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hereforthehitsbaby · 3 days ago

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Heyoooo, i just read your say it louder and im in love with that so much like holy, so i was wondering if you could make something kinda similar or something? like maybe logans chasing reader because she stole his cigars and they have a cute moment or something along those lines, maybe end a bit with or with smut? thanks so much babes!

Mine Now | DOFP!Logan Howlett x F!Reader

Warnings: Primal!Logan, Scent Tracking, Shotgunning His Cigar, Marking, Implied Smut, Reader is a Mutant who has invisibility, Enemies to Lovers because I’m a sucker for pain, Takes place at the very end of DOPF when Logan comes back to the future, Pain Kink, Breathing Play, Choking, Claws come out – I repeat the claws come out,

Rating: R – No Minors

Word Count: 4.5K

Author’s Note: Thank you so much for your request! This was a blast to write and honestly? It gave me a good excuse to write for DOFP!Logan! I adore you! 😊 Also completely unrelated side note….you did say you wanted smut, right??? Because I may, or may not, have spaced you said cutesy and went right to horny.

To be tagged in any future work of mine, please fill this out.

“Hank, have you seen her?” Logan asks, his voice layered with annoyance. You couldn’t help but silently snicker as you watched his brow crease, his nose twitch with frustration, his finger rapping at his side impatiently. The way his jaw ticked as Hank narrowed his own eyes at him made it impossible to hold your laughter, even when you were currently pressed up against the wall – a clear view of the situation going down. You pulled your lip between your teeth as you homed in on Logan’s features, eyes glimmering with rage. It was such a beautiful sight to see, one you have been dreaming of for months. Though you’d never openly admit it, everyone knew, all except him. You had to make the chase worth his while.

Logan Howlett is a force to be reckoned with, everyone told you that. When Charles and Eric first recruited you to teach with them in New York – you thought it was a joke, a cruel one at that. Living paycheck to paycheck in a hole in the wall Hell’s Kitchen apartment, dealing with constantly screaming and fighting from your neighbors, it wasn’t where you wanted to be. You were a survivor, you could adapt to anything, but after what you had experienced, you needed a fresh start. Working at a local diner, making shit for tips wasn’t ideal, but it was enough to help you save to leave. Where would you go prior to this? You had no idea, but someplace that experiences winter – you always loved the snow. But alas, that dreary November day a few years ago changed everything; It changed you. Meeting Logan on your first day told you everything you needed to know about him – he refuses to get close to anyone, you wanted to break that.

It's been three years since you first met Logan, two since you found yourself thinking he was cute, a year since you felt yourself falling for him, and six months since you started the cat and mouse chase. At first with how standoffish Logan was to you, you started to resent him. A year it took before that all fell to the wayside; Your feelings had shifted when you found him outside one night, crying as he smoked his cigar. Of course, your mutation left you able to turn invisible, able to watch him, without him knowing you were there. Through the heavy rain your smell was masked, he couldn’t tell you were there. But it made you feel closer to him; He wasn’t some robot who didn’t have emotions. He felt them too strong, which is why when he started to slip back into his mind, he pulled away. Being over 200 years old meant he saw some shit, lost people he loved, it took a toll on him after a while. That day forward you stopped keeping your distance, but instead made the effort to be near him, to show him you weren’t going anywhere.

Slowly you noticed how Logan started to open up to you, telling you stories of when he was young, his first mission with the X-Men. You got to learn a lot about The Wolverine, and come to find out he wasn’t a hard ass – he was sincere, doting, downright admirable. What he dealt with in his years fucked him up horribly to where he didn’t trust people easily – but it didn’t make him less. He always pushed forward and strove for success, to survive. He wouldn’t classify himself as a hero, but he was to you, and he deserved to know. Logan found himself trusting you easily after a year, his lonely nights stuck in his own head turned into game nights with you, strolls through the garden, getting a drink at the bar downtown. He could still be himself, but not have to carry the baggage by himself all the time. Falling hopelessly in love with him was inevitable, but also impossible. Nothing more could happen between the two of you and you knew that – but there was still a flicker of hope in your mind that wouldn’t quiet down. Especially with how flirty Logan had become with you.

Usually, he was like this with Jean and Storm, taking it up a notch with them so he could have the last retort. To say he wasn’t a ladies’ man was a lie, he could pull anyone he wanted to. To Logan it was a game, seeing how flustered he could make him teammates – and he loved to win. With you it was different – it wasn’t low growls and light touching on your arms, no, it was more. At first to started off to be resting his chin on your shoulder, letting his breath stroke the column of your neck. Slowly it moved out to touches; Holding your waist from behind, rubbing his large hands over your lower stomach, slipping his hands under your shirt to caress your hip. Over the last few weeks though, he upgraded to holding your face, running his calloused thumb across your bottom lip, stealing forehead and cheek kisses before heading out. Rogue and Kitty that you two were dating, even Bobby got in on it – but when you stated you weren’t everyone looked at you like you had six heads.

“No Logan, I have not.” Hank let his eyes pan to where you were hiding as Logan turned away for a moment, giving you a small wink as he played along. After all, this was his idea – well, his and Xavier’s. You had overheard a conversation about how Logan’s cigar smell had been wafting into their classroom’s lately – distracting everyone as Logan taught. Charles had the bright idea for you to nab them and hold them hostage, until Logan learned his lesson. You on the other hand, were far too gone to do that. Instead you decided to take the cigars, but make a game out of it. Little post it notes with clues on where you were hiding, you stored them all over his bedroom and classroom, thanks to Scott. Ever since Jean told you just how primal Logan could get, how good of a tracker he was, you wanted to test it out for yourself. What better way than take the one thing he cannot live without? “What happened this time?”

Logan huffed as he ran both of his hands down his face, coming dangerously close to propping his hip against your body. You had to shuffle slightly as he leaned into the wall, letting his head bounce off the wood a few good times. “Little shit stole my box of cigars.” He looked exhausted, frustrated, and downright sexy. Seeing how lost and irritable he was without them made you smirk, causing you to bite your lip harder to suppress a whimper. You noticed how Logan’s ear perked up as you gulped, his head turning softly. Hank noticed this almost immediately and replied with a whooping laugh. “Ha!” You sighed inaudibly as you silently thanked Hank, knowing he used his booming voice to mask your sounds. Holding one of his hands up to Logan, he snickered as he cleared his throat. “I’m sorry that was cruel of me. What I meant to say is, that’s funny.” Hank let out a small chortle at Logan’s distain, being met with a flash of a middle finger, and claw too. “Thanks, asshole,” Logan huffed as he pushed himself off of the wall, running his hand through his hair.

You watched him intently, thanking whoever was listening for making you have the power of invisibility. Being able to listen to everything going down, while Logan has no idea you’re here, made you feel powerful. You heard talks about how your power could be useful, but ultimately not threatening; Now, you’d beg to differ. Though you grew tiresome of the chase, being a fly on the wall versus a real player. It was fun the first two hours this started, but encroaching on hour six – the school clearing out and the sun almost set on the horizon, you grew slightly bored. “Have you tried the library? She likes to hide there.” Hank let out without hesitancy, making your eyes grow wide. It was like an aha moment for you, choosing the most likely place for last. Earlier it was too crowded, people would know you were there the second Logan came looking for you. But now with the young mutants either outside or in the city due to the upcoming weekend, you knew it would be vacant.

“I know her all too well, Hank. That’s the first place I looked.” Hearing Logan say that made your heart flutter, made you feel special that he knew you so well. A strong sigh left your lips as Hank coughed, dreamily staring at Logan as you started to walk backwards. Losing your invisibility for a moment, you stood a few feet behind Logan, walking towards the grand staircase that took you to the library. Waving at Hank, you motioned for it as you smirked, causing Hank to laugh. “You sure?” He asked, nodding behind Logan. As you stood closer to the staircase, you noticed how Logan was sniffing the air – his body growing tense as he spun around. It’s when he laid his eyes upon you that you knew he was fed up. It wasn’t the primal growl and heavy breathing that got to you, but the way his hazel eyes went from green to black in a split section, his chest heaving as he stared at you. “Oh shit,” was all you managed to let out as you turned invisible again, running up the stairs.

Everything was a blur to you, running as fast as your body could take you. Three flights to get where you needed to go seemed like forever, when you were being chased by The Wolverine. He had super human speed, a great nose for sniffing things out, he was at the advantage whilst you were at a disadvantage. Even with scent masking, now that you started to sweat it would make you more obvious, especially when the library was empty. Huffing and puffing as you managed two steps at a time, you refused to look back. But you could hear the stomps of Logan’s boots, clearly taking three steps to match you. Silently you prayed to whoever was listening, to get you to the library safe and sound before Logan got you. The last thing you wanted was for him to pin you to the stairs so everyone could see, that was too on the nose.

Reaching the top step of the library, you managed to sway your way through the wooden chairs and tables, giggling to yourself as you were halfway across the room. Due to the grand nature of the library, especially being two floors, it gave you so many good hiding spots. A circular room to see everything, yet hide in plain sight. As you made it over to the spiral staircase for the second level, you had noticed Logan standing at the entrance of the library, huffing and puffing. It made you snort, seeing how riled up he was. You had to admit, it was sexy to see how pissed off he was, causing a fresh wave of your arousal to coat your panties. Logan seemed to have taken note as he sniffed the air, his eyes cutting across the room straight to yours. “Come on out princess,” he growled, flexing his hands at his side. Slowly you crept up the metal staircase for the second level, taking one step at a time to not elicit any sounds. You let your breathing relax, slowing your heart rate as you kept calm, not needing to give yourself away. But Logan could sense you, eyeing the staircase with every move you made. “I got you now.”

A devilish grin fought to claim his mouth as he pounced over the tables, running on all fours as he landed right at the bottom of the staircase. You managed to get all the way up and around, leaving to the right. Multiple aisles of books covered upstairs, as well as the walls, each window let in the dusk light – showing dust particles roaming the air. Your tell-tale shimmer of invisibility was caught in the light a few times, but Logan was too lost to notice. Finding your perfect hiding spot away from prying eyes, you slotted yourself against the endcap of Psychology of Mutants, knowing no one reads these. You could feel the stagnant beating of your heart at times, wondering if it was due to fear or the thrill of the chase. Maybe it was the aspect of it being bittersweet as well; A years long chase with Logan finally reaching its peak. You knew there would never be going back from this, and that was okay. Stealing his cigars wasn’t the endgame, it was only the beginning.

“You can’t hide forever you know,” Logan snarled as he reached the top of the landing, huffing as he eyed every shelf. You could see him, nor did you want to, hoping to God he chose to head left instead of right. Alas you were sorely mistaken as his heavy steps started to echo right, causing you to curse under your breath. SNIKT, you heard the metallic sound echoing through the room, but also your mind, causing you to whimper. Logan had unsheathed his claws, holding them out. The idea of him using the claws on you, pinning you down with them, holding them against your neck made your body run hot, your arousal heightening as the thoughts ran rampant through your mind. “I will catch you.” It was not a threat but a fact, Logan was not kidding anymore. The animal inside of him was taking over, leaving the Logan you knew behind. This was all caused because you pushed him to the point of no return, and you fucking loved it. The reverberation of his claws against the wooden shelves made you shudder, knowing how close he was getting now.

Biting down hard on your lip, you placed your hand over your mouth, trying to regain control of your breathing. Being right across from the last window on the right didn’t do you any good, especially with the beam of light falling through. If you moved even a millimeter, you were going to be made. It’s then when you opened your eyes to pan to your left that you saw his shadow encroaching on you, his stance wide as his claws were pointed at the ground. Each gruff huff he let out made your eyes roll back, finding it harder and harder to keep yourself hidden. You couldn’t look away from him either, you needed to watch him; How the sweat beaded at his hairline, how his little tufts of hair were wild from pulling at them, how his snarl got more animalistic the longer he tried to look for you. “Where did you go?” You couldn’t describe how Logan sounded in that moment; Primal and animalistic do not even begin to crest.

You focused too much on his tone, completely forgetting your watchful eye on him. When you glanced back after trying to calm yourself, you noticed the 6’2 Wolverine was no longer walking his way towards the aisles but vanished into thin air. Not knowing where he was, made your heart rate skyrocket – panic ensuing all over your body. Goosebumps arose across your skin as you pondered where he could be, afraid to move in case he was lurking close to you. Maybe he went off to the left instead, leaving you by yourself to escape. It would make sense, considering how you heard the creaking of the floorboards on the opposite side now. Letting out a concealed breath, you slowly moved away from the end cap of the shelf, leaving your back exposed. You knew it was a mistake when the hot, stifling air of the closed space became ice cold, a shiver falling down your spine. The sun shifted away in that moment, blanketing the area in darkness, complete with only a sliver of light, not even to cast shadows. The second your back was exposed; All hell broke loose.

Two strong hands grabbed hold of your hips, pulling you back into a solid form. The yelp you let out was loud enough to echo, but not loud enough to raise suspicion. The strain on your powers had gotten to be too much, slowly slipping back into being visible. You huffed out as your back connected with his chest, your hands finding purchase on his muscular forearms. “There you are little mouse.” He snickered in your ear, pressing his nose to the pulse point of your neck. Logan deeply inhaled at the vein, his teeth barring to nip at your exposed shoulder. It felt good to have his mouth on you, to have him seemingly obsessed with your scent. After all, it is what gave you away. Whimpering out, you dug your nails into Logan’s arm, feeling the reverberation of his snarl through your body. You couldn’t speak, you couldn’t move – you were a lost cause. “What’s the matter, cat got your tongue?”

Logan was mocking you at this point, purposely being a little shit to mimic how you have been with him. When it came to his cigars, he wasn’t fucking around. But when he knew it was you who took them, well he wasn’t going to let you live this down. Logan moved from behind you, but kept his hands grasping your flesh. Moving to the side, he pressed your back against the end cap again, bringing you back to your original position. His right hand remained on your hip as his left grasped your neck, pressing against your pulse point, feeling the thrum of blood on your veins. The edges of your vision began to go fuzzy due to the restricted blood flow, but you didn’t care. Logan was putting you right in your place, and you were obeying so well for him. “I believe you have something of mine,” he murmured; His prominent nose pressing harshly against your cheek. The warmth of his breath on your skin, mixed with the cold drag of his claws against your skin made you shiver, loving how it felt too much. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You laughed out, clearly laced with thrill.

Logan didn’t take too kindly to you playing dumb, the tick in his jaw spoke measures. His grip on your neck was heavier than before, using his full weight to restrict your blood flow quicker, your vision developing black dots. “Oh, you don’t?” The challenged in his voice said all you needed to know – he was fucking desperate. There was no hiding it now, he needed you – not his cigars, but you. Gulping down against his large hand, you felt the press of his claws against the back of your neck, pushing through the wood of the bookshelf to lock you in place. He would never intentionally draw blood, or hurt you, but he knew this was your deepest fantasy, all thanks to Jean relaying it. His lips were inches from your ear as he chuckled darkly, groaning out against the flesh. “Do I need to jog your memory?” You shouldn’t have been as turned on by that as you were. Your knees buckled slightly as you almost fell, your eyes rolling back into your head.

Logan took advantage of your eyes being closed to pull his hand away from your hip. The loss of touch made you whine, but quickly you were quieted by his roughened tugs. Grabbing at the edge of your tank top, Logan ran his claws through the fabric to create slits, ripping them open just as easily. Looking down at your jeans, he could see the bulge in your pocket – where you had hidden a few of his cigars. A huff of relief fell from his parted lips as she cut your pocket open, letting them fall right into his hand. He mimicked your hiding and shoved them into his own pocket, moving on to the next. The cool breeze against your exposed skin made you quickly heat up; Logan using his claws on you made you lose your fucking mind. He repeated his efforts with your other side, making matching holes in his jeans and shirt, not caring anymore.

It was as the last few cigars rolled out of your pocket that Logan pulled back, his heavy body heat no longer suffocating you. The contact was missed, causing you to pout slightly. “Boo hoo hoo,” Logan mocked as he watched you, walking backwards to push his back against the window. The sill right below it was begging him to sit, so he took advantage of it. Reaching into his left pocket, Logan pulled out his Zippo lighter – flicking it against his pants to ignite the flame. It was intoxicating watching him, how effortlessly fluid his motions were. Biting your cheek, you watched him intently, his eyes never leaving yours. He pulled out the precut cigar from his pocket and pushed it between his lips, favoring his left side for it to rest between his teeth. Lighting the end until the cherry burned bright, he took a few quick puffs, blowing the smoke out in a cloud around him.

Your eyes could not pull away from him even if you tried, it was nearly impossible. The way he moved was like silk through the wind, so effortless and elegant; He knew he was hot like this. Taking another quick drag, Logan let the smoke fall from his lips as he tucked the cigar back in between his teeth, putting away his lighter. Reaching forward with his claws still extended, he hooked two of the blades into the belt loop of your jeans, tugging you forward. There was about a person’s space between the bookshelf and the window, making it easy for him to grab at you. Of course, your body obeyed his silent command, tripping slightly as you tried to regain your footing. Placing both of your hands on his thick, warm thighs, you licked your lips. The smoke being released from both the cigar and his mouth captured your attention, making it difficult to focus on what he was saying. The way his motions flowed were so smooth, it was impossible to say anything else to him.

Taking a rather large drag of his cigar, he puffed his cheeks out a bit to hold it all in. It took you by surprise, why he was holding it all in his mouth. Retracting his claws on his right hand, Logan grabbed at your jaw like a man possessed, pushing his meaty fingertips into your flesh. The slight ache of his possessiveness made your mouth part, a pained look on your face that you were lost in. Logan got close to you, his lips only mere inches away from your mouth as you whimpered. With your lips parted, Logan mimicked your motions as he breathed out. The soft, heady tendrils of smoke wafted from his mouth into yours, causing you to let them stir. Tobacco mixed with the sweetness of the wrap caused your eyes to dilate, boring into Logan with pure unadulterated lust. There was no mistaking it as he shotgunned his cigar with you, his smirk prevalent. “That’s my good girl.” He crooned, taking in your big eyes, the heat of your skin – basking in your glory.

You blew the smoke right back at Logan while he chuckled, licking his lips to wet them as he took another puff. There was something so intoxicating about how you reacted, it was like watching a painting come to life. From the first day he met you, he knew you were something else – he had to challenge you. Almost four years later and you’re still trying to get with him, he admired it. Finally, the silent love he had for you could be shown, but he wasn’t going to make it easy for you. You made him work to catch you, now you had to work to get what you wanted. “Get on your knees.” The command fell off of Logan’s lips so naturally you almost didn’t catch it at first. Your eyes glossy as you watched him, your brain not keeping up. Narrowing his eyes at you, he cocked his brow as he laid the cigar to the side, watching to see your reaction. “I’m sorry?” You questioned without realizing, your face slack with lust.

