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bwabys-scenarios · 11 months ago

Note

Could I get a yandere meruem x reader on her period? Tyy <3

Prized Possession(NSFW)

Yandere!Meruem x Fem!Reader

!!REBLOGS APPRECIATED!!

A/N: I wasn’t sure exactly what you wanted so I did a lil nsfw fic, but if you want something SFW/headcanons/etc then please feel free to send another request with specification ^^

warnings: fingering, pussy eating, dubcon, public sex, period sex, breeding, mentions of pregnancy, Pitou treats you like their queen and pampers you, Meruem is HORNY, obsessive and possessive behavior

Yandere NSFW: @lightshowerrr @highbats69 @jungtoast @nenggie @aliceattheart

If you want to be added to the taglist, please check out the taglist information in my pinned post then comment what you want to be added to! Make sure you have your age in your bio and that your blog can be tagged/mentioned!

It had been two days since Meruem had tightened the metaphorical collar around your neck, keeping you stationed on his lap at all times of the day. His nose stayed buried in your neck, and despite your cries to at least do it behind close doors, his fingers stayed buried in your pussy, lightly pumping into you.

“Shh, shh, my princess. This is for your own good, so don’t complain.”

He curled his fingers in your cunt, pressing down on your abdomen and humming lightly. “Soon… I can smell it.”

Meruem had never been the type to keep you too far out of his reach, but lately his version of love had been absolutely smothering. It wasn’t always revolved around sex, sometimes he would force you into the little nest of blankets and pillows he built for you, or hold you so tight you’d have to remind him of his strength while gasping for air.

He couldn’t stop purring as he ran his hand over your abdomen, continuing to say how “close it was”. You didn’t even want to know what he was talking about, but by the way you started to feel kind of icky and tired, you were beginning to understand.

And you were terrified.

Now, you liked Meruem. He wasn’t as cruel as others made him out to be, and he sure did have quite the soft spot for you, but he still was an inhuman monster that ate humans. And because of his inhumanity, his knowledge of the human body was limited, besides what he read from medical text books and the own way his semi-human instincts reacted to the changes in your hormones.

And that’s how you found yourself being awoken in the middle of the night to Meruem lapping at your cunt, a dull ache in your abdomen.

“Ugh… Meruem…”

He glanced up, his hands on your thighs. “My princess… did I disturb your sleep?”

Although his words sounded sweet, there was a hint of mischief in his eyes. If he wanted you to stay asleep, he could have made sure you did, but instead he decided to gently push at your abdomen as he continued to gorge on your pussy.

It was then you noticed the red on his mouth, and fit a fleeting second you feared the pain you were experiencing was due to him LITERALLY eating your pussy.

But no, it wasn’t anything like that. With another soft push on your abdomen, you watched as blood dribbled into his mouth.

“I knew it was close… how I’ve waited for this time of the month…”

You whined in embarrassment and pleasure, gripping the sheets as you felt his tongue push into your sensitive pussy. “P-please… too much…”

He didn’t stop, and you knew better than to push him away or complain too much. Meruem would never hurt you in anyway, but you knew that no amount of pushing or complaining would make him stop. It would just make him purr and push harder, just enough to put you on the edge of pain and pleasure. A vague discomfort, but not enough to hurt.

So instead of pushing or whining, you whimpered softly, gently stroking his face. He quite enjoyed that, his eyes narrowing in contentment. “Such a good girl… there you go, almost there…”

Meruem took great pride in his ability to make you cum within minutes of being between your legs. He was a natural from the beginning. Of course he was, he was king.

He stayed there, between your legs for what seemed like hours, each orgasm helping to relive the ache in your abdomen. Once he was thoroughly satisfied, he moved up to your face, rutting his hips against yours.

At this point he looked almost feral, his eyes peering down at you as his thick cock rested on your belly. He rubbed it against you, growling as he lowered his blood stained face to yours.

“Kiss me.”

It was only a for a second, but your hesitation caused him to growl lowly. “I won’t repeat myself.”

He gripped your chin, squeezing just enough to make you uncomfortable. You whimpered softly as you leaned forward and pressed your lips against his.

As soon as Meruem felt the touch of your lips, he relaxed. It wasn’t long before you felt his cock prodding at your pussy, and his tongue prodding at your lip.

You really didn’t want to taste your own blood, but you also didn’t want to be scolded, so you obediently opened your lips, just as his cock sank into your bloody cunt.

He allowed you to whine, for your nails to scratch his back as he began to fuck into you. Meruem had the power to stop you whenever he wanted, but he didn’t. How kind he was to you, how lenient he was with his little pet.

“Shh… be a good pet and take it.”

Meruem preferred to be as close to you as possible when fucking you. His instincts told him to keep you pinned down and still, to breed you when he started smelling the sweet pheromones of your menstrual cycle.

Nights like this were exhausting. He needed you so badly, his brain filled with the need to breed you until your belly was heavy with his seed. It didn’t help that you were crying out and moaning beneath him in this sensitive state of yours.

How he loved the sounds you made, the cries and whimpers, the moans and whines. You really were his little princess, the perfect pet to play with in his spare time.

But… at the same time, you were much more than that. When the royal guard suggested he start spreading his seed among the many human women at his disposal, he became angry and almost… guilty. He didn’t want to impregnate some woman he didn’t know, he wanted you and you alone.

Perhaps he did love you. He had read many books, some being novels on romance. Meruem didn’t really understand it at first, but after meeting you he just couldn’t get you out of his head. It was an unhealthy obsession, you were supposed to be a way to waste away his spare time, but now he was beyond attached.

As he filled your womb once again with his cum, he placed a hand over your belly. “My little mate… yes, that’s what you are, my mate…”

He lightly traced circles in your belly with his finger, his eyes soft. The urge to mark you and cover you in his scent was overwhelming. He felt so possessive over you, even though you only interacted with his Royal Guards, he still felt the need to make sure everyone knew you were his.

As your blood soaked into the soft sheets of your shared bed, he finally pulled out, humming softly. “Pitou.”

They were by his side in seconds, not reacting at all to the scene in front of them. Meruem pulled you into his lap, petting you as if you were his exhausted puppy, rather than the woman he deemed his mate.

“Bathe her, dress her, then feed her.”

Without hesitation, they nodded. “Yes, King Meruem.”

You whined softly as Pitou carried you in their arms. One hand was on the soft curve of your ass, and the other was in your hair, soothing you softly. You were their queen, someone Meruem ordered they worship just as much as they worshipped him, so they did just that.

“My queen, I see you’ve come into heat.”

Pitou set you by the bathtub, filling it up with warm water as they used a rag to wipe away the blood from your thighs. After all the access blood was gone, they placed you in the warm water. “Heat..? I guess… that’s what you would call it.”

You relaxed as Pitou washed your body, their hands grazing your soft breasts and thighs. “It seems King Meruem has successfully bred you. It’s an honor to bear the King’s young.”

You watched as Pitou caressed your belly, right over your womb. You weren’t sure how they would know you were pregnant, surely there was no way you were already. “The King’s semen is potent, you’ll be with child soon.”

Ah, that explained it. They just assumed since you and Meruem had sex, that there was no way you weren’t pregnant. You’d laid with Meruem several times before, but this time… he was really adamant about filling you up.

Pitou rinsed you before scooping you up as if you were just a kitten. They dried you off, grabbing a pair of panties for you with the pad already applied. It was a bit humiliating how much the royal guards babies you, but you couldn’t do much about it. Once you were dressed, Pitou purred softly, butting their head against your hand.

Meruem didn’t allow for much affection, but you did. You smelled so much like him, and as the queen you were the second best, and the only one other than Meruem that Pitou would be so docile for. “Mmph, my queen…”

You let them carry you back to your chambers, where Pouf and Youpi were waiting with a meal, prepared just for you. Meruem sat on your now freshly cleaned bed, reading a book. He looked up for only a second, giving you a knowing smile.

“Eat, you need your energy. You’re losing blood, so it’s iron rich.”

You sat down, Pitou laying their head in your lap as you ate. You were surprised at how lenient Meruem was with Pitou, but the ant just saw Pitou as nothing more than your pet, and his servant. The cat like ant purred and mewed softly as you petted their head. It was a bit strange, but it was the only physical contact you got outside of Meruem. The other two royal guards didn’t seem to like you as much, more like they put up with your presence to keep their king happy.

After you finished your meal, Meruem set his book down. “Come.”

Pitou set up immediately so you could follow Meruem’s orders. You stood, wobbling slightly, causing Pitou to shoot up and accompany you. They acted like a mama cat, grooming your hair as they guided you to Meruem’s side.

Pitou set you down, the kneeled next to Meruem as he pulled you into his lap. “Sleep, you need rest. Do not think this was the only breeding session, this process will happen until your heat is over.”

You knew that Meruem was a lot of things, but he certainly wasn’t a liar, and he didn’t over exaggerate. If he said you needed rest, you would.

You slid your hair on his chest, closing your eyes as he ran his hand over your hair.

You weren’t looking forward to this week at all.

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pedroscowgirl · 3 months ago

Text

Under the spotlight

hugh jackman x fem!reader

this is the last part of the series from my masterlist "a younger revelation"

warnings: smut! minors dni! p in v (wrap it up) , age gap (reader is in her 20s and hugh is 55), established relationship, creampie, public teasing, reader has hair, lmk if i forgot something!

wc: 7.9k

a/n: hi everyone thank you for waiting such a long time for this but i had a massive writers block for this series but i hope yall like it! and i also wanna thank everyone for the support and love that yall have given to this series <3 also my cat was sitting on my hands so i couldn't post this earlier

It’s one of those perfect mornings where time seems to stretch, slowing down to match the easy rhythm of your breathing. The bedroom is bathed in soft light, the pale autumn sun filtering through the curtains, casting a gentle golden hue over the room. Everything feels serene. The world outside is still, quiet. It’s just you and Hugh, wrapped in the quiet intimacy of a lazy Sunday.

You’re lying on your side, your face nestled into the pillow as you feel Hugh’s warm body pressed up against yours, his arm loosely draped around your waist. His slow, steady breathing sends a comforting warmth along your back, the soft rise and fall of his chest against you a grounding reminder that this—right here, right now—is real. It’s always the little things that get to you, the way his hand absentmindedly traces small circles on your hip, or the way his hair is still slightly mussed from sleep.

His phone is in his hand, the occasional soft click of the screen illuminating in the dim room. You glance over at him, curious but too comfortable to move much, letting the sheets envelop you both in a cocoon of comfort.

“Checking your fan messages already?” you tease, your voice still a little husky from sleep.

He smiles without looking up, that lazy, playful grin of his that always makes your stomach flip. “Something like that,” he murmurs, his deep voice still carrying the warmth of sleep.

You can feel him scrolling, his thumb moving over the screen in that familiar swipe, probably going through memes or replying to texts. But then you notice the distinct sound of the camera clicking. Your senses sharpen slightly, but you remain still, watching him through heavy eyelids.

“Hugh,” you say, a warning laced in your tone, but you don’t move.

“Hmm?” He turns his head towards you, trying—and failing—to look innocent, though that mischievous glint in his eyes betrays him.

Before you can ask, he’s already snapped a photo, quick and subtle. You barely register the motion until it’s done, and he’s grinning like a cat that’s just caught a bird.

“Did you just take a picture?” you ask, amused but also intrigued.

“Maybe,” he replies, smirking.

You roll over slightly to face him, your eyebrow arched, though you’re far too comfortable to pretend to be mad. “What are you planning?”

Instead of answering directly, he turns the phone screen towards you. It’s a photo of the two of you, or rather, a hint of you. The image is almost artful in its subtlety. The sheets are tangled, the lighting soft and warm, but it only shows a small part of your arm resting on the bed and a faint glimpse of Hugh’s face in the far corner, just enough of his tousled hair and stubble to be unmistakable. The focus is deliberately vague, making it impossible to tell who is with him unless you already knew.

“Are you really going to post that?” you ask, half laughing, half groaning at how much chaos this one image will stir up.

His grin widens as his thumb hovers over the “Post” button on Instagram. “Why not? Just a little tease.”

“A little tease?” you repeat, incredulous. “You know exactly what you’re doing. People are going to lose their minds.”

“That’s part of the fun,” he says with a chuckle, that deep, playful sound you can feel reverberate through his chest.

You watch as he writes out the caption, short and vague: “Sunday mornings be like... 😌 #justchilling”

It’s perfect, deliberately vague and enough to send the internet into a frenzy. No name, no tags, just an intimate glimpse into his life, and the fans will eat it up. You can already imagine the whirlwind of theories and speculation that will follow, fans dissecting every pixel, trying to figure out who he’s with, if this means he’s seeing someone, or if it’s just a clever trick to keep them guessing.

“You’re evil,” you say with a laugh, watching as he hits ‘post.’

The phone buzzes almost instantly with notifications, the comments flooding in before either of you can even react.

“See?” he says, pulling you closer to him, his voice laced with amusement. “They love it.”

You lean over, resting your head against his shoulder, unable to hide your own smile. The comments are exactly what you’d expected. Fans are already speculating—some convinced it’s just a casual, fun post, others absolutely certain this is proof Hugh is off the market. A few are even analyzing the details of the photo, trying to match up the bedspread to any previous photos he might’ve posted.

“Is Hugh teasing us or is this legit?!”

“Who’s the mystery person? 😍”

“This better be a joke, because I’m not ready for Hugh to be taken.”

“Okay, but does anyone else think this means something more?”

“Look at them go,” Hugh says, scrolling through the comments with a grin, clearly enjoying every second of it.

You can’t help but laugh, shaking your head as you snuggle back into him. “You really love to mess with people, don’t you?”

“Only a little,” he says, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. His tone shifts slightly, more sincere now as he adds, “But it’s also nice having something just for us, you know? Something that only we understand.”

Your heart swells at that, knowing what he means. The photo is out there, shared with millions, but the truth behind it—this quiet, peaceful moment between the two of you—belongs solely to you. No matter how much they speculate, how many wild theories they come up with, only the two of you know what it’s really like, tangled up in each other’s warmth on a lazy Sunday morning.

Hugh chuckles again as another flood of notifications rolls in. “Should we tell them the truth?” he asks, though you know he’s not serious.

You shake your head, smiling against his chest. “Nah, let them wonder.”

And with that, you settle back into the sheets, your hand resting lightly on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingers. The world may be buzzing with questions, but in here, in this moment, it’s just you and Hugh, perfectly content to keep your little secret just a while longer.

As you scroll through the flood of comments on Hugh’s Instagram post, a sense of pride swells in your chest. Each message filled with speculation, jealousy, and admiration only adds to the thrill. You’re the one lying beside him, tangled in his arms, enjoying these quiet mornings. You’re the one he reaches for when the world isn’t looking. It might be a little evil, but there’s a certain satisfaction in watching the world try to guess, knowing that it’s you who gets to be with him, hold him, laugh with him, and experience the parts of him no one else gets to see.

You toss your phone aside before you turn back to Hugh. He’s still lounging on his back, his arm propped behind his head, his phone forgotten beside him. He’s only wearing his underwear, the fabric resting low on his hips, and the sight makes your pulse quicken. His sculpted chest rises and falls with his slow breaths, and your gaze drifts over the contours of his muscles, the familiar curve of his collarbone, the light dusting of hair across his chest. It’s impossible to resist him, especially when he’s like this, completely relaxed, utterly unguarded, and all yours.

Without a word, you shift, straddling his waist, your thighs bracketing his hips as you settle yourself on top of him. Hugh raises an eyebrow, his expression teasing as his hands instinctively come to rest on your hips.

“Well, hi there,” he says, his voice deep and playful. “What are you up to?”

You just smile down at him, your fingers already tracing slow patterns across his chest. The feel of his skin, warm and smooth beneath your touch, sends a ripple of heat through your body. You let your hands roam, sliding over the hard planes of his pecs, down the ridges of his abs, before coming back up again. You’re deliberately slow, savoring the way his breath catches, how his muscles tense ever so slightly under your caress.

“Nothing,” you say, the innocence in your voice a stark contrast to the way your hands are moving over him. You lean down, capturing his lips in a slow, lingering kiss, your fingers curling into his chest as his hands grip your waist a little tighter. His lips move against yours with an ease born from countless kisses, his stubble rough against your skin in a way that makes you want more, makes you crave the feeling of him against you.

Just as you pull back, your hips start to move, a subtle grind against him that makes a low groan escape his lips. The sound sends a shiver of pleasure through you, and you press down a little harder, feeling the way his body reacts to yours.

Hugh chuckles, though his voice is rougher now, laced with desire. “Hmm, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his hands sliding up your sides, holding you in place but not stopping your movements, “don’t forget, we have to go to that award show tonight.”

You roll your eyes, not breaking your rhythm. “Yes, tonight,” you echo, your voice soft but edged with playful defiance. You lean down, brushing your lips against his ear, letting your breath fan over his skin. “Or… are you planning on fucking me all day?” you whisper, the words a teasing challenge as your hips roll again, pressing against him just right.

A sharp breath escapes him at your words, and his grip on you tightens. His fingers dig into your hips, his body reacting to the way you’re moving against him, to the teasing promise in your voice. His eyes meet yours, dark and full of heat as he smirks.

“Maybe yes,” he answers, his voice low and husky, full of that teasing edge that always drives you wild.

His hands slide up your back, pulling you down to him as his lips find yours again. This time the kiss is deeper, more urgent. There’s nothing gentle about it now, nothing slow. His mouth moves against yours with a need that matches the way your body is pressing against his, the way your hips are grinding down on him, making both of you groan into each other’s mouths.

You can feel the tension building between you, the heat of his skin against yours, the way his body is responding to your every movement. The award show is hours away, and for now, the world outside doesn’t matter. Right now, it’s just you and Hugh, the only sound in the room the soft rustle of sheets and the quiet moans you’re both trying to keep from getting too loud.

You can’t help but grin against his lips, feeling the delicious pull of tension in the air, the way his hands are roaming your body with an increasing urgency. "Maybe we could skip the show," you murmur, your voice a little breathless as you pull back just enough to look into his eyes.

Hugh raises an eyebrow, his smile full of heat as his hands slide down your sides again, resting firmly on your hips. "Tempting," he admits, his voice rough and teasing, “but you’ll look so damn good tonight, I want everyone to see.”

His words send a thrill through you, the promise in them just as enticing as the feeling of him beneath you. But you can’t resist teasing him just a little more. “Well, if we’re going to make it,” you whisper, your lips brushing his ear again, “we better get started on something now, don’t you think?”

A low growl escapes him, his hands tightening on your waist as he rolls you over, pinning you beneath him with a playful grin that makes your heart race. "Oh, I think we’ve got time,” he says, his voice full of that confident, teasing charm that only he can pull off. “Plenty of time.”

Hugh’s grin is slow and wicked, a knowing glint in his eyes as he hovers over you, his hands planted on either side of your head, holding himself up effortlessly. His chest rises and falls in slow, measured breaths, but you can feel the tension in his muscles, the way his body is coiled with desire. His face is close to yours, and you can’t help but be mesmerized by the way his eyes roam over your features, taking in every detail like it’s the first time he’s seeing you like this.

“Plenty of time,” he repeats, his voice dropping even lower, a rough edge to it that makes heat pool in your stomach.

His lips brush against yours in a teasing ghost of a kiss, and you arch your back, instinctively pressing yourself closer to him. But he doesn’t kiss you right away; instead, his mouth hovers over yours, so close you can feel the warmth of his breath but not close enough to close the gap. It’s deliberate, and the way he holds back only makes you want him more.

“Hugh…” you breathe, your hands sliding up his arms, feeling the hard muscles beneath your fingers as you try to pull him closer, but he doesn’t budge. His smile grows, enjoying the way you’re squirming beneath him.

“What’s the rush?” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your jaw, his stubble grazing your skin in a way that sends little sparks of pleasure racing through you. He kisses down your neck slowly, his mouth soft and warm, the contrast between his rough jaw and tender lips driving you wild. His hands, large and warm, skim down the sides of your body, tracing the curve of your waist, before coming to rest on your hips, holding you in place as his mouth continues to trail lower.

You can barely form a response, too focused on the way his touch ignites every nerve in your body. You arch into him, wanting more, needing more, but he keeps that slow, deliberate pace, savoring every inch of you.

“Hugh…” you say again, this time more pleading, your fingers threading through his hair, tugging gently.

