patrons, and he gently shushed her reassuringly, telling her everything was going to be alright. Willing himself to believe it, too.

*

Almost two weeks had passed when Harry finally decided to text Y/N. He’d been apprehensive about it, knowing she must’ve been hurting, but also, he felt guilty for not going through with what he himself had suggested was inevitable. He hadn’t broken things off with his wife. Worse, he’d actually had sex with her, in an effort to still try and save their marriage. He couldn’t finish though, and he’d never reached full mast. Which prompted her to not get off either. It’d been a mess and it ended in Harry crying in the bathroom afterwards while she probably thought he was finishing himself off in the shower. He’d never felt more miserable in his entire life.

Felicity was away for the weekend with her new boy-toy and Harry was feeling seriously on edge. He contemplated just packing his bags and leaving. It was cowardly of him, to be sure, but he felt like he’d never go through with it and actually leave her otherwise. He couldn’t bring himself to talk to her and end things properly, like a man. 

He felt emasculated in every way possible.

H: Hey. It’s Harry. Been meaning to reach out, hope it’s not a bad time… How did things go?

He was in their walk-in closet staring at his clothes and trying to work up his courage to just grab them off the hangers and toss them into the biggest suitcase he could find when she replied.

Y/N: Hey, Harry. I’m the worst… I couldn’t bring myself to do it : ( I don’t know what to do. I can’t do this anymore…

H: Don’t feel bad. I couldn’t go through with it either. But I can’t go on like this…

Y/N: What do we do : (

H: She’s with him right now. 

Y/N: He’s not been home most nights. It’s over without having to even talk about it. I bet if he came back home and I was gone he’d be relieved at this point.

Harry read Y/N’s last text message before deciding to call her since they were both alone anyway. “That’s exactly what I wanna do. Just pack my stuff and be gone before she comes back. Is that… too cowardly, do you think?”

“It’s not. They don’t deserve an explanation. It’s impossible they don’t see we’re hurting. They just choose to ignore it.”

“Let’s just leave.”

“Harry… if you say that again, I just might do it. Like, right now.”

“Let’s rip the band-aid. Let’s do it. I mean it, Y/N. We can do it. We could do it together. Just… I dunno. Go somewhere and turn our phones off and be there for one another, make sure neither of us caves in and goes back… What do you say?” Harry was pumped. He could feel adrenaline surging through him. The thought of actually doing it made him giddy beyond belief. 

Y/N was silent for a long while, all he could hear was his own laboured breathing. But eventually she replied, sounding resolute. “Give me half an hour. We’re doing this, Harry.”

*

Harry had never felt more alive. It was odd, but it was true. He finally felt like he was doing something for himself, in a long, long time. He’d packed his shit in record time, leaving him just enough to drive to Y/N’s. When she didn’t pick up her phone immediately, he felt his heart sink to his stomach. Had she changed her mind? He felt he couldn’t do this without her. But when she eventually picked up with laboured breath, she informed him she was dragging her suitcases to the elevator and couldn’t find her phone in all that rushed chaos. 

Harry wouldn’t take no for an answer, and insisted he’d help her. When she buzzed him in and he reached her floor, he was mildly shocked at the amount of suitcases she’d lined up near the elevator door. He’d only packed his essentials, but Y/N meant business. It looked like she’d packed up her whole life in those bags.

“Oh wow. Ok, alright. Gotta give it to you, you’re a fast packer, considering.”

Y/N smiled at his amused tone, despite her nerves. “I dunno when he’s coming back. Had to be quick. And I knew your SUV could handle all of these.”

“How do you know it’s not already filled up to the brim with my own shit?”

She rolled her eyes when he started loading them up in the elevator, urging her inside to keep the doors open. “Please. You’re a man. I’ll be surprised if you filled two suitcases.”

Harry feigned offence. “It’s three suitcases, alright? Well, two suitcases and a backpack. And I didn’t pack everything. It’s my house, after all.”

Y/N was silent, her smile fading somewhat. “Well, this apartment is his. So…”

Harry kicked himself for opening up that can of worms but the haste in which they loaded her stuff into his truck kept them busy and hopefully took her mind off things for a bit.

When they drove off, for a long time they didn’t even talk about where they’d be going. Harry just drove aimlessly, only making sure they left town on the nearest exit. They couldn’t even use Google Maps as they’d shut their phones off and threw them into the glove compartment in complicity.

They eventually discussed some options. It couldn’t be any of the places they’d been with with their spouses. Not that either of them thought they’d be coming looking for them, but regardless.

Eventually, after driving for a few hours while keeping themselves busy singing along with whatever came on the radio to keep themselves distracted, they decided to just crash at the first decent motel they’d find on their way. It was getting too late to drive safely any further.

They were both giddy at the prospect of crashing at some random motel like some sort of Bonnie and Clyde, still high on the adrenaline rush.

Soon they found themselves in a shabby motel room under a false mr and mrs name. They’d already slept in the same bed before and so the options of getting separate rooms or twin beds weren’t even brought up. They trusted eachother beyond formalities, and besides, the pact was that they would go through this together.

They took turns showering and Y/N called for him from the bathroom when she was finished with hers. “Harry? Ugh, I brought the wrong bag with us…”

“Want me to go get it for you?”

“I mean… I just need something to change into. Do you have some extra pyjamas?”

“Uhm…” Harry didn’t have to check, he knew he’d not packed any extra in his backpack he took with him to the room. “I can give you mine but I’ll have to sleep in a t-shirt. And boxers, of course.”

“Would you mind terribly?”

“Not at all. Just… you know. Don’t wanna make you uncomfortable, that’s why I clarified…”

“Oh, shush. Can I have them?” She cracked the door open and stuck her hand out. “Oh, also, no knickers. I’ll be sure to wash them for you afterwards.”

Harry faltered mid-undressing, but then rushed to hand her his discarded pyjamas. “Don’t be silly.”

He threw a t-shirt on and got under the covers. Surely she’d seen men in boxers before, he was acting a bit childish. But he really meant it when he told her he didn’t want to make her uncomfortable in any way.

She emerged from the bathroom, all swaddled up in the too-large pyjamas and smiled sheepishly at him, then turned the lights off and joined him on the other side of the bed.

Harry flinched when he thought he’d heard her say something. Had he already drifted off to sleep? That was… definitely surprising. He’d had trouble sleeping ever since– “Did you say something?” He whispered, just in case he’d been mistaken.

“Sorry,” she whispered back, “did I wake you? I didn’t realize you’d fallen asleep. Do you always sleep on your back?”

“... Was I snoring?”

Y/N giggled. He smiled into the darkness at the sound. Everything felt so lighthearted and easy with her around, no wonder he’d fallen asleep. “No. But are you a snorer? Because if so, I might have to reconsider this whole arrangement…”

“Oh, shush.” He playfully kicked her leg under the covers, noticing she was closer than he’d gauged. “I think all that driving got to me, plus the adrenaline crush. What did you wanna say?”

“I just wanted to thank you… I don’t think I would’ve gone through with this without you, Harry.”

Harry smiled into the darkness again. He couldn’t see her, but her words really warmed him up. “Same here. Just don’t wake me up at 4am telling me you wanna uber back home, ok?”

She giggled again. “Hell no. You’re stuck with me.”

“...Good.”

Part Three

A/N: soooo. it's gonna be 3 parts, after all 😅😅 thanks to the lovely @freedomfireflies for beta-ing ❤️

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