Reaching forward towards you, Logan grabbed your neck once more, this time yanking you so close to his face that you felt his breath waft over your features. “Get. On. Your. Fucking. Knees.” There was no hesitation in Logan’s voice as he stated his command, letting his face go rigid to show he was getting pissed off. “Don’t make me repeat myself.” You wanted to, every fiber of your being wanted to disobey him, make him angry so he was rough with you – at the same time you didn’t want to make him mad, not yet anyway. Nodding to him against his hand, you slipped down to your knees easily with a moan, pressing out your wet bottom lip as you gazed up at him.

Logan rolled his eyes as he grabbed the cigar again, pressing it against your lips. It’s when you take a drag of it that he pulls out, putting it in his own mouth once more. With his hand now free from holding his cigar, he quickly flicked open his belt buckle, undoing the top button on his jeans as you took the silent command to pull his zipper down. His erection was stiff against his jeans and left nothing to the imagination. He was big, he was hot, and he was fucking turned on. Watching you with a lustful glow in his eyes, Logan groaned as he watched you, never letting you have the last word: “You may have started the game princess, but I am going to finish it.”

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cuubism · 2 days ago

Text

now, this one got REAL. unfortunately. do you want some angst (+hurt/comfort +fluff)

cw burnout, depression, animal death

It started when Jessamy died.

Or.

Well.

Hob is pretty sure it started when Dream was a teenager, if not even earlier. But it comes to a head nearly fifteen years later, when Hob comes home from work and finds Dream sitting on the floor by the couch, Jessamy held in his arms. She is still. And Dream is equally still, equally numb, staring off into space.

Hob knew it was coming someday soon. Dream had had Jessamy since he was twelve, when he’d found her as a kitten by the side of the road and somehow convinced his parents to let him keep her, so she was not a young cat, and while her health had generally been good she’d been increasingly tired and wobbly lately. And cats didn’t live forever.

She looks peaceful, there in Dream’s arms. It isn’t a bad death for a cat, Hob thinks, to curl up in a patch of sunlight on the couch and just not wake up again. Not that that will make Dream feel much better.

Hob sits down beside Dream on the floor. Doesn’t say anything, but lays his hand on Dream’s knee. Dream just keeps staring off into the distance, one hand lightly stroking Jessamy’s fur.

“She didn’t come to greet me,” he says, eventually, when they’ve been sat there for some time. “She always comes to the door.”

“I’m sorry, love,” Hob says.

Dream sits there for a long time, just holding her. Later Hob helps him bury her in the garden, then Dream goes upstairs and buries himself under the blankets in their bed and doesn’t come back out for the rest of the night.

Later Hob will think, that was the first domino to fall. Even later, he will realize it wasn’t the first, but the last.

Dream was often seen as stoic. Unemotional. Hob thought so too, when he’d first met him. But he’d quickly come to learn that the real Dream was extremely sensitive and had simply learned to keep all of that inside and present a functional front to the world. And Dream was, indeed, exceedingly functional. Not just functional, Dream was brilliant. He’d graduated top of his college, and he’d gone to Oxford, and then he’d launched a tech company, and even published a novel on the side simply because he enjoyed doing it. When it came to standard metrics of success, Dream was one of the most functional and successful people Hob had ever met.

And Dream was crashing.

Hob comes home from work a bit late one day to find Dream slumped on the couch, face pressed into a pillow. The TV is on, but he doesn’t seem to be watching it. There’s a book on the table beside him, but he isn’t reading. He’s just lying there. Listlessly.

“You alright, love?” Hob asks, and Dream just shrugs one shoulder under his blanket.

“I fell asleep on the couch in my office,” he says, “so I came home.”

This immediately rings Hob’s alarm bells because Dream doesn’t do that. He doesn’t come home early from work. He barely takes a lunch break.

“Feeling ill?” Hob asks, perching on the couch beside him.

Dream shrugs again.

“Want some dinner?”

“I suppose.”

He’s barely looked at Hob. He’s not even budged from his sprawl on the couch. But when Hob gets up to get dinner, Dream reaches out, snags a hand in his sleeve, squeezes once and lets go.

Hob leans down to kiss his forehead, and Dream sighs.

Hob brings dinner back to the living room a half hour later, and Dream sits up with him and eats but barely says a word. He listens as Hob talks about his own day but barely contributes beyond brief answers to Hob’s questions.

After dinner he lies down with his head in Hob’s lap and goes quiet again. Hob is starting to get worried, but he gives him the benefit of the doubt. It could just be an off day.

Dream falls asleep in Hob’s lap, and then later gets up and goes to bed at barely 9pm despite how he’s normally a night owl.

“Dream?” Hob says, before Dream retreats to their bedroom. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“I am just tired,” Dream says.

Then he sleeps for ten hours and wakes barely early enough to get to his office on time. And doesn’t seem particularly concerned about it. Then again, Dream does own the company, and can hardly fire himself for being late. But he’s normally much more particular about it.

Then it’s an off two days. Then it’s an off week. Then it’s an off two weeks.

Hob comes home from work and, instead of finding Dream back on his laptop doing more work, or working on his novel, he’s just lying in bed with the covers over his head. Earbuds in, listening to music or an audiobook. I’m tired, he says when Hob asks. I don’t feel well.

Do you want to work on your novel? Hob asks. Usually cheers you up.

Dream’s novels are an escape from the stresses of his other work. He’d published the first one under a pen name so it would have no connection to his company or anything else about him. He’d been so proud when it hit the bestseller list.

No, Dream says. I don’t care. It’s meaningless.

Worry is starting to sit heavier and heavier in Hob’s chest.

Hob’s known for almost as long as he’s known Dream that Dream struggles with a latent, underlying level of depression, but it’s been well managed thus far and he’d thought Dream had found an equilibrium with it.

Apparently it was a much more fragile equilibrium than he’d realized, because now everything seems to have tipped and flipped over.

At first he thinks Dream isn’t doing anything about it. But then Hob learns that he is, and that almost feels worse, because now Hob doesn’t know where to even start helping him. Dream has already taken medication for years. He’s recently increased his dose and it’s done nothing. He already sees a therapist. He’s started going twice as often as he did before and still nothing seems improved. He hasn’t pulled away from Hob. He still curls up to him in bed at night, and lays on the couch with his head on Hob’s lap while they watch TV. He lets Hob drag him around doing things he thinks might cheer him, like walks in the park, feeding the pigeons, going to the botanical gardens to look at flowers. If Hob cooks something, he’ll eat, but he makes no effort to eat otherwise.

He goes, he does things, but he isn’t there. He’s checked out, distracted, and his smiles are hollow.

Hob watches him pick up books he would normally love, read one page and then put it down again. Watches him abandon the newspaper crossword puzzles he usually likes to do over breakfast after solving only one or two questions. Watches him get dressed in the morning, putting on his usual all-black attire with a mechanical precision that suggests he’s operating on autopilot and not thinking about it at all. He just doesn’t seem to care about any of it, and Dream normally cares so much about everything that it’s really starting to freak Hob out.

Hob asks him if he’s okay and he says he’s just tired. Hob asks him why and he says he doesn’t know. And the worst part is, Hob believes him. He doesn’t think Dream does know what’s wrong. It’s not just grief for Jessamy that’s doing it. Hob thinks it’s more that Jessamy was a tiny piece of a support structure that was far more meager than either of them realized, and now all the rest of the heaviness has come crashing down. That doesn’t mean Dream has the words for what any of that is, though.

Hob worries about him when he’s at work. He worries about him whenever Dream is out of his sight. He thinks about how relentless and intense Dream usually is and contrasts it with his current listlessness and he worries.

He thinks about Dream graduating university with honors while he built a whole fucking company in his dorm room and wrote the first half of a novel on the side, and he worries.

Dream had always made time for Hob then, too. And he always has since. Or maybe being with Hob was the sanctuary he carved out for himself amidst the whirlwind of all that he was.

Now more often than not Dream comes home and immediately collapses on top of Hob on the couch and doesn’t speak a word for a least two hours. Hob is just glad that, whatever’s going on, he at least isn’t fully isolating himself. He’s still coming to Hob for comfort, in whatever way he knows how.

The next time it happens, Hob messages Lucienne, Dream’s COO. In fact he does it from his phone while Dream is lying on top of him, and Dream doesn’t even notice.

Has Dream been alright at work recently? he writes.

Lucienne responds fairly quickly. She’s a bit of a workaholic, just like Dream. I am not sure he would want me sharing all his business without his knowledge.

Hob sighs. He supposes it’s fair that she’s protective of her boss. Lucienne. Come on. Please. I’m worried about him.

He seems tired lately, she writes, at length. And distracted.

Anything in particular going on?

No, if anything, we are in a bit of a slow down at the moment. There is not as much on our plates.

Odd.

Do take care of him, Hob, Lucienne adds.

Always will, Hob says.

He puts his phone aside, and pets Dream’s hair. Dream hums in pleasure, nuzzling into him. “Sweetheart. You want some dinner?”

“If you desire,” Dream says.

Hob’s not convinced he would eat anything at all if Hob didn’t push him.

“Come on, up, we’ll get something to eat,” Hob says, and Dream groans, but lets Hob maneuver him up, and sits placidly in the kitchen with the cup of water Hob pushes into his hands as Hob cooks. He is so placid, lately, in general. Hob is used to Dream being strong-willed and opinionated. It’s upsetting to see him passive.

All he can do for now, though, is take care of Dream as best he can. As he always does.

It hits a breaking point when Dream simply doesn’t go into work at all.

Hob is working from home that day, and doesn’t notice at first that eight o’clock has passed and Dream hasn’t left the house. At around nine he goes to make more coffee and realizes, suddenly, that Dream’s shoes are still by the door, his coat still hanging on its hook. So Hob goes to find him.

He finds Dream still lying in bed, not asleep, just sort of staring blankly at the wall, arms wrapped around himself. Hob lays a hand on his shoulder. “Hi, darling. You getting up for work?”

“No,” Dream says, flatly. “I cannot. I don’t want to.”

So Hob calls Lucienne to let her know Dream’s sick and won’t be coming in. He can hear her concern over the phone. Dream almost never calls in sick. If he gets something contagious, he just works from home instead of resting.

Maybe this is part of the problem. Maybe this is all part of the huge, looming cloud of pain that has apparently been covering Dream like a shroud for longer than Hob’s even known him without Hob ever truly seeing it.

When he puts his phone away and comes back Dream is still lying in the same position. Heart in his throat, Hob climbs into bed to sit beside him. “I told Lucienne you’d be out today,” he says gently. Dream turns over to face him, wrapping his arm around Hob’s thigh to pull close. That gives Hob some hope. That Dream still wants to reach out. “She was worried about you.”

Dream looks up at him solemnly. “And you?”

“I’ve been worried about you for a long time, darling. Talk to me.”

“I meant to go in today,” Dream says. “I have things to do. I suppose. But. I realized that I don’t care about any of it. I tried to remind myself how to care about it. But I could not remember. And so there was no point in getting up.”

“Perhaps you’re a bit stressed about it all,” Hob suggests, but Dream shakes his head.

“I do not feel anything about it at all. I think the company could disappear entirely in this moment and I would feel nothing but this... numbness. I ought to care. But I don’t. It’s meaningless.” He presses his forehead into Hob’s thigh. “I think it ought to scare me. But I don’t feel that either. I don’t feel anything.”

Hob breathes out hard. “Okay. Alright.” He pets Dream’s hair as he thinks. He doesn’t feel very equipped to handle this, but Dream’s regular therapy and meds don’t seem to be doing anything so he’s going to have to try. And if Dream’s regular routine isn’t helping then maybe it’s not his usual depression. Then maybe Hob can work out something to begin to help. “Maybe we need to take you on a very, very long holiday. So you can have a rest.”

Dream lets out a choked laugh, though when he speaks there’s no humor in it. “Hob. I think if I stop moving for that long. I will not get up again. So if you wish to have a functional partner, you may want to withdraw that suggestion.”

Hob feels his heart break in two. “What if I want an alive partner?”

“I am not planning to kill myself.”

“Recently it seems you’re well on your way to it, Dream.”

Dream is silent for a long moment, then says, voice cracking, “I am not trying to—”

“I know, I know, honey,” Hob slides down the bed to rest beside him, pulling Dream into his arms. “I know, I’m sorry.”

“I don’t know any other way to be,” Dream cries, pressing his face into Hob’s shirt. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. It’s okay, my love.” They have been together since university. He’s seen Dream go through bouts of depression before. But he’s never seen him like this. Fracturing at the seams. It’s frightening. “I love you so much, do you know?”

“I know.” He squeezes Hob close. “I do know.”

“I don’t care how functional you are,” Hob says, making a clear mockery of the word, and Dream laughs weakly. “I do actually like you, you know. You. Not Mr Great Tech Innovator.”

Dream groans. “Please do not call me a ‘tech innovator’ or I may have to actually kill myself out of shame.”

Hob remembers when Forbes had wanted Dream to be in their thirty under thirty issue and Dream had refused because he thought it was ‘stupid and self-aggrandizing’ and because he ‘didn’t put in years of work for the purpose of being on the cover of an insipid magazine.’ Hob loves this stupid idiot so much.

Dream doesn’t do any of it for fame. Hob doesn’t entirely know why he does it. He think maybe pouring all of himself out is the only thing Dream knows.

“When’s the last time you feel you got an actual break?” Hob asks.

Dream thinks about it. “Year 10,” he says at last. “I spent the summer holiday doing nothing but reading. It was blissful.”

“Dream, that was fifteen years ago."

“After that summer I was always working somehow. Doing advanced class prep work. Then university prep.” He gives Hob a sly sidelong glance, and despite the heavy topic, Hob internally cheers to see a bit of his humor come back. “Needless to say, I was not spending my free time partying when I was in school.”

No, Hob knew that about him. Dream is practically incapable of having fun. Even one of his supposedly stress-relieving outlets, writing, he’s managed to turn into a side career as an author. And Hob knows that, unless one is a verifiable genius, one doesn’t earn the perfect marks Dream had all through school without sacrifice. Hob had gotten good marks, too, but Dream had always been a step above.

And he knows Dream’s parents had always demanded utter perfection. Whether they ever rewarded him for any of it, Hob doesn’t know.

“Hey, darling,” he says. “You’re doing a good job.”

Dream whimpers, pushing his face into Hob’s chest.

“You’re doing enough,” Hob continues. “You’re doing so well. I promise. It’s all okay. It’ll be okay.”

“I love you,” Dream says. He clings to Hob, wrapping his arms around him, slipping one leg in between Hob’s thighs. “So much.”

It would be easy to feel insecure around Dream’s level of success, except that Dream’s love for Hob is so obvious. To Hob it is, at least. Dream cares for him so deeply, in his way, and he never acts like he thinks Hob is lesser for not being someone Forbes is pursuing for their lists. If anything, Dream usually discounts his own success, and is, generally speaking, obsessed with Hob and everything Hob does.

This is also a visceral reminder of the costs of this type of success.

“I love you, too, sweetheart,” he says, rocking Dream in his arms.

“I have been feeling. Somewhat unwell, recently,” Dream admits. “Increasingly so. I suppose I ought to be grateful, in a way, that my mind forced me to shut down before my body did.”

Hob’s not sure he himself feels quite grateful about it, but he is glad Dream at least recognizes the problem.

“We’ve just got to send you to the seaside for your health,” he says.

Dream laughs, genuinely this time. “Truly.”

“Get you a little break. It’ll help, I promise. You’ve just been over-working yourself, hm?”

“I do not think it is my current level of work that is the problem,” Dream says. “I think. I have been running so long. I simply cannot anymore. Effort, itself, is not a problem for a marathon runner. But duration eventually becomes exhausting.”

“I know. It’s okay. Might need a bit longer of a break, is all.”

“I do not know how,” Dream says.

“You let everyone else at work take breaks, don’t you?”

“I used to not,” Dream says. “Not enough of them. Until Lucienne made it quite clear that I was being unfair to them. I was not trying to be. I was simply… used to my own work patterns and did not realize the strain it was putting on them.”

“But you changed it,” Hob says. “You can change it for yourself, too.”

“Perhaps,” Dream says.

“Hire someone who can do some of your tasks and then give yourself a little break. Go somewhere warm and sit on a beach and drink sugary cocktails.”

Dream laughs. “I don’t know if my brain is suited to that.”

“Exactly why you should do it.”

“Will you come with me on this… health retreat by the sea?” Dream asks, some humor back in his voice.

“Course. I’ll take a sabbatical and go with you. But also. Do you think you might want a bit of time to yourself?”

“By myself?” Dream questions. “I do have time to myself. I am already quite solitary.”

“I know. But. Do you think you’d want a bit of extended time to just do what you want to do?” It would hurt, to be away from Dream for an extended period of time. But he wants Dream to have that, that freedom to be completely unburdened, to have no expectations, if it will help him.

“Hmm.” Dream considers. “Perhaps a bit. But I like to be with you.”

“I like to be with you, too, my love. Think about somewhere you’ve always wanted to go. And we’ll go. Or if you just want to rest here, that’s fine, too.”

“You don’t have to do all this,” Dream says quietly.

“I want you to be well,” Hob says. “More than anything, I want you to be well.” He kisses Dream’s forehead. “Besides if you don’t think I’m already imagining us on a beach—”

Dream laughs. “I see.”

“Come now, you want to see me shirtless, don’t you?” Hob teases.

“I see you shirtless every day,” Dream says dryly.

“Don’t you want to get extremely drunk and naked and fool around in a luxury villa?”

“What counts as ‘extremely’ naked?” Dream asks. “Taking off my skin?”

“Dream.”

Dream chuckles. “I do. That sounds enjoyable. I would like to leave my laptop at home and perhaps wander around a seaside village, drinking wine until I have killed all of my brain cells.”

“Now you’re getting into the spirit of it,” Hob says.

“Hob,” Dream says, serious again.

“Yeah?”

“What if I take a break,” Dream asks, quietly, “And then I cannot convince myself to go back?”

There’s true grief in his voice, but still Hob counters, “What if you take a break and you feel better?”

Dream smiles, faintly, Hob feels it against his skin. “Always the more positive attitude.”

“One of us has to.”

“But what if,” Dream continues, “I take a break and I learn that I never wanted to do any of it at all?”

This is a stickier question. “Why would you have done any of it, if you didn’t want to? You must have wanted to on some level.”

“I don’t know,” says Dream. “It is just what I’m used to.”

“Maybe you’ll want to again,” Hob says. “Maybe you won’t. Can’t we take it one day at a time?”

Dream lets out a long, aggrieved breath. “You are so nonchalant.”

“Thought that’s one of the reasons you liked me.”

“It is,” Dream says, sounding incredibly frustrated about it. “Yet I do not understand it in the slightest. You truly just… have faith that everything will work out regardless?”

“I have faith we can figure it out,” Hob says. “And that I’ll always have your back. That you’ll never have to work through it alone.”