He chuckles softly against your skin, his voice deep and thick with amusement. “Patience, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his breath hot against the sensitive skin of your collarbone. “We’ve got all day.”

Your heart skips a beat at his words, and the low heat between your thighs intensifies, the idea of spending hours tangled up with him sending a flush of anticipation through your body. You tilt your head back, giving him more access, and he takes it, his mouth trailing along the curve of your neck, down to your chest.

He finally moves lower, his lips skimming over your breasts, just barely grazing the sensitive skin there before he shifts, pressing his body down against yours. You can feel the hard length of him through the thin fabric of his boxers, and the sensation makes your hips instinctively buck up against him, seeking friction.

Hugh groans, low and deep in his throat, his hands tightening on your hips as he rocks against you once, slow but firm, sending a bolt of pleasure straight through you.

“Fuck,” you gasp, your head tilting back as the heat between you builds.

You’re lost in the feel of him, the way he’s teasing you with slow, deliberate movements, making you want more, driving you closer to the edge with every roll of his hips. You press up against him again, your body moving in sync with his, seeking more, desperate for the friction that will send you both over the edge.

Hugh’s breathing is heavy now, and his restraint is starting to slip. You can see it in the way his muscles tense, the way his control wavers as he presses harder against you, his movements becoming less measured and more urgent. His lips find yours again, this time with no hesitation. He kisses you deeply, his tongue sliding against yours, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he grinds against you, making you both groan into each other’s mouths.

The heat between you is electric, the room filled with nothing but the sound of your mingled breaths, the quiet moans you can’t hold back, and the soft rustle of the sheets beneath you. Every touch, every kiss, feels like it’s setting your skin on fire, the intensity of the moment wrapping around you both, pulling you in deeper.

As your hips move together, the friction building with each roll of your bodies, you can feel the tightness coiling in your core, the pressure mounting as you both get closer. Hugh pulls back slightly, his forehead resting against yours, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps as he fights to keep control.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” he whispers, his voice hoarse and full of awe, like he still can’t believe he has you here, like he’s seeing you for the first time all over again. His words make your heart flutter, and you reach up, cupping his face in your hands, pulling him down into another kiss.

“Hugh…” you murmur against his lips, your voice breathless and desperate, “I need you.”

He groans, the sound deep and full of desire, and in one swift motion, he flips you both again, pulling you back on top of him, his hands guiding your hips as you go down on him. The shift in position only amplifies the friction, and you both moan as you start to move against him, your bodies perfectly in sync.

You’re lost in the moment, the world outside forgotten as you focus solely on him—on the way he feels beneath you, the way his hands grip your waist, urging you on. The award show, the fans, the comments it all fades away, leaving just the two of you, wrapped up in each other.

Hugh’s hands slide up your thighs, gripping them firmly as he gazes up at you, his eyes dark with want. “Fuck, you feel so good,” he murmurs, his voice rough with need.

You lean down, capturing his lips in another searing kiss as you move your hips down harder against him, and you can feel the tight coil of pleasure in your core begin to unravel.

Hugh came first and you felt his thick hot cum inside you and finished soon after. You got off him and laid next to him panting. “Let’s get ready” Hugh said, and you looked up at him with wide eyes. “Damn already?” you asked and he laughed “next time you should go to the gym with me.” “no thanks, I’d rather work out like this” you replied and laid back down as Hugh got up to get ready.

As you slip into your stunning black gown, a mix of nerves and excitement stirs within you. The dress is a masterpiece: form-fitting with a low, open back that grazes the curve of your spine, the fabric smooth and sleek against your skin. Delicate gold accents line the edges of the dress, shimmering subtly as you move. The slit, daringly high, runs up the side of your thigh, revealing just enough skin to turn heads without being too provocative. It’s a statement dress, designed to be remembered.

As you stand in front of the mirror, the reality of the evening sinks in. Tonight, you’ll be walking beside Hugh, the world’s eyes watching every step you take, every gesture, every look exchanged between you two. And it isn’t just any event it’s the first time you’ll be seen in public as his girlfriend.

The age difference has always been something you and Hugh took in stride privately, but you know it will draw attention tonight. Thirty years younger than him, you can already picture the headlines, the gossip columns buzzing with whispers. You feel your heart rate quicken, the nerves tightening in your stomach as you imagine what people might say.

But then, you remember the way Hugh looks at you, like you’re the only person in the room, the only one who matters. That thought alone is enough to steady your breathing, even as you glance at the clock and realize it’s almost time to leave.

You decide, at the last minute, to skip wearing any underwear beneath the gown. It’s an impulsive decision, one spurred on by the teasing and intimacy you shared earlier. A secret only the two of you will know about as you face the cameras, the flashing lights, and the scrutiny. The thought of telling him right in the middle of the chaos makes your lips curl into a sly smile. You know how much it will drive him crazy, especially with so many eyes watching.

By the time you’re finished with your makeup and hair, sleek waves that cascade over your shoulders, highlighting the open back of your dress, you hear a knock at the door. Your heart skips a beat, and you feel that familiar thrill of anticipation.

Hugh stands at the doorway, looking effortlessly handsome in his tailored black tuxedo. The suit fits him perfectly, accentuating his broad shoulders and lean frame, the crisp white shirt beneath highlighting the strong lines of his chest. His hair is slightly tousled, adding to his rugged charm, and the smoldering look in his eyes when he sees you makes your pulse race.

“Wow,” he murmurs, taking a step toward you, his gaze sweeping over you with obvious admiration. “You look… breathtaking.”

You blush, biting your lip as you take him in. “You don’t look too bad yourself,” you reply, your voice soft but playful.

Hugh steps closer, his hands gently resting on your waist as he pulls you into a slow kiss. His lips are warm, soft, lingering just long enough to make you wish you had more time before facing the world outside. But the car is waiting, and the event beckons.

As you break apart, he looks at you with a mix of pride and affection, sensing the nerves beneath your calm exterior. “You ready?” he asks, his tone gentle but encouraging.

You nod, though your heart pounds a little faster with each passing second. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

The ride to the event is filled with quiet conversation and stolen glances, the two of you sitting close in the backseat of the car. Hugh’s hand rests on your thigh, a reassuring presence, his thumb tracing soft circles on your skin as you stare out the window, watching the city lights blur by.

As you get closer to the venue, you can already see the flash of cameras in the distance, hear the excited murmur of the crowd gathered around the red carpet. Your heart hammers in your chest, the enormity of the night fully hitting you as the car pulls up to the entrance.

This is it.

When the door opens, Hugh steps out first, offering you his hand as he helps you out of the car. The second your heels touch the pavement, the cameras go wild, the sound of flashing shutters and photographers shouting Hugh’s name filling the air. The energy is electric, overwhelming, and for a brief moment, the nerves spike.

Hugh’s arm slides around your waist, pulling you close as you walk toward the carpet together. His touch is grounding, and with him by your side, you feel a surge of confidence. But as you near the photographers, your heart races for an entirely different reason.

Now is the moment.

You lean in, your lips brushing against his ear as you whisper, just loud enough for him to hear above the chaos. “By the way, I’m not wearing any underwear.”

You feel Hugh tense, just slightly, his fingers tightening on your waist as your words register. His eyes widen for a split second, and he gives you a look, one filled with surprise, disbelief, and the unmistakable spark of desire. You can practically hear the breath he sucks in, though he’s quick to compose himself, his expression transforming into a smile for the cameras.

The photographers call out his name, but Hugh’s gaze is fixed on you, a smoldering heat in his eyes that wasn’t there a moment ago. His smile, now, is different—darker, knowing.

“You’re going to drive me insane,” he murmurs under his breath, his voice low and rough, only for you to hear. The way he says it, though, makes your stomach flip with excitement.

You let out a soft laugh, your hand resting lightly on his chest as the two of you pause for photos. The cameras continue to flash, capturing every moment, the way his hand rests protectively on the small of your back, the way your bodies fit perfectly together. But only you can feel the tension building between you, the unspoken thrill of the secret you share.

“Now how am I supposed to focus tonight, knowing that?” Hugh whispers again, his lips barely moving as he smiles for the cameras. His voice is laced with frustration and amusement, but there’s no mistaking the heat behind his words.

You glance up at him, your own smile playful. “You’ll just have to manage,” you tease, your heart pounding with a mix of excitement and anticipation.

The rest of the red carpet feels like a whirlwind. Hugh keeps you close, his arm never leaving your waist, guiding you through the chaos of photographers, reporters, and flashing lights. You can feel the eyes of the world on you, people whispering, wondering, speculating about who you are, about the age difference, about how you landed the heart of one of Hollywood’s biggest stars. But all of that melts away, because in these moments, it’s just you and Hugh. The world may be watching, but your secret, the way his hand grips your waist just a little tighter whenever you move, keeps your focus on him.

As you pose together for one final round of photos before heading into the venue, you lean in once more, your voice soft but filled with mischief. “Just think of tonight’s after-party.”

Hugh’s eyes darken, a low chuckle escaping him. “You’re impossible,” he whispers, but there’s no denying the glint of excitement in his eyes.

“Let’s get through this first,” he adds, his voice filled with both a promise and the hint of a challenge, “and then we’ll see what happens.”

As you both step into the venue, the chaos of the red carpet slowly fades behind you. The sound of the cameras, the shouts from fans, and the flashing lights are replaced by the soft hum of conversation and the clinking of champagne glasses. The air inside the grand ballroom is cool, a stark contrast to the heat of the moment you just shared outside.

But even here, in the elegant, dimly lit atmosphere of the award show, you can feel the weight of the attention. People glance in your direction, some with curiosity, others with envy, and a few with knowing looks as they connect the dots. You keep your head high, leaning into Hugh's side as he guides you through the crowd with a quiet confidence, his hand still resting firmly on your waist.

The room is filled with some of Hollywood’s biggest names—actors, directors, producers, all dressed in their finest, mingling and laughing beneath the glittering chandeliers. The soft glow of the lights reflects off the gold accents of your dress, casting a warm shimmer over your skin. You’re hyperaware of everything—how closely Hugh’s body is pressed to yours, how his thumb occasionally rubs soothing circles on your lower back, as if reminding you that he’s right there, with you.

Despite the luxurious surroundings, your mind keeps drifting back to the moment on the red carpet—the way Hugh’s breath hitched when you told him your secret, the heat that flared between you in the middle of all that chaos. You feel a flush rise in your cheeks, your pulse quickening as you remember the dark look in his eyes, the promise that lingered in the air between you.

But now, the evening stretches before you, full of formalities, speeches, and socializing. Hugh stops to talk to a few colleagues, introducing you with pride in his voice, his arm never leaving you. You smile politely, exchanging pleasantries, though part of you is still buzzing from the thrill of what’s to come later.

At one point, as you make your way toward your table, Hugh leans in close, his lips brushing your ear in a way that sends a shiver down your spine. “You know,” he murmurs, his voice low and intimate, “you’re making it very hard for me to focus on anything tonight.”

You bite your lip, your heart skipping a beat as you look up at him, your eyes meeting his. “Am I?” you reply innocently, though the teasing glint in your eyes betrays you.

Hugh chuckles softly, the sound deep and rich. “You know exactly what you’re doing.” His hand slides down your back, resting just above the curve of your hip, his touch firm and possessive. “But two can play at that game.”

Before you can respond, the lights dim, signaling that the show is about to begin. You’re led to your seats, a prime spot near the front, surrounded by other actors and filmmakers. The anticipation in the room builds as the host takes the stage, the crowd settling into their seats for the start of the ceremony.

You try to focus on the event, on the speeches and awards being presented, but every time Hugh’s fingers brush against your skin, your thoughts wander. The subtle, almost imperceptible way he keeps his hand on your thigh under the table, his thumb occasionally tracing light patterns, has your heart racing in ways that have nothing to do with the glamorous evening. You shift slightly in your seat, the smooth fabric of your dress sliding against your bare skin, a reminder of the secret only the two of you share.

Hugh’s attention is divided between the stage and you, and you can feel the tension building, the way his hand lingers just a moment too long, his grip tightening when he thinks no one is watching. He leans over every now and then, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers little comments about the show, but there’s always an underlying edge to his voice, a reminder that he’s still thinking about what you told him earlier.

As the ceremony continues, you feel your own excitement rising, fueled not just by the atmosphere but by the knowledge that, once the formalities are over, the two of you will be alone again. Every glance Hugh gives you, every soft touch, is a promise of what’s to come. And each time his eyes meet yours, you can see the fire smoldering there, barely contained.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, the ceremony comes to a close. The applause rings out as the final award is presented, and the crowd begins to rise from their seats, conversations buzzing as people prepare to head to the after-parties or return home.

Hugh turns to you, his eyes dark with desire, a small, knowing smile playing on his lips. “How are you holding up?” he asks, his voice low and filled with meaning.

You meet his gaze, feeling the anticipation build between you. “Barely,” you whisper, your pulse quickening as you realize the moment you’ve been waiting for all night is finally here.

Hugh’s hand slides up your thigh, a slow, deliberate movement that has you sucking in a breath. His touch is warm, his fingers firm as they graze the sensitive skin just below the high slit of your dress. “Good,” he murmurs, his lips brushing your ear as he speaks. “Because I’ve been thinking about you all night.”

The weight of his words sends a shiver through you, your heart pounding in your chest as he pulls back slightly, his gaze locking onto yours. The room around you seems to blur, the noise of the crowd fading into the background as the two of you stand, moving toward the exit together.

The moment you’re alone in the car, away from the prying eyes of the cameras and the crowd, the atmosphere between you shifts. The tension that’s been simmering all night finally snaps, and Hugh wastes no time, pulling you into his arms with a hunger that takes your breath away. His lips crash against yours, hot and insistent, his hands roaming over your body in a way that makes your head spin.

You gasp against his mouth, your fingers tangling in his hair as you return the kiss with equal fervor. The car ride is a blur of heated touches and stolen breaths, your bodies pressed together as if you can’t get close enough.

When the car finally pulls up to your hotel, Hugh doesn’t even wait for the driver to open the door before he’s leading you inside, his hand tight around yours as he pulls you through the lobby and up toward the elevator.

The second the elevator doors close behind you, Hugh’s hands are on you again, his lips trailing down your neck as his fingers trace the line of your dress, teasing the edge of the fabric. “You’re going to pay for that little stunt tonight,” he growls against your skin, his voice thick with desire.

You can only manage a breathless laugh as your body presses against his, your heart racing with anticipation for what’s to come. “I hope so.”

As the elevator doors open, you barely make it down the hall before Hugh has you pressed against the door of your suite.

The door clicks shut behind you, the sound barely registering over the rush of blood in your ears. Hugh’s hands are on you in an instant, his fingers gripping your waist as he spins you around and presses your back against the cool wall. The contrast between the cold surface and the heat radiating off his body sends a shiver down your spine, igniting every nerve ending.

His lips crash into yours, all urgency and hunger. The kiss is deeper this time, more intense, as if the restraint he’s shown throughout the night is finally breaking apart. You moan softly into his mouth, your hands sliding up his chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath the fabric of his tuxedo. You tug impatiently at his jacket, and Hugh pulls back just long enough to shrug it off and toss it aside.

“I’ve been waiting all night to do this,” he growls, his voice low and rough, filled with a kind of need that makes your stomach tighten with anticipation. His hands move to your hips, his thumbs brushing the sensitive skin where the slit of your dress reveals the curve of your thigh. His touch is teasing, deliberate, making you ache for more.

You bite your lip, looking up at him through half-lidded eyes, your chest rising and falling rapidly as the tension between you simmers to a boiling point. “Then stop waiting,” you whisper, your voice breathless, a challenge laced in your words.

Hugh’s eyes darken with desire, and in one swift motion, his hands are on the zipper of your dress, pulling it down with a smooth, deliberate motion. The fabric slides down your body, pooling at your feet, leaving you standing there in nothing but your heels, completely bare beneath the gown.

He pauses for a moment, his gaze sweeping over you, taking in every inch of your exposed skin. The intensity of his stare sends a flush of heat through your body, and you can see the way his jaw clenches, how hard he’s trying to keep himself in check.

“You’re perfect,” he murmurs, his voice thick with admiration and desire. His hand reaches out, fingers brushing lightly over your bare waist, trailing up toward your breast, his touch slow and reverent, as if he’s savoring every second.

The sensation of his hands on you, after hours of anticipation, is almost too much to bear. You arch into his touch, your skin tingling where his fingers graze, every nerve on fire. “Hugh…” you breathe out, your voice a soft plea.

His eyes flicker up to meet yours, and in that moment, any pretense of restraint vanishes. Hugh’s hands are suddenly everywhere, on your waist, sliding down to grip your hips, pulling you closer until your bodies are pressed tightly together. His mouth moves to your neck, lips tracing a hot, searing path along your throat as his hands continue to roam over your bare skin, igniting a trail of heat wherever he touches.

You gasp, your fingers tangling in his hair as you tilt your head back, giving him more access. The feel of his lips, his hands, the sheer weight of his body against yours, is overwhelming in the best possible way. Every touch, every kiss, every breath makes your heart race faster, the heat between you building with every passing second.

Hugh’s mouth moves lower, his lips skimming over your collarbone before trailing down to your chest. His hands cup your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your nipples in a way that makes you moan softly, your body arching into his touch. He groans against your skin, clearly as affected as you are, his breath coming in short, ragged bursts as he worships every inch of you.

But it isn’t enough, not for you, not after the teasing and the buildup. You need more.

Your hands move to the front of his pants, your fingers deftly unbuttoning them as you tug at the waistband. Hugh pulls back just enough to shrug out of his shirt, his muscles flexing as he does, and you can’t help but admire the sight of him, the sharp lines of his abs, the broad expanse of his chest, the way his body seems to glow under the soft lighting of the room.

But you don’t have time to dwell on the sight for long, because the second his pants are off, Hugh pulls you into his arms again, lifting you effortlessly as your legs wrap around his waist. The feel of his skin against yours, the warmth and strength of him surrounding you, sends a jolt of electricity through your body.

He carries you to the bed, laying you down with surprising gentleness despite the urgency burning between you. His body hovers over yours, his eyes locked on yours.

Hugh lowers himself onto you, his mouth claiming yours once again, and this time the kiss is slower, deeper, as if he’s savoring the feel of your lips against his. His hands roam over your body, caressing, exploring, while your own hands trail down his back, feeling the taut muscles beneath your fingers.

You can feel the heat radiating off him, the tension in his body as he presses himself against you. Every movement, every touch is deliberate, driving you both closer to the edge with a slow, agonizing precision.

“Hugh, please,” you gasp, your body aching for more, the need building to an unbearable level.

He pulls back slightly, his eyes dark and intense as he looks down at you. “Tell me what you want,” he whispers, his voice rough and filled with desire, his breath hot against your skin.

You meet his gaze, your chest heaving with each ragged breath. “I want you,again”

That’s all it takes. Hugh’s restraint snaps, and he captures your lips in a searing kiss as he finally gives you what you’ve been aching for all night.

Hugh’s fingers slide between your thighs with a deliberate, teasing slowness, the pads of his fingers brushing lightly over your already soaked core. The anticipation that had built up all night is now electric, and you arch into his touch, a soft gasp escaping your lips as he pushes one finger inside you, then another. He moves with expert precision, finding that sensitive spot deep inside you almost immediately, his fingers curling in a way that sends a shockwave of pleasure through your entire body.

“Oh, Hugh…” you moan, your hands gripping his shoulders as your body reacts to the overwhelming sensations. His thumb finds your clit, rubbing slow, steady circles while his fingers work you deeper, hitting that perfect spot that has you seeing stars. Each thrust of his hand is deliberate, measured, but relentless, building your pleasure in layers, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

“You’re so wet for me,” Hugh growls, his voice low and rough with desire as he watches you fall apart beneath him. “I’ve been thinking about this all night… watching you in that dress, knowing no one else knew what I was going to do to you.”

His words make your pulse quicken, the heat between your thighs intensifying with every thrust of his fingers. You can’t speak, can’t form a coherent thought as pleasure coils tighter and tighter in your belly. All you can do is cling to him, your breath coming in short, ragged bursts as your body races toward its peak.

Hugh’s fingers press deeper, and he hits that spot again, harder this time. The sensation is overwhelming, and your body reacts instinctively, arching into his touch as a rush of pleasure explodes through you. You cry out, your hips bucking against his hand as you come, the intensity of it stealing the breath from your lungs. Your entire body trembles, your muscles tightening around his fingers as he rides you through the wave, his eyes locked on yours, dark and intense.

“Fuck, I’ve been wanting to do that since the award show,” Hugh groans, his voice thick with desire as he pulls his fingers from you, glistening with your release.

You’re still catching your breath, your body shaking from the aftermath of your orgasm, but his words send a new thrill through you. “Why didn’t you?” you ask, your voice breathless, teasing, as your hands slide down his chest, eager for more.

Hugh leans down, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, “Next time, baby girl.”

“Promise?” you ask again, your voice barely a whisper, your eyes searching his, a playful challenge in your gaze.

His lips crash against yours in a deep, possessive kiss, his tongue sliding into your mouth with a heat that reignites the fire between you. “Promise,” he murmurs against your lips, his breath hot and heavy with the promise of what’s to come.

Before you can respond, Hugh shifts, positioning himself between your thighs, his cock pressing against your entrance. You’re still sensitive, your body still humming from your first orgasm, but the feel of him against you sends a fresh wave of arousal surging through your veins. He teases you for a moment, rubbing himself along your slick folds, making you squirm beneath him, desperate for more.

“Hugh… please…” you whimper, your voice a desperate plea as your hips rise to meet him, seeking the release you already crave again.

Hugh groans softly, the sound deep and guttural, as he finally thrusts into you with one smooth, powerful stroke. You gasp, your body arching into his as he fills you completely, stretching you in a way that feels both overwhelming and perfect. He pauses for a moment, his forehead resting against yours, his breath hot and ragged against your lips as he lets you adjust to the feel of him inside you.

“You feel so fucking good,” he breathes, his voice filled with raw, unfiltered desire. His hips pull back slowly, and then he thrusts into you again, harder this time, and you cry out, your fingers digging into his shoulders as the pleasure crashes over you in waves.

Hugh sets a brutal pace, each thrust deep and forceful, driving into you with a precision that has you gasping for air. Your body responds instinctively, your hips rising to meet his with every powerful movement, your nails scraping down his back as you cling to him for dear life. The bed shakes beneath you with the force of his thrusts, and you find yourself gripping the headboard, steadying yourself so you don’t hit your head against the bedframe.

“Hugh… oh God…” you gasp, your voice ragged and breathless as he fucks you harder, his body pressing you deeper into the mattress with every thrust. The sounds of skin against skin, of your shared moans and gasps, fill the room, mingling with the raw heat of your bodies moving in perfect rhythm.

His hands grip your hips tightly, holding you in place as he pounds into you, his pace unrelenting, driving you closer and closer to the edge once again. The pressure builds inside you, faster and more intense this time, and you know you won’t last long. Every thrust pushes you higher, every movement driving you deeper into the overwhelming pleasure that threatens to consume you entirely.

Hugh’s head dips down, his mouth finding the soft spot on your neck, his teeth grazing your skin as he groans against you. “Come for me, baby,” he growls, his voice thick with lust as his hips slam into yours with unyielding force. “I want to feel you come around me.”

His words are all it takes to send you spiralling over the edge. Your body tenses, your muscles tightening around him as a powerful orgasm crashes over you, your vision blurring as you cry out his name. Your body trembles beneath him, your fingers gripping his shoulders as you cling to him, lost in the overwhelming pleasure that consumes you completely.

Hugh groans loudly, his hips stuttering as he follows you over the edge, his body shuddering as he comes deep inside you. The sensation of him filling you sends another shiver down your spine, your body still trembling from the intensity of your release. He collapses on top of you, his chest heaving as he struggles to catch his breath, his body warm and heavy against yours.

For a long moment, the two of you lay there, your bodies still entwined, your breaths coming in short, ragged bursts. The room is quiet now, save for the sound of your heartbeats, still racing from the intensity of it all.

Hugh rolls onto his back, pulling you into his arms, and you rest your head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat as it slowly returns to normal. His fingers trail lightly up and down your arm, a soft, soothing touch that makes you feel safe, cherished.

“You’re incredible,” he whispers, his voice soft, filled with a mix of awe and affection.

You smile, your lips brushing lightly against his skin as you snuggle closer. “You’re not so bad yourself,” you tease, your voice playful but warm.

Hugh chuckles softly, his chest rumbling beneath your cheek. “I’m serious,” he murmurs, his hand gently tilting your chin up so you can meet his gaze. “You’re everything.”

The sincerity in his voice makes your heart swell, and you can’t help but smile, leaning up to press a soft kiss to his lips. “I could say the same about you.”

For the first time that night, the world feels perfectly still, as if nothing else exists outside this moment. It’s just you and Hugh, wrapped up in each other, the intensity of your connection stronger than ever. And as you lay there in his arms, you realize that no matter what happens outside this room, no matter what the world says, what the headlines write, you’ve found something real, something worth holding onto.

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#hugh jackman #hugh jackman smut #wolverine smut #wolverine #marvel smut #logan howlett smut #logan howlett #wolverine and deadpool

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woozisguitar · 7 days ago

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scoups and slut! by taylor swift please…

requests for 200 celebration post: open (but slow updates!)

warning: mentions of panic attacks, use of words like slut and whore, some shitty people, one very vague reference to sleeping together

Flamingo pink Sunrise Boulevard Clink, clink Being this young is art the pink evening sky glimmered over the high-end street of your apartment complex. when you first moved here, sunrise boulevard was a dream. now, the same streets feel fake with no real passion or life in them. being a young actress, with success kissing your feet from the very beginning, people often gave you unsolicited advice. be it about your acting roles or the stardom in general, they always treated your youth like a piece of art they wanted to have their name engraved on. ‘it’s a vicious town. they’ll eat you alive unless you learn to feast first,’ your old co-actress once told you, lighting her cigarette as you waited for the set to be ready. and now, standing in a crowd of people with flesh-colored glitter masks and coy smiles, clinking their champagne glasses with foes and friends alike, you understand what she meant.

Aquamarine Moonlit swimming pool What if all I need is you? when you saw him, the world seemed to stand still for a moment. there was something about him, something you knew you’d spend your whole life trying to decipher. maybe it was his eyes that sparkled under the moonlight, or the easygoing smile that made his beautiful dimples pop. you were never one to believe in love at first sight, not one to give into the fantasies you often starred in, but god, he made you want to believe in it. he was wearing black slacks, a white shirt with an apron, serving the people around you. you didn’t even see what he was serving, just taking one when he approached you and gave you the same damn smile. call it delusion, who cares, but you knew you had to know him. his name, what he liked, disliked, all of it. a thought popped in your mind, ‘what if all that was missing in this life was him?’

Got lovestruck, went straight to my head Got lovesick, all over my bed Love to think you'll never forget Handprints in wet cement

now, you weren’t exactly known for making good decisions. often listening to your heart more than your brain, your reputation preceded you. what you thought was love in the past had disguised itself as a snake in butterfly wings to bring you down. still, the heart wants what it wants. your brain, riding on the oxytocin high, or as the locals would call it, was ‘lovestruck,’ decided that it was a great idea to ask the host about the contact information of the catering service she used. making up a sad excuse of the staff’s lovely personality and great food, you flattered her enough to get the email and phone number from her. now with the name of the company, it was quite easy to track them down and find where they were located. luck seemed to be on your side because they had their employees listed on their webpage along with their photos. scrolling through the list of names, you found the picture of the same man you saw last night. next to his picture was his name, choi seungcheol, in bold. a small, reasonable part of your brain tried to convince you that this was a stupid idea, but you were too lovesick to care.

a quick email about seungcheol’s lovely service, followed by a subtle name-dropping and sweet-talking, ended with the company agreeing to meet you, bringing him along. sure, you had to drop the sudden house party notice on your team and the fact that you reached out to catering yourself, but you were far too deep in this to back out now. tomorrow you were going to meet seungcheol, and that’s all you cared about.

Adorned with smoke on my clothes Lovelorn and nobody knows Love thorns all over this rose I'll pay the price, you won't the next day, you found yourself sitting in a cafe reserved by your team, looking outside the window waiting for seungcheol and his manager to arrive. you tried to get seungcheol’s contact information from them but couldn’t—company policy or something. either way, the devil on your shoulder convinced you to hatch a plan to try and get seungcheol closer. you looked over at the faces of your team members and for a second felt bad because they had no idea that this was all a caprice to fulfill the desires of your lovelorn heart. the bell above the door rang, snapping you out of your thoughts. you saw him enter along with a man who looked like he was in his mid-forties. the manager introduced himself to you and your team, but you were too distracted by seungcheol to pay proper attention. clad in a simple white sweatshirt and blue jeans, this man looked more beautiful than any other celebrity or model you had met. your team went over the plans with his manager while you stole glances at the gorgeous man who stuck to the sidelines.

while your team was discussing the various options, you announced that you would order everyone something, asking seungcheol to accompany you to the counter, which made you earn a few confused glances from your team. ignoring them, you made your way to the counter, finally getting a moment of privacy with seungcheol. “hi, i’m yn,” you exchanged a smile. seungcheol’s lips quirked up in a teasing smile, “i think everyone here knows who you are, miss y/n.” “you don’t have to call me miss, just y/n is fine,” you mumbled, feeling your cheeks warm up in embarrassment. way to go y/n... “alright, just y/n. i’m seungcheol, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” he smiled, giving his order at the counter. you quickly followed his cue, giving the order for your team and made your way to the pickup counter with him by your side. the shy smile wouldn’t leave your face no matter how much you tried to fight it off. “so i’m guessing you will be in charge of catering at my house,” you said, looking up to see him already staring at you. “well, you specifically asked for me, so yes i will,” seungcheol replied, the stupid teasing smile not leaving his face. “right, so i was thinking wouldn’t it be easier for me to contact you if i had your number…?” you trailed off, looking at him with hopeful eyes. “shouldn’t your team contact me, y/n?” you flushed yet again at his teasing, trying to come up with a reply. seungcheol laughed and reached out, pointing at the device in your hand. you unlocked and gave it to him, watching as he opened a new contact page and filled in his details. “here you go,” he said, giving you your phone back. “by the way, you really suck at flirting,” he leaned back, taking his order and walking back to the team.

But if I'm all dressed up They might as well be looking at us And if they call me a slut You know it might be worth it for once And if I'm gonna be drunk Might as well be drunk in love the past two weeks or so had been eventful. you saw seungcheol every day at your residence, from tasting the various items off the set menu to deciding on the outfits for the staff, he was present for it all. the night when you first met, you spent hours debating whether to text him first or not. then around 11pm you decided to bite the bullet and sent him a small ‘hi, this is y/n’ text. his reply came quicker than you had anticipated, which read ‘hi, just y/n.’ you never knew a simple text would have you feeling so many butterflies. while your conversations were strictly professional, you couldn’t help but look forward to every notification from him. having seungcheol so close and around only resulted in your feelings increasing for him. when the day of your party arrived, you wore your prettiest dress, partially hoping for seungcheol to take notice. and boy, did he take notice, with his jaw slightly dropping as his eyes raked over your form. you took this moment to have a proper look at him too. dressed in dark gray dress pants, a white button-up, and maroon tie, seungcheol ditched his apron as the current stand-in manager. “done staring?” he asked, the same teasing smile gracing his face. “are you?” you flirted, terribly so, and pushed past him.

while the party was a success, you realised pretty late that the attendees took notice of you, in the wrong way. sure, you did have a reputation with dating, labels and names like ‘slut’ and ‘whore’ commonly gracing the headlines with your picture on the front page. you always decided to look past that, telling yourself it's just the media and this is the curse of success. but now, it felt a little ridiculous because it involved seungcheol. plus, it wasn’t like you kissed him in front of everyone. all you did was make conversation about the various foods and laughed at his joke or two. when your publicist told you about the article, your hands were itching to text seungcheol, asking him if he was alright. even after a warning of not contacting anyone, you decided to fuck it and text him, perhaps it might be worth being called names for once. nursing yourself to a bottle of wine, you were long passed out when your phone pinged with an ‘i’m fine but how are you? :(’ text.

Send the code, he's waiting there The sticks and stones they throw froze mid-air

you saw the text from seungcheol. texting back an ‘i’m alright, don’t worry,’ you decided that you might as well shoot your shot. it was now or never. you texted him a quick ‘hey, i have to confess something, do you think you can meet me today? my place?’ seungcheol’s reply came a second later, just a ‘yes, i’ll see you there,’ to which you replied with ‘dinner’s on me :)’

seungcheol arrived right on time and you let him in. “i ordered chinese. i didn’t know what your preference was, so i hope you like it,” you said, giving him a nervous smile. he smiled back reassuringly and said he loved chinese. you showed him your living room just as your food arrived. there, now sitting next to each other with chinese takeout in between the two of you, you decided it was the right time to confess to him. “so, i want to tell you something,” you started, and seungcheol put down his food, giving you his undivided attention. you took a deep breath and started, “i really like you, really, really like you, and i know it’s silly and stupid because we’ve barely known each other for two weeks, but i do. and i completely understand if you don’t like me, i get it, truly. this life and dating me comes with a lot of drawbacks and secrecy, so i understand if it’s too much. i just really had to let you know this,” you finished, feeling breathless from your rant. you looked up to see seungcheol smiling at you. he tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “i know. plus, if i didn’t want this, i wouldn’t be sitting here with you.” he simply leaned in to kiss the corner of your mouth.

Everyone wants him That was my crime The wrong place at the right time And I break down, then he's pullin' me in In a world of boys, he's a gentleman

the next few months were absolute bliss. seungcheol was everything and somehow more than you could’ve asked for. you found out that this catering business was actually his part-time job to help put himself through grad school. yet never once did he care about your status, money, or fame. whenever you were worried things might get too much for him, like when a new hate article was released, you were shipped with a co-actor, or whenever people recalled your past relationships having no idea about what went on behind closed doors, all seungcheol would do was hold you close and tell you that he didn’t care. all he wanted was you, just y/n, no one else, he would say, recalling your first conversation. then the news broke. someone spotted the two of you holding hands and walking in the dead of night. with no one in sight, you made the stupid mistake of not hiding yours or seungcheol’s face in public. when your pr team asked if you wanted to go public to simply make the public scrutiny easier, rather than them trying to pry into your life, you could confirm and ask them to back off. seungcheol’s opinion, when asked, was simply ‘whatever works best for y/n, i’ll be happy with it.’

the confirmation announcement had alright responses. not good, but not bad either. but the worst always happens behind closed doors. with seungcheol in the spotlight, every other actress in your vicinity wanted their hands on him. whether it be sliding into his dms or straight-up trespassing at his job, demanding him to be present with other staff members, trying to sink their claws into him somehow. one of your so-called friends invited you to a party and unbeknownst to you, hired seungcheol and his catering for the same. when you saw seungcheol along with the other staff members, she tried to make a spectacle of your boyfriend, trying to insult both you and seungcheol. she thought he would cave in and was doing you a favor by revealing his ‘true form,’ but when seungcheol saw your trembling hands, unshed tears, and shaking form—all signs of the impending panic attack he had become so well-versed in handling—he didn’t give a fuck about anyone or anything. he just held you close, in the middle of the now-quiet party, and whispered if you wanted to leave. when you nodded yes, he held your hand and walked you out of the door, leaving his apron by the patio. he held you close as you tried to even your breathing, humming softly under his breath to distract you from your thoughts. slowly drifting off in your car, you sent a small thank you to the fates for finally sending you a true gentleman.

Got lovestruck, went straight to my head Got lovesick, all over my bed Love to think you'll never forget We'll pay the price, I guess

the next day, the headlines went crazy. pictures of seungcheol embracing you in the middle of the party went viral everywhere, and that’s when you realized, he also made sure to shield you completely from all sides so none of the pictures showed your tearful, panic-stricken face. seungcheol had just sent a resignation to his job when you walked into your living room, eyes welling up with tears. seungcheol saw your phone in your hand, fearing another horrible headline. you, however, hastened over and buried your face in his chest, murmuring a small thank you. seungcheol buried his face in your hair, basking in the moment of quiet. when your pr team called to discuss how you wanted to handle this, you told them to announce your short hiatus, wanting a break from everyone and everything. both of you knew relationships, in this life, came with prices to pay and yet decided to jump in headfirst.

But if I'm all dressed up They might as well be looking at us If they call me a slut You know it might be worth it for once And if I'm gonna be drunk I might as well be drunk in love

seungcheol told you about his job the same evening you told him about your hiatus. “why don’t you move in with me?” you suggested, which surprised seungcheol. “what?” “yeah, i mean it makes sense. you’ll save up on rent, which means you don’t have to take another job, and i get to have you around so i don’t spiral whenever a new article pops up. it’s a win for both of us.” seungcheol hesitated for a second, as much as he loved being with you, he felt like he was taking advantage. when he voiced his concerns, you absolved them by reminding him how much you wanted this and how having him around would be more of a favor you’re doing for yourself than him. slowly, seungcheol moved in and notified his landlord, officially taking his place in your home.

Half asleep Taking your time In the tangerine, neon light This is luxury You're not saying you're in love with me But you're going to

with seungcheol moving in, mornings definitely had its perks. the soft tangerine orange glow of sunrise slowly gracing his sleepy features while he cuddled himself closer to you was a view you would not be able to forget even in death. on his off days, you would spend late mornings in bed, slowly waking each other up with kisses, and you realised no comfort in the world would compare to this luxury. the same bed seungcheol unravels and puts you together every night was witness to the first time he murmured that he loved you. a kiss on your forehead every morning, and you knew you were irrevocably in love with him too.

Half awake Taking your chance It's a big mistake I said it might blow up in your pretty face I'm not saying do it anyway But you're going to

but your days weren’t all in blissful warmth. sometimes, your insecurities would get the best of you, and you’d ask him if all this was a big mistake and if you were really worth taking such a big chance. “this could blow up in your face, seungcheol!” you yelled after a long and difficult night of overthinking and doubting. “so be it,” was all he said, and the sheer determination in his eyes made you realize he would never leave you, no matter how hard it got.

And if they call me a slut You know it might be worth it for once And if I'm gonna be drunk Might as well be drunk in love

five months later, you decided to go back to the industry. by now, time had played its part and the general public was on your side. you steered clear of places and gatherings you knew would only cause you harm, opting to spend the nights cuddled with beloved boyfriend. every time he gives you the same damn smile, you know it was all worth it again and again.

a/n: happy new year <3

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kinopio-writes · 11 months ago

Text

A/N: Decided to answer these two in one go. Screenshotted, lol. 3rd POV and the reader is referred to as they/it like last time. Also, I’m gonna be honest with you, after the last Adam post, I started to find his relationship with Sera and Lute intriguing. They both make an appearance (separately).

I just found out. Apparently, Sera and Emily are sisters (just with huge age gaps)? Well, I never viewed them as actual mother and daughter, but I was leaning more towards motherly-figure Sera. Kept it vague.

Words: 1,404 (not including the bullet points)

Warnings: Swearing (surprisingly not as vulgar as pt.1)

———

More Adam w/ a Child!Reader

• to solidify my statement that Adam wouldn’t just give the child away to someone else—along with the points I said in the previous Adam post—is because he didn’t want to seem incapable and, God forbid, ask for help?

• uh-uh. No way

• also, I don’t really see their first word being “papa”

• because of Adam, the kid cursing as their first word seems pretty on-brand

• not to mention that I don’t think they were with many people other than Adam, Lute, possibly Sera, and maybe his friends, too

• if he even has any

• and this isn’t even slander (when Charlie said, haven’t you had a night of drinking with friends after a rough night, he neither confirmed nor denied it. Not exactly the most reliable proof, but I take whatever I get)

• so, yeah, they were stuck with Adam’s vocabulary, unfortunately

• but for the sake of it, I’ll do “papa” as their first word (“fafa”, actually. You’ll get it when you read it)

Also, uh, heavily focused on Adam. Again. I mean, you can’t really do much with a child!reader in regards to personality, so.

———

Adam sat comfortably on his chair outside his balcony, his hand carrying Adam Jr. while the other was mindlessly plucking at his wings’ loose feathers. He would let them fall onto the floor after collecting a pile of them on his lap, finding that to be the only source of entertainment he could do without his kid crying.

Before he was going to push his feathers off his lap, a gust of wind blew them off for him and they flew over the edge of his balcony. All of his previous feathers slipped through the railing’s gaps as well.