“You are a wonderful partner,” Dream says. Then, “I would like to go out tonight.”

“You… would?”

Dream nods. “I would like to remember what it was like when we first met. And I feel sorely lacking in romance and I’m well aware it’s my own doing. I know it may not feel the same right now but I want to... try. And. I miss you. Will you take me out on a date?”

Hob is thrilled by this turn. “Of course I will. Are you sure?”

“Yes. Can you also tell Lucienne I will be out sick this week and then hide my laptop and phone somewhere I will not find them?”

Hob laughs. “Alright, darling. Get some rest for today, hm? We’ll go out for drinks or something later. I have missed you. I’ve missed seeing you cheery.”

“‘Cheery’ may be pushing it,” Dream says, with a small smile. “However. I would like to have sex tonight.”

Hob bursts out laughing, not at the idea, but at the absolutely flat way Dream says it. He really does have a way about him.

“It’s been too long,” Dream whines.

It has been too long. “Oh, don’t think I’m saying no,” Hob says, and slips a hand up under Dream’s shirt to feel up his back. Dream laughs, snuggling closer to him. It’s so good to hear him laugh.

“Anything you want, anything that will make you happy,” he says. “I love you more than anything.”

Dream leans up to kiss him, long and sweet, then collapses atop him again, as he has nearly every day for weeks. Except this time it doesn’t feel quite so defeated. It feels like it could maybe be rest.

#ngl this ended up more hopeful at the end than i expected #hob's really doing his job as sunshine boyfriend XD #hob as a character is such an antidote to my brain problems tbh #dreamling #my writing #burnout #cw depression #cw pet death

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loracarol · 2 days ago

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Went and saw Wicked pt 1 today and I just. Loved it so much.

(Somehow I managed to miss all the marketing / if there were any cast shenanigans, so this is SOLELY based on the movie itself and NOTHING else.) My thoughts, in no particular order (and with some spoilers ahead.)

My biggest fear was that the two leads would seem too old for the part, but they didn't.

I don't really listen to Ariana Grande that much? But her Glinda was PERFECT. She brought such lovely orange cat energy to the role; Glinda was so perfectly bitchy and stupid that it worked for me and I couldn't hate her, even when she was being The Worst (TM).

Also, both actresses have the "desperately trying not to cry" face down to perfection; Glinda in the opening song, trying to put on a brave face about "yes!! the witch is dead!!" but she looked like she was on the verge of tears the whole time? 10/10 no notes.

Whoever was in charge of doing the green skin did an excellent job. I don't know if it was CGI, practical, or a combo, but it looked really good IMO. They even gave her green freckles!!

THE DESERT FROM THE BOOKS.

BOQ IS FUCKING SPONGEBOB???

THE CHOREOGRAPHY. Parts of it were weird in a perfectly Ozian way! But others were gorgeous! Two scenes that got me were the ~Mysterious Stranger~ and Elphaba's mom and then Dancing Through Life esp. with the library. IYKYK.

Speaking of the library, I also liked the architecture.

It didn't feel too long to me? I was immersed the whole time, but that could just be me.

Idina Menzel and Kristin Chenowith have a cameo that is just beautiful.

There were several scenes that were shot where, if Elphie and Glinda kissed, I would have thought that was the natural progression of the scene BUT I also thought that Elphie had a spark with Fiyero which is good because 1. I'm an "Elphie has two hands" truther and 2. because if Elphie and Fiyero had no spark, that would be a problem in part 2. 🤣

(Like, they didn't fall in love which I wasn't expecting, but there was a spark. When they first meet, and she's going through her "yes, I know I'm green" checklist, "no, I didn't eat grass as a kid" is one of the things, and he's just like, "...I ate grass as a kid." Perfect. 10/10 no notes.)

I want to hold off my thoughts on Nessarose until part 2 and I see how they handle her, but there were several scenes were I thought, "you know, if she decided to go evil because people keep disrespecting her autonomy, I'd understand. I wish she'd focus on the people who were being disrespectful instead of being a despot, but like... I get it."

STOP GRABBING HER WHEELCHAIR.

I loved how they really put thought into how a goat would teach, with various foot pedals to operate his teaching equipment.

My Mom got actually sad about the lion cub. :(

Fiyero brought some "Chris Pines in Into the Woods" sluttiness. 10/10 no notes.

We need more Chris Pines in Into the Woods sluttiness.

The costuming in general made me Very Happy. I want the Shiz uniform, honestly.

Maybe I'll watch it again later and have Other Thoughts / more objective thoughts, but my first thought coming out of the theater was, "damn, this fucks."

I liked it a lot.

#wicked #wicked the movie #wicked 2024

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seitmai · 3 days ago

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As always many thoughts...

You laughed at his unexpected response as he ran his rough fingers along Rose's fuzzy hair. "Don't forget about the seafood platters." "Sweetheart, I'll never forget about the seafood platters," he promised, turning to look at you as his head sank back against the couch.

Of course he wouldn't 😅

"I am." His brown eyes remained fixed on yours. "I am. I told you I was. I want them close, but not too close. Like, I don't want them next door where they can hear me call you my filthy little slut or something." "Bradley," you said, laughing again as he took Rose in his hands to burp her. "They don't need to know the ins and outs of how you call me Daddy while you're gagging on my cock either." He kissed the baby on her forehead. "Sorry, Nugget. I'll teach you one day how babies are made, and you'll probably cringe the whole time."

Hahah this whole conversation cracked me up 😂

You couldn't believe how quickly he shut it down. "It was just an idea," you mumbled, watching him snuggle the baby. "So you wouldn't have to miss Rose the whole time while you're away."

Ok rude of Bradley, it was just a nice thought 🙄😒

You nodded and hummed, lips brushing the scars on his neck. "I'm just happy you remembered." "Sweetheart, I remember everything," he promised. "And I propose that we plan a trip for the three of us before the year is over. We can go anywhere you and the Nugget want."

🥰🥰🥰

"We'll be fast," he replied confidently, turning off the stove burner. "You're never fast! You like to linger!" "It's a new era, Baby Girl. The mom and dad era. I'll learn how to be quick so we can finish before she wakes up."

Haha I can't with him

"Oh, I love this so much," he whined as his other fingers found your clit. "I'm not happy about making this quick. I might need more later."

Of course he does 🤭

He could already hear Rose getting restless in the nursery down the hallway, her soft cries ramping up as Bradley slammed his cock into his wife. He wanted to make sure he got you off before he was done, but then you went and said something so hot, he knew he wasn't going to be able to hold on much longer. "I could always nurse you later if you want." "I take it you're interested in my offer." "Absolutely," he rasped, pulling his pants up so he could go say hi to his daughter. "If I ever say no to your tits, something is definitely wrong, Baby Girl. That would be your cue to take me out back and finish me off."

🤭🤭🤭

"When's the wedding?" you asked Jake as you dropped your tray next to his at lunch. He was eating the most delicious looking burger and a slice of pizza, and your soup and salad looked pitiful next to them. Seemingly no matter what you did, you'd stopped losing weight since the baby was born, and right now you were so exhausted, you couldn't even think about starting an exercise regimen.

Oh no, she is too hard on herself 🥺

"We've been engaged less than a month," Jake drawled, shoving some of the accompanying fries into his mouth. "Maybe some of us can wait a little longer to get hitched than your husband could, Angel."

Oh don't act like a saint Jake, we all know you wanna marry her sooner rather than later an if Cat had a buch of trauma and needs time because of that, they would have been married already 😅

Jake heaved a deep sigh, dragging a fry through ketchup. "He already calls me 'dad'. His speech was delayed, but it was still one of his first words, probably because I was around so much. I want to make sure Cat's ex doesn't get any rights, and if that means I need to hire another legal team before we get married, then so be it."

Dad Jake 🥹🥰

Maybe you could just get pizza. But you shouldn't. But it sounded so good as you watched Jake eat his. But your hips and belly were already so big, you couldn't let yourself.

Maybe maybe there is something else going on, hmm 🤭

"You look like a DILF."

He sure does 😌

"Be honest, how many of these do you think I'll need?" You snorted. "Unless every night is happy hour at the Copacabana, probably none. But knowing you, I'd pack at least two."

Hahaha this is so Bradley 😅

"This sucks," Bradley said for probably the hundredth time in the past hour. Standing at the curb at San Diego International Airport with a beautiful wife and a beautiful daughter, being forced to leave them for a week, was actually awful. He didn't want to go. He wanted to continue to cradle Rose against his chest with his arm wrapped around you until he missed his flight. "You need to go or you'll miss your flight. And then Mav will be on my case about it."

He just loves to be with his girls 🥰

Before he ducked inside, he cupped his free hand to his mouth and shouted, "I love you!" He watched you blow him a kiss and then pull away from the curb before he headed to the counter to drop off his bag.

🥰🥰🥰

To his absolute delight, all he had to do was ask nicely and flash his most charming smile, and he was handed the keys to a brand new, black Bronco. It was a model year newer than your red one back at home, and he was excited to scrutinize all of the little differences as he drove it around for the week.

He is living his best life 😅

Was he really that guy? Did he already miss his kid enough that he had to open up the photo gallery in his phone and scroll through a few pictures before he could drive away?

Yes, he absolutely 100% is

"Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw," she said, eyes snapping back up to meet his. "All the way from Top Gun. I've been waiting to meet you for weeks, Sir."

Oh oh this feels like trouble 😬🫣

Aim for the Sky Part 27 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley is required to travel for a week, and both you and he are exhausted. He's hoping this will mean fewer deployments in the future, but in the present, he's going to need to remember where his responsibilities lie.

Warnings: Angst, adult language, lactation kink, body image, fluff, smut, DILF Roo

Length: 3900 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Aim for the Sky masterlist. This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order.

Once again, your parents extended their stay to spend more time with Rose, but when they finally flew back to Maryland, it felt strange to be on your own with your daughter. You and Bradley fell into a regular routine once more, but it took him days before he came clean about being stressed out. When he got home late from work to find you on the couch feeding Rose, you could tell by the set of his shoulders that he'd had a long day.

"Can we talk about some things?" he asked, bending to untie his boots. You'd been wanting him to confide in you for days, but you were already exhausted again from the late night feedings and had pushed the comments Bradley made to Jake to the back burner.

"What's on your mind?" you asked, secretly pleased that he leaned down to give you a long, needy kiss, complete with his big hand on your neck, before kissing Rose as she ate. It had been a few days since you and he were intimate, and your body was already responding to him as he dropped down on the couch next to you.

"Can we just move to La Jolla? Nothing stresses me out when we have copious amounts of champagne and oral sex."

You laughed at his unexpected response as he ran his rough fingers along Rose's fuzzy hair. "Don't forget about the seafood platters."

"Sweetheart, I'll never forget about the seafood platters," he promised, turning to look at you as his head sank back against the couch. "Your mom and dad are serious about moving out here."

Your smile started to fade away. "Yeah, Roo. They are. And I thought you were pleased by that fact."

"Bradley," you said, laughing again as he took Rose in his hands to burp her.

"They don't need to know the ins and outs of how you call me Daddy while you're gagging on my cock either." He kissed the baby on her forehead. "Sorry, Nugget. I'll teach you one day how babies are made, and you'll probably cringe the whole time."

You sighed and reached for Bradley, cupping his jaw in your hand and stroking his mustache with your thumb. "My parents are seriously getting their house ready to sell. So just give it to me straight."

He nodded. "I don't want them over here all the time, okay? I love them, I really do, but they take over our house when they come. And even though we finished the attic so they could have a place to stay when they're here, Rosie can move her bedroom up there when she's older. So it wasn't a waste of time since the contractor saw your tits."

"It was a photo of my tits! I didn't just whip them out for him to see!" Now Bradley was laughing as you said, "It sounds like you're worried about having some boundaries if my parents become our new neighbors."

"Yes," he replied, nodding as you ran your fingers along his jaw. "That."

"I'm sure we can have a conversation with them and address all of your concerns." Rose seemed to be done burping, and you were treated to the view of Bradley cuddling your four month old against his chest. "Now, can you tell me what else made you have a bad day at work?"

"What makes you think I had a bad day?" he asked, placing soft kisses on Rose's cheek. "I could never have a bad day when I get to come home to my girls." You sighed as he ran his nose along her hair and inhaled deeply before he met your gaze. "Okay. It's not the end of the world, but Mav informed me that I need to take a trip to the Naval Airstation in Fort Worth. I don't really have any details yet."

"Okay," you replied softly, finally voicing what had been on your mind. "Well, maybe Rose and I can come with you for a few days? I can't remember exactly how much vacation time I have left, but it could be fun. And you did say the next trip should be for the three of us to enjoy together."

Bradley shrugged and immediately said, "Fort Worth in August? Baby Girl, it's going to be miserably hot. I know you, for some reason, miss the east coast humidity, but this is going to be gross. Ask Jake about it, he's from that ridiculous state."

You couldn't believe how quickly he shut it down. "It was just an idea," you mumbled, watching him snuggle the baby. "So you wouldn't have to miss Rose the whole time while you're away."

His head tipped back as he sighed. "I'm taking this new position so I can hopefully deploy less often and be here more later on. Even if I have to start working longer days, a week or two away from home is nothing compared to five months."

You bristled. "I understand that, Roo. We've talked about this so much. But maybe try to be a little bit more patient with the idea of my parents moving here so I can have a support system when you're busy?"

When you stood and rushed toward the bedroom, Bradley was right behind you, hand reaching out to grab your shoulder while he still held Rose tight. "Are you mad at me?"

Your stomach roiled with irritation, annoyance and disdain. You hated when you got like this, because he was the one who could bring out the best and also the worst in you. "I don't know."

-------------------------------

You were kind of quiet at home. Bradley hated it. You were a bit more vocal during sex, but that certainly didn't make him feel any better about the rest of it.

"I have my dates for Fort Worth," he informed you when he strolled in from work with some yellow flowers and a new book for Rose. Today was important to him. He wasn't sure you'd remember why, but he still wanted to acknowledge it.

"When?" you asked, continuing to make dinner while he looked around for the baby. "She's napping in her crib," you added, seemingly knowing he always wanted his daughter nearby.

"Second week of August," he replied. "So, pretty soon. But just for a week." You nodded as Bradley walked closer, and he realized what you were cooking. "Marry Me Rooster?"

"Yeah." Your voice was soft as you looked at him over your shoulder. You were also still wearing your khaki uniform, and he could tell you were tired. He was tired, too, but he wanted things to feel more natural around here again. He didn't want to accept that this was just how things would be now when the two of you were taking turns getting up with Rose all the time.

He wished he hadn't made such a fuss about your parents, because he really did love them, and it would be nice to have some help occasionally. And now he felt like you were continually annoyed with him, and he had to figure out a way to fix this.

Your voice broke into his thoughts. "It's kind of a special day?"

You sounded unsure. Like you thought maybe he didn't remember. But a smile immediately found his lips, and he gestured to the flowers. He should have known you'd remember. You remembered everything. You just made him a seafood platter to celebrate Carole's birthday the other day.

"I proposed two years ago." You visibly relaxed at his words as you took the flowers in your hands. He stroked the diamond ring on your finger as he said, "I couldn't wait another minute after I found this in the storage unit. I needed you to wear it. I needed you to say yes." You melted into his arms, and he kissed your forehead. "Can I go ahead and propose something else right now?"

You nodded and hummed, lips brushing the scars on his neck. "I'm just happy you remembered."

"Sweetheart, I remember everything," he promised. "And I propose that we plan a trip for the three of us before the year is over. We can go anywhere you and the Nugget want."

Your eyes lit up as he cupped your perfect cheek in his hand. "I have so many ideas, Roo."

"I knew you would. Can I make another proposal?" When you raised one eyebrow, he whispered, "How about we mess around before Rose wakes up?"

He was already wrapping his arms around you, turning you toward the hallway when you said, "But what about dinner?"

"We'll be fast," he replied confidently, turning off the stove burner.

"You're never fast! You like to linger!"

"It's a new era, Baby Girl. The mom and dad era. I'll learn how to be quick so we can finish before she wakes up."

This was the closest thing to a true quickie Bradley had experienced in a long time. Maybe ever. You were pushed up against the wall just inside the bedroom, belt jingling with your pants down around your thighs. He was going hard at a nice, steady pace with his hand inside your bra. Your warm milk dripped between his fingers and along his palm as he whimpered.

"Oh, I love this so much," he whined as his other fingers found your clit. "I'm not happy about making this quick. I might need more later."

"I could always nurse you later if you want."

When he came, his vision flooded with dizzying color. Bradley lapped your milk from his hand, moaning your name as his hips eventually slowed. Rose was wailing now as you bent down to pull your pants up, cum dripping down your inner thighs as you looked at him with a little grin.

"I take it you're interested in my offer."

"Absolutely," he rasped, pulling his pants up so he could go say hi to his daughter. "If I ever say no to your tits, something is definitely wrong, Baby Girl. That would be your cue to take me out back and finish me off." You laughed when he said, "Happy engagement anniversary. I'll go take care of the Nugget."

-----------------------------

"We've been engaged less than a month," Jake drawled, shoving some of the accompanying fries into his mouth. "Maybe some of us can wait a little longer to get hitched than your husband could, Angel." You rolled your eyes dramatically at him, but you were fighting a smile. "I'm trying my best to make sure that everything is in order for Jeremiah, if I'm being honest."

"Like what?" you asked, blowing on a spoonful of your soup.

Tears stung your eyes as you patted his cheek gently. You knew you were lucky that you and Bradley were together and that he would do anything to take care of his child, but right now you were just so happy for Jeremiah. "He's such a sweet kid, Jake. And you love him so much."

"I do," he replied before taking an enormous bite out of his burger. You let him chew in silence while you picked at your lunch. Right now, you really wished Bradley was here, but the chances of him showing up were slim when he was out shadowing Maverick again. He was leaving in a few days for Texas, and you were feeling pretty emotional. It would just be you and Rose at home for a whole week by yourselves.

"Well, if you're looking for a nice venue, I know a good parking lot."

Jake barked out a laugh. "There's too much sentimental Bradshaw bullshit in that parking lot. No way I'd be allowed to get married there."

Then Cat showed up, and Jake's attention immediately shifted to her. You poked your salad around on your plate, wondering why you were so damn tired. You still had four more hours of work to get through before you had to pick Rose up and make dinner. Maybe you could just get pizza. But you shouldn't. But it sounded so good as you watched Jake eat his. But your hips and belly were already so big, you couldn't let yourself.

Your afternoon was filled with checking code that someone in Annapolis had entered, and they'd done a really shitty job. When you left your office, your eyes were tired, and you could feel yourself caving. You ordered a pizza and picked it up on your way home with Rose. Then you ate half of it on the couch while you fed her. And when you were done, you really wanted to cry, because you didn't know why you couldn't control yourself right now.