His hand lingered mid-air as he looked up to see Sera land next to him. “Holy shit.” He instantly became more animated, a grin forming on his face as he stood up. “Y’know, I keep forgetting that anyone can just waltz in here.”

“Good evening to you, too, Adam.”

He bit back from replying rudely, instead choosing to place his hand on his hip while he held Adam Jr. closer to him. “Yeah, whatever.”

Sera then went on to dramatically stare down at the scenery above the city of Heaven, hands folded in front of her as Adam waited for her to say something. He got impatient after a few seconds.

“What’s up your ass?”

She turned her head to face him and furrowed her brows. He only rolled his eyes, the corner of his mouth twitching downward into a grimace as he slightly turned his head away from the head seraphim. Her attention was instantly directed to the baby in his arms. “Do you mind if I hold it?”

Adam jerked back at the sudden ask. “Uh, weird request…but you do you.” When he didn’t attempt to move, Sera leaned down and took the sleeping child from his secured arms, standing back to her height as she observed their peaceful slumber.

Quite a surprise, frankly. She didn’t think Adam was capable of handling something so fragile as life for more than a day, let alone a whole year.

The feeling of a baby in her arms made her reminisce about the time when Emily was just as little.

“The concept of birth is astonishing…”

“ʼKay…?”

“Having a child is one of God’s greatest blessings...”

“Uh-huh.”

“You must be very proud…”

“Uh, yeah…sure…”

“It even has your wings.”

“Y’know, this is starting to feel a little one-sided right now.”

“What I’m trying to say is—” Sera seemed to have gotten out of her sentimental trance and narrowed her eyes at the man below her, “—you are fortunate to have this child, Adam.” She slowly returned the child to its father and watched as Adam held them back securely in his arms. “Children grow up faster than you think. Spend your time wisely. It’s not as if you’ll get any older yourself.”

“Mhm, yeah, got it.” The seraphim only hardened her gaze. “Okay! Fatherhood is the best thing ever, time is faster than the speed of light blah blah blah.” He swayed his head from side to side to emphasize each word, shoulders slumped. “Sheesh. Don’t have to be so sensitive over a kid that isn’t yours.”

Sera tightly shut her already parted lips and deeply breathed out through her nose, turning her back on the man and pushing the hair that strayed on her face. She didn’t say anything more and simply stared at the view on his balcony again.

Adam only raised a brow at her unusual behavior.

“So, not that I care or anything, or about your weird touchy-feely icky vibes, but you never told me why you’re here, so, if you could just tell me what I need to know and leave, that’ll be really great—”

“Adam.”

“Okay. Fine.” He held up a hand and lifted his shoulders. “Wallow in your melancholic—whatever this is. It totes ruined my vibes. I’mma dip.” Adam flapped his wings to get himself on the railings as the head seraphim watched him gently fly down with his child.

Sera speculated he would most likely come back after ten minutes. That would hopefully be enough time for her to have a composed mind to have a discussion with the first man.

———

“Say, ‘fuck’.”

He was told that it was smart to teach his kid how to start speaking at this age with pictures and shit. Adam, however, went with his method and sat Adam Jr. and himself on the carpet floor, repeatedly saying what he wanted it to say. He’d been like this for half an hour.

“Fafa!”

He blinked.

“That’s not what I fucking wanted you to say, but, close enough.” He shrugged. “Now say, ‘di—”

•••

It was only after Lute came over that he realized what his kid just said.

“Yeah, so my kid just called me his dad. First words,” Adam spoke with drawled-out speech, inspecting his lack of nails. “Pretty dope,” he accentuated the ‘p’ in ‘dope’

“That’s not what we were talking about, Sir.” Lute had her hands on the edge of the table as they both sat on the carpet floor.

“Uh, does it look like I care?” He had his kid on his lap, playing with it by holding its hands in his and making them punch thin air. “ʼSides, we still have a week to finish this shit.”

Lute only deadpanned at her leader going off-topic to talk about his kid but said nothing more, deciding it was best to let him run out of things to say so they could get some work done without interruption.

———

“Yeah, you little piece of shit, slash ʼem!” Adam’s maniacal and obnoxious laughter bounced around his living room space as Adam Jr. punctured the heads of hand-made figures of sinners with their fake angelic spear (he couldn’t get a real one, unfortunately. They’re only obtainable during the extermination).

Lute happened to walk in on the scene. Adam always left his balcony door open. His neighbors, despite being come-and-goers, continually complained about his loud guitar sequences. He always responded with something about how he was being generous and that they should be happy—heck, blessed that they were getting a free concert without having to pay.

He hasn’t had those arguments lately, though.

She observed him sitting on the cardboard-littered floor with his HolyPhone in hand, assumably recording his child slaughtering the wretched sinners.

He had the biggest smile she’d ever seen on his mask.

“Sir, what are you doing?”

“AH!” he released a guttural yell as he snapped his head over to the source of the voice. “Jeez, Lute—what does it look like I’m doing?”

The lieutenant immediately answered, “Playing with your offspring, Sir.”

“I’m not playing! I had tons of cardboard lying around from my fan mail, and throwing them all away’s a bother.” he defensively retorted. “And, ew, don’t call it offspring. It’s Adam Jr. now. Check it.” Adam clumsily messed with his phone, muttering curses until he found the video he was looking for in his endless album of blurry photos. He showed the screen to Lute, not realizing it wasn’t even playing. “This kid will grow up to be such a badass!”

“But it isn’t meant to be an exterminator, Sir.”

“Uh, so what?” He placed his hands on his hips.

Lute missed a beat when countering, “Sera won’t allow it.”

“Pftt, what? No.” Adam refuted with a wave of his hand. “She so would. I have the proof.” He lifted his phone and shook it for emphasis. “And it’s my extermination, so I do whatever the fuck I want.”

Lute turned her head away momentarily before perking back up. “When it grows up eventually, it’s a possibility.”

“Ah, what? I can’t wait that loooong,” he whined, slumping onto the floor. “Bummer. I mean, imagine a tiny cunt-born exorcist! How cool is that? The first in history!”

She nodded. “With it under your wing, I know that it can learn our ways just as quickly as we slaughter those wretched sinners.”

Adam tapped a finger on his chin, face scrunched in thought before he placed his hands on his hips as he kneeled on the floor. “Hmm, yeah.” He spread out his wings, too lazy to stand up on his own two feet. He then plucked Adam Jr. from the floor by their armpits, deciding to bring them along without much thought. “Let’s go pitch the idea to Sera. And let’s get takeout on the way.”

“Right beside you, Sir.”

#hazbin hotel x reader #adam x reader #adam x child!reader #child!reader #child reader #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel lute #hazbin hotel sera #kinopiowrites

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messiahzzz · 8 months ago

Note

You’re one of the most annoying people on this site. And that really says A LOT because WOW! Shut the Fuck up about Gale wanting to be a father or not. He never says that he doesn’t want to be one. You projecting things onto him doesn’t make it Canon.

on a serious note: i’m certainly not the one that continuously brings up this topic unprompted. i personally really don’t understand the entire controversy around the topic or why fandom feels the need to rehash this conversation almost weekly. i truly believe that there’s nothing more of value to learn from it, to address, or add to it… yet fandom won’t let it rest.

to once again clarify: what i mean by “gale wanting to be a father isn’t canon” is that there is no evidence/neither hints anywhere in any of the dialogue that support the contrary. characters like h*lsin, w*ll and la*’zel have entire adoption subplots. all of them mention their children explicitly during the epilogue:

narrator: *your soul warms thinking of lily aurora ravengard, your adopted daughter. a treasure of a girl, found at the entrance of the open hand temple - one grey eye, one brown.* w*ll: ah, the girl could melt the staunchest heart. she might even have brought a smile to old withers' face! w*ll: but tonight is for us - and lily's only four months of age, besides. i promise, the temple will keep her in good care.

player: and our little hatchling? is he safe? la*'zel: of course. i have complete trust in our newest allies. xan is in fine hands tonight. la*'zel: what a wonder he is. he will be a fine warrior, if he chooses. or a poet, or an explorer, or a scholar.

h*lsin: being away from it... i cannot help but worry how they will fare in our absence. player: we'll be back before they know it. h*lsin: i hope so. the children shall miss their bedtime tale tonight - though perhaps i can glean a few new stories from our friends here, to make up for it.

even shad*wh*art has a line where she briefly mentions that children might be a possibility for her in the future.

shad*wh*art: and i get to see my parents almost every day - i need to make every moment with them count, after so much was stolen from us. but they're doing well, [...] shad*wh*art: who knows? perhaps they'll have grandchildren before long.

gale in comparison? he has none of that. he remains childfree during the entirety of the game + epilogue. in fact, his line in the epilogue that addresses the topic of grandkids is this one:

tara: this is why mrs. dekarios and i will be waiting an eternity more for grandchildren. nodecontext: self-pitying gale: psst! shoo, tara. nodecontext: shooing away tara like one would a naughty cat.

i already wrote a post about this entire discourse here [x] but to repeat myself once more: all of the dialogue that vaguely addresses the topic of children in any way in regards to gale are these snippets

player: gale… how would you feel about having another person in our relationship? gale: what, like a child? i’m not quite sure i’d consider myself father material, plus our current lifestyle isn’t exactly what i’d call settled…

gale, upon spotting oliver during their game of hide and seek: ah, i have you! just a shame i don’t want you.

gale treating the children the group comes across with respect isn’t an indicator either. this is a courtesy gale extends to everyone he meets. he’s a character that approves of a protagonist who systematically commits good deeds. whether it’s sparing animals, helping without compensation in mind, or aiding children. wanting children to be cared for… and you know… for them not to die is common etiquette that every adult should extend to a child in need. those are not “dad goals!!!” it’s quite literally just basic human decency. gale is genuinely kind and caring to everyone he meets, there is no reason why this also wouldn’t apply to children.

i often see fandom mention his encounter with mol at last light and how excited he is to talk to her. which i think greatly misinterprets the context of the scenario since he didn’t have much of a reaction to mol before either — gale is ecstatic about lanceboard. again evident by his reaction to the party finding the life-sized board during the wyrmway trials, and how he immediately offers to give tav pointers. explaining different approaches to them in enthusiastic detail if they allow him to. the man just really likes lanceboard… as well as being the smartest person in the room.

gale: ah, lanceboard! why, this might just be the highlight of our misadventures to date.

gale: lanceboard happens to be a game with which i have more than a passing familiarity. might i offer a suggestion? nodecontext: gale's a badass lanceboard player, anticipating showing off

if you want to headcanon your tav and gale raising a big family together that is more than fine and no one is stopping you. whatever you want to happen to these two after the storyline of the game is up to your respective fantasies. no one is policing you on what you should do with your own character. go wild and create whatever fan content you wish, no justification required.

yet once again, as there is no mention in canon anywhere — neither in the main game nor the epilogue — that this is something gale would ever want (whether that may mean immediately or somewhere down the line) gale wanting to be a father remains a headcanon. while gale being childfree is explicitly shown in the game, in strict comparison to other companions that either have children by the end of the game or voice the desire to (eventually) have them.

my personal preferences are of no relevance here whatsoever. i care about accurate and correct characterization and will point out inconsistencies/false information no matter the topic. i, for one, want to appreciate these characters in the way they're written, not how i ideally want them to be.

#also i can live with being annoying #at least i don’t go out of my way to send anon hate to random strangers on the internet #asks #it speaks #fandom discourse #dad!gale #bg3 #gale dekarios #bg3 meta #summed up: gale is for the cf crowd

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cranberrymoons · 1 year ago

Text

that old black magic

prompt: magic au (@steddieholidaydrabbles) word count: 1,000 rated: t tags: fortune telling, witch/appalachian eddie, post-season 2

welcome to Day 20 (!!!) of the fic advent calendar – bite-sized fics posting every day during the month of december. enjoy!

The cards don’t actually do anything.

See, he waves his hand around and says some fancy words over some very old looking cards with very old looking art on them, and people assume that’s where the magic is – and the cards are old! And so is the art! But they just don’t actually do anything.

No, the magic sits in him. It always has. That’s always been the secret.

His mother had it, and his grandmother before her and her father before that and on and on, all the way back as far as the eye can see, right up the family tree to that one person at the top who made a deal with something in the woods one night, something as old as the hills themselves, that lurks behind trees and makes offers to desperate passing travelers.

But all that was hundreds of years before Eddie’s time.

These days, there are psychics on TV and people who do tarot readings in over-perfumed salons while they sit on a throne made of cheap velvet and clatter around with their bracelets and bangles and shawls. There are people who read palms and sell incense and run little bookshops that sell mass-produced spellbooks. Crystals and incense and moon charts, the whole world awash in fake magic. All of it, all of it, noise.

But Eddie’s one of the rare real ones. He doesn’t exactly go around advertising it, but give him a set of cards and enough money? Sure, he’ll do a little fake fortune telling for you, maybe even give you a real answer or two, nudge something in the right direction so you feel like you got your money’s worth.

All that to say, the first time Steve Harrington finds him after class, one day right before winter break, and takes a furtive look over his shoulder, Eddie’s fully prepared to do the usual song and dance.

“Um, hey man,” Steve says in a low voice. “I heard you uh –” He clears his throat, shuts his eyes like he can’t actually look at Eddie as he says it. “That you can sort of see the future? Or tell people what’s going to happen or whatever.”

He opens his eyes, and Eddie studies him for a moment, raising his eyebrows.

“Yeah,” he says after a moment. “And?”

Steve makes a face, hitching his bag higher on his shoulder. “There’s some really weird shit going on,” he says, gesturing vaguely over his shoulder. “It’s kind of hard to explain but basically… there’s something that I really hope is over, and I don’t know how I’m supposed to ask or whatever but –” He lets out a breath. “Is it actually over?”

“Harrington, that’s –” Eddie shakes his head, running a hand back through his hair. “So fucking vague. How the fuck am I supposed to know?”

“Okay, just –” Steve lets out a breath. “If you could like… I don’t know, just give it a general look, see if I’m…”

As he continues rambling, Eddie tunes him out in favor of flipping through his timeline like a mental rolodex, just to see what he’s working with. Just to see what he can spin out of King Steve’s future, but –

“What the hell did you do?” he asks abruptly, cutting across Steve halfway through blabbering about something to do with someone named Justin or Dustin or – “There shouldn’t be blank spots, Harrington. Why do you have blank spots?”

Steve blinks at him. “I –” He frowns. “Blank spots?”

“Past and future, you’ve got these weird –” Eddie flaps a hand around in the air, lost for words, because – “Blank spots. I’ve never seen that before.”

Steve’s face goes blank with surprise. “Wait, like… you can actually see my future?” he asks. “Like right now, you’re seeing it? What are you seeing?”

“I’m… just –”

Eddie shakes his head, shuts his eyes to block out the feedback loop his brain seems to be caught in, because alongside the blank spots – and there are blank spots; what the fuck – he keeps seeing himself standing with Steve, which must be his brain trying to fill in the weird gaps?

Maybe?

How the fuck is he supposed to know? He’s never seen anything like this before.

“Did something happen around Halloween?” he asks finally, letting out a sharp, frustrated breath. “That’s where the first gap is, and then the next one is in like… a year or two from now? It’s kind of hard to tell.”

Steve’s expression drops, and his shoulders slump.

“The tunnels,” he says. “That’s – Halloween. I was in the tunnels at Halloween.” He says this as if it explains anything, but Eddie honestly feels twice as lost as he was thirty seconds ago. “So it’s going to happen again, then.”

Eddie makes a face, sort of aiming for – sympathetic? That seems like what Steve needs right now, probably.

“If it’s any consolation, you’re going to survive.” He shrugs. “There’s stuff after, a long life. I keep –” He takes a breath, considering not saying the rest, but Steve is going to ask for more details if he doesn’t. “I can’t really see a ton of it, because I think the blank spots are messing with me. I keep seeing myself there in your future stuff, but I’m sure my brain’s just filling in the gaps. It’s not like –”

“Like you’re part of my future.”

“Right,” Eddie says. He laughs. “Yeah, that would be –”

“Yeah.” Steve lets out a relieved little breath, and – sure. Fair enough. “Anyway, um – thanks, man. This is… not exactly good news, but I feel a little better, you know?”

“Yeah,” Eddie echoes. “Uh– anytime.”

Steve starts like he’s just remembered, and he reaches into his back pocket for his wallet. “How much do I–”

“No, just–” Eddie shakes his head. “No charge. Just get home safe, okay?”

Steve nods, smiling a little. “Yeah, okay. Thanks.”

[also on ao3]

#steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddieholidaydrabbles #my fic

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kkuzushi · 1 month ago

Text

જ Nothing’s Gonna Hurt You Baby. . .ᐟ

˚𖦹 ‘ Chapter 1 : Life’s fine without you. I think. ִ ࣪𖤐

— MASTERLIST | NEXT

Late into the night, you settle in your dimly lit room. The only light sources around are the lamp on your nightstand and your phone set to the low leveled brightness. It’s a weekday tomorrow and it ought to be busy, you know that, yet you rather use the remaining time you have on your phone. Scrolling mindlessly on twitter—or whatever its name is now—you laugh at memes, retweet, then move on. What caught your attention is a new post that blew up just a few hours ago.

Oh. Scaramouche. How could you forget? Honestly, you don’t even know why you haven’t blocked his modelling account.

The break up was six months ago, and you swear you’ve moved on, yet seeing his pictures still... No. It may just be the lack of sleep getting to you—there’s no way you’d be missing your ex anyway, right?

“Whatever, I have other things to think about,” you rolled your eyes and scrolled away immediately without liking the post. Why would you anyway? Scaramouche’s ego would just explode if he saw his own ex like his photos.

After a few minutes more of scrolling, you get lost in other topics and finally forget about what you just saw. A yawn slips out of you, your mind telling you to go to sleep. You will, just a few more scrolls..

Yet another post from your one-sided enemy knocks you back to consciousness. Just a bit though. “Taking the opportunity.” Since when did this man started talking in vague words? But then again, he was just as vague in the relationship.

Since he decides to play that way, might as well ask your friends for help, no?

Seems like they weren’t much help either. Closing your phone, you decide it’s not worth it to overthink about Scaramouche any longer. You’ve done that more than enough during your relationship, why continue doing it when you’re no longer with him?

You settled back in bed, getting comfortable and letting sleep take over your exhausted body. You fell in a dreamless rest, the hours that passed by feeling like 10 minutes.

As your alarm rang out through the room, you forced yourself out of bed and skipped breakfast yet again. Lumine would just treat you again anyway, just play your cards right once you meet up with her.

Once you get into some proper outfit for the day, you take your bag and leave your dorm. And speaking of the devil—or angel for this matter—a certain blondie appears in front of you.

“There you are!” Lumine greets you as soon as you walk right out the door. How long has she been waiting there exactly? Who knows, but she does this every other day that you stopped wondering.

She looks at you as if examining your facial expression, a smirk curving through her lips. “I know that face,” She hummed, crossing her arms, “The face of ‘What does redacted mean by that post of his?’”

“Shut up!” You laughed and playfully rolled your eyes, “I told you I was just curious.” You start to walk out of the dormitories with Lumine although she continued teasing you about last night’s events.

It wasn’t unusual for you to pry into Scaramouche’s life and discuss it with your friends, but within six months, they went from supporting you to making fun of you for it. Not that you mind, it’s better than crying your heart out and after all, crying became an embarrassing option for you after getting used to Scaramouche’s absence.

— ꒰꒰﹒TAGLIST : @raineyun @hayamie @sketcheeee @wraithisd3adinside @heusalettle @liuaneee @yevurin

— ꒰꒰﹒OPEN. [ 7/50 ]

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ynbabe · 1 year ago

Text

Fake texts au- pt.14 bffs with the rookies+ Halloween is sacred

Okay so even though Y/n is kinda sorta related to Fernando and is a Brit, there are no descriptions on readers race, characteristics or anything that takes away from Y/n being Y/n, and i'll try and keep the pics as faceless as possible. Love yall. Mwuah 🥰

| Masterlist |

October 31st, Halloween, the only day of the year that mattered, screw birthdays and screw anniversaries, Halloween was where it was.

That is exactly why you had forced your friends to change significant aspects of their physical appearance.

"Stop, whining," You scolded Logan as he kept hissing as you pulled at his hair, trying to brush it back into a small ponytail. You had a vision, you see, while on Tumblr with Arthur on your stream a few months ago, you had witnessed the greatest post ever.

Okay maybe not the greatest but it was pretty close.

The post showed all the drivers and the character the most looked like and when you saw Logan being compared to Anakin Skywalker, you knew you had to tell all the barbers he went to blacklist him.

That boy was going to grow his hair, whether he liked it or not, and he didn't like it, but he also didn't have to tie up his hair every day, so really it should have been you complaining.

"You are so lucky to have me," I smacked his head, as he shook his head, making all the hair fall out of my fist, it wasn't long enough to manoeuvre into a ponytail properly but Logan had refused to wear a headband, saying 'it hurt'.

"Bruv, if you keep movin' your damn head, imma smash it in with my knees," You yelled once again, your British accent thickening making him laugh and throw his head back to look up at you.

"Okay, I'll go cut my hair then," He shrugged looking straight at you.

"Noooooo," I whined and got back to working on his hair as he finally let me work on it instead of wriggling around.

We were sitting in his driver's room, he was sitting crisscross on the floor and you sat on his bed, letting your legs rest leaning on his shoulders. There was some random song playing in the background and you were finally able to struggle his beautiful blond waves into a itty-bitty ponytail.

"Fuckin finally, mate," I made him turn around and looked at him, Tada!" I smiled at my masterpiece, he looked amazing, I couldn't help but keep looking at him, how could eyes be so blue?

"Uh- Am I interrupting something?" Alex called out, breaking me out of whatever was happening, I really had to start sleeping more.

"N-no, Do we need to go?" Logan stuttered.

"Yeah..." He said, still looking at both of us with a weird expression on his face.

Logan walked out soon after grabbing a few things around his room.

.xXLogan's P.O.VXx.

"You are horrible, bro," Alex said as soon as I shut the door, "Down bad,"

"Wait, wait, what are you talking about?" I asked him confused, making him laugh.

"You can't be that oblivious, mate," He stopped in front of me, shaking me by the shoulders, "You literally have heart eyes whenever you are with her-" He stated, was he crazy?

"Dude, what the hell are you talking about?" I tried not to be annoyed by what he was saying.

"Also when anyone speaks of her, or when you're looking at her or when you get her texts, which is all the time by the way," He rambled.

I tried to say something back but I got a text from Y/n, "Oh my GOD!" He yelled, laughing, "Do you have a separate ringtone for her?" he asked making my face feel warm.

"I don't like her okay?" I said, trying to change the conversation, beginning to walk again.

"Mate, you grew out your hair for her, you make her tie your hair every day even when you don't need to tie it, the tie's already fallen out!" He screamed yanking a strand of my hair, making me wince, and alerting a mechanic who was walking by.

We sheepishly waved at the man, finally reaching where James' was waiting for us, thankfully ending the conversation once and for all.

.xXY/n's P.O.VXx.

You could hear Alex screaming vaguely in the hallways but you chose to ignore the fellow Brit, right now, you had very little time to get to your next destination- Mclaren, and your next victim, Oscar or as the post had decided- Peter Parker.

Well the post had said Spider-man for both Oscar and Lando, calling out the weird twin-like situation they had going on, but Lando had refused every bribe and blackmail you could manage, stating he and Carlos had already planned something, so made Oscar grow out his hair, yes you were the leader of the men with long hair agenda, so what?

"Oscarrrr, hiii!" You yelled as you jumped next to him as he lounged on his bed, scrolling on his phone, he moved so I could see his for you page as well.

"Oh, he's proper fit, isn't he?" I said, making him cringe.

"Who- MICK SCHUMACHER?" He yelled, making me jump up and try to shut him up, these walls were thin man, way too thin to be yelling like this, "WHAT IS IT WITH YOU AND BLONDES-" He continued but I used his pillow to stop him, but it was already too late.

"Ooooh- who do we like?" Lando ran in, this happens every time!

"NO ONE," I would say no one,

"MICK," someone would say whom and then Lando would somehow get the message to them, how did I know?

"Niceee, is this the Gavi situation again?" He teased, wriggling his eyebrows, that was a very awkward, Instagram conversation which made you almost run the Brit over with his own car, hey but atleast you'd gotten new friends over it.

"No, it's not- not another word, Piastri," I smacked him with the pillow.

"Okay, anyways, we gotta leave," Lando spoke, beckoning Oscar to leave.

"Okay, but Oscar you know what you have to do right?" I asked, making sure everything was set for the party on the 31st.

"Yes, y/n," he assured me before leaving with Lando. It was only the Free Practices so I was only on Paddock to skip uni.

I face-timed Arthur, who was currently busy with his F2 work but would be coming to the party as well, I had planned his costume too, making him grow his hair out and make him dress up as Flyn Rider, and he had decided to darken his hair, out of his own volition, totally not me begging, crying and complaining to Lorenzo about it.

It had been an hour since we got on call but I had to leave once I got a message from an unknown number.

You brainstormed for more than half an hour about Halloween costumes with someone you knew for the same amount of time.

You both finally landed on Stu Macher (For the obvious similarities in their names) but you were still unsure about what you would go as. He had suggested Tatum but it seemed too simple of a costume for being the host of the party.

Happy with his choice, you both finally got off chat.

You kept thinking about what you could go as but nothing came to mind, You could go as Rapunzel, or Padme or Gwen or even Tatum, but it just didn't feel right...

You knew the drivers had a break right now, so you texted the one person you always went to for advice.

"tío!! Cómo estás??" (Uncle! How are you?) I spoke into the phone.

"Que hiciste ahora?" (What did you do now?) His voice came through and I could hear him sigh at the end.

"NOTHING!" You defended, quite offended at the insinuation that you always got into trouble. Well you did, but you wouldn't get caught so easily!

"Kiddo, the last time you said that, you lost your licence," He countered, why did he always have to make a point?

"Okay, totally ignoring your valid point, what should I be for Halloween?"

"Esto... es por eso que me llamaste?" (This… is this why you called me?), he asked in disbelief.

"Well, it's my party, oldie, i'm not gonna be boring!" I sighed, if he couldn't help no one could.

"You are crazy, you know? Sorry, Diabla, I have to go, you'll figure it out," he reassured me but as I listened to what he said for maybe the first time in my life.

The party was going to be fucking ace.

The weekend ended sooner than you could imagine and it was finally time for the party, it was a local club it was private but not exclusive and a lot more people showed up than you imagined.

Logan looked amazing as Anakin, you'd also convinced him to braid in extentions to make it more like a cosplay than a costume and man, did it look good.

Arthur looked so much like Flynn Rider you had to do multiple double takes, how that man was still single was beyond you.

Oscar was the perfect Peter Parker, the muscles he'd bulit cause of F1 made the costume look much more belivable.

Lando, Carlos, Charles, Max, George, Alex, Esteban, Lance, Zhou and many others were there too, you'd spoken to them for a few minutes before they paired off with one and other and lost themsleves to the music and alcohol.

You were a little tipsy too, but you were still waiting for Mick.

You were adjusting the horns on your head, when you felt someone tap you, "Hello, Sidney," A rough voice called out making your skin crawl and immediately turn to the source.

“Oh my god! You scared me mate,” you hugged him.

“I’m sorry but it was just so tempting,” he laughed as you passed him a beer.

“Glad you could make it, Mick,” you smiled at the man in front of you, leaning in to hear each other over the loud music, “Nice costume you got there,” you remarked, he was wearing a compression shirt and black pants and had a ghost face mask on.

“Yeah, I know right? Came up with it all by myself,” he smirked making you smack him in the arms.

“Yeah yeah, come on, let’s go meet the others and get the party started!” You yelled pulling him along to meet the rookies.

You waited at the booth for the other three to show up, “Your costume is amazing, by the way,” he complimented, making your face feel warm.

“Thank you, people say I’m the devil so often, thought it’d be fit,” you laughed, twirling to show your She-Devil costume.

“Yeah, I saw the comments, people can be so stupid,” he shared.

“Right? I mean-” you began but were interrupted by Logan and Arthur running up to the two of you with Oscar trailing behind with a plate for of shots.

“WOOH LETS FUCKING GOOO!” You yelled, passing out shots to your little group of five, starting the night off with a bang.

its_y/n_love

liked by 172,023 users

Tagged: @/arthur_leclerc @/logansargeant @/oscarpiastri @/mickschumacher @/landonorris @/georgerussell @/lancestroll @/estebanocon @/maxverstappen @/charles_leclerc @/zhougyanyu @/yukitsunoda @/pierregasly @/nyckdevries @/danielricciardo @/carlossainz

its_y/n_love HALLOWEEN 23' yall are so welcome for long hair lolo, osc and Princie! Also everyone say hi Micky!!

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username MOTHERR IS MOTHERINGGG I FEAR

username Literally all the drivers were there girly pop is living her life!

username everyone say thank you y/n for getting our pookies to grow their hair 🤭🤭🤭

username frfr Logan as anakin making we wanna get a green card 😫

username IS THAT ARTHUR WITG THE REDBULLS????

Its_y/n_love He pre-gamed so hard he forgot which side he played for 💀 Arthur_leclerc You literally only had redbulls?? don't try to be charlies favourite it wont work 🙄 Its_y/n_love oh PUH-LEASE 🙄 I'm already his favourite and Lorenzo's too cry abt it 😘 Arthur_leclerc I'm getting nando🔪 Username chat?? is this real?

username MICK!?!?! EXCUSE ME WHILE I BARK

username FORGET HIM LOOK AT Y/N!! MA'AM DO YOU NEED A DOG, A MAID, A CLOWN? username now I know y'all not ignoring oscar spiderman piastri and Arthur freaking prince eugene Leclerc

username how'd she get her paws on Mick Schumacher??? Run man run!

username fr the manipulation this chick does must be fucking studied 😭 username omg i know its halloween but will y'all get over dead shit? username why yall so jealous man??? username KEEP MY WIFES NAME OUT OF YOUR DAMN MOUTH

Username THE NICKNAMES 😭😭😭 I LOVE THEM YOUR HONOR

Is it anywhere near halloween? nope, do I care abt the timeline, also nope. hope yall liked this one!!!

Taglist: @dark-night-sky-99 @cashtons-wife @i-wish-this-was-me @thehufflepuffavenger1 @eugene-emt-roe @fangirl-dot-com @landosgirlxoxo @aquangxl @sachaa-ff @tyna-19 @assholeinatrenchcoat @allenajade-ite @megatrilss1885 @squirreljoe

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aranarumei · 5 months ago

Text

about hanzawa's older/younger sister

so! people who follow me might know I've expressed confusion regarding hanzawa masato's sister. what can i say... she's just interesting to me. anyways, i came up with a really fun theory about it, so if you'll trust me and follow me under the cut, we can learn quite a bit about hanzawa's family! even if you don't believe in my conclusion, perhaps you'll have something new to consider...?

(heads up—any mangacaps used in this post are taken from the fantrans of the manga, for ease of reference)

The Situation:

We know Hanzawa’s family consists of two brothers, and one sister. They make an appearance within ch 28 of Sasaki to Miyano, in this page right here:

Hanzawa’s two brothers are pretty easy to spot there, but his sister is a bit more obscured—she’s just at the left edge of the right panel. From the -Graduation- Sasaki to Miyano guidebook (some might know it as the 2nd anime guidebook), we know that the older of his two brothers is Masaomi, the younger one is Masaki, and he has a younger sister named Masako.

…And if you’re as crazy about Hanzawa as I am, that might have raised some flags. Because—wait, doesn’t Hanzawa have an older sister? In ch 19 of Sasaki to Miyano, which, by the way, is the first chapter that Hanzawa Masato is named, we see him say this:

This isn’t the only reference to his older sister—in ch 22 of Sasaki to Miyano, Kuresawa mentions that Hanzawa’s older sister is the same height as him, and Hanzawa mentions sending a picture of Miyano to her, though he doesn’t specify older/younger here.

So… that’s weird, right? But, you know, this is one of Hanzawa’s first appearances. Maybe it’s a retcon, maybe Hanzawa is using older sister here in a not-actually-related loose way (though that seems unlikely), maybe the guidebook is wrong (also seems unlikely, for reasons I’ll get into later), maybe there’s some kind of explanation for why Hanzawa’s got a younger sister and not an older one. I chalked it up to early-installment weirdness. Admittedly, this does feel out of character for a mangaka who’s consistently drawn characters like Shirahama and Karasubara into the background long before they have any real scenes or dialogue. But whatever, we can move on from that, it’s not like Hanzawa’s going to mention his older sister again—

Except. Well, if you’ve seen this tweet recently:

There, in the bottom left corner, is Yashiro and Hanzawa discussing the outfits they’re wearing. Because it’s cosplay, you know. Much like that older sister we know Hanzawa has. Which is who they are, indeed, talking about. And my grasp of Japanese is terrible, but Yashiro is definitely calling her Hanzawa’s older sister.

The Theory:

So, the reference of Hanzawa’s older sister—it’s not a mistake. How could it be a mistake, when she’s not an offhand mention in ch 19, but brought up again in ch 22, and again in this art? She’s intentional—but the guidebook isn’t wrong, either.

(guidebook images provided courtesy of @sunnnfish)

Hanzawa Masako’s appearance in the guidebook aligns exactly with the little we see of her in the flashback in ch 28. Here’s another thing about Hanzawa Masako that we learn in the guidebook: she’s definitely shorter than Hanzawa Masato. So that doesn’t line up, either.

Two sisters, but there can only be one. How do we explain that? Is Hanzawa talking about an older sister in a vague sense of just… an older female friend? He’s got a lot of those, after all. This just seems a bit implausible to me, though—it feels like a stretch for him to refer to someone that way, and it’s also a kind of unsatisfying answer. Then what? Is he lying about having an older sister? Is all of that stuff just his, and he’s made up an older sister to make his makeup skills and knowledge of crossdressing way more plausible? Is it just some kind of mistranslation / misunderstanding on my part? Sure, that’s always a possibility.

But… you know who is the same height as Hanzawa Masato? Who is his family? Who is older? Yeah—Hanzawa Masaomi.

I’m being completely serious. If we accept that Hanzawa Masato, when bringing his cosplay outfits to the school, is simply obscuring the truth by referring to his older brother as his older sister—well, it makes a pretty good amount of sense.

The Defense:

I’m aware this isn’t a theory that’s got a lot of evidence behind it. What it does have, though, is a lack of evidence to contradict it—and a lot of stuff that aligns with it in a fun way. It’s a fun answer, is what I’m getting at. Is it the right one? Maybe not, but let’s investigate some of its parts, anyways.

Eagle-eyed readers might notice that Hanzawa’s sent a picture of Miyano to his older sister. Wouldn’t this older brother recognize Miyano, then? Not true! Miyano covers his face with a folding fan when Hanzawa first takes pictures. And, for obvious reasons, Hanzawa Masaomi has never turned to the camera and gone “By the way, I’m not an otaku, and I don’t cosplay.” Honestly, if he did that, I’d be more suspicious, because it’s so damn specific. Really the only other thing we can bring up is that Hanzawa's older sister messes around in his uniforms, but that's easily explained—he wears a different uniform style when compared to his older brother.

With that settled, there isn’t any other information that I think would contradict this theory, considering how little we know about Hanzawa’s family in the first place. Now, what do we know about Hanzawa that makes this theory plausible?

Hanzawa actively lying about anything isn’t really well-documented, but we do know he’s well-aware of societal norms, and prefers being… normal, let’s say. In ch 28, we see his brothers both come out, and once Hanzawa (awkwardly) says he prefers girls, he feels oddly about his mother’s relief. There’s a few ways to interpret this. #1: he’s straight, the question just caught him off guard, and his uncomfortable feeling was due to the fact it was clear that, despite his mother’s casual acceptance of his family, it’s not all sunshine and rainbows for gay people. #2: he’s aromantic, and said he liked girls because of course that’s what you do, and maintains that fact into the present day, as either a conscious or unconscious lie. #3: he’s gay/attracted to not just women, and said he liked girls because of course that’s what you do, and maintains that fact into the present day, as either a conscious or unconscious lie.

If we take Hanzawa at face-value, it’s #1 that’s the truth… but like, why would I do that to someone like Hanzawa, who’s all about mystery. I personally prefer a mix of #2 or #3, both of which point to the idea that Hanzawa might, indeed, lie to make people feel a little more comfortable. To not obviously stand out. In the 2nd dvd extra, Hanzawa reveals that his hair is dyed black, and mentions its beneficial to act like a straight-laced student. He’s got a crazy amount of piercings, but he only wears them outside of school, too. I mean, he’s literally the president of the disciplinary club. Clearly he knows a thing or two about propriety. There’s a lot of evidence in the manga to show that Hanzawa’s over-concerned with a presentation of normalcy, and I’d argue that’s not because he dislikes deviance, but because he understands deviance is disliked. (I’d add more, but it’s enough for an entirely separate post, you know? You’ll just have to work with me here.)

All that said: Is it easier to say that you’ve got all of these women’s cosplay clothes because you’ve got an older sister who’s an otaku with interesting garments (and you won’t even say cosplay, you’ll let Miyano make that connection himself), or is it easier to say you’ve got an older brother who’s an otaku that crossdresses?

Probably the former. And it’s an easy lie to maintain—who are you inviting to your home? If you call him your older sister, the fondness and a lot of the truth stays the same. I’d thought it wouldn’t be possible because I thought there was some kind of reference to the clothing being originally fitted for a woman’s body, but all that happens is that in ch 22, Hanzawa says that Miyano, along with Kuresawa, has quite the shoulder span on him, and thus a kimono-style outfit was the right choice. All that suggests is that this outfit fits his shape best—not that Miyano, a guy, has to have this outfit altered because his shoulders are a lot broader than Hanzawa’s sister, who’s not a guy. Even if it was true that Kuresawa or Miyano’s shoulder spans were a bit much, if we look at ch 28 again:

There’s Hanzawa and his older brother. Heights are about equivalent, but those shoulder spans? Hanzawa Masaomi is decidedly slimmer. …That’d probably help, if he wanted to crossdress in any kind of cosplay. In ch 28, after he gets called Maa-kun in public, Hanzawa tells his older brother to watch what he says in public. Here’s a small moment of Hanzawa wanting to seem… you know, cool, in public, and then getting embarrassed by his older brother, as is the right of siblings. But it also, once again, demonstrates Hanzawa’s awareness of the public, and his older brother’s dismissiveness of it—right after this, he just outright asks Miyano if he’s Hanzawa’s boyfriend. Like… Miyano seems like he’s a nice kid, but at first meeting? That’s not the easiest thing to ask someone, even casually.

I think it just adds a fun dimension to things that are already true about how I feel about Hanzawa and his family… that he likes to present himself as “normal” when he isn’t, and that this is probably in response to some of his siblings being much more obvious in their strangeness. As sad and practical as it is, he understands the benefits to concealment and conformity. He avoids letting Tashiro count out the number of piercings he has—and he’s got more of them than any other “bad boy who’s not really a bad boy” (Hirano, Sasaki, Ogasawara) in this cast, despite being the least outwardly a delinquent. Considering how little we know about Hanzawa, is it really so hard to believe that this might be one of many a carefully-kept secret?

#sasaki to miyano #hanzawa masato #hirano to kagiura #sasaki and miyano #hirano and kagiura #kiri.txt #harusono #in this essay i will #why can i write this full post out and not answer some of my asks... because im a mess #meta

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the-fab-fox · 6 months ago

Note

I come bearing a request! If it doesn't make you uncomfortable — ignore this if it does — could you please write platonic headcanons or a oneshot about the Pomfiore trio helping yuu who's on her (or their) period and has cramps & is just feeling gross?

| Request Fill for Anonymous. To find out how to request your own, check out this post here. |

Absolutely, I can, my friend!

I enjoyed writing this so much. I love seeing these three and Yuu getting on so well in Book 6. It makes my heart so happy to see it.

So naturally, I wanted to include that same vibe with this one.

As a note, since I don't really mention it until further in the oneshot, this takes place during the SEC group preparing for the SDC.

I hope you enjoy, sweet anon! And if you feel up to it, in case you don't want to comment directly on the fill itself, feel free to shoot me a dm if you wanna let me know how you like it.

Thanks again for the adorable request!

—

Platonic F!Reader with Vil, Rook, and Epel.