"I'm starving," Bradley groaned when he walked in. "You got pizza?" he asked, shoving two slices stacked up on top of each other into his mouth and moaning. Then he dropped down onto the couch and polished them off while you switched Rose to your other side. "I need to remember to pack my dress blues for Fort Worth."

"Why?"

Bradley shrugged and reached for the next slice. "Apparently, there's some sort of reception for the aviators that are selected for Top Gun in the fall. I don't know how much sway I'll have, but I'm really hoping I can pick some good ones for the next generation of the program since I'm aging out."

"You're not aging out, Roo!" you gasped. "You chose a different career trajectory!"

"I mean..."

"Stop. You're not old. Don't even try to tell me you're old."

"I'll be forty soon."

"You're thirty-eight."

"That's almost forty."

"You look like a DILF."

He reached for the last slice of pizza, folded it up and ate it while he reached for Rose. Like usual, she curled up on her father. Her features looked so much like his, but he was always the first one to argue with you about that, so you said nothing while he chewed up his food.

"I need you to help me pack for hot as hell Texas. I'm thinking just shorts besides my flight suits and uniforms?"

"I'll help you as soon as Rose goes to sleep for the night."

Bradley took the reins for the rest of the evening while you tried not to fall asleep before the baby. That was much easier said than done, but at least Bradley supervised tummy time while Tramp licked Rose, and then he gave her a bath. He read bedtime stories and changed her into pajamas so you didn't have to, gently setting her in her crib before joining you where you sat in bed yawning.

"You okay?" he asked, brushing his lips along your cheek before heading to the closet to start pulling out clothes to pack.

"Yeah. I just wish I didn't order the pizza, because it's empty calories, and it probably made me feel worse and more exhausted in the long run."

"But it was delicious," he muttered, piling up some of his favorite tropical print shirts. "Be honest, how many of these do you think I'll need?"

You snorted. "Unless every night is happy hour at the Copacabana, probably none. But knowing you, I'd pack at least two."

"See, you understand," he muttered with a smile as you chose two of your favorites and handed them to him. It was strange watching him load things into a duffle bag for something other than a deployment or special mission. You knew exactly how long he'd be gone. You knew it was just for a week and that he could FaceTime you and Rose whenever he wanted to, but it still felt like you were sending him away.

"We're going to miss you."

He immediately tossed the bag onto the floor and joined you in bed. "Don't cry, Baby Girl," he whispered, swiping at tears you hadn't realized were already filling your eyes. "I'll barely be gone at all. And I don't even have to finish packing tonight. I can do it later."

You nodded and let him envelope you in his warmth. That's how you eventually fell asleep.

----------------------------------

"You have to go now so hopefully you can do this less frequently in the future," you whispered, voice shaky with emotion. You looked really tired, and Bradley knew you wouldn't get much of a break this week. That's why he'd arranged for Nat to check on you at home a few times whether you wanted her to or not.

"Count on it, Sweetheart," he murmured, placing kisses to Rosie's soft hair as her little fingers poked at the insignia pins on his uniform. "And I need you to be a perfect Nugget for Mommy. I'll call later tonight after I get settled in the barracks."

"Okay." Your voice was muffled as you buried your face against his neck. "I love you."

"I love you both," he promised, collecting his final kisses from Rose before buckling her into her car seat in the back of the red Bronco. Then he got a particularly filthy kiss from you that left both of you grinning before you started to shove him toward the airport entrance.

"You need to go or you'll miss your flight. And then Mav will be on my case about it."

He hated traveling like this, in his uniform. It felt like everyone milling around, trying to check their bags, was looking at him. He was only wearing it today, because he wasn't sure what to expect when he arrived at a base he'd only visited one time years ago. The last thing he wanted was to seem unprepared in front of an admiral, so he wore his khakis as a precaution.

"Lieutenant Commander. Where are you headed?" asked the airline agent when she looked at his pins.

Impressed, he replied, "Dallas-Fort Worth."

She took his duffle, wished him a good flight, and then Bradley slept for the entire time he was in the air. Maybe you weren't the only one who was exhausted, because the nap seemed to do wonders for him. He woke up feeling rested, and just as soon as he sent a text letting you know he landed, he was off in search of a rental car.

"Don't like the lack of a car seat," he muttered, tossing his bag onto the backseat where he was so used to seeing Rose's infant carrier.

Was he really that guy? Did he already miss his kid enough that he had to open up the photo gallery in his phone and scroll through a few pictures before he could drive away? Apparently he was, and it made him ache to be away from her. This was so much worse than going to La Jolla without his daughter, because right now, he had neither of you.

When his stomach started rumbling for dinner, he drove to the barracks and showed his identification, only to be told his room wasn't ready yet. So he went right back out to the Bronco in search of dinner. He knew the name of a tavern popular with officers in the area, so he typed it into his GPS and headed in the direction it told him. He had to laugh, figuring he was about to walk into the Lone Star version of the Hard Deck, but that's kind of what he wanted right now. Dinner somewhere that felt comfortable if not familiar.

"Oof." It looked like a dump compared to his bar at home, but it seemed popular, and he was hungry enough that it didn't matter. When he walked in, he took a quick survey of the space before grabbing an empty stool at the bar. He ordered your favorite beer and a sandwich and took his phone out, careful not to set it on the bar in case the owner was part of some sort of association along with Penny.

He tried reading an article, but he felt as though he was being watched. Bradley tried to ignore it, fairly certain he didn't know anyone on base here, but the feeling nagged at him while he ate. The twang of music playing on the jukebox was distracting, but not distracting enough. When he finished his food and wiped his mouth with a napkin, he picked up his bottle and drained the rest of his beer while he glanced around.

Then he saw a young woman in a flight suit playing pool not too far from his spot at the bar. Her bright blue eyes were focused on his face, and her lips curled into a grin before she bent to sink her shot. Her patches told him she originated from Virginia Beach like he did, and that her call sign was Indigo. As Bradley turned, ready to sign his bill and leave, he saw her approach out of the corner of his eye.

"Can I help you?" he asked, turning her way again with one eyebrow raised. She was attractive, even up close, and he remained silent while her gaze traveled from his face down to his chest where his name tag was displayed. Then she gasped in delight.

"Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw," she said, eyes snapping back up to meet his. "All the way from Top Gun. I've been waiting to meet you for weeks, Sir."

------------------------------

Well, I hope BG is having a nice time at home without her husband. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

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heeseungiez · 15 hours ago

Text

nothing i don’t have | pjs (1)

pairings! park jongseong x reader, ft. huening kai x reader

summary! it was supposed to be simple, you and jay would fuck whenever either of you felt horny — no feelings. but it was hard not to catch feelings where park jongseong was involved. so you took the easy way out: you ended it.

genre! texts, written fic, college au, love triangle (corner)

word count! 1500

content warnings! swearing, jay is delulu and jealous

author's note! toenze is my new roman empire... i don't think i'll ever shut up about it. also realistically i'm only posting this bc yolo since i have nothing ???

masterlist | next

It didn’t affect Jay anyhow, really. That you ended whatever the two of you had for another guy. Like, this was all just casual. And you still wanted to be friends which was exactly what the two of you were before… so not much had to change between the two of you. Other than, well, the lack of physical intimacy.

He didn’t care, really. It wasn’t like you were the only girl he hooked up with (you were) or that he couldn’t get any other girls, but… you ending the situationship was kind of exactly why he liked you. Because you understood everything was casual and there were no expectations, no feelings. The others, they always got attached.

And, look, Jay understood that maybe he was being too nice or whatever, but it was in his nature to help out when necessary, or to cook for people in the morning — it wasn’t like he made breakfast only for those girls anyway. He had roommates to feed, too.

You ended the deal because you had no feelings for him. Which was exactly what he wanted. So why the fuck did it bother him so much? And for Huening Kai, no less? The tall emo kid that barely spoke and people thought he was being mysterious or whatever.

What could you possibly see in him?

What did he have that Jay didn’t?

Jay let out a frustrated sigh and ran a hand through his hair, eyes still fixated on the conversation between you and him. So Huening Kai asked you out. And you liked him enough to say yes. That was certainly not on his bingo card. Realistically, he thought the type of guys you liked were someone like Sung Hanbin or Choi Soobin or… him. Not Huening Kai.

What the hell?

“What’s up? Someone steal your cat?” Heeseung entered the shared living room with a grin. Jay had to dryly laugh at the irony of his question since, in a way, yes.

“Nah. It’s Y/N,” Jay replied, trying to sound nonchalant. “Wants to be just friends.”

“Damn, got tired of you already?” Heeseung teased, but he knew not to go further when Jay’s scathing glare nearly burned him. “What did she say?”

“Huening Kai asked her out and she said yes.” Jay shook his head. You and Kai weren’t even dating yet, and you already wanted to be exclusive with him? Why? Who even does that?

“Oh, Kai? He’s got music classes with me,” Heeseung said with a grin. “He knows how to play like five instruments. He’s kinda cool. A band kid, too. Pretty sure he has a band.” Jay didn’t need to know any of that. Not yet anyway. And then Heeseung added: “I think he was planning to ask Y/N out for a while. I caught him asking around about her once.”

Jay clenched his jaw. How long had you been talking to Kai before he asked you out? Was it out of nowhere or did you befriend him before? Which gave him another reason to be upset because if you did befriend him before, you didn’t tell Jay anything. In fact, you hadn’t been telling him anything about yourself or your life for a while now.

Which stung.

“Kai’s a good guy. You should be happy for her.” Heeseung made a point, giving Jay a long, meaningful look. There was more he wanted to express, but chose to not push his limits.

Jay huffed.

Thinking about it, maybe he’d have actually preferred it if you were in love with him.

Upon entering the Sanctuary Café, you noticed that it was already packed. But you were instantly recognised by Taehyun, who greeted you with a bright smile and led you toward a table that was empty, save for your reservation. It was in front of the stage set up for live performances, and it occurred to you then that Kai’s surprise was very likely just that. He prepared a performance for you.

Your eyes widened as you stared at the stage. It had a full instrument set up for a band. Drums, bass, keyboard and an electric guitar. The sight of it made you think of Jay for a bit, but you shook your head and got rid of the thought.

This would be your first date with Kai. The boy who actually doesn’t only want to sleep with you, but also wants to do everything else that real relationships include. Like holding hands and hugging in public and being affectionate without being judged. (The things you wished you could’ve had from Jay.)

A group of three guys entered the stage, none of which were Huening Kai. They glanced toward your table every now and then with a knowing smile, though. You watched them set up their instruments — the guitarist, the bassist and keyboardist. But the drums were empty.

Because of course, he knew how to play the drums. He was a genius that never flaunted his skills, and the reality of it hit you just now. Huening Kai was a drummer — which was actually sexy as hell.

“Hello, everyone, welcome to the Sanctuary Café,” the guitarist spoke into the microphone with the largest smile. He had a cute dimple as well, and you thought he perfectly fit Kai — whenever he wasn’t closing in on himself. “I’m Kim Taerae, lead singer and guitarist of our band, Toenze. We’ve prepared a very special performance today because one of our members wants to dedicate it to a special girl.”

A round of awes went through the crowd. You looked around in hopes of catching a glance of Kai, but he was nowhere to be seen. Instead, your eyes locked with a person you did not expect to see today — at all.

Jay stood at the back of the café with Heeseung by his side, and you wished you could unsee him. Your heartbeat raced, and your mind felt like you needed to come up to him and apologise. But what would you even be apologising for?

“On my left is our bassist, Choi Beomgyu, and on the keyboard, you’ve got Han Yujin. And, of course, we’re missing a key member — the drummer,” Taerae spoke lightly, his smile hearable in his voice. “Some of you already know him from our previous performances, but for those who have yet to meet him — please give a round of applause to Huening Kai!”

Kai wasn’t even inside the café. He entered through the main door in a dark grey hoodie, the hood covering his face. The whole shop held its breath as he looked up. And when his eyes met yours, a smile spread across his lips. Taking off his hood, he revealed his face and carefully styled bangs.

From the pocket of his hoodie, he pulled out a bouquet, and when he aimed through the crowd toward you, your heart nearly melted. All thoughts of Jay being here, too, evaporated from your mind. All you could think about was Huening Kai, looking beautiful as ever, heading toward you with a bouquet of flowers.

“For you, my lady.” He knelt down to hand you the flowers, and you stared at him with wide eyes. Grinning, he winked before standing up and heading toward the stage, leaving you absolutely flustered and frozen in place.

“Hello, everyone! This performance is dedicated to the girl that didn’t reject me. It’s for you, Y/N,” he said into the mic jokingly, but there was a hidden meaning behind his words.

The memory of how he asked you out lingered, and you giggled. You could still picture him, approaching you with his hands hidden in the pockets of his jeans. And then he asked you, in the most embarrassing way possible, if you were dating Jay. The smile that spread on his lips when you said that what you had with Jay was only casual was an unforgettable sight, really.

“I can make you forget him,” was Kai’s closing argument, and the confidence with which he had said it sent shivers down your spine. You couldn’t possibly reject him then.

Jay’s glare was palpable. You could feel it at the back of your neck, but you ignored him. Why was he glaring at you anyway? If there were no feelings involved, he shouldn’t care about any of this.

“The first song we prepared for today is called Higher Than Heaven,” Taerae informed the crowd. “And the second song is Kill the Romeo. Hope you guys like them!”

Both songs were amazing, and both conveyed one pretty clear message: I’m better than him. You couldn’t help but laugh and enjoy yourself while Kai’s band performed. They were good — really good. And eventually, you even stopped sensing Jay’s gaze burning through you.

Naturally, you turned around to check on the spot where Jay had previously been. Except he wasn’t there. Instead, you were met with Heeseung, who shrugged when he noticed you looking at him.

“He left,” Heeseung mouthed.

#enhypen #enhypen fic #enhypen ff #enhypen x reader #park jongseong fic #park jongseong x reader #enhypen angst #enhypen fluff #park jongseong #enhypen jay #haia writes

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kigieri · 6 hours ago

Text

Resting Stars

Max Verstappen × Reader

What happens when you've reached your dreams and goals? Max Verstappen has just won his fourth world title, and before he has to race again, he shares a few moments with the most important person in his life.

A/N: Surprise fic! I had to post something for our man! Four-time World Driver's Champion! This was written very sleepily during the race, and I'm very happy with it. I hope you enjoy it.

This fic on AO3!

The flat was silent. She trotted into the kitchen after doing her morning routine in the bathroom. Max was already sitting at the table, drinking coffee from his favourite mug. He smiled when he saw her and she returned it.

His face was more contemplative than that of a fresh four time world champion should be. She made herself a tea, before sitting opposite him. "Are you still sure?" He looked at her and nodded. "Yeah, I want to do something else." She nodded too and took as sip from her mug. "Then it seems decided."

They shared a quiet breakfast before slumping down on the sofa. Their sleeping rhythm had been destroyed by Las Vegas, especially after the party they had had. Max had another race on the next weekend and there were still celebrations to be had and congratulations to be accepted, but for now they simply wanted to enjoy the peace and quiet.

"Are we going to get more cats?" She looked up at him from where she had laid her head in his lap. He shook his head. "I'm still going to race, just not F1." He looked over at the patch of sun where Donatello was laying. "When I'm old and gray and don't leave the house any more we can get more."

Silence settled over them once more, Jimmy jumped onto her stomach and rolled up, waiting for her to pat him, which she did. "It's going to be weird. Way weirder for you than for me."

He nodded his head. "Yeah, but I'm going to like it. Doing something else will be good." She looked back up at him from where her eyes had been focused on the cat. "You're going to miss it, even if you don't want to admit it."

He made a questioning face. "Won't deny that I'll miss it, but I'm going to enjoy doing something else, and I can always go back. Someone's bound to take me. But I don't think I will. I'll just enjoy life, racing, being with you, with the cats. Not a care in the world." She cuddled closer to him, if that was humanely possible, and let her eyes drift back to Jimmy.

Max looked down at her, thinking about the ring box that was securely hidden away between his Sim gear. Life would be very different, but he was more than happy with that. His time had come and gone, not in the eyes of others, but in his own. He had loved racing in F1 with his whole heart, but that heart beat for racing, not only in a single category, so he wanted to see more of the world, more of racing. There was so much to be explored, and he had reached his goals in Formula 1.

His retirement would surprise some, but not others. He would be happy with it, had made peace with it before he had voiced the idea for the first time. At this moment, while sitting with her head in his lap, looking out of the window into Monaco, he knew that this decision would change his life, but he also knew it would be a change he welcomed.

"Ik hou van je." His words were clear and steady and as she looked up at him her smile spread all over her face and her eyes were shinning. "I love you too." Max hand wandered over to hers, where she was stroking Jimmy, and squeezed it shortly, before also starting to stroke the cat. It would be a new, and very welcomed, part of his life.

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thehollywoodnecromancer · 2 days ago

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Oh thanks so much!!! <3

୨୧ weirdest dream you can remember

This is really hard to answer bc my dreams are fucking insane, like they have full plots w/ character arcs and proper conclusions and everything. My weirdest dreams would probably cover like three pages (I’m not exaggerating) so I’ll just go with the most recent:

I’m out swimming with two of my friends when one of them asks me to mind her cat. Fast forward to the next day when she brings the cat over, and I introduce it to my own cats. All three escape. I get mine inside pretty easily but my friend’s has disappeared. I find it in the backyard, where I also find three of my friends dressed as vampires, digging an impossibly deep well. I ask what the well is for and one of them says “It’s my hotel.” They then pick up the cat and drop it into the well, and start filling the well with soil.

When I woke up I was completely convinced for about twenty minutes that I was the murderer in Deadloch and I spent ages paralysed with guilt and fear, trying to come to grips with the fact I was a serial killer, until I suddenly remembered I was not.

And I didn’t even mention the vampire-themed carnival or the Museum of Ping Pong Ball Tunnels, which also made very brief appearances in the dream.

୨୧ random snack you love

STRAWBERRIES. I ate twenty-one in the space of an hour today, I think I might overdose. Strawberry overdose would be a good death I think.

୨୧ last movie you watched + rating

Juno!! 9/10 I loved it so much. Everyone thank Diablo Cody for existing.

୨୧ favourite fictional characters

At the moment… Lottie Matthews (Yellowjackets), Drusilla (Buffy the Vampire Slayer), Anne Shirley (Anne of Green Gables) and Lestat de Lioncourt (Interview With the Vampire). I would like to clarify that unlike the other three I despise Lestat. I hate him I hate him I hate him. That being said… he is a queen, an icon, the dramatic bitch to end all dramatic bitches, so I love him just as much as I loathe him.

୨୧ vanilla or chocolate?

I’m gonna have to agree with prev too, vanilla as a scent but chocolate as a flavour.

No pressure tags: @virgoactias @thepiedcurrawong @someone-kill-the-ej @camilliasinensis @ifr1t and anybody else!

tag game ⊹₊⟡⋆

hello angels ⁠♡⁠♡ i decided to do a tag game bc i haven't done one in a long time and they're always really fun imo !!