[Fill under cut due to length.]

—

The Ramshackle Prefect watched the dancers closely. She smiled to herself with a soft chuckle.

The chuckle quickly became a grimace as, yet again, her uterus decided to give her a swift horse kick back to reality.

This sucks. I'm grateful that Sam had the things I needed but they don't really have anything like Tylenol or Ibuprofen here.

Sam had given her a little protip though, before she had left his shop.

“Talk to Professor Crewel about this.”

She did just that.

Crewel had told her that he would make a potion which would likely act in the same manner as the medicines from her world but it would take two days. He frowned at her and snapped his riding crop in his hand.

“In the future, you are to inform me at least four days before your cycle starts so you won't have to wait so long for relief from the cramps. Is that understood?”

She snapped to attention. “Yes, sir!”

Crewel smiled empathetically. “Good girl. You may go but before you do, here—”

He opened one of his desk drawers and pulled out what looked like a Hershey bar. He passed it to her and she took it tentatively. After all, Crewel didn't seem like the type to give gifts or rewards to students.

“It's chocolate. It won't do as much as the potion will but it is something that is already made so we'll take what we can get, won't we, pup?”

The otherworlder nodded and smiled. “Thank you for helping me with… all of this.” Out of nerves, she waved vaguely at the lower half of her body. “You and Sam have been so helpful and nice about it.”

Crewel nodded. “It's nothing. Especially since I know exactly how you feel.”

She tilted her head and frowned.

What on earth did that mean? What was he—

Oh!

No way!

Her eyes widened and she blurted out the question that immediately came to mind before she could stop herself.

“Professor Crewel, did you just subtly slip in the fact that you're a transman?”

Crewel grinned. “Well spotted, Prefect. I swear, you have more intuition and common sense than most of the students at this school combined.”

She blushed at the compliment. She never had been good at accepting them. Most of the time, they made her uncomfortable.

Even with how uncomfortable she was, the compliments still pleased her. In her mind, Crewel was one of the best teachers at the school. Even with his weird BDSM vibe he had going on with that ridiculous riding crop.

Maybe she was being a little unfair. She just hated it when Crewel would appear by her and her friend’s desk and snap that thing.

It wasn't her fault she was easily jump scared.

She thanked him instead of commenting on the compliment—what would she even say to that?—and had taken her leave.

Brought out of the memory but yet another sharp squeezing sensation, the Ramshackle Prefect let out a little whimper.

Damnit. Why did I eat all that chocolate bar in one sitting? I'm sure Crewel wouldn't mind giving me another, if he even has one. And Sam should have them in stock. I should go after practice and grab one.

Unfortunately, there was no telling how long practice would be.

“Mademoiselle Trickster. Forgive me, but tu vas bien? Are you feeling alright?”

She blinked up at Rook. There was that sharp, observant gaze but just behind it, she saw genuine concern.

She smiled.

Well, she tried anyway before another cramp hit her. This one was more intense than the last as well. She could also feel the beginnings of a migraine and bemoaned her lack of the potion.

“Ouch,” she groaned.

“Rook! Why are you over here? You're supposed to be with the others, practicing.”

Rook didn't look chastised in the least. She had always found that pretty impressive. The fact that Vil could just bark his disappointment and Rook would apologize genuinely but that would be that.

Unfortunately, she was nothing like Rook. Vil was also unfathomably beautiful, famous, snarky, and direct. Those combinations very often did not suit people like her. She was grateful, however, that Vil seemed to be an exception.

Yeah, he could be harsh, but only when it was necessarily or well deserved. To her, Vil seemed more like a bossy but supportive big sister. She was just intimidated by the rest of him.

“Oui,” Rook replied. “I simply came over because I could tell that our dear Trickster here is not feeling well.”

Vil turned those lavender eyes on her and she found she could not look away. His eyes narrowed as he looked her over.

“What's going on?”

The Ramshackle Prefect surprised herself as she suddenly burst into tears.

Okay, it wasn't as dramatic as all that, but she did end up crying.

“Prefect?”

Vil's tone was still firm but had softened significantly.

She sighed as she looked at him. “I'm sorry… I… well, I started my period and there's no medications here like back home that can help with it,” she said, her voice sounding whiny to her own ears. God, she hated how whiny her period made her. And how utterly disgusting she felt being a foot from Vil Schoenheit.

She sucked in a breath, and continued. “Crewel is making a potion for me…he's so nice… he doesn't show it but he is. But he said it's going to take 2 days, maybe 3, before the potion will be ready. But the cramps are so bad and now my head is starting to hurt. It's definitely the beginning of a migraine.”

Vil was suddenly all action so fast that she felt a little lightheaded for a second or two.

“Rook. Go to Sam’s and get anything you can think of that helps with a period. Then go get one of my silk pajama sets, a pair of my softest slippers, and my facial kit. Bring the lavender scented—no!—bring the ginger infused facial products. And a bit of our peppermint tea.”

Rook snapped to attention. “I won't be but a moment,” he assured them both before leaving quite dramatically. But that was normal for the odd third year.

Vil looked at her before scanning the others practicing their dance moves into the mirror.

“Epel!”

The periwinkle-haired first year glanced over in question.

“Ah—yes, sir?”

“Please come here a moment.”

The Prefect watched as Epel did as ordered, coming to stand before them both. He glanced at her, obvious concern in his eyes now that he could see her up close.

“Hey, what's wrong?”

She sighed and shook her head, no longer feeling emotional enough to blurt it out. She nodded instead at the silent question in Vil's eyes.

“The Prefect is on her period. Unfortunately, she didn't think to bring this up with Crewel prior to getting it but it's understandable, considering everything she's gone through since her arrival. I'm assuming this is your first period since coming here?”

She grimaced and nodded. Back home, it wasn't often that she skipped periods. The times she did, however, were usually due to stress and the next one she did get was always worse. That was what was happening here, to the letter.

She looked at Vil with surprise. It was her understanding that Vil had no siblings. He smiled at her surprise.

“In my line of work, you get to know a great number of people. Many of them get periods. It's also imperative to familiarize oneself with others’ physiology and not just one's own when making potions.”

The Prefect just nodded her head. It made a lot of sense but she felt too exhausted to do anything more.

Epel looked at her with sympathy. “What can I do to help?”

Vil smiled. “That's precisely why I called you over. Will you please tell the others that something has come up that couldn't be helped so the rest of practice is canceled.” He paused for a moment, considering the group. “Also inform them that I want them to practice their moves for an hour in front of a mirror tonight. Wait… Spudling 1 and 2 should do 2 hours. Then I'd like you and Grim to ask the chefs if they wouldn't mind making a simple chicken and noodle soup for her. You don't have to answer any questions. If they push, have them come talk to me. That should take care of things nicely.” He tilted his head imperiously. “Did you get all of that, baby spudling?”

He'd do well as an owl, she thought out of nowhere and was grateful that she hadn't voiced the thought aloud.

“Whatda I lookit to ya—erk—I mean, yes, sir. The rest of practice is canceled, but they are to do 1 hour of practice back home. 2 for Ace and Deuce. Then I'm to go to the kitchens with Grim to get Chicken and Noodle soup for the Prefect.”

“Very good. Go on now.”

Epel hurried off.

Vil smiled sympathetically at her now. She sighed her feelings on the whole matter.

“Do not worry, my dear. We'll get you sorted. Tomorrow you will be off duty as well. If you would like, I can inform the Headmage that you will need to be out of classes as well due to being sick.”

Her eyes widened. “Really? You'd do that for me? They'll be okay with that?”

In her experience, people with periods were generally just expected to get on with life despite the pain and feeling like complete garbage. Pick oneself up by the bootstraps, and all that.

Vil snorted. “They trust me. I've earned their respect and with good reason. They'll accept with no other details aside from being too sick to come.”

She was suddenly filled with the desperate urge to hug him. She was that thankful. Luckily, she was able to hold back.

Tears began to creep at the corners of her eyes again and it was with a softer voice that she thanked him.

“Think nothing of it, Prefect. While I am empathetic, especially with things that are unavoidable, I'm also thinking of the group and the SDC. With a period there's no way you wouldn't be distracted and understandably so, therefore it would be a waste of time to make you do your job when you feel as you do.” He smiled apologetically once more with a sigh. “Better to have you miss a couple days and come back to us fresh and rested than to make you suffer and possibly lengthen both the period as well as our training. You're also not one of the performers so it's not absolutely necessary for you to be at every practice. Preferable, definitely, but not necessary.”

She beamed at him. “You're a really good person Vil, I don't care what anybody else says.”

Vil raised a brow. “Oh? Well thank you, but let's not hurry away from the topic. What is it that others are saying?”

A confused expression crossed her face before she realized she'd used a joke phrase from her world. He, obviously, would have no idea what she was talking about.

“Sorry… that's just a thing we say where I'm from. Basically, you're just saying it as a joke because no one is really, actually saying anything. It's just…” she waved her hand in frustration and sighed. “Is not important.”

“Don't talk like that, Prefect. What we have to say must always be treated as important. Why would we say it if it wasn't important to us? Besides, I understand what was meant from your explanation. I know well that not everyone is able to or even wishes to handle my intensity and dedication to putting forth one's best self at every opportunity.”

It was her turn to smile empathetically.

“Their loss,” she said, meaning every bit of it. Vil smiled.

“Thank you kindly, my dear. I don't need the reassurance but I'm happy to know that you think so. Furthermore, I agree completely.”

They both laughed softly and she felt a little better.

The door opened and the miserable girl noticed the room was empty aside from Vil and herself, as well as Rook who had returned as promised.

“How is our little Trickster?” He asked as he joined them, quickly pulling a table over before setting all the things he carried upon it.

The Ramshackle first year rolled her eyes but it was in a fond manner. She had to admit that Rook’s odd tendencies were growing on her a little. He was weird as fuck but he was also a really good guy when it came down to it.

Neither she nor Vil had a chance to answer as the door opened again. Epel came in, bearing a large bowl with a utensil sticking out. It was still steaming; the gentle clouds billowing behind Epel as he hurried to her as fast as he could without spilling any of it's contents.

The scent of the soup reached her nose not long after that and her stomach growled loudly. The others laughed as she blushed and covered her face with her hands.

A bowl was now in her peripheral vision and she looked up at Epel with a smile of thanks. He smiled back at her as she took it, breathing in the steam with a happy sigh.

“Your stomach growling as it did also suggests you have not been keeping hydrated. Be sure you're taking breaks throughout the day to drink plenty of water. Understand?”

The Ramshackle Prefect nodded.

“Good. Now, the three of us are going to take care of you for a little while. That will relax your body and your nerves. It'll likely alleviate your migraine as well. The cramps should lessen for the evening, at the very least.”

“I took the liberty of getting a heating pad for you—non! I will not accept payment. This is a gift between friends.”

Vil nodded. “Likewise.”

“The same goes for me even though I'm not sure what I can do.”

Vil smiled at him. “I'll show you.”

The girl looked from Vil, to Epel, to Rook. Yet again, overcome with emotion, she felt tears rush to her eyes and she grumbled as she tried to brush them away.

“Oh, you poor dear,” Vil said. His tone was the softest she ever heard it.

Then he did something that surprised her tears into stopping as if she was some protagonist in a shoujo anime.

He hugged her, taking care not to spill the bowl still in her hands.

Vil Schoenheit had just hugged her.

Was she dreaming? Had she passed out?

While she wasn't interested in him, at least not like that, he was famous and impossibly beautiful. Besides, she probably smelled. She really hoped she didn't smell.

Vil didn't seem to mind it if she did at that moment though so she did the only thing she could think of…besides just standing there.

She hugged him back, using one hand to carefully hold the bowl of still steaming soup.

That seemed to be the cue for Epel and Rook who hugged them both.

The group hug went on for a few more moments before Vil pulled away, causing the other two to do so as well.

“Alright! Eat your soup, my dear, and then the real work begins.” He smirked. “I finally have the perfect excuse to take care of those dreadful pores.”

The Prefect tried to fake glare at him, but in the end, she just chuckled and shrugged.

“Thank you for this, you guys. It… it means a lot.”

Vil just shushed her.

“Eat your soup, Stage Manager. My time is precious and, by now, you've learned well that I don't like to waste it.”

Smiling, the Ramshackle Prefect and temporary Stage Manager did as she was told.

#vil schoenheit #rook hunt #epel felmier #female reader #f!reader #f! reader #female yuu #f! yuu #f!yuu #female self insert #twst self insert #twst reader #platonic #platonic friendships #twst #disney twst #twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #request fill

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rita-repulsa-ke · 19 days ago

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Agatha and Rio in a dark romance novel

Rio is a mob boss or a CEO or something, someone with too much money and too much power. Agatha is the innocent ingenue, completely unlike all other girls because she reads books (magic tomes) and doesn't wear makeup (can't be bothered).

Rio is both fascinated and repelled by how Agatha makes her feel things she's never felt before, ie, emotions. She shoves her against a convenient wall, attempting to loom over her. "You're mine, babe," she declares.

"What?" Agatha sneers. "Ew, no." But then she sees Rio's watch. It's very expensive. So are her clothes. There are possibilities here. "...Well, maybe. What exactly does that entail?"

In response, a courier delivers a beautiful dress to her shabby apartment later that night, accompanied by a note that says 'be my date'.

She doesn't respond to the note, but she does keep the dress. It looks great on her.

Fine, Rio will simply have to escalate! She shows up in her amazing car to take Agatha for a ride in her private helicopter.

"Boring," Agatha says, staring at a bunch of buildings from far too high above the ground, vaguely nauseous. "Buy me a car or something."

"You're not supposed to say that," Rio complains. "You're supposed to pretend you don't want all the amazing, expensive things I'm going to end up buying you."

"Well, I'm sure not with you for your company, all you do is brood and declare that I 'belong to you'." Agatha pats Rio's knee, completely distracting her for a moment. "Oh, sometimes you try to tell me what I can or cannot do or get jealous when I talk to other people."

"...That last part does sound right," Rio agrees, still staring at the hand on her knee. "Fine, I'll buy you whatever you want. "

She buys Agatha a car and some expensive jewelry and a number of good stocks, all of which Agatha sells for profit, then moves to a Caribbean island with a history of interesting magical anomalies.

It doesn't take Rio long to track her down, of course, where she's sipping a Mai Tai on a beach, reading a magical tome. "Oh," she sighs when Rio looms in front of her, blocking the sun. "It's you. Go away, I'm reading."

"No. I love you. You belong to me." She does sit down, though, next to her on the sand. "I miss you. I think about you constantly. You're the only one whose ever made me feel like this." All true.

Agatha rolls her eyes and turns a page. "Don't care, not interested, go find some other girl to harass."

Rio chews on her lip for a little while. "...Do you want to maybe have angry BDSM sex about it?"

Agatha perks at once and tosses aside her tome. "Why didn't you say that in the first place?" she asks, coming to her feet and dragging Rio up behind her, their hands absently and comfortably interlocking.

"I think you're supposed to be shy and overwhelmed," Rio points out. "You know, appropriately ashamed of your desires?"

Agatha cackles at the idea. "Why would I be? Come on, I've got handcuffs in my room."

"...Wait," Rio says, even as she's happily being dragged down a beach. "I'm supposed to be the experienced one. I'm supposed to top!"

"Maybe after I'm done," Agatha says. "If I feel like it."

Rio considers, then looks down at their interlinked hands and can't suppress a smile. "Okay, beloved," she decides. "Whatever you say. ...You really are mine, though, you know."

"Gross," Agatha says. "...So do you want to buy me dinner afterwards and hear about my latest spell?"

"Of course," Rio answers, unable to imagine anything she could want more.

masterpost or click this link to go to a random post on this blog, which will probably be a fic of some kind

#agatha all along #agatha x rio #agathario #no shade to anyone who likes this sort of thing #I just find it funny when characters are in the wrong genre #Yes it does end abruptly

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mulders-too-large-shirt · 1 month ago

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s5 episode 12 thoughts

oh man. i think i’ve heard that this episode is a favorite among the fans. i also think that scully hooks up with a vampire in this one? because that got brought up in that one post i made about 3 a while back. curious to see if i misinterpreted that comment or if this is actually going to happen.

well! no time like now to find out!

the description mentions recounting their version of events… i LOVED that part of jose chung, so i really cannot wait to see what happens here :D

post episode note: not sure if there has ever been a lower words to "LMAOOO" ratio in my note taking history, so i will do my best to make this comprehensible, but i had so much fun watching this :D

man, i'll need to remake my top episodes list at some point... but it might stretch into top 20 or 25!!!

ohh, i wonder what the top 20 most beloved episodes by the whole fandom are...?

we begin with some very dramatic spooky music as this kid runs around in texas, calling for help, followed by someone who is very very fast!!! this guy is going to kill this poor kid!!!! why is he running into the woods??? not a great place to go when you need to escape someone!!!

bigger guy is on top of the little one and OH!! he shoves a stake through his heart!!

IT’S MULDER DOING THE STAKING??

scully finds him over the body of the dead kid… and the kid has fangs!!!! BUT THEY’RE FAKE!!!

DID MULDER JUST KILL THIS KID????????

WHAT THE FUUUCK?!?! WHERE DO WE GO FROM HERE

my face at this exact moment:😳😳😳

the intro was shortened... I ALWAYS NOTICE

okay, so now mulder is at his desk. scully walks in looking very very very tense. as if he just killed a child, perhaps. she carefully sits down.

“mulder…” “don’t. don’t even start with me” LMAO WHAT??? she is gagged and also making the same face as me 😳😳

(i couldn't tell what the tone of this episode was at the time, but now that i think about "don't. don't even start with me" i am CACKLING)

he throws a paper into his garbage can, which is surrounded by other thrown papers, and then starts KICKING IT??? she’s watching with a very “wtf” expression going on

IT’S TOO EARLY FOR ME TO FIGURE OUT THE TONE HERE, WTF

he is defeating the evil of that trash can, though.

ohhh no, skinner wants their report in ONE HOUR!!! scully is trying to be very pragmatic here.

they both clarify that they are going to say exactly what they saw, but he says “i got to know if you’re going to back me up or what” because he’s the one that might be going to prison!!! no pressure.

she adjusts her sitting position angrily: “first of all, if the family of ronnie strickland does indeed decide to sue the FBI for, i think the figure is $446 million, then you and i will most certainly be codefendants. and second of all… i don’t even HAVE a second of all, mulder” <- LMAOOO i’m HOWLING! SHE’S AT A LOSS FOR WORDS. JUST FILLED WITH FURY

“i’m in this as deep as you are, and i’m not even the one that overreacted!! i didn’t do the… with the thing!!” <- SHE CANNOT EVEN SAY IT, SHE CAN ONLY MAKE VAGUE GESTURES BAHAHAAA

he says that she needs to tell her story the way she saw it… and she replies that she doesn’t feel comfortable with that (queen of expressing boundaries!)

however, mulder counters that they’re facing the threat of prison, and that scully's cellmate will be named "large marge" and read lots of gertrude stein (oh god. that’s out of pocket, mulder!)

((this man makes far too many prison assault remarks. i understand that he is in a stressful situation. but still!))

he begins recording her version of the story…

“yesterday morning, when i arrived at work, you were… uh… characteristically exuberant” <- i’m crying, that is SUCH a perfect description of him. i have half a mind to change my url to that. but surely it has already been taken.

"HOPE YOU BROUGHT YOUR COWBOY BOOTS! YEEHAW", he says, slamming down plane tickets to texas on the desk <- LMAOOOOO she remembers him as a nonstop yapper, which is mostly accurate

(absolutely crying at the yeehaw in retrospect)

he won’t shut up or let her talk, he's too locked into these images of dead cows LMAOO “is there any sign of-" “two small puncture wounds in the neck?” “that’s not what i was going to ask” “too bad, we’ve got ‘em” <- i am actually giggling at this. she sees him as constantly over-caffeinated, and i love that

NOT THE CHUPACABRA SLANDER LMAOO “no, they got four fangs, not two, and they suck goats, hence the name” <- YOU TELL HER MULDER ‼️

(that episode is one of the worst, so i think the combination of light acknowledgement of that fact and allowing mulder to flex his encyclopedic memory of cryptids with the manner of a child who got into way too much sugar is frankly iconic)

and he casually adds there is one dead human, prompting her outraged “well why the hell didn’t you tell me that from the beginning?” but he’s already out the door LMAOOO

okay, i cannot stop laughing even though this episode may be about mulder murdering a child. such is the nature of this TV program.

they’re going to investigate the body deep in the heart of texas… and is that romantic music playing when this sheriff hartwell enters??? and she remembers mulder SNAPPING at her while he introduces them as if he cannot remember her name!!

(as if mulder could forget her name... scully i'm calling your bias out there)

mulder tells her to "MOVE YOUR LITTLE LEGS" LMAOOO???

now the sheriff and her are very close as he eagerly agrees to all of her ideas (that the killer was not a real vampire, but someone so obsessed with vampire movies that he wished to emulate them) and mulder watches, suspiciously

LMAOOOO MULDER CALLS HER STORY OUT BACK IN THE PRESENT WHEN SHE SAYS THE SHERIFF USED HER NAME “dana?!?! he never even knew your first name!” (angry scully look) “you going to interrupt me, or what?” “no, go ahead… dana”

(saw a post the other day that was like "they get to call each other dana or fox once each calendar year" and it's so true because it sounds so wrong when he says it in this context)

this point is where mulder makes his discovery: the dead man’s SHOES are UNTIED!

yeah, idk what that means either.

SHE KEEPS SMILING AT THIS SHERIFF HARTWELL LMAO. DOWN BAAAD.

mulder is pondering… “sheriff, do you have an old cemetery in town, off the beaten path, the creepier the better?”

it is so funny to think that all of these events are through the lens of scully's mind because she sees him as so fucking weird and spooky. both of which are true.

LMAOOO mulder says she must do a full autopsy! “what am i even looking for?” (he grabs her shoulders and leans in) “i don’t know”

LMAOOOO okay, so back before i even thought about watching this show, i saw that gifset on my main and i reblogged it with the caption “man. i’m going to have to watch this show, aren’t i?”, and here we are. so this feels very full circle to have finally seen it

poor scully has had an autopsy thrust upon her :(

scully is totally smitten with this guy though, oh my god…..

(i truly cannot figure out her type. mulder, jerse, esther, and this guy? what is the common ground?! between mulder and esther there was the whole "incredibly intelligent" thing, but the other two?? just like?? dark hair?? idk!)

autopsy time… she's talking into her little voice recorder about the dead man “who is arguably having a worse time in texas than i am. although not by much” LMAOOO

(i wonder if she really did get that candid in her recording, or if she is just being dramatic in her retelling of the tale. i assume she only records herself for the sake of writing the reports, so maybe she is free to say whatever it is that crosses her mind, in which case i would like to listen in)

NOOO, her blade falls out before she can begin and she sadly yeehaws

(god. a sad scully yeehaw. i used to pray for days like these)

time to weight all the organs. UGH the intestines are all slippery!!!

he had pizza in his stomach. LMAO THE MUSHROOMS SOUND GOOD TO HER BAHAHA SHE IS SO STRANGE

back to the present moment- our agents can’t agree on the name of the motel they stayed in, which is not promising for the rest of their stories aligning

you can put two quarters in the bed and make it jiggle? this is news to me! and this is just what scully does!

an angry and dirty mulder appears just as she begins this process!

ohhh, the dead guy had lots of sleeping drugs in his system… and her voice is all funny because she is jiggling while she says this… she thinks the “vampire” gave the guy the drugs. meanwhile, mulder is not elaborating on his very dirty appearance!

NOOOO there’s another dead tourist and she has to do another autopsy!!! “i just put money in the magic fingers :(“ AWWW POOR SCULLY

(why couldn't that wait until tomorrow!?!!)

he says he won’t let it go to waste and IS HE GOING TO CLIMB IN ALL DIRTY??? LMAOO NOOOO

the subtitles point out that he is “laughing mischievously” which escalated to “cackling”… what is this man planning!!! he takes pleasure in dirtying her jiggling bed!!

(regardless of the accuracy of if it really happened in such a manner, it’s sad to see how taken advantage of scully feels by him 🙁)

she sadly leaves after telling him not to get mud everywhere

NOOOO the pizza guy just got there :( BAHAHA she wanted pizza after autopsying that guy… well she is going to make “the guy in there” pay for it. serves him right!!!

OH! the pizza guy is the vampire kid!!!!!!!

she’s soooo sleepy as she does the second autopsy…. ANOTHER NASTY SLIPPERY LARGE INTESTINE

she is going to fall asleep like this!!!!!!

then she gets a phone call that is just heavy breathing. so she hangs tf up!!!

this dead guy has pizza in him too!!!! OH.... she realizes the chloral hydrate must be in the pizza!! and it must be the pizza guy who is the killer!! and oh no, mulder!!!

scully bangs down the door to her motel room and mulder isn’t visible…. just the creepy pizza kid!!!! she fires a bunch of shots at him, but he runs away!!

so mulder was drugged… and he says some very weird stuff about "shaft" that i don’t wish to unpack. hearing of this makes present mulder gasp and exclaim “i did not!” and yeah, i don’t even want to know <3

(a lot of times i google stuff i don’t understand due to not being alive in the 90’s. this one? i shall not google it. i am not a fool. i recoginzed Enough of those words to know i don't need to know)

she missed the pizza kid with her first four shots which is rare for her, ran after him, leaving poor drugged mulder behind, but somehow, mulder caught the kid before she did, where he... “overreacted”

damn. he's a track star even when drugged.

she argues that they can tell skinner they caught a killer, and that mulder's zeal was due to the drugging, which i think is a fine story.

but mulder is pissed! “you are afraid to tell the truth. that’s not the way it happened at all!” OHHH, I CANNOT WAIT TO GET HIS VIEW

“yesterday morning began like any other morning; you arrived at the office, characteristically less than exuberant” LMAOOOOOO BE NICE TO HER!!!

he remembers his explanations being very slow and gentle and her reactions being very sassy AND I’M LAUGHING AT HER “AND?” LMAOOOOO

she’s just LOOKING AT HIM and he doesn’t know wtf to do BAHAHA AND HE IS SOOO CAREFUL TO USE “APPARENTLY” and “VAMPIRE-LIKE” IN HIS DESCRIPTIONS OF THE ATTACKS LMAOOOO

he ends his very cautious assessment that this attack was "vampire-like" in nature by telling her “but as always, i’m very eager to hear your opinion” <- THAT DID NOT HAPPEN YOU LYING BASTARD!! YOU HAVE NEVER SAID THAT ONCE LMAOOOO

“well it’s obviously not a vampire” “well, why not?” “because they don’t exist?” <- BAHAHA that is ANOTHER GIFSET I SAW BEFORE I DECIDED TO WATCH THIS SHOW!! oh man, so this one really must be a fan favorite if i saw two scenes from it before i even started watching

“well… that’s one opinion, and i respect that” <- BAHAHAHAAAA YOU LIAR!!!

so they go down to the funeral home where he points out the plentiful caskets- unusual for such a small town. scully had tuned out at this point. and you know what? can you blame her?

HE REMEMBERS THE SHERIFF AS HAVING HUGE BUCK TEETH THAT MAKES HIM HARD TO UNDERSTAND which present scully DENIES bahaha ohhh he’s jealous and she is gaaazing at sheriff hartwell and smiling and oh my god, mulder is so jealous

he’s monologing on the nature of vampires but scully shoots this down

“there are as many kinds of vampires as there are cultures that fear them” <- ohhh nerd. NERD!!! nerdy thing to say.

she’s yawning as he talks about red hair being an indication of vampirism, gesturing to her, which happened in an AU fic i actually did briefly read once and would like to see explored in greater detail. i'm a sucker for fic or art with the "skeptic is actually a monster" trope

he is now at the cemetery with the sheriff, whose country accent has increased greatly between the agent's perspectives

cemeteries are a haven for vampires, “as are castles, catacombs, and swamps”, mulder points out, and i'm writing that down ✍️

he remembers this sheriff as being incredibly stupid. ohhh, the pizza guy pulls up at the cemetery!!! he waves hello and then drives off.

so they staked out the cemetery. fun times.

she wants to know why he cared so much about the corpse’s shoelaces, but he just looks at his OWN shoes lmaooo and says he’s getting to it

he was leaving sunflower seeds for the vampires at the cemetery, because all vampires are obsessive compulsive. they must untie knots and count seeds. which is why he thinks the shoelaces were untied. fascinating bit of vampire lore.

but they must go to the RV camp, where there is a situation. ronnie the pizza guy is here!! there’s an RV that’s spinning around.

mulder doesn’t want to talk about shooting out the tires... what is this man HIDING!!

well, it turns out it is very hard to shoot the tires of a moving RV... so HE GRABBED ON THE BACK AND WAS SPUN AROUND IN CIRCLES BAHAHA WHYYYYY WAS THAT HIS NEXT COURSE OF ACTION?!?!?

finally, they manage to stop the damn thing. and inside the RV was a dead guy!!!! with puncture marks on his neck and untied shoes!!! gasp!!

when he returns back to the motel, he remembers scully yelling at him because she has to do another autopsy, saying “i do it all for you, mulder!” (which is CRAZY!) and that she hasn’t eaten since 6 that morning, and she only had a bagel, and it wasn’t even REAL CREAM CHEESE!!!

listen!! can you blame her for being furious?? she just paid for the magic fingers!!!

he remembers her leaving as being a great relief, and her SLAMMING THE DOOR SO HARD THE PAINTING SHOOK ON THE WALL BAHAHAHA

aww, he sees himself as the poor little victim…. bro. you MAY have had it rough with getting dragged around by an RV, but in her defense 1. that was your faulty idea and 2. it probably was still not as bad as having to do 2 autopsies on an empty stomach

he goes to get in the shower. ohhh hello. that is a man who is emerging scantily clad.

now ronnie the pizza guy is here, and mulder is saying that he will pay for the tasty food. not knowing it contains the sleepy stuff!

he opens up the pizza and sighs with relief: “ah, scully” <- oh, so you think she has good taste in pizza toppings? that’s hilarious

“so, i ate your dinner” <- okay, well at least he’s honest about that!! a grown man on the vibrating bed, noticing his shoes were untied…. and the drugging is taking place!! this is instant karma for such a pizza thief!!

he tries to call scully, but only groans into the phone…. then ronnie returns

BAHAHA he recalls scully calling the voice on the phone a creep <- well, you can’t really blame her!!!!!!

ronnie is here, and his eyes glow and he has fangs… but the inebriated mulder manages to toss his sunflower seeds on the ground, thwarting ronnie the vampire slash pizza guy's plan!! which prompts him to say “aw man!” (LMAOOOOO) and then mulder's back out in sleepy land…

when he comes to, scully is bursting in the door, and she shot ronnie TWO TIMES IN THE CHEST!!! to no effect!!!

scully is shocked at this recollection: “and then he sort of flew at me like a flying squirrel?” BAHAHA

so, she runs after ronnie into the woods, while mulder breaks a chair leg to make a stake… and bam. the "overreaction".

scully points out that no one will believe that story, but he says they will have to when they examine ronnie’s body

(i think it's very funny/sweet that scully does not remember being able to shoot ronnie, but mulder remembers her aim being perfect and that it was simply ineffective because you cannot kill vampires with bullets. not sure whose perspective is the objective truth, but it's adorable he remembers her being a great aim)

someone else is examining ronnie now. what shall he find??? bleh, he takes the stake out! nasty nasty!!! what if ronnie gets up and runs away??

OH RONNIE *IS* GETTING UP!!!! and his eyes are set on this coroner!!!! he attacks!!!

poor scully and mulder are waiting for skinner… she tries for fix his tie, but he shoos her away!!! so rude!!! there is no gesture more loving than the adjustment of a necktie!!

she asks him to keep reminding skinner that he was drugged, which ALSO pisses mulder off. BUT IS SHE WRONG??? IT WILL GO A LONG WAY!!

THEN WHEN SKINNER COMES IN HE STANDS STRAIGHT UP AND ANNOUNCES “I WAS DRUGGED” <- LMAOOOOOO

(i laughed so hard at this that i accidentally hit the pause button, and i’m looking at mulder's expression and scully watching him, and there are TEARS in my eyes)

skinner sighs deeply…. and says they have to go back to texas!! ronnie’s body is gone, and the coroner was attacked!! his throat was “sort of… gnawed on” LMAO?????

“but… he was dead” “i noticed that” (mulder is doing his slutty hands on hips while thinking pose)

so they’re back out to the yeehaw cemetery. why would a real vampire need fake fangs? well, mulder answers, the fangs of vampires are rarely mentioned in folklore!

“i think maybe you were right before when you said that this is just a guy who’s watched too many dracula movies. he just happens to be a real vampire” <- BAHAHAAAA I SMACKED MY CHEST I LAUGHED SO HARD AT THIS

scully sighs deeply. average scully reaction.

the sheriff pulls up!!! she turns to him and points at her teeth, indicating that to mulder that his teeth are NORMAL LMAO

GASP... HE LEAVES AND SAYS THE SHERIFF SHOULD STAY WITH HER… THEN HE PUTS HIS HAND ON HER SHOULDER AND SAYS “don’t say i never did anything for you” OH MY GOD?

mulder was so jealous before and now he is leaving her with this man... what does this say about him!!!

he’s off to the RV park, and scully is here to share some coffee with this sheriff.

woah, he asks her about vampires….. and she says they’re supposed to be charming and seductive, but who is to say if that is the case? after all, there are many kinds of vampires. wait. why did he say “yup, sure are” I DON’T LIKE THAT!!

HE APOLOGIZES FOR RONNIE AND SAYS HE MAKES US ALL LOOK BAD? “i mean, we pay taxes, we’re good neighbors” OMG LOOK AT HER FACE WHEN SHE REALIZES WHAT HE MEANS!?!

NOOO, SHE DRANK THE COFFEE HE GAVE HER, AND NOW SHE’S PASSING OUT!!! DON’T TOUCH HER, CREEPY SHERIFF MAN WITH NOW-GLOWING EYES!!!!!

mulder is at this RV park far away!!! run, run back to her!!!! she is going to be out of blood by the time you return!!!

he goes into the RV from earlier and finds more pizza… and a casket!!! with ronnie inside!!! listening to a walkman!!

he sits on his coffin as he reads ronnie his miranda rights…. but the whole RV park is full of vampires and they are coming to get him!!!

so he handcuffs the coffin shut, grabs some breadsticks, makes a crucifix, trying to repel them…. which is objectively hilarious... but they take him????? TO DO WHAT???

and he’s found the next morning with his feet out the window of a car. AND WHY IS SHE IN THE SHERIFF’S JACKET??

he checks her neck and his own for fang marks, but they don’t seem to have any. they just have no memories at all from the evening before!!! and every single RV is gone!!! and mulder's shoes are untied!!!

skinner is being told that the vampires simply disappeared

“and that’s exactly the way it happened, start to finish?”

(silence) “well, i can neither confirm nor deny agent mulder’s version of events, which occurred outside my presence” “and i can neither confirm nor deny agent scully’s version of events, but, um…” “anyway, i was drugged” (LMAO SCULLLLYY) “that is…. essentially, exactly the way it happened” “essentially”

we fade to black with this. (“except for the part about the buck teeth”, adds mulder)

LMAOOOO??? that was it???

no answer. no convictions. the vampires all just left.

someone else recently pointed out that despite them never figuring out wtf happened on these cases, they somehow have the highest success rate at the FBI, and that is so funny because. by jove. the other FBI members must be terrible at their jobs.

okay, so i could not stop laughing during this episode, and the sheriff plot twist really surprised me. so she never actually *slept* with the vampire, she just had a little crush on him!!! therefore, i must have misinterpreted that comment someone made on my post waaayyy back in s2.

but he *did* drug her, and she woke up in his jacket, which has… implications, especially when we earlier opened with a prison assault joke.

but. okay. maybe i’m just hyper-sensitive to these things and it didn’t intend to be interpreted that way. plus, mulder was drugged too, and also woke up with no memory of what went down. at least there's gender equality in that regard.

ohhh, mulder was jealous!!! they both think of the other as too harsh!!! it’s fascinating to see how they see each other!!! he thinks he’s this suave encyclopedia of vampire knowledge, and she thinks he’s the type of guy that slaps down plane tickets on the desk and says yeehaw!

she thinks she’s overworked and taken advantage of, and he thinks she’s overly negative and hates all of his theories and ideas!!!

oh, the joys and sorrows of being with someone 24/7. and yet. the absolute MINUTE she leaves for vacation. he’s blowing up her phone. bahahahaaaa. couple’s therapy now.

i remember someone pointed out in 3x13 that it was almost like the writers were trying to prove why they would never make a good couple in the way they got along horrifically when mercury was in retrograde or whatnot. i feel like maybe the writers intended for that to happen again this episode, like they were pointing at them and saying "SEE? this is why they can't kiss! they get on each other's nerves!"

joke's on you, i love couples that annoy each other. so jot that down.

oh, it was a good episode. a nice little silly one. which we all deserved after last season, and frankly even after earlier in this season as well.

mulder: let her fix your tie >:(

#after alllll of s4 they said “we need to do a few silly ones” and thank god for that tbh.#these last 3 episodes were such a great run. i am curious to see where we will go next #also curious that this season has fewer episodes! but the movie comes next right? so i guess that makes up for it. maybe.#oh poor scully doing two autopsies in one day. why couldn't it have waited until the next morning? there's no good reason!#but in the end it saved her from being drugged twice. so that was a good thing.#i hope they went and got a nice and non-drugged pizza after this. and it was big so they could share it and get fun toppings.#the end!#juni's x files liveblog #5x12 #the x files #txf

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taylor-on-your-dash · 1 year ago

Text

Writing of 1989 Timeline

1989 changed Taylor's career forever. If Red had just sprinkles of pop sounds, 1989 was marketed as a pure pop album from the get-go.

While many fans and critics kind of expected that, it seems like:

Taylor didn't have a clear direction from the start (except for the cohesiveness): “I wanted it to be a sonically cohesive album, and it ended up really being the first I’ve done since Fearless. I also wanted the songs to sound exactly how the emotions felt. I know that’s pretty vague, so I really didn’t know where it was going to go, but I knew that I wanted to work with the collaborators I had such crazy electricity with on Red, like Max Martin. I wanted to do some things that sounded nothing like what we had done before.”

She knew that she didn't want another Red: “When people say that they like one of my albums, like when people told me that Red was their favorite album I'd done, I didn't take that as, 'So, I should make that again'. I took that as, 'Great, awsome, now I wanna make them like this new album just as much if not more than the last album.' But I want them to like it for different reasons.”

She was worried about the change of direction of her music: “I worry about everything. Some days I wake up in a mind-set of, like, ‘Okay, it’s been a good run.’ By afternoon, I could have a change of mood and feel like anything is possible and I can’t wait to make this kind of music I’ve never made before. And then by evening, I could be terrified of the whole thing again. And then at night, I’ll write a song before bed.”

October 17, 2012: [From a Lover Journal] Taylor writes This Love in LA. This will be the last song produced by Nathan Chapman and the only one recorded in Nashville.

“The last time I wrote a poem that ended up being a song, I was writing in my journal and I was writing about something that had happened in my life – it was about a year ago – and I just wrote this really really short poem. It said, 'This love is good /this love is bad / this love is alive back from the dead / these hands had to let it go free / and this love came back to me.' And I just wrote it down, closed the book and put it back on my night stand […] All of a sudden in my head I just started hearing this melody happen, and then I realized that it was going to be a song.”

Handwritten lyrics:

November 18, 2012: Taylor meets Jack Antonoff and his band, fun., for the first time in Frankfurt, Germany, while at the MTV Europe Music Awards. They bond over 80s music.

January 4, 2013: Taylor is seen in a boat without Harry Styles, ready to return to LA from the Virgin Islands.

She will wear the same dress in the Out Of The Woods music video (and also in Look What You Made Me Do)

January 10, 2013: Taylor tweets "Back in the studio. Uh oh...". She will confirm that the song was All You Had To Do Was Stay on October 27, 2014 on Tumblr.

Candids here;

“There’s a song on my album called 'All You Had To Do Was Stay.' I was having this dream, that was actually one of those embarrassing dreams, where you’re mortified in the dream, you’re like humiliated. In the dream, my ex had come to the door to beg for me to talk to him or whatever, and I opened up the door and I went to go say, 'Hi,' or 'What are you doing here?' or something — something normal — but all that came out was this high-pitched singing that said, 'Stay!' It was almost operatic. So I wrote this song, and I used that sound in the song. Weird, right? I woke up from the dream, saying the weird part into my phone, figuring I had to include it in something because it was just too strange not to. In pop, it’s fun to play around with little weird noises like that.”