───────────────୨ৎ──────────────

౨ৎ weirdest dream you can remember:

i was in a tim burton movie and got kidnapped by a vampire which was my bsf, then had to marry him bc i had wings and he liked them, then ate gum and died bc it was poisoned (there were def weirder ones but i can't recall them rn)

౨ৎ random snack you love:

joghurt with banana, peanut butter and chocolate omggg and watermelon with chips i swear it's really good !!

౨ৎ last movie you watched + rating:

juno: 9.5 out of 10 i loved ittt !! >ᴗ<

౨ৎ fav fictional character(s):

atm im especially obsessed with cassie ainsworth and pearl although there are a looot more !!

౨ৎ vanilla or chocolate?

i can't decideee myself ahhh

───────────────୨ৎ──────────────

i know you have to write quite a bit but i hope some people out there enjoy this and i personally always love reading how y'all fill these out ^^

no pressure tags: @sneeky-bean @cupcakee10 @ppingloryhole @moonysprettypoison @delicatesleep @cinnamorwll @daintydoll13 @yourpinkdollyprincess + anyone who would like to join ofc ᯓ★

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possessiveandobsessive · 3 days ago

Text

A Cat for Her Crow

Pairing: Lucanis x fem!Rook

Synopsis: Lucanis Dellamorte has a soft spot for two things: cats and a certain red-headed elven mage that goes by Rook

We've reached the end! This is the final part of this story! I hope you all enjoy!

Part 7: The Rook, Her Crow, and His Demon

When Lucanis's gaze next met hers again, his eyes were Spite's. She grinned at him, "Hi Spite. Lucanis said you wanted to talk to me too?" Spite curled Lucanis's mouth into a twisted, devilish grin that belonged to Spite alone.

"Rook is ours now? Rook will stay with us? That's what she said. Yes? That's what Lucanis said." Spite sounded relieved, but within that relief, there was a fearful questioning. He wanted to believe her. Lucanis needed Rook, and Spite liked Rook too. She was his favorite. She didn't treat him like a dog, or like he was evil. Rook treated Spite as another individual and Spite had never experienced that with another human. He couldn't love Rook the same way Lucanis did, but he loved her the way a Spite demon could. He'd kill anyone who hurt her. So yes, he realized that he, a demon tethered to a human soul, was afraid of losing this woman too.

Rook smiled warmly at his eager questions. Right now, he reminded her more of a puppy than a Spite Demon. She was no fool though. Rook heard the hint of fear, of anxiety in his tone. Spite was afraid of losing her too. The thought made her sad, but she understood it. She had been afraid too, so afraid she almost didn't say what she felt. Rook needed Spite to understand she wasn't going anywhere, and that her loyalty lay with them.

"Yes Spite. My place is at both your sides. I'm not going anywhere." She shot him another grin and winked, "I'm not scared of the big, bad Spite Demon." Rook then became serious again, "I couldn't hurt Lucanis. Not if my life depended on it. Betraying him, losing him, is the worst fate I can imagine." Spite's already glowing purple eyes lit up even more in response. Lucanis's/Spite's expression morphed into a much gentler one. When he smiled, it was warm. This wasn't the smile of a calculating demon, this smile conveyed love.

"Rook saved us. Saved him. He needs you. Needs your strength. Spite likes Rook too. Rook is powerful and her soul burns brightly. Kills well. And smells good. Rook sees Spite, not just a demon. Not just Lucanis. Spite will protect Rook always. Nothing will harm her. Rook is Lucanis's heart."

It was the most she had ever heard Spite speak at one time, and it floored her. Spite was so much more than a demon now. He and Lucanis were connected by more than just the standard possession/blood magic that was common for mages turned abominations. The two of them shared a soul now. Their souls that existed independently before, now were twisted and wrapped around each other so tightly, it was hard to tell where one began and the other ended. Spite was influenced by Lucanis's humanity, and Lucanis by Spite's overwhelming and raw emotion. Neither of them could truly control the other. Together they experienced life and its challenges. Together they protected one another and the things they loved. They existed as one being now, something new. Rook couldn't deny that fact, just as much as she couldn't deny that she loved Lucanis. They were all in this together, in a way no one else could, or needed to understand.

Rook put her hand on one of Lucanis/Spite's cheek and Spite made a low sound from his throat in response and leaned into her touch. He looked completely at ease.

"Feels nice." Spite said closing his eyes. "Thank you Rook."

A moment later when those eyes re-opened, they were Lucanis's beautiful brown ones again. So much emotion swirled behind them, and Rook swore if she looked closely enough, she could see tiny flecks of purple flashing within them.

Upon seeing that it was once again Lucanis she was holding, she put her other hand on the other side of his face and pulled him in to kiss her. Finally. They both sighed and prepared to deepen the kiss when an indignant "mew!" came from Lucanis's single bed behind the pair. They separated and Lucanis turned to look at the irritated looking kitten sitting on the edge of the bed. She looked judgemental and very unimpressed with what she saw. The black tuft of hair mewed again and stretched before sitting back down and staring at them. Her tiny tail flicked in annoyance at being forgotten.

Lucanis chuckled in disbelief. "She is an odd kitten that's for sure. Look at how irritated she looks." His smile said he wasn't bothered in the slightest.

"You're going to have to hold on little one, I have to clean up the mess you made of poor Rook's skin first. Then we can get more acquainted, and I'll find you some food."

Rook laughed at how seriously he spoke to her, like she was another person. He really was special. She had gotten lucky at last. "Luck turns kid, you just have to be patient and keep going until it does." More of Varric's wisdom came into her mind. He was never wrong it seemed.

Soon her hands, wrists, and the spot on her neck were cleaned and bandaged. It had been so long since someone had tended to her so reverently. Rook felt like she was home. She hadn't had one of those since she was a child living with her clan and her grandmother. It made her chest ache in the best and worst ways, but she knew her grandmother would approve of her new haven. "Mar vhenan juver ma vhenas, ma' esha'lin" Your heart will take you home, my child.

Lucanis finally turned back to the kitten with his hands on his hips and then bent down to pick her up. At this point, Rook was not shocked to see that the kitten didn't put up even a little bit of a fight, but instead settled into Lucanis's hold right away. She was purring in seconds. What did surprise Rook, was Lucanis bringing the kitten towards her and grinning.

Rook took an involuntary step back, that kitten was fast and not afraid to use its weapons on her. Lucanis laughed lightly and assured Rook, "I'm not going to let her get you mi corazón, but she's going to have to understand that you are always going to be at my side. She needs to learn to be nice to the one holding my heart." The last part was spoken while giving the tiny black fluff ball a sidelong glance.

Lucanis took the last step to close the distance between them. Now the kitten was a foot away from her, still pressed into Lucanis's chest. A single violet eye opened and narrowed at her, but before the kitten could do anything hateful, Lucanis began speaking to her lowly in his native tongue. While he did this, he slowly moved Rook's hand to rest on her the soft black fur. Keeping his own on top of hers, Lucanis and Rook petted the kitten in unison. Rook tried not to look wary, but she was pretty sure she was failing based on Lucanis's encouraging look. Soon enough though, that suspicious little eye closed again and the tension seeped out of her little body. The kitten began to purr contentedly, seemingly having accepted Rook's touch. Rook looked at her and then to Lucanis in wonder.

"That was amazing!" She whisper yelled, "She hated me so much and then you got her to let me pet her! She's purring Lucanis!" Rook beamed triumphantly and continued to gently stroke the baby in Lucanis's arms lovingly.

Lucanis smiled warmly. "I just had to explain to her who you were and that you brought her to me. She knows now that you're my equal, my partner. The Little Talon will not hurt you again."

"Little Talon?" Rook asked, eyebrows going up.

Lucanis's smile became a grin, and he then said, "Well her name is Talon, she is just also little right now. How could she be anything but Talon with how you showed up here? She's already taken on someone who's planning to kill gods." He chuckled before adding, "She's got the fiery spirit of one destined to be a Talon, and she belongs to a Crow. So she is a Talon. Our Talon." Lucanis looked incredibly proud of himself for the name, so much so Rook had to force herself to swallow the laugh that built up in her throat. He deserved this moment.

Rook smiled gently at the kitten one last time before pulling Lucanis into another kiss, this one chaste, but carrying a promise. They stood together for a moment; forehead to forehead, eyes closed, with a kitten pressed between their chests. Rook and Lucanis both knew what was still to come. They both knew that the danger was high, and that, for the moment, this bliss was temporary. The fight to come would mean death for many, and they'd have to fight hard to protect the people they loved. So they cherished their moment of peace. All 3 of them.

Later that night when Rook returned to her room, she was startled to see it now contained a bed big enough for two adults (and a kitten). She just smiled. Lucanis was going to throw a fit when she told him he couldn't stay in the pantry anymore, but after tonight, she didn't think he'd really mind sharing her space.

* * *

Lucanis had never felt so well rested in his life. The past few nights he had slept completely through the night. A full 7-8 hours per night! No Spite takeovers, no sleep walking, just sleeping next to his love and with his new baby curled up top on his chest. It was astounding and so relieving to be able to sleep. When he was preparing to head out with Rook and Davrin that particular morning, he decided to ask Spite about it.

"Spite" Lucanis called. In the mirror he was staring into as he strapped on his blades, he watched his own eyes go purple.

"Yes?"

It was still incredibly disconcerting to see his own mouth move in the mirror without being the one to speak the word. "How come you haven't been trying to get up and go somewhere the past few nights? Do not get me wrong, I'm grateful and I need the sleep. But you used to always try to get out and run around while I slept, even after we came to our new agreement. You were so eager to get out, explore, and no doubt cause panic, why is now different?"

Spite stared back at him in the reflection for a moment before surprising Lucanis with his response, "Can't wake The Talon. Or Rook. But We can't move to get up without waking The Baby Talon. Baby Talon needs rest." He paused, "And Spite likes being with Rook. She is comfortable. Don't want to go anywhere without her, and Rook sleeps. So Spite stays here. Makes us feel... home."

Lucanis stared at the mirror in blank shock. Spite wasn't getting up to cause mischief because... he didn't want to wake the kitten on Lucanis's chest? And because Rook felt like home? Actually, he couldn't fault him there. Lucanis wouldn't want to disturb his kitten either, and Rook WAS their home.

Shaking his head ruefully, Lucanis just said, "Thank you Spite. You're exactly right."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Epilogue: Mar Vhenan Juver Ma Vhenas

It was finally over. All stories have an ending, and this one was no different. The blighted Gods were dead. The impossible had been achieved through the combined strength, effort, and lives of the many people who had taken up Rook's cause. The Crows, The Veil Jumpers, The Mourn Watch, The Lords of Fortune, The Grey Wardens, and the Veilguard had all stood together in the face of a power that without all of them, they couldn't have hoped to match. Together though, they brought down a god, his army, and his Archdemon, saving the world as they knew it. And Rook, together with the Inquisitor and Mythal had gotten through to the Dread Wolf. Convincing him to put it right, the three women got Solas to tie himself to the Veil. He would keep the Veil between worlds, what he once viewed as one of his greatest regrets, in place and protecting the people of Thedas for the rest of time. Fen'Harel acted for the better of the new world and her people, not for the one lost to the ages and struggles of thousands of years passed. The Dread Wolf came through in the end, as the Inquisitor and Varric both knew he could.

As for Rook, she was just grateful the dark times were over. She'd lost so much. Varric, Harding, and so many she once knew died fighting for this cause. "Whatever it takes", they'd all agreed. For some, it truly took everything. The losses were agonizing at first, especially in the days immediately following the final battle. Rook had to send many letters notifying Harding's family and loved ones as well as Varric's friends that they had made the ultimate sacrifice for the sake of Thedas. There were tear stains on the pages, evidence of how much the words pained Rook to write down. It made it all too real. But it was real. Rook knew now better than ever, that holding onto regret and hiding from the truth only trapped a person in grief and pain. She had too much to live for to do that to herself.

Lucanis and Spite had been there when the battle finally ended and Solas finally made ammends. She was immediately pulled into a crushing hug when the dust settled and the quiet calm fell over the scene of death and destruction.

Lucanis had said her name over and over again as he held her, his voice full of relief and reverence. "We did it Rook." he said, finally pulling away enough to look her in the eyes. "You did it mi amor. You saved the world." Lucanis had never been so grateful in his life. He thanked every god, spirit, demon, and power above he could think of. They had made it. She had made it. He could feel Spite's relief and pride in his chest. Our Rook killed a god. Saved the day. Saved everyone. Spite thought to Lucanis before pausing and adding in a grumble, Wish she'd killed the Dread Wolf though....

Lucanis understood Spite's resentment of Solas. The Wolf had betrayed, trapped, and hurt Rook. At the same time, didn't everyone deserve a chance at redemption? Rook had given them one, after all. An assassin and a demon.

Rook pulled him from his reverie when she spoke, "It's... it's over. It's over, and we're alive. We're both alive, and Elgar'nan is dead." Her voice was full of wonder as she said these words slowly, as if she was trying them out.

Lucanis pressed his forehead to hers and put his hand on the back of Rook's neck, holding her gently but firmly in place. "We made it Rook. Or should I say, God Killer." Rook let out a surprised laugh at his statement.

"I guess you're right, we're both God Killers now."

* * *

When they arrived back to the Lighthouse, Rook was exhausted. It ran so deep, she felt it in her bones and blood. Now was not the time for just rest though. The remaining members of her team and herself had just survived the impossible. Everyone was prepared to celebrate, but each in their own ways. There was too much grief in the air for a party, for drunk songs and memories. So they broke off to bask in the fact they were all alive in the well-deserved quiet peace of their Lighthouse.

Rook and Lucanis headed for Rook's room to change out of their bloody armor and get clean. Once this was done, they both laid on her bed together. Talon was asleep on their discarded clothing in the corner, (she was too good for the bed Lucanis had gotten her apparently as it lay unused on the nightstand beside the bed.)

Lucanis was laying on his back with one arm behind his head and the other wrapped around Rook, who had her head on Lucanis's shoulder with an arm slung across his chest. At first they just laid there in silence. The easy way in which they held each other felt like a miracle by itself. After several minutes had gone by, Rook propped herself up on the arm not currently across Lucanis's chest.

"I love you Lucanis. You know that right?" Rook spoke quietly, looking him directly in his eyes. "Now that this is all over, I'm not sure what's next. What I know for certain, is that where you go, I go. I will follow you to the ends of the earth and fade Lucanis. That's my promise."

Lucanis swore he had never loved anyone as much as he loved the woman in his arms. "We can decide together what happens next. The Crows have named me First Talon, but if that isn't the future you want, then we can choose another path. I won't go into a future that you don't want mi vida. You and Little Talon, you're my family."

Rook smiled at him and leaned down, silencing him with a passionate kiss. She pulled away for a moment, just long enough to say the words she had wanted to say for weeks. "We have all the time in the world, love. So let's take tonight for ourselves." She looked up at his face through her lashes, "Show me how much you love me. Make me yours, and tell me with more than words that this is forever."

Pupils completely blown out and eyes holding nothing but love and want, Lucanis groaned and brought her head back down to capture her mouth. He flipped them so that he was now on top of her, before leaning down to whisper in her ear, "It's a good thing we have the rest of our lives, because showing you just how much I love you is going to take awhile."

When she looked at him as he pulled away from her ear, she could see his eyes were an enchanting mix of warm brown and striking purple. "You're mine Rook. Now and forever" "Ours forever".

It was a promise kept, until their hearts stopped beating. Until the sun exploded and the world became dust. They belonged to each other, and there was no power in existence that could change that.

The End

I hope everyone enjoyed this little story! I definitely enjoyed writing it! Thank you to anyone who read the whole thing!

Part 1 here

Part 2 here

Part 3 here

Part 4 here

Part 5 here

Part 6 here

#dragon age the veilguard #lucanis dellamorte #veilguard spoilers #datv spoilers #spite dragon age #lucanis x rook #dragon age the veilguard spoilers

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deadboydetectives-confessions · 1 day ago

Note

Maybe this'll be really unpopular (guess that's what this blog is for lmao), but with all the new spoilers dropping I'm starting to get a little glad we didn't get season 2. I'm sure they'd do everything really well, and I'd love to see the gay bar episode, but bringing back Esther and the Cat King? I had such a visceral negative reaction to both those pieces of news.

To explain myself: I think there is a massive problem in series', across a lot of different types of media, of having recurring villains, people who come back just because no one can be bothered to think up a new villain, and it ruins a lot of things for me. Imo Esther was really well dealt with in season 1; considering she'd technically immortal, I think they got rid of her really neatly and in such a beautifully appropriate way. She's being punished by the goddess whose gift she used to feed hundreds of little girls to her giant snake. That's such a wonderful ending. It's fanfiction's job to bring her back over and over, just like it's fanfiction's job to put Edwin in Hell over and over; it's the show's job to come up with a new villain.

I very much don't ship Catwin - I like the Cat King as a character but I am very strongly against the ship for reasons I have given before (the Cat King's loneliness means he needs friends, not a boyfriend, and I don't think it would set a good precedent for Edwin's future relationships to sleep with the guy who tried to coerce him into sex) - so that might be colouring my thoughts against his reappearance in season 2, but I just... I think he's served his purpose with the Agency. Maybe a spin-off or something about him, Monty, and Tragic Mick making friends and dealing with the fall-out from Esther's end would work, but I don't want him becoming part of the Agency or even really interacting with them much because, to me at least, it would just feel forced.

And also, it just feels like both Esther and the Cat King are very rooted in Port Townsend. They've been there for centuries. And now that Niko has 'died' and Jenny's considering moving to London, there's no reason for the Agency to ever go back there. I know a lot of people are attached to Port Townsend as a location because that's most of what we see in the show, but I'd love to see the Agency in London, where they've been already for years. They must have quite a large network of supernatural acquaintances, if not friends, in the UK and I think it would be a shame for the show not to properly explore all the potential that has.

Overall, I don't know. I think Dead Boy Detectives is an amazing show that deserves to have loads of seasons exploring lots of different characters and locations, and the number of characters that feel like they should have been a one-off in the first season but were apparently going to come back in season 2 suggests to me that it was only going to get one or two seasons anyway.

#confession #dbda #dead boy detectives

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jeonsblackgf-writes · 2 days ago

Text

Hellfire’s Sweetheart | Eddie Munson

summary: the hellfire crew doesnt believe eddie has a girlfriend, he’s more than happy to prove them wrong.

warnings: none

word count: 2,758

pairing: Eddie Munson x black!reader

———————————————————————

Eddie Munson was used to being underestimated. It was practically his life’s anthem. He’d stroll into Hawkins High with his ripped jeans, devil-may-care attitude, and unapologetic love for all things metal, drawing sneers and whispers from teachers and students alike. But there was one thing—no, one person—that would forever remain his greatest triumph: you.

You, the radiant valedictorian of Hawkins High. You, with your perfectly coiled hair and easy, confident smile that left everyone either intimidated or in awe. You, who exuded grace and brilliance in ways that seemed untouchable. And yet, despite all odds, you were his.

And nobody knew.

It wasn’t that Eddie wanted to keep you a secret—not really. But it was easier this way. People would laugh. People would assume it was some elaborate joke. People—most notably his Hellfire Club crew—would never, ever let him hear the end of it.

So, for months, Eddie kept you tucked away in the sacred corners of his world, sharing clandestine dates at the diner, playing mixtapes for you in the van, and sneaking kisses in the woods where no one could see. It was bliss. It was magic. And it drove him insane to hear his friends tease him about his “imaginary girlfriend” every time he so much as mentioned you.

“I’m telling you,” Eddie groaned, throwing his head back in exasperation during a Hellfire Club meeting, “she’s real.”

“Sure she is,” Dustin snorted, stacking his dice in a neat pyramid. “And I’m dating Princess Leia.”

The room erupted in laughter.

Eddie glared at the group, his ringed fingers drumming against the dungeon master’s screen. “You little heathens wouldn’t know real love if it hit you upside the head.”

“I mean, c’mon, Eddie,” Mike chimed in, leaning back in his chair. “You’ve been talking about her for months. If she’s so great, why haven’t we met her?”

“Yeah,” Lucas added with a smirk. “We’d love to meet this mystery girl of yours. Unless, of course…” He paused, his grin widening. “You’re just embarrassed because she’s imaginary.”

“She’s not imaginary!” Eddie bellowed, his voice bouncing off the drama room walls. He shoved a hand through his curls and muttered under his breath, “You guys are impossible.”

“You’re impossible,” Gareth teased, earning a high-five from Dustin.

Eddie bit back a retort. He’d had this conversation more times than he could count, and it always ended the same way—with him retreating in frustration while his friends continued their playful torment. But this time? This time, he had a plan.

The following Friday, Eddie’s nerves were shot. His leg bounced uncontrollably under the table as the Hellfire Club set up for their latest campaign. The guys noticed, of course.

“Dude, you good?” Dustin asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

“I’m fine,” Eddie snapped, a little too quickly. “Just… focused.”

“On what? World domination?” Gareth quipped.

Eddie ignored him, glancing at the clock on the wall. You were supposed to arrive any minute now. He’d told you to meet him outside the drama room, and the thought of your arrival had his heart doing somersaults.

The door creaked open, and every head in the room turned.

You stepped inside, radiant as ever, wearing your favorite oversized sweater, a pair of perfectly cuffed oversized jeans, and a fresh paid of timbs you just paid for with your check. Your hair framed your face like a halo, and the faintest trace of gloss sparkled on your lips.

For a moment, there was silence.

Then Dustin broke it.

“Who… is that?”

Eddie grinned, leaning back in his chair like the cat that caught the canary. “Gentlemen,” he said, gesturing toward you with a dramatic flourish, “meet my girlfriend.”

Your smile was warm as you waved. “Hi. I’m Y/N.”

The room erupted into chaos.

“No freaking way!” Mike shouted, his jaw practically hitting the floor.

Lucas blinked at you like you were some kind of mirage. “Wait—you’re Eddie’s girlfriend?!”

“Eddie Munson’s girlfriend?” Dustin repeated, his voice climbing several octaves. He turned to Eddie, his expression a mixture of disbelief and awe. “How did you pull this off?!”

“Hey, now,” Eddie said, placing a hand over his chest in mock offense. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you’re Eddie freaking Munson!” Gareth exclaimed. “And she’s… she’s…”

“Way out of your league,” Dustin finished bluntly.

You laughed, the sound warm and genuine, and crossed the room to sit beside Eddie. He draped an arm around your shoulders, his grin as smug as ever.

“Believe it or not,” you said, shooting Eddie a playful look, “I happen to like this weirdo.”

“I told you guys,” Eddie said, leaning back with an exaggerated sigh of relief. “But noooo, you didn’t believe me.”

The drama room had never felt this tense. Normally, the Hellfire Club descended into immediate chaos, their boisterous voices and dice-rolling creating an atmosphere that felt alive. But tonight, it was different.

All eyes were on you, Eddie’s girlfriend, who was now seated comfortably beside him, a serene smile on your face as you took in the boys’ shocked expressions.

Eddie had an arm draped around your shoulders, his usual bravado turned up to eleven. His smirk screamed “I told you so,” but you could see the faint blush creeping up his neck. He was proud—no, ecstatic—to have you there, and it warmed your heart.

“So…” Dustin finally broke the silence, leaning forward across the table. “How—how did this happen?”

You tilted your head with a soft laugh. “How did what happen?”

“This!” Dustin gestured wildly between you and Eddie. “You’re… you! And he’s… him! No offense, Eddie.”

“Offense absolutely taken,” Eddie grumbled, narrowing his eyes at Dustin.

“I think what Dustin means,” Mike interjected carefully, “is that you’re, like… really smart and pretty and, you know… you. And Eddie’s… Eddie.”

Lucas nodded fervently. “Exactly. You’re Hawkins High royalty. He’s… well…” He trailed off, glancing at Eddie’s Iron Maiden shirt and fingerless gloves. “You get the idea.”

You exchanged a glance with Eddie, who raised an eyebrow as if daring you to answer.

“Well,” you began, leaning forward with an amused smile, “if you must know, Eddie won me over with his charm, wit, and complete lack of shame.”

“Damn right I did,” Eddie quipped, squeezing your shoulder.

“It’s true,” you continued. “He asked me out three times before I said yes. The first time was in the middle of history class—he slid me a note with a doodle of himself playing guitar and the words ‘Go out with me?’ written in giant letters.”

Mike blinked. “And you said no?”

“I thought it was a joke!” you admitted, laughing. “But then he kept trying. The second time, he serenaded me in the hallway with an original song.”

“It was a ballad,” Eddie clarified, his tone mock-serious. “A masterpiece, really.”

“And the third time,” you finished, “he showed up outside my house with a mixtape and a bouquet of daisies he picked from someone’s yard.”

“Old Mrs. Cunningham’s yard, to be specific,” Eddie added.

“By then, I figured he was either crazy or serious—or both.” You glanced at Eddie, your eyes softening. “Turns out, he’s a little bit of both. And I like that about him.”

The boys stared at you, utterly speechless.

“She’s way too good for you,” Gareth finally muttered, breaking the silence.

Eddie smirked. “Yeah, well, she’s mine anyway.”

As the session began, you settled in beside Eddie, watching him transform into the Dungeon Master with an enthusiasm that was both endearing and infectious. He narrated with dramatic flair, his hands gesturing wildly as he painted vivid scenes of danger and intrigue.

You leaned in, whispering, “He’s really into this, huh?”

“Always,” Dustin whispered back, his eyes glued to Eddie. “It’s like his second language.”

Eddie caught the exchange and narrowed his eyes. “Hey, no side commentary from the peanut gallery. This is serious business.”

You laughed, resting your chin on your hand as you watched him. “Sorry, Dungeon Master. Please, carry on.”

He shot you a mock-glare before continuing, guiding the boys through a harrowing encounter with a group of marauding orcs. As the dice rolled and the boys strategized, their initial awe at your presence slowly gave way to curiosity.

“So,” Lucas asked during a lull in the action, “how do you put up with him?”

“Put up with him?” You raised an eyebrow.

“You know, the dramatics, the weirdness, the constant ‘I’m a misunderstood genius’ vibe.”

Eddie gasped, clutching his chest. “Lucas Sinclair, you wound me!”

“Don’t listen to him,” you said, smiling. “I think it’s sweet. Eddie’s passionate, and he’s not afraid to be himself. That’s rare.”

Eddie shot the group a smug grin. “Hear that? She thinks I’m rare. Like a collector’s item.”

“More like a one-of-a-kind weirdo,” Dustin muttered, earning a laugh from the group.

At one point during the game, Eddie reached under the table and took your hand, his fingers lacing with yours. It was a small gesture, but it sent warmth flooding through you.

“You okay?” he whispered, leaning close.

“More than okay,” you whispered back. “This is fun.”

“Good,” he said, his eyes soft. “Because I’m pretty sure you’ve just earned legendary status in their eyes.”

You glanced at the boys, who were busy arguing about the best way to approach the next encounter. “They’re sweet,” you said. “A little intense, but sweet.”

“They grow on you,” Eddie said with a grin.

“I can see that.”

By the end of the session, the boys were visibly more comfortable around you, their initial awe replaced with a sense of camaraderie. They peppered you with questions about your classes, your favorite bands, and how on earth Eddie convinced you to date him.

As the group packed up, Dustin pulled Eddie aside.

“Dude,” he said, his voice low. “She’s amazing.”

“I know,” Eddie said, grinning.

“No, like, amazing,” Dustin repeated. “You’d better not screw this up.”

Eddie chuckled, clapping Dustin on the shoulder. “Relax, Henderson. I’ve got this.”

Across the room, you were chatting with Lucas and Mike, who were eagerly showing you their character sheets. Eddie watched the scene unfold, his heart swelling with pride. You fit in perfectly, like you’d always been part of the group.

As you caught Eddie’s gaze, you smiled and mouthed, “I love you.”

Eddie’s grin widened. He mouthed back, “I love you more.”

And in that moment, surrounded by his friends and the girl who had completely stolen his heart, Eddie Munson felt like the luckiest man alive.

The Hellfire Club session transitioned into a scene of pure chaos as the boys dove into a heated debate about their next move in the campaign. Eddie had unleashed a particularly devious trap—a dungeon filled with shifting walls and riddles—and while the group bickered about how to proceed, you found yourself completely enthralled by the dynamic.

“Okay, but if we trigger the trap,” Dustin argued, pointing emphatically at his map, “we’re dead! It’s a bad idea!”

“And if we don’t?” Mike shot back. “Then we’re just standing here waiting for something to kill us anyway!”

Lucas groaned, throwing his hands up. “Why do you always pick the most dangerous options, Mike?”

“It’s not dangerous; it’s bold! There’s a difference.”

As they continued to argue, you leaned toward Eddie, your voice low. “Do they always get this… intense?”

Eddie chuckled, shaking his head. “Oh, sweetheart, this is nothing. You should see them when someone loses all their hit points. Last week, Dustin almost cried because a gelatinous cube ate his enchanted dagger.”

Dustin’s head whipped around, clearly having heard. “It wasn’t just a dagger! It was my soulblade! And Gareth laughed at me!”

“Because it was funny!” Gareth shot back, smirking.

Eddie laughed, leaning back in his chair with a smug grin. “See? Total chaos.”

You smiled, loving every second of it. Their passion reminded you of why you adored Eddie in the first place. He wasn’t afraid to throw himself into the things he loved, and it was clear his friends were the same.

“Alright, alright,” Eddie finally called, raising his hands to silence the room. “Enough squabbling, my dear nerds. Your time is ticking. Decide your fate or perish in the dungeon!”

Dustin sighed dramatically, leaning toward you. “You see what we have to deal with? He’s a tyrant.”

“And yet you keep coming back,” you teased.

“Because we’re dedicated to the craft,” Dustin replied with mock seriousness.

“Because you’re gluttons for punishment,” Eddie corrected, smirking.

As the game carried on, the boys became more comfortable interacting with you, even inviting you to roll dice for certain decisions. When Eddie handed you a 20-sided die and asked you to roll for an attack, Dustin immediately objected.

“Wait, wait, wait!” he exclaimed, holding up his hands. “She’s not a member of Hellfire! She can’t just roll!”

“Excuse me?” Eddie said, feigning offense. “She’s my guest. She has honorary dice privileges.”

Lucas chimed in, grinning. “Only if she rolls well. If she messes this up, it’s on you, Eddie.”

You took the die from Eddie, holding it delicately between your fingers. “No pressure, huh?”

Eddie leaned in, his voice soft and teasing. “Don’t worry, babe. I have full faith in you.”

With everyone watching, you rolled the die, and it tumbled across the table in dramatic fashion before landing on a perfect 20.

The room exploded.

“No freaking way!” Dustin shouted, practically falling out of his chair.

“She’s got beginner’s luck!” Mike declared, throwing his hands in the air.

Eddie grinned, looking at you like you’d just won the lottery. “That’s my girl!”

You laughed, feeling a little embarrassed but proud nonetheless. Eddie wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close as the boys continued to marvel at your roll.

“Looks like I’ve got a natural,” he teased, his eyes sparkling.

“Maybe I should join the club,” you said with a sly smile.

Dustin immediately panicked. “Wait, wait, wait—no offense, but we can’t just let anyone join! There’s a whole initiation process and—”

Eddie cut him off with a laugh. “Relax, Henderson. She’s not taking your spot. Yet.”

By the end of the night, the campaign wrapped up with the group narrowly escaping the dungeon thanks to your lucky roll. As the boys packed up their books and dice, they couldn’t stop talking about you.

“Okay, so, I’ll admit,” Gareth said, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “She’s cool. Way cooler than you, Munson.”

“Obviously,” Eddie replied, grinning as he helped you gather your things.

Dustin, still looking slightly awestruck, turned to you. “You’re, like… actually amazing. I don’t know how Eddie tricked you into dating him, but, uh… good job, I guess?”

You smiled. “Thanks, Dustin. But for the record, Eddie didn’t trick me. He’s a good guy.”

“Yeah, but, like…” Dustin looked between you and Eddie, gesturing vaguely. “He’s Eddie.”

“And I’m me,” you said, slipping your arm through Eddie’s. “We’re a good match, don’t you think?”

The boys exchanged skeptical looks, but none of them argued.

As you and Eddie headed out, walking hand-in-hand toward his van, he stopped suddenly and turned to face you.

“You know,” he said, his voice soft, “I think you broke their brains tonight.”

You laughed, leaning up to kiss his cheek. “Maybe a little. But they’re great. I see why you love them.”

“They’re my weird little family,” he admitted.

“And now I’m part of it,” you said with a smile.

“Yeah,” Eddie murmured, his eyes locking with yours. “You are.”

He pulled you into a hug, holding you close as the cool night air swirled around you. For all his theatrics, Eddie had a quiet side—a side that adored you in ways he couldn’t always put into words.

“I love you, you know,” he said softly, his voice muffled against your hair.

“I know,” you replied, smiling against his chest. “I love you too, Eddie Munson. Even if you are a little crazy.”

“Crazy about you,” he quipped, pulling back to wink at you.

You rolled your eyes, laughing as he opened the van door for you. As you climbed in, you couldn’t help but think about how far Eddie had come—from the school’s misunderstood freak to the boy who had your heart and a group of friends who adored him.

As he slid into the driver’s seat and cranked up the stereo, Metallica blasting through the speakers, you leaned back and smiled. Life with Eddie was unpredictable, chaotic, and wildly unconventional.

#black reader #interracial #black!reader #x black reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x black!reader #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #hellfire club

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sunflowerhae · 16 hours ago

Text

Ch. 32 All Hands on Deck

You sigh as you take a look around your now empty apartment. You always dreamed of having your own place to call home, and this was the first time you ever got close to feeling that. In your adult life, you’ve lived in three apartments; the first one got doxxed and you had to move 2 months in, the second your landlord so kindly kicked you out of, and the third….

You sigh again.

Just as you finally go to turn and walk away from this beautiful apartment you and your cats called home for almost a year, you feel a buzz in your pocket and pull out your phone to see a new message on your screen.

You laughed, put in good mood by your new roommate, Hanni’s, antics. You know she’s joking - her boyfriend apparently being good friends with haechan. The name alone passes through your thoughts and causes your small smile to flicker down. It’s been two weeks now since your last conversation with the boy, when you first met Hanni and saw the apartment you’re now moving into. Two weeks since your fight - if you’d even call it that - over text. You haven’t seen him in the hallway, haven’t talked to him or any of his friends over text, and haven’t heard even a peep from the shared wall you both had. It was almost…eerie. Before, haechan would try everything in his power to get your attention. It makes you realize that if he wanted to fall off the face of the Earth, he could; especially since he so easily fell off the face of your Earth.

You’re stuck in your thoughts when Jaemin pokes his head in your front door, “Y/n, hurry the fuck up! Everyone else is already there and I wanna beat rush hour traffic!” His boisterous tone echoes through the empty space and reverberates into your ears, making you wince. You roll your eyes and choose to ignore his words as you pick up the last box in your entryway. You don’t look back, just close your door and lock it for the last time.

What you do look at, however, is Haechan’s door as you pass. As always, there’s no sound on the other side, just radio silence. You were silently hoping for a repeat of last time; that he would burst through and bump into you, forcing all your stuff on the ground and giving you the chance to lock eyes with him one last time. You can’t deny the anxiety in your heart as you realize you might never see haechan again. It isn’t a normal feeling by any means, and it upsets you. You know, however, that you have to let yourself feel it - feel the guilt at blocking out the boy who liked you simply because he knew who you were. In the two weeks since your..chat..you’ve really reflected on your actions and realized you might have overreacted a bit too much. And even when you wanted to say something, your pride stopped you. Now here you are, turning away from the door of the boy you loved, knowing you missed your chance to get him-

You don’t even get a chance to finish that thought as you realize too late that you missed the first step on the stairs, and are currently on a fast track plummeting down. You know that with the box in your hands blocking your view, and you’re already distracted thoughts stuck on a boy who wanted nothing to do with you, there’s no one else to blame for this mess but yourself. All you could do was close your eyes and hope you didn’t seriously injure yourself, bracing yourself for the impact-

That never came.

You find yourself exhaling in released adrenaline, feeling the warm touch of another person wrapped around your frame. You look down before you look up, seeing the box you were holding thrown down and scattered at the bottom of the stairs, a sorry victim in your clumsiness. Finally you look up at your savior, expecting Jaemin to be shaking his head at you in disappointment as he hypes himself up for “saving” you. However, you notice in that moment that Jaemin is off to the side, wide eyed and frozen - staring at your real savior. And that’s when you register that Haechan was staring down at you, a mix of fear, panic, and something else unknown to you swell in his eyes. You can’t stop the shiver that runs up your spine as you become hyper aware of every touch and look he has on you; that all his attention and thoughts are solely yours. It makes you shake in happiness, in a sick and twisted way. You know that all the animosity is somewhat your fault, but knowing that Haechan is finally paying attention to you - regardless of the circumstances - still warms you inside.

You don’t realize how this might look to anyone on the outside - the both of you, stood in each others arms, not saying a word but staring at each other with your faces close - until Jaemin loudly clears his throat and gapes at the both of you. You immediately push yourself away from the man in front of you, your face getting red in embarrassment. “Uh..thank you, sorry..” you trail off, not able to look him in the eye as you scratch your neck and shift your balance from one leg to another. Haechan seems to be in a similar boat, not able to look you in the eye as he adjusts his backpack on his shoulder.

“Yeah, don’t mention it…” and there’s that silence again. You’re preparing to side step Haechan and say goodbye when he traps you once again in front of him, this time with his words.

“So, you’re really leaving?” The boy in front of you seems to be filled with conflicting emotions; you can see something like disappointment cross his face, with a dash of anger and a pinch of sadness. On better terms, you might laugh at the storm of emotions brewing across Haechan’s face, however those better days aren’t now, so you choose to ignore your observation in favor of answering his question.

“Yep, I think it’s time. I don’t want to stay in one place for too long, and I think it’ll be nice having a roommate for awhile…” You trail off as you watch Haechan nod slowly, listening to you. Finally, after a beat of silence where you can practically see the gears turning in his head, he takes a deep breath in.

“Well, I’ll miss you”

The shock on your face is probably obvious, but at this point you don’t care. You know that haechan still loves you, regardless of if he shows it or not, but him blatantly saying he’ll miss you was the final straw. That can’t have been easy for him, knowing the boy in front of you has pride like nothing you’ve ever seen. It makes you emotional knowing that regardless of the now rocky relationship, he still can be brave enough to say how he feels. You’re envious of that; of the guilt free burden he must be carrying to be able to wear his emotions in his sleeve so easily. You know that if you had even an ounce of his courage in you, this whole “situation” might not have happened. There’s no point in thinking about the what if’s, you suppose, but you still can’t shake the dread of this possibly being the last time you see Lee Haechan, so you don’t hold yourself back from feeling however you want to.

You understand that you’ve been staring at the boy in front of you in shock and silence for a good 30 seconds, when Jaemin shakes you out of your reverie once more - his words, this time, not just directed at you.

“Can the both of you stop staring at each other like you’re having a telepathic conversation and instead just go somewhere and talk normally like..yknow..ADULTS!” Jaemin was clearly over whatever interaction this was, and while you would want nothing more than to just clear away all these issues once and for all, you can’t say if Haechan would also want to; you instead choke out a soft spoken, “no it’s okay” just as you hear the brown haired boy in front of you confidently exclaim, “thanks jaemin that’s a great idea” and you’re so surprised quite frankly that you find yourself doing a double take, staring at haechan with saucers for eyes.

“B-but, I have to move and you obviously have a class or something.” You try and talk your way out of it, suddenly feeling a bit too shy.

“Nope, I don’t. I’m coming back from class actually,” He smirked at you, but if you didn’t know any better you would say there was something else in his eyes, something else that looked like uncertainty, “but if you have to move I’m not gonna stop you.”

Jaemin chimed in with an eye roll, “y/n, it’s not that deep we already moved most your stuff and I can finish taking over these last boxes, just go.”

You suddenly felt very corralled - like a sheep on a farm - to go to this “second location” and talk with haechan. However, to be fair, you know he deserves it. And frankly, so do you. So, with a sigh, you accept defeat and nod your head softly, taking note of the way Haechan perks up at the indication. “Fine, yeah, we can go somewhere and talk.” Jaemin seems satisfied with this, nodding his head curtly before continuing his walk down the stairs, picking up the items you dropped as he goes.

“Perfect! Just come over to the new place afterwards, okay? We’ll all be there…waiting.” He finished with a laugh. You rolled your eyes at him before focusing your attention on Haechan again, who had been looking at you the entire time you watched Jaemin. In the back of your mind, you knew this was a bad idea, a sense of dread washing over you as you locked eyes with the boy you’ve come to miss. You felt as if something was going to happen that either you wouldn’t be able to control or that would break your heart into a million pieces; regardless, it scared you. But you tell keep telling yourself that regardless of what happens, you know that losing Haechan without putting up a fight was going to be the worst outcome, so you push your anxieties aside as you watch Haechan open his mouth to finally ask,

“Shall we go?”

GG! (Good Game!) 👾

Notes: hey yall…😬😬😬😬 we’re just gna pretend I wasn’t gone for a month ok??? But listen I had some major developments in my life like for example I got a boyfriend⁉️

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Taglist: @n0hyuck @dudekiss3r @injunnie-lemon @yewshi @222brainrot @dokgrayson @lttlekomori @multifandomania @sunflowerbebe07 @beommii @markeroolee @lionzyon @starfilledgaze @lostinneocity @insaneanddrained @chenlesfavorite @hyucktion @lampcults @nctjunie @oreosareara @stqrgr7 @catpjimin @chan-yeoldelling @hahaechans @joonsprettygf @nessaassen02 @acaisahi @norrreee @minkyuncutie @junrenjun @honeynanamin @jae-n0 @ljljljljoo

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mandoriana · 2 days ago

Text

HEADCANON - HANNIGRAM

We all know that Hannibal is a carnivore, but what few people know is that Hannibal abhors the consumption of red or white meat. He can eat fish, but any other animal meat besides seafood does not consume.

Hannibal hates the pain that animals pass on to humans to have meat to eat.

Hannibal had a sheep when he was a boy and took very good care of it, but one day one of the mansion's employees killed her for them to eat, and Hannibal killed the clerk for revenge.

Will, despite what many think, is a great cook, but not like Hannibal. In fact, Will is more in southern cuisine and comes much more than just fish. Ironically, Will doesn't care about the animals that die for him to have food; he honors all their parts.

Will's favorite meat is frog and alligator. His grandmother used to cook a lot when he was little because they lived in a swamp.

Hannibal dreamed of cooking with Will as they did during the second season, but he was horrified by the cruel way Will cooked. (I imagine a lot that Will came out one day saying that he was going fishing in the lake and came back with a cooler full of frogs. Hannibal was horrified by Will cutting off the frogs' legs while they were still alive.)

Once, Will came home with a living citizen and started bathing and "massaging" the swan and even hydrating its feathers. He was so careful that Hannibal really believed they had a pet city. Imagine his shock when he came back to see Will cooking the case that he had so affectionately called "Leda."

Once, Hannibal bought a pig to be his pet. Her husband ate the poor pig in two weeks.

Hannibal is traumatized to see her husband cooking.

During the escape, they hid in a cabin in the forest for a while. A turtle befriended Hannibal, who fed her leftovers from her meals. When the poor thing got fat enough, Will took the turtle and cooked it alive in a pot. Hannibal is still traumatized today.

Watching Will cooking, for Hannibal, is like watching a horror show.

Hannibal once fainted when he saw Will making food with peanut butter, animal meat remains and vegetable remains (he thought it was their dinner, but it was just the food of the ces.)

When Hannibal's complaints about his cooking get very annoying, Will begins to make atrocities in cooking, such as using canned meat and mixing it with peanut butter. Hannibal almost has an aneurysm every time.

Chiyoh was prejudiced against Will's food until she ate it and loved it. So the two stood against Hannibal about human flesh being tastier than animal flesh.

At Christmas, Will gave Hannibal a T-shirt that said, "Eat people, save animals."

The only meat Will wouldn't be willing to eat is dog meat and maybe cat meat, but he's not against eating the feline if he's hungry.

Will and Hannibal love recipes that contain eels. Will prefers to cook them while they are still alive, but Hannibal prefers to cook them only when they are dead.

Will thinks it's hypocritical for Hannibal not to have a problem with human violence, and Hannibal thinks it's Will's hypocritical not to have a problem with animal violence. (Will's excuse is that only a few animals are not food, while Hannibal's excuse is that comparing human pigs with sweet animals is blasphemy.)

When they watch "Chicken Run," Hannibal twists for the chickens from start to finish, while Will supports the "villain" who is just doing his job. They had an argument after watching the movie.

Will just doesn't eat stones because stone soup is bad and there are no other ways to eat stones.

Will cuts ingredients with scissors, and that makes Hannibal freak out every time.

During their escape from the FBI they hid in the woods and Hannibal is sure he once saw Will frying a snake.

Hannibal likes to eat raw ginger, and Will calls him a psychopath for it.

Will makes a cup of coffee with seven tablespoons of coffee grounds, while Hannibal makes a bottle with four tablespoons of coffee grounds. Whenever one wakes up before the other and makes coffee, one of them ends up making faces for the drink.

#hannibal lecter #hugh dancy #hannibal headcanons #hannibal bbc #hannibal #hannibal x will #will graham #hannigram #murder husbands #hannibal incorrect quotes #headcanon #will graham headcanon #hannibal lecter headcanon #brazil humor #humor

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tellyouily · 2 days ago

Text

maybe stay here forever

dnf - couch cuddles - 1.4k words

george likes dream's sweater and patches seems to like it too

There is this sweater that Dream wears sometimes, a dark blue half-zip fleece with leather patches on the elbows and deep, warm pockets, that George is a little bit obsessed with.

Of course, the pockets are mostly there to be used by whoever is wearing the sweater, not by his best friend slash boyfriend who constantly has cold hands, but it’s a nice benefit. Not to mention that Dream also happens to look especially great in it, all broad and soft and rugged—especially with a few days worth of stubble on his face and his curls a little messy.

Which has been the case for most of the time these recent weeks, much to George’s contentment.

If someone were to ask him about it, though, he would maintain that he likes the blue sweater a normal amount. Give or take. And he might bring himself to admit that it’s the person wearing it who he likes more than just a little. An abnormal amount, you could say. A ludicrous amount.

He’ll admit that happily.

After searching high and low for the past ten minutes, he finally finds Dream in the guest house, of all places. He’s on the couch with his legs outstretched and his laptop—surprise, surprise—perched on his lap. Somehow, Patches has fit herself on his chest, too, fast asleep with her head on his shoulder like a baby. She must have ventured in here looking for him, too.

And she must have taken one look at the dark blue sweater Dream is wearing and deemed it a nice place to take a nap.

George doesn’t appreciate that she succeeded on that quest before he did.

“Hey you,” he says, announcing his presence. He leans his back on the door to close it.

Dream looks up and stretches, lifting a hand to the back of his head. His screen casts a soft glow on his face, and George would bet good money that either gmail dot com or his editing software is currently filling it. Or both. Dream likes the split-screen function.

“Hey you,” Dream echoes, making George smile as he nudges past the coffee table to join him.

This is really not a couch that can fit two people lying down, it can barely fit one if he’s honest, but Dream scooches closer to the back pillow and lifts his arm as a wordless invitation.

George does not need to be asked twice, climbing into position. He feels like he’s precariously close to the edge, but then Dream wraps his arm around his waist and pulls him close, and he relaxes like he’s been given a sedative.

Patches stirs ever so slightly at the commotion, giving George what he’s sure is a pointed look.

“She took my spot,” he mumbles, frowning at her and watching her simply close her eyes again and let out a sigh.

Dream’s hand comes to rest near the waistline of George’s sweatpants, his fingers grazing the sliver of skin where his hoodie has ridden up.

“There’s two spots,” he says gently.

And he’s right, of course. And really, George thinks it’s a good sign that Patches has chosen this as her desired nap location. She’s a smart cat and if this is the safest, warmest place she could think of, then he trusts her judgment wholeheartedly.

He would probably do the same if he was a cat. He’s even doing it now, as a human.

Only now does the laptop screen in front of him come into focus, showing something entirely different from what he was willing to bet money on. It’s a sports game of some kind—football? Or is that rugby?

All he knows is that each team is wearing a different color and that they are both running around on the field trying to win. And that Dream might be a furnace in disguise with how warm he is. Mostly the last thing.

“What are you watching?” George asks.

“Football game,” he answers, followed by a soft huff of amusement. “That you don’t care about.”

“I care a lot, actually.”

“Uh huh.” His smile is audible. “I’m sure it’s so interesting to you.”

George nods into the folds of the fleecy fabric. “It is. I love it,” he lies, making Dream laugh.

The game on screen seems to go on some kind of break and the camera pans to the players standing around, leaning on their knees, out of breath, and to the crowd and muted discussion between the referee and who George assumes is one of the team captains. Dream sighs and presses a kiss on the top of George’s head.

“If it was soccer you’d care,” he says. “ Actually care.”

George hums in a way that means yes. Real football, you mean , he would have said if he wasn’t so comfortable that he is tempted to let sleep overtake him. Take a page out of Patches’ book.

He’s surrounded by the kind of warmth that reminds him of his childhood. Of coming back inside from playing in the snow and getting to sit by the fireplace and watch cartoons to get the feeling back in his fingers. It’s more than enough to make him want to succumb to sleep.

Dream’s palm coming to rest fully on his bare stomach makes him blink. On screen, the game has started back up and so has the faint sound of cheering coming from the speakers.

With some difficulty, he retrieves his phone from his pocket. If he is to keep himself awake while lying here, watching American football is not the way to do it.

He uses Dream’s chest to prop up his phone and lets his thumb swipe past X and over to Reddit instead.

Some of the posts are worth reading, others he scrolls past. It doesn’t take long for Dream’s attention to inevitably get pulled to his screen, as well, abandoning the game. George doesn’t blame him. He can tell that he’s reading, concentrating, by the way his hand starts drawing mindless shapes on his hip. He tries to move as little as possible in hopes that Dream won’t realize that he’s doing it and possibly stop.

They’re halfway through a particularly technical post about the motion detection system they’ve set up for the titan when a message from Sapnap pops up at the top of his screen.

Something stupid, of course. So stupid he might have just ignored it had it not been for the way he feels Dream smile against his temple.

George snorts. “What an idiot.”

He swipes down and types an even more stupid reply, making Dream turn his head away to laugh. Really laugh.

George grins. He knew that would get him. He’s much funnier than Sapnap could ever dream of being. “What’s so funny?”

Dream answers by burrowing his face into the back of his neck, his quiet laughter getting muffled by the hood of his hoodie. He’s in that kind of mood, George thinks; the one where he could say anything and Dream would find it funny.

It’s his favorite Dream-mood by far. He would know—he has them all cataloged.

“I should be a comedian,” he says, if only to prove his point—which it does.

“No, your guys’ humor is like, fucked,” Dream says, clearing his throat.

George sighs and clicks his phone off, moving his head back so he can see Dream’s face.

“You like it though,” he counters, running his hand over the stubble along his jaw.

Just then, Patches’s ears start to twitch and they both glance over at her, watching as she opens her eyes and stretches out her paws so far that they poke against George’s bottom lip.

“Oh no,” Dream says softly, petting her head with his free hand.

“Good riddance,” George mumbles, feeling a sense of smugness at the look of discontent he is sure that she gives him.

It’s not like they’re in a competition for Dream’s attention—except that they are, and he won it the second he walked into the room.

Dream shakes his head at his comment, but his amused-by-everything-George-says-smile hasn’t left. Patches stands up and hops onto the back of the couch, and then onto the floor, going off to somewhere quieter.

Good riddance.

“Guess she’s not a football fan,” Dream says.

George presses closer just because he can, hitching his leg up higher across Dream’s.

“Good thing I am,” he says, closing his eyes.

Dream shakes his head, his hand finding his thigh. “You’re an idiot, is what you are”

And George might like Dream’s sweater, but he thinks he likes making him laugh even more.

#dnf fic #dnf fanfic #tellyouily fics #they!!!

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sseomtada · 21 hours ago

Text

rear view (ruben dias)

gripped onto a sliver of inspiration i felt and this came out...not proofread. warnings: 18+, masked!ruben, taunting, praise, one use of the word sl*t (affectionately, i promise), a lil rough to gentle...

the sound of your heels meeting the wooden floor is prominent as you stagger into your flat blindly. a hand splays, fingers fanning wide to feel along the smooth wall for a light switch. flick - nothing.

though obviously not a fluke, you flip the switch a few times more to ensure that you’re not being dramatic. air leaves your lungs in a smooth rush while you continue along the dark path to resume your wind down routine.

work has been absolutely brutal. long hours, sitting stationary for endless amounts of time until you tailbone feels battered, and not nearly enough pay to be quite frank. you needed a vacation, or a lobotomy - whichever provides the most instant relief and gratification.

“snoogs?” you call calmly for your cat.

she gets so shy sometimes, but she loves the dark. it’s her hunting ground and you’re a helpless little ferret. every day must be a mind boggling adventure for her fur baby. or maybe you’re romanticizing it too much, delirious from lack of proper rest.

“snooogss?” your voice is a sing song.

around the bend to the living room you go and let your ears perk up to lock in. while your mind is dancing between reality and imagination, what was that in the corner, you hear a rustle and sudden a fur ball is launching at your chest.

with an oof, you catch her and stumble backwards. the sudden halt you come to isn’t from a wall as you would expect, but a hard, warm body. their broad chest expands with a slow inhale and you slowly let snoog melt from your hands.

“hi, princess.” fingertips grip into your waist, and tension falls from your frame as you recognize the timbre and feel. it’s just ruben.

“h-hi…” you don’t know what to say to stay in character, so you try to keep it as simple as possible.

bringing up this fantasy of yours really did a number on him. it had only been two days since you disclosed it during pillow talk and look at him now, ready to be nominated for his oscar.

“i’ve been watching you for some time,” he reaches an arm around your stomach and reels you right up against him. “you really ought to wear more than cropped shirts and panties when you walk by the windows.”

a hand slides up your thigh, the edges of his fingers toying with your underwear’s seam. you begin to seep into his petting. ruben is in sync with you, his hips drop to catch yours and push them back up.

“or not, cause you look so fucking hot.” an open mouth kiss lands on your lower neck. “so pretty, babygirl.” he starts undoing the closures on your top. “so fuckable.”

you bite out a moan you had been attempting to stifle. that gorgeous accent pairing with those nasty words beckon you to respond. you push back into him, skirt bunching up, rasping.

his hands roam you wildly and dangerously. one cups your hot cunt, squeezing until he feels it throb against his palm. the other alternates between massaging your breasts that he pulls free of your bra.

“that’s what you wanna do to me, hm?” your brows meet as you turn your head.

“mhmm…” ruben grazes the fabric of the mask covering his face across your cheek. “come here.”

you’re dragged over to the sofa where he crashes down harshly, pulling you to sit on his lap with your back to his front. ruben’s burning touch is back again. he has your legs spread wide, using his thighs to keep yours open while he circles your covered clit.

“shit!” your head drops against his shoulder.

“listen to that,” he chuckles, spanking the ruined seat of your panties. “why’re you already so wet, angel?”

“i’ve been-” you swallow thickly. “waiting for you.”

that makes him growl, pulling at your panties until they dig into your flesh. ruben tosses the stretched out fabric to the side and teases your hole with two fingers. you buck into them hungrily.

“can you be good and take my fingers like this?” ruben thrusts them into your pussy to the knuckle and your eyes disappear. he doesn’t stop there, fucking them into you every time he asks, “like this, like this, like this?”

“oh, fuck…” your hips start to rock onto them for more friction.

“not an answer-”

“yes!”

you surge upwards to catch his lips between your own. it’s carnal and possessive and claiming the way your tongue rolls over his. your words fall down the rabbit hole into him in between deep breaths, yes i can be good, i can be good.

“i know you can. maybe you should close the curtains when you play with yourself, too.” ruben nips at your earlobe.

god, how is he so good at this? he’s never been shy with his words, much less when you have sex, but tonight is another level. if you had to guess, you would say that he’s certainly done his homework.

“need you in me…” you whimper.

“aww, look at you.” ruben swipes his free thumb over your bottom lip, dragging the skin slowly. “i need to feel you squeezing and shaking. then, we can move on.”

a gushiness fills the air as he fills you powerfully with his digits. you’re nothing short of a mess, legs trying to close on instinct and his forcing them open wider for the same reason. you grasp out wildly, hands eventually settling behind his neck where a bit of his hair peeks out of his mask.

“let it go, princess. just like that.” he laughs into your ear, curling and pumping relentlessly.

it feels more like you are the one getting let go of. the rope you cling to snaps and you’re free falling. terrified initially, but accepting and gaining pleasure from the weight pressing down on your tummy.

you scream with a filthy grin, fuck, you’re gonna make me sq-

and the weather changes right on cue. your hips lift just above his, one hand dropping to his thigh and the next flying to flick at your clit as you rain down. soft patters fall onto your helpless wooden floor. it creaks too with the force of ruben handling you roughly to face him.

“good fucking girl…” he praises, yet spanks you.

another scream that melts from terror to erotic erupts from your throat. he smooths where his blow lingers as you rut over his bulge, running his basketball shorts. not that he seems to mind with the way he’s pushing it up into you too.

“if you saw me touch myself, you’ve seen me ride dick before too, right?” now that you’ve cum, you’re no longer as needy as before.

ruben knows this about you and you suspect it’s the reason he decides to go about tonight they way that he is. the light is so dim in here, but you see his eyes glint mischievously. and he calls you a brat.

“gonna do me like that, huh?” he sucks your breast and reaches down to free himself. “show me, pretty girl. show me, fuck-”

his words end up in his throat as you swallow him whole. so snug and warm tucking into your walls, you sigh with content. you let yourself just feel him, hips circling slowly to get your bearings.

your stomach tenses as you lift up and down his cock. he swears lowly in portuguese, rubbing up your ass to your waist. his hands slowly leave your body completely to settle on the back of the sofa.

“come on, then.” he smacks your ass again. “fuck me like a little slut.”

you shake your head and laugh, ready to give it to him even more since he’s begging so much. your grip settles firmly over his corded shoulders and you get onto your toes on the floor. soon, you’re bouncing on it. the sound of your soaking cunt working his shaft steadily and your gasps and his groans-it’s already too fucking much.

“that’s it,” ruben marvels. “take that fucking cock.”

oh, he wants you to take it? you bring your feet up to the sofa, legs a big wider, and grab onto the back of his neck. your pussy grips him, tip to base, tucking and squeezing at the bottom to feel the way the slight curve in his cock presses right to that spot.

“oh, shit, baby.” he needs his hands to come back to control your movements.

if you continue doing that one, he’ll be planning a baby shower in a few months. which, let’s be real, you might end up doing anyway because there’s no way he’s pulling out tonight.

ruben thrusts up to meet you as you come down and you quiver around him. you’re so close again you can feel the rope fraying beneath your hold. full surrender is instant this time, you welcome the fall as he spurs you on.

your cries pierce the room and he’s hugging your lower back in a vice grip while he fucks you into senselessness. another unpredicted shower. you drip down his legs and want to apologize, but his awe and praise shut you off.

can’t believe this is all for me

ruben nestles your body to the sofa and joins you, pulling you face to face. well, face to mask. his eyes look so dark behind them as he drinks you in. mouthful gulps until you’re dripping down his chin.

you grab his jaw and kiss him as he sheaths himself in you again. the leg you have draping over his hips tugs him closer, opening you up some more too. ruben grabs your ass and spreads you out more so.

“yes…nice and deep.” your eyes cross.

“want me to cum, hm?” he tucks himself as far as possible. “right here at the back of your pretty cunt?”

all you can do is groan and nod furiously. if you could speak, though, you would say please, please fill me up. make it yours over and over again, please, i need to feel your warm cum in me.

ruben gets the message. he can see it in the way your eyes glaze over and your back bows into his palm. the way your bottom lips quivers and your grow several degrees warmer, steaming up his flesh as you squeeze and squeeze…

until he’s making good on his promise and shooting all the possible little additions to the diaz clan up your stream. you suck them in, hoping it’s helping and not hurting their efforts, but delighting in the feeling anyway.

ruben hums and lazily strokes into you. having had enough of the mask, you reach up and remove it, fluffing out his messy hair on the way down. his eyes are droopy as he stares at you.

“was that okay? are you alright?” he blinks slowly.

you grin with a light laugh, “i’m so good right now. you were incredible.”

his thumb strokes your cheek, “you’re so perfect.”

that’s one thing you’re never gonna argue with. you lay there for not too long before both drifting asleep in the same position. and when you wake up in a few hours, you meet him stiff and you’re ready to go all over again.

#ruben dias #ruben dias x reader #ruben dias x you #ruben dias fic #ruben dias imagine

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merp-blerp · 18 hours ago

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Gaylor/Kaylor and Oz: Parallels and Theories Vol. 2 🌼🌈❇️

CW: Spoilers for L. Frank Baum's Oz book series (books 1-15). And this post is very late-stage-Kaylor-specific, so if that's not up your alley, that's chill.

Vol. 1 Here (I recommend reading Vol. 1 before this one)

Overblown Analysis Under the Cut ↓

AH! I'm so ecstatic that I get to make another one of these so quickly! I was so proud of Vol. 1 and I'm so happy there's new material to explore! Thank you very much for the reception to Vol. 1, I'm so glad people liked it. It's cool to see other people who probably didn't even see my post seemingly make the Return To Oz connections as well. It makes me feel "smart". 😅

Part 1: The Tin Woodman ❤️🌈

Let's start out with something small and old news. A theory that's new to me is the Tin Woodman's role in gaylor theories (He's very specifically called "Tin Woodman" in the books, not Tinman, so I'll call him by his book name so as to not blur the line of exactly which version of the character I'm talking about). This collage by iateallthecat2 on Twitter (from this post) brought it to my attention:

I'm not sure if there's already some in-depth theory that goes beyond this collage out there, so I'm gonna wing it from here based on my own Oz knowledge.

In the "ME!" MV, Brendon Urie's character is a suitor that Taylor rejects. They fight when inside a house and she rejects his proposal, but when he gifts her something with no general romantic meaning, a cat, they spend the rest of the MV having a good, platonically-coded time. Brendon plays someone who wants to play the role of Taylor's partner, but they seemingly work better as buds in their rainbow haven.

I have wondered if Brendon is supposed to be playing a beard who Taylor tries to take to freedom with her in this MV, but I'm admittedly slightly apprehensive about the idea. It would be kinda cool if one or more of Tay's beards also came out with her whenever she does. This plotline seems very similar to the suspected "she ghosted but kept the castle" narrative. In both Taylor rejects a proposal, except here Taylor and her beard seem more connected. It makes me wonder, if everything had gone to plan, would the narrative in 2019 have been that presumably Joe would've proposed and Taylor would have rejected it but they would've been on friendly terms. Or maybe all of that would've happened to Karlie and Josh in a way since they were married in 2018. Or maybe it would've happened to both of them. Then they would've been able to build a narrative for Kaylor as a couple that didn't involve saying "We hid this from you for this long". But that's spitballing.

Either way, Brendon is definitely someone who helps Taylor along her "story" as he infamously put himself:

Everyone knows that the Tin Woodman helps Dorothy on her journey, but he also helps out Ozma/Tip on hers in the second book and so on.

In the first book, the Tin Woodman's backstory is that he was once a human named Nick Chopper, who was engaged to a Munchkin girl named Nimmie Amee. While Nick seems to respect and love her, he also seems to only be engaged to her because he doesn't want to be lonely after the death of his parents, at least to me. But the Wicked Witch of the East curses Nick to chop off his limbs whenever he tries to chop wood. He gets these limbs replaced with tin parts until he is fully tin. But his body no longer needed a heart and therefore he felt no romantic love for Nimmie Amee, so their relationship fizzled out.

Whether he ever romanticly loved her in the first place is debatable in my opinion. I personally don't think he did, especially since long after he's gotten the realization that he had a heart, Nick never really tries to romanticly pursue Nimmie Amee again, but he does tie loose ends with her in The Tin Woodman of Oz. However, my point is that Nick seems to only want Nimmie when he thinks she can fill a void. Once he thought he was too broken for her to fix he subconsciously realized he didn't actually love her, but interpreted it as though he just "stopped" loving her.

To put it simply, I see Nick as practically going through comphet before finding true fulfillment in the things that come after he's un-rusted. My personal interpretation of Nick is that he is a gay man, unbeknownst to him, who tries to find love in a woman, but it inevitably doesn't work. He loved Nimmie because he hoped she could fix his pain. There's no way to prove Baum meant Nick to be seen this way, but queer interpretations of Nick are common in modern Oz fan circles. Somewhat like Taylor and Brendon in "ME!", Nick and Nimmie try to play the roles of a couple, but being a couple just isn't in the cards for them, so they keep things platonic.

In comparison, Nick loves the Scarecrow for the actual companionship he gives. The Tin Woodman states that he no longer needs Nimmie's love, as he has the Scarecrow's. The Tin Woodman and the Scarecrow are pretty similar to Dorothy and Ozma in terms of being queer-coded in their relationship. They live close to one another because they're sadder apart, cordially debate philosophy, rule Winkie Country together, and are often depicted comfortably in each other's physical space, among other wholesome details.

The physical representation of the Tin Woodman's heart is made of a velvet pouch and sawdust in the books, but in the '39 film Tinman's heart is a ticking clock with daisies stringed to it. Of course, daisies have a great significance to Kaylor because of the Big Sur trip. And clocks have been having a significance in Taylor's art since "The Man" and the Karma wall.

I don't necessarily think Karlie, Taylor, or Brendon are represented through the Tin Woodman, Nimmie, and the Scarecrow in Taylor's art in a literal sense. I see it as just another queer piece of the puzzle. Brendon might not literally be the Tin Woodman in Taylor's art the same way Karlie is Dorothy, but I think he at least played him during the Lover era. Brendon/Tin Woodsman helps Taylor/Ozma through her journey to where she belongs like a queer friend helping another queer friend.

Also, I'll leave this section off on this reach cutesy note:

Part 2: Ozma and the Wizard 🌺🪄

Back in Vol. 1, I suggested a theory that if Karlie Kloss was represented as Dorothy Gale in Taylor's music, then Taylor was more subtly represented as Queen/Princess Ozma. I've been seeing another theory around about Taylor being the Wizard, aka Oscar Diggs. I also really like this theory and I think it can make sense for both theories to exist simultaneously.

The Wizard is an illusionist. In the first novel, when appearing to each of Dorothy's friends individually he appears as something different to all of them. To Dorothy, he is a giant floating head, to the scarecrow he is a fairy, to the tinwoodsman he is a beast, and to the cowardly lion he is a ball of fire. He is able to change himself into anything he pleases, but he has no real magic. In order to rule over Oz unrightfully, Oscar Diggs stole Ozma away as a baby and gave her to a witch named Mombi, who transformed Ozma into a boy named Tip, disguising Ozma from everyone and herself; in the second book, Ozma is transformed back to her true form and takes her place as ruler of Oz, eventually ruling with Dorothy by her side. To make a long story short, Ozma and Dorothy eventually forgive Oscar for his crimes.

I see Oscar/the Wizard as representing Performance Taylor, while the real Taylor is Ozma. The Wizard is from Kansas in the '39 film and performance Taylor is currently associated with the Kansas City Chiefs. Performance Taylor, just like Oscar, is able to change himself when needed and isn't the unstoppable being his citizens once believed in despite never meeting him. Just like Oscar, Performance Taylor is an illusionist who appeases the citizens with theatrics to hide the truth for the time being. Performance Taylor/Oscar hides the real Taylor/Ozma away. Real Taylor/Ozma, when seen, is forced into the shape of a boy, Tip/James, Peter, the Man, etc. But soon Ozma reclaims her land and keeps the castle Oscar took, and so might the real Taylor.

If you believe Post Malone is playing a side of Taylor in the "Fortnight" MV, Taylor seems to be depicting herself as coming together with both the public and private parts of herself. Previously in MVs for songs like "...Ready For It", Taylor was always at odds with her clone, but in "Fortnight" they team up to get out of the asylum. Ozma and Dorothy make amends with Oscar and Taylor makes amends with herself.

Part 3: The Yellow Brick Road and The Emerald City 🟨❇️

I think a lot of us know about Taylor's Instagram grid currently aligning with yellow outfits from Eras at the moment:

Typically when Taylor's Instagram grid aligns like this it means something. The most common theory as to what this might mean is that Taylor is creating a yellow brick road. Yellow is often seen as the closeting color in gaylor circles for various reasons, such as the Evermore closet in The Lover House being filled with yellow clothes. Some fun estimates I've seen are that soon the alignment will be broken by some type of photo of Taylor in a green outfit post-Eras, like maybe a green outfit from tour in her Toronto thank you post or even her birthday post. The big hope right now is that this hypothetical post in a green outfit will signify Taylor's coming out being near, having reached her destination to the Emerald City, or that this green outfit post could even be a coming out post. My Oz-ian brain loves this idea! The yellow road to being free in the green, the color right after yellow in the rainbow.

In the first Oz book, the Emerald City is a huge hoax. It's not Emerald at all, but white. In order to trick the citizens of Oz into thinking that the city is emerald, the Wizard forces everyone to wear green-lensed spectacles that lock on; they are what make the city look green, the Wizard lying that they wear them because the brightness of the city would blind them if they didn't. Dorothy is given a "green" dress when she arrives in the Emerald City, but when she leaves it reveals itself as actually being white. After the first book, the Emerald City becomes truly emerald; from what I can remember there is no exact canonical reason as to why this is, so I theorize that the citizens just made it emerald after the wizard floats away in his balloon. The Emerald City truly being white represents the fakeness within the rule of the Wizard, but by the time Oz has its rightful ruler, Ozma, the city is truly Emerald. For TTPD and most if not all of Tay's discography, the colorless world represents the abusive music industry and closeting, but color represents Taylor's freedom, reclaiming the land. Also, the fictional Emerald City was inspired by the real-life White City Amusement Park that was once in Chicago, so there's that connection to white too. Green and White together remind me of Taylor's green band jacket in the "ME!" MV and her white band jacket in the "TSMWEL" performance from Eras. Symbolism-wise, Taylor thought she was close to reaching her destination when creating Lover, but the smallest man ruined it all and the emeralds were fake. Now she's about to go down the yellow road once more to get back to her emerald kingdom.

To expand on the colors of Oz a bit more, let's look at the house from "ME!"

Here's an official Oz map in case anyone finds it helpful:

This house in "ME!" is the starting point in the MV and the first room that we see is blue. Blue is the color of Munchkin Country in the Oz books, as every Oz region has a color. Munchkin Country is the first land of Oz we ever see and the starting point of "ME!" is blue just like it.

Then Taylor walks through a hall with blue walls and blue and yellow tiles on the floor. On her first trip to the Emerald City, Dorothy exclusively walks through Munchkin Country to the Emerald City, so the tile being blue and yellow signifies that this is only the first journey to the Emerald City.

The next room is a large green one. The Emerald City, right?

But when Taylor makes it out the front door, the house is white with some purple. Not the true Emerald City. Purple is for Gillikin Country. When Ozma is kidnapped by the Wizard of Oz and given to Mombi she lives in Gillikin Country as Tip. The Emerald City is (partly) white, Taylor's in her closet yellow, Ozma/true Taylor is dressed as a guy, and Ozma/true Taylor is yet to rule.

But finally, later in the video when Brendon and Taylor are on platonic terms, they run up to a massive green building with a rainbow beaming in front of it as they wear green clothes. I think this was intended to be the true Emerald City. The pink soldiers around it even look like the poppy field. I think it's notable that in the MV Brendon and Taylor run up to the Emerald City, but we never see them enter. I take that as acknowledging that Taylor wasn't there yet. "ME!" was not a coming-out video, it was a sprint toward that goal. So she wasn't inside the Emerald City quite yet, she was on the way, ever so close. However, as stated before, the smallest man ruined things, so this was retconned through Eras. However, if Taylor got to come out during Lover this would've been the final stop.

I was thinking that it would also be crazy if instead of a photo in a green outfit, we got one in red. In relation to Oz, red is Quadling Country. In the first book, it's the last place Dorothy journeys to before making it home. It's also where she meets Glinda for the first time (Glinda is the Witch of the South in the books and a different witch is the Witch of the North). Glinda is the only one who knows the real way to get Dorothy home, her silver shoes. So red would also be an interesting choice in this scenario, but green is definitely the more culturally recognizable choice.

I want to acknowledge the "Goodbye Yellow Brick Road" connection I've seen around, even though I don't think I have much to add to it. The idea is that Elton John's song "Goodbye Yellow Brick Road" has thematic parallels to gaylor. This idea that Taylor could leave behind a toxicly ritzy world for something better. Elton is an openly gay man in Hollywood who had to deal with a lot of silly Hollywood games regarding his sexuality. The way "GBYBR" is used in his film Rocketman definitely depicts Elton deciding to fix his issues brought on by the industry's abuse. Could this be what Taylor's about to do herself in her own way? Leave behind the yellow cedar closet for a life that's true to her? Taylor wore this outfit that already had plenty of Kaylor tie-ins like the twinning Carolina Herrera fit and the panther necklace, but her shoes match the ones Elton wears in the "Goodbye Yellow Brick Road" album cover as he steps in or out of the Ozian picture.

As an extra fun tidbit, let's work some Oz history into this! It is a commonly told story that L. Frank Baum's inspiration for the yellow brick road comes from a real road in Peekskill, New York. The myth is that Baum asked for directions to the military academy and was told to "Follow the yellow brick road." Even though this exact story is likely just a myth, it's certainly not unlikely that Baum saw those yellow bricks. While Peekskill is not New York City, of course, New York City has a big significance in Taylor's music. In "WTNY" she views it as a place where anyone can be free. New York City could be its own character in her music. If New York City is freedom it could be seen as an equivalent to Ozma's Emerald City. Peekskill isn't where the city is, it holds the road to it and freedom.

Conclusion 🌼

Again, it's so cool to have more to add on to this Oz theory. I admit that it feels a bit vindicating that I made Vol. 1 and in due time we got more Oz crumbs. Wow, can't believe Taylor saw my post. In all seriousness, this has been so much fun. I know there's the possibility of yet another part to this. If you feel like I've forgotten anything, let me know! Can't wait to know what's on the horizon!

#kaylor #late stage kaylor #lsk #gaylor #gaylor swift #friends of dorothea #friend of dorothea #lgbetty #lgbettys #gaylor theory #parallels and theories

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