January 11, 2013: Taylor is seen again at Conway Studios, likely to continue working on All You Had To Do Was Stay.

January 15, 2013: Taylor posts a picture of herself in the studio, with the caption "Somewhere in LA". She'll later reveal that she was writing How You Get The Girl.

“The song ‘How You Get The Girl’ is a song that I wrote about how you get the girl back if you ruined the relationship somehow and she won’t talk to you anymore. Like, if you broke up with her and left her on her own for six months and then you realize you miss her. All the steps you have to do to edge your way back into her life, because she’s probably pretty mad at you. So it’s kind of a tutorial. If you follow the directions in the song, chances are things will work out. Or you may get a restraining order.”

March 6, 2013: Taylor is seen going to a studio in LA.

March 23, 2013: Taylor posts a picture of herself playing guitar, which might mean that she was working on a new song: "Pre show. Columbia, South Carolina". This could be either Wonderland, New Romantics or a vault song.

May 27, 2013: While in Rhode Island for the Memorial Day weekend, Jack plays Taylor an instrumental track that will later become I Wish You Would.

“'I Wish You Would’ is a song that I wrote with Jack Antonoff and it was the first song we ever worked on together. I think, for this song, we wanted to create a sort of John Hughes movie visual with pining and, you know, one person’s over here and misses the other person but is too prideful and won’t say it. Meanwhile this other person is here and missing the same person; they’re missing each other but not saying it. And I had this happen in my life and so I wanted to kind of narrate it in a very cinematic way where it’s like you’re seeing two scenes play out and then in the bridge you’re seeing the final scene, where it resolves itself. So it says, 'It’s a crooked love in a straight line down, makes you wanna run and hide but it makes you turn right back around.’ It kind of is like that dramatic love that’s never really quite where it needs to be and that tension it creates.”

[Voice Memo Intro Transcript] “This is another way I’ve written songs recently. This is a song I did with Jack Antonoff, and Jack is one of my friends and so were hanging out and he pulled out his phone and goes ‘I made this amazing track the other day. It’s so cool, I love these guitar sounds.’ And he played it for me and immediately I could hear this finished song in my head, and I just said ‘Please, please let me have that. Let me play with it, send it to me.’ And so he sent it to me and I was on tour and this was me playing the track on my laptop recording me singing the vocal into my phone and it ended up being a song called 'I Wish You Would', because Jack wrote back and said ‘I love that’. So this is another way of writing, it’s writing to track.”

[Secret Sessions] “Taylor said that she wrote ‘I Wish You Would’ a couple of months after her and Harry Styles broke up, and they decided to become friends again and she said this was the first time she had become friends with an ex, to the point where they were comfortable enough to talk about why the relationship didn’t work out. She said he told her about how, after they broke up, he bought a house literally one road adjacent to hers. Every day he would drive home, and accidentally turn into her street, and he told her how he just wanted to stop at her house and see her, but he never did. She said this song is about while he was in the car making the decision to get out the car and see her, she was sitting in her bedroom, wishing he would make the move and go back to her and just pitch up at her house. She compared it to a classic John Hughes movie where both parties want the same thing but neither has the guts to say anything. Honestly, she spoke so fondly of that relationship.” [this is from a secret sessioner and therefore it should be taken with a grain of salt]

Between May 28 and June 2, 2013: Taylor writes I Wish You Would. She settled in Rhode Island basically all summer, so it's possible that she went to Jack's studio in New York by car without being seen and especially photographed, cause I couldn't find any pictures with the same outfit. Conway Studios are also credited but it's possible that she recorded background vocals there. Taylor was in LA in late August.

June 7, 2013: During an interview at the CMA Music Festival, Taylor confirms that she has started writing her next album.

[Transcript by me] “[The new album] is starting, all the anxiety is starting and when the anxiety starts, then the writing happens right afterward usually. I like to write for about two years before I'm finished with an album because at this point I kind of know that whenever I read in the first year is going to get away, because I'm going to like it but it's going to sound a little bit like the last project I had, and the second year usually ends up sounding like the next project. So I think at this point I feel like staying the same is the easy way to go but it's not the way that I want to go creatively. I think you need to challenge yourself, I think you need to change up your influences, I think you need to be inspired by different things that you've been inspired by before. It's harder to call people you don't know, it's harder to think of topics you haven't covered and think of new ways to say old emotions that everyone feels. I think one of the things that I'm happiest with in the last year is the acceptance level in country music for me experimenting and for me trying to evolve and challenge myself musically because I think it's never felt better to be on that stadium stage performing knowing that and so welcoming of change.”

July 13, 2013: After a show in New Jersey, Taylor has an interview with Rolling Stone, where she says that she has been writing a lot.

“The floodgates just opened the last couple weeks,” she says of the songwriting process. “I’m getting to that point where I’m irritating to be around because I’ll be with you for half the conversation and then the second half of the conversation I’m clearly editing the second verse of whatever I’m writing in my head. I really loved collaborating: you work with a lot of different people and you find the people you have this dream connection with in the studio. I know those people and I know the ones I want to go back to. But I also have a really long list of the people I admire and I would really love to go and contact. So that’s kind of where that is. I think that the idea of having a different approach to every single one of my albums is so exciting to me. I never want to make the same record twice. Why do it? What’s the point? It’s so overwhelming that when you’re starting a project there are such endless possibilities if you’re willing to evolve and experiment. If you’re willing to become a different version of yourself, you can really go anywhere with it. And that’s kind of where I am. The kind of the laboratory experimental stage of really catching onto a new thing that I’m liking.”

Somewhere around June and early September 2013: Taylor and Jack write Sweeter Than Fiction. No credits are available but we know that it's the second song on which Taylor and Jack worked, so that places it before I Wish You Would and Out Of The Woods.

In 2014, Lena Dunham (Jack's girlfriend at the time) posted this photo of Jack and Taylor working on the song at Jack's house.

September 15, 2013: Jack completes the instrumental track that will later become Out Of The Woods, after his show was cancelled.

[Jack Antonoff] “When I did the track for Out of the Woods, which is a Taylor song that I'm really proud of, there was some issue at a venue and our show was canceled that night and I didn't have my stuff, I had left it on the bus, so I only had these old samples on what was on my laptop, and caught up that 'oh oh'' thing, and I only had one drum kit on there, and these dumb little things sometimes turn into a great song.”

Somewhere around September and October 2013: Taylor writes Out Of The Woods.

Voice memo here;

[Jack Antonoff] Although Antonoff and Swift shared studio time for some of their other 1989 songs while working throughout 2014, “Out of the Woods” was completed as a long-distance collaboration. “She’s very natural -— when she gets an idea, it just happens very quickly. I would send her these tracks, and when an idea would happen, we’d be 5,000 miles apart or whatever, but she would start emailing me these voice notes like crazy and it would just be happening so quickly that there’d be this excitement. There’s a frantic feeling in the song,” he says. “What’s interesting about ‘Out of the Woods’ is that it doesn’t really let up. It starts with a pretty big anthemic vocal sample that’s me, and then there’s a drum sample that kicks in that’s kind of huge, and then you don’t really know how you’re going to get any bigger, but then the chorus hits and it just explodes even larger. And then the bridge hits, and it gets even more huge.“When I was working on the track, I was thinking a lot about My Morning Jacket,” Antonoff continues, “and how everything they do, every sound is louder than the last, and somehow it feels like everything is just f—ing massive. And that’s the feeling that I went for. It started out big, and then I think the obvious move would have been to do a down chorus, but the idea was to keep pushing.” Antonoff is excited to share the rest of his work with Swift on 1989, but he views “Out of the Woods” as a highlight on the project. “This song means a great deal to me. On a production level, on a writing level, Taylor’s lyrics and her melodies — there’s something very important about this song.”

[Jack Antonoff] “After 'I Wish You Would' and 'Sweeter Than Fiction', we did 'Out Of The Woods'. So it was the third thing we worked on together, and probably the easiest. I sent her the track for it, and she sent back a voice note with the verse and chorus in what felt like five seconds. And it was just perfect. It's eerie how similar it is to what the final product is.”

“It kind of conjured up all these feelings of anxiety I had in a relationship where everybody was watching, everybody was commenting on it. You’re constantly just feeling like, ‘Are we out of the woods yet? What’s the next thing gonna be? What’s the next hurdle we’re gonna have to jump over?’ It was interesting to write about a relationship where you’re just honestly like, ‘This is probably not gonna last, but how long is it gonna last?’ Those fragile relationships... It doesn’t mean they’re not supposed to happen. The whole time we were having happy memories, or crazy memories, or ridiculously anxious times, in my head it was just like, ‘Are we okay yet? Are we there yet? Are we out of this yet?’”

“That line is in there because it's not only the actual, literal narration of what happened in a particular relationship I was in, it's also a metaphor. 'Hit the brakes too soon' could mean the literal sense of, we got in an accident and we had to deal with the aftermath. But also, the relationship ended sooner than it should've because there was a lot of fear involved. And that song touches on a huge sense of anxiety that was, kind of, coursing through that particular relationship, because we really felt the heat of every single person in the media thinking they could draw up the narrative of what we were going through and debate and speculate. I don't think it's ever going to be easy for me to find love and block out all those screaming voices.”

October 21, 2013: Sweeter Than Fiction is released. Big Machine was originally not on board with the release since they wanted a dormant period between album releases.

Late 2013: Taylor writes Bad Blood, after Katy Perry announces her Prismatic World Tour.

“For years, I was never sure if we were friends or not. She would come up to me at awards shows and say something and walk away, and I would think, ‘Are we friends,or did she just give me the harshest insult of my life?’ Then last year, the other star crossed a line. She did something so horrible. I was like, ‘Oh, we’re just straight-up enemies.’ And it wasn’t even about a guy! It had to do with business. She basically tried to sabotage an entire arena tour. She tried to hire a bunch of people out from under me. And I’m surprisingly non-confrontational – you would not believe how much I hate conflict. So now I have to avoid her. It’s awkward, and I don’t like it.”

“That was about losing a friend... But then people cryptically tweet about what you meant. I never said anything that would point a finger in the specific direction of one specific person, and I can sleep at night knowing that. I knew the song would be assigned to a person, and the easiest mark was someone who I didn’t want to be labeled with this song. It was not a song about heartbreak. It was about the loss of friendship.”

October 20 to 22, 2013: Taylor is in Cape Town (South Africa) shooting The Giver. One of the members of the cast is Alexsander Skarsgård. He is said to have inspired Wildest Dreams (or at least he's the most popular theory, as far as I know), because the music video is set in Africa and it features Clint Eastwood's son Scott as love interest, just like Alexsander is actor Stellan Skarsgård's son, but we don't actually know more about the song.

“I think the way I used to approach relationships was very idealistic. I used to go into them thinking, ‘Maybe this is the one – we’ll get married and have a family, this could be forever’. Whereas now I go in thinking, ‘How long do we have on the clock – before something comes along and puts a wrench in it, or your publicist calls and says this isn’t a good idea?’”

Note: Selena Gomez was present when Taylor wrote this song.

Handwritten lyrics:

November 19, 2013: Taylor records Blank Space. This is based on the wall behind her on an Instagram post from this day, the credits, and the behind the scenes clip.

Voice memo here;

Behind the Scenes here;

“Every few years, the media finds something they unanimously agree is annoying about me. 2012-2013 they thought I was dating too much, because I dated two people in a year and a half. ‘Oh, a serial dater. She only writes songs to get emotional revenge on guys. She’s a man-hater, don’t let her near your boyfriend.’ It was kind of excessive and at first it was hurtful, but then I found a little bit of comedy in it. This character is so interesting, though. If you read these gossip sites, they describe how I am so opposite to my actual life: I’m clingy, and I’m awful, and I throw fits, and there’s drama. An emotionally fragile, unpredictable mess. I painted a whole picture of this character. She lives in a mansion with marble floors, she wears Dolce & Gabbana around the house, and she wears animal print unironically. So I created this whole character and I had fun doing it.”

November 21, 2013: While at the American Music Awards, Taylor tells Billboard that she has around seven or eight songs ready.

[Transcript] “We got a lot already,” says Swift. “There are probably seven or eight songs that I know I want on the record. It’s really ahead of schedule for me. I’m just stoked because it’s already evolved into a new sound, and that’s all I wanted. And I would have taken two years to make that happen, but it just kind of happened naturally, so that’s all I could really ask for.”

December 2013: Taylor meets Diane Warren and they write Say, Don't Go.

[Diane Warren to Rolling Stone] Warren, who typically writes on her own, says the two of them “sat down and wrote the song,” which was released Friday as one of 1989 (Taylor’s Version)‘s vault tracks, “from scratch” during the last few days of 2013. She remembers being impressed with how specific Swift was with her lyricism and how considerate she was about how her fans might receive it. “She was very particular about how she said certain things. It was a really interesting experience. She gets her audience,” Warren says. “She’s deeply aware of how her fans want to hear something. I can’t explain it, but that’s probably why she’s the biggest fucking star in the world.”

2013: Taylor writes New Romantics and Wonderland. Not much is known about these songs, except that they were both written in 2013.

[About New Romantics] “People will say, 'Let me set you up with someone', and I’m just sitting there saying, ‘That’s not what I’m doing. I’m not lonely. I’m not looking.’ They just don’t get it. I’ve learned that just because someone is cute and wants to date you, that’s not a reason to sacrifice your independence and allow everyone to say whatever they want about you. I’m not doing that anymore. It’d take someone really special for me to undergo the circumstances I have to go through to experience a date. I don’t know how I would ever have another person in my world trying to have a relationship with me, or a family.”

New Romantics handwritten lyrics:

Wonderland Handwritten lyrics:

January 1, 2014: Taylor records Say, Don't Go.

[Diane Warren to Rolling Stone] Several days after writing the song together, they got into Warren’s office to record a demo, where Swift played it on her acoustic guitar. “We demoed it on New Year’s Day. And I’m a workaholic, and that’s fine for me,” she says. “But I remember being impressed that she did, too. Everybody’s on vacation, but she showed up.”

January 6, 2014: Taylor decides to look for a house in New York.

[Lover Journal] LA. So I've decided I want to look at places in New York. I know I went through this phase months ago, but it has to mean something that i've circled back to it, right? You know what they say, if you love something let it go and if it comes back... blah blah blah. so I'm leaving the day after tomorrow. Dating is awful. Love is fiction/ a myth. I'm over it all.

January 21, 2014: Taylor sends Ryan Tedder the I Know Places Voice Memo.

January 22, 2014: [From the 1989 Booklet] Taylor and Ryan finish and record I Know Places.

“I had this idea of like, when you’re in love, along the lines of 'Out of the Woods’, it’s very precious, it’s fragile. As soon as the world gets ahold of it, whether it’s your friends or people around town hear about it... it’s kind of like the first thing people want to do when they hear that people are in love is just kind of try to ruin it. I kind of was in a place where I was like, ‘No one is gonna sign up for this. There are just too many cameras pointed at me. There are too many ridiculous elaborations on my life. It’s just not ever gonna work.‘ But I decided to write a love song, just kind of like, ‘What would I say if I met someone really awesome and they were like, hey, I’m worried about all this attention you get?’ So I wrote this song called ‘I Know Places’ about, ‘Hey, I know places we can hide. We could outrun them.’ I’m so happy that it sounds like the urgency that it sings.”

January 23, 2014: Taylor and Ryan Tedder write Welcome To New York. Ryan produces a demo in three hours. This demo is the one included in the album.

“I wanted to start 1989 with this song because New York has been an important landscape and location for the story of my life in the last couple of years. I dreamt and obsessed over moving to New York, and then I did it. The inspiration that I found in that city is hard to describe and to compare to any other force of inspiration I’ve ever experienced in my life. It’s an electric city.”

[Ryan Tedder] “I thought we were going to walk in and start something from scratch because that's what I was used to. Then she calls me and says, 'Is it cool if I already have an idea?' I said, 'Sure.' She said, 'I have this song, I'm obsessed with New York and I just moved there, I want to write an ode to New York because no one's done it in a long time.' And then she sent me a voice memo. She's like, 'I want it to sound like the 1980s.' So the next day I brought in a Juno-106, which is a very 1980s keyboard, and I literally programmed that entire song right in front of her. It was very much on the fly, and that song was done in about three hours. And I did the rest of the production I think later that week.”

Handwritten lyrics:

January 26, 2014: Night of the 56th Grammy Awards. Taylor delivers a legendary performance of All Too Well, but loses the Album Of The Year Award to Random Access Memory by Daft Punk. This will prompt Taylor to make a "sonically cohesive" pop album.

[Lover Journal] January 25th. LA. It's the middle of the night and I was at the Clive Davis Party tonight which means... the Grammys are tomorrow. Never have I felt so good about our chances. Never have I wanted something as badly as I want to hear them say 'Red' is the Album of the Year.

“It was the night of the Grammys this year. I remember going home and playing a lot of the new music I had recorded for some of my backup singers and one of my best friends. We were all sitting in the kitchen and I was playing them all this music, and they were just saying, ‘You know, this is very eighties. It’s very clear to us that this is so eighties.’ We were just talking and talking about how it’s kind of a rebirth in a new genre, how that’s a big, bold step. Kind of starting a part of your career over. When they left that night, I just had this very clear moment of, ‘It’s gotta be called 1989.’”

“I woke up one morning at 4 a.m. and I decided the album is called 1989. I’ve been making ‘80s synth pop, I’m just gonna do that. I’m calling it a pop record. I’m not listening to anyone at my label. I’m starting tomorrow. I liked the idea of collaborating. But with 1989 I decided to narrow down the list. It wasn’t going to be 10 producers, it was going to be a very small team of four or five people I always wanted to work with, or loved working with. And Max Martin and I were going to oversee it, and we were going to make a sonically cohesive record again.”

January 2014: Taylor writes You Are In Love. This is actually speculation but it's based on (1) Taylor going to NY in early January and (2) Jack Antonoff confirming that it was the fourth song they did and (3) it's the only Antonoff-produced song that is copyrighted in 2014. Based on the credits, I'm pretty sure that Taylor and Jack worked on the song separately, with Jack recording the instrumental at the Jungle City Studios in NY (which is a studio that Jack used in 2014 to record Bleachers' first album Strange Desire) and Taylor recording the vocals at Conway Studio in LA.

“I wrote it with my friend Jack Antonoff who’s dating my friend Lena. Jack sent me this song, it was just an instrumental track he was working on and immediately I knew the song it needed to be. And I wrote it as a kind of commentary on what their relationship has been like. So it’s actually me looking and going, ‘This happened and that happened, then that happened and that’s how you knew you are in love.’”

“I’ve never had that, so I wrote that song about things that Lena Dunham has told me about her and Jack Antonoff. That’s just basically stuff she’s told me. And I think that that kind of relationship — God, it sounds like it would just be so beautiful — would also be hard. It would also be mundane at times.”

“We first worked on that song together and realized we kind of have a good thing, and the next thing we did was ‘Sweeter Than Fiction,’ which was on the [One Chance] soundtrack, and after that we did ‘Out of the Woods’ and another song called ‘You Are in Love.’

January 26, 2014: At the Grammy's, Diane Warren reveals that she and Taylor wrote a song together (aka Say, Don't Go).

[Transcript] “I worked with Taylor Swift on a great song. I don't even know what she's done [for her next album], I'm excited about the one that we did, it's pretty cool.”

[Billboard 2016 Interview] “I know [Swift] likes it, so hopefully it will see the light of day. I know she really likes the song. She didn’t want me to give it away, so hopefully that means she wants it.”

February 9, 2014: [From the 1989 Booklet] While in London, during the European leg of the Red Tour, Taylor and Imogen Heap write Clean in just 9 hours at Imogen's home studio. Taylor will sing the song just two times.

Voice memo here;

“'Clean' I wrote as I was walking out of Liberty in London. Someone I used to date – it hit me that I’d been in the same city as him for two weeks and I hadn’t thought about it. When it did hit me, it was like, ‘Oh, I hope he’s doing well’. And nothing else. And you know how it is when you’re going through heartbreak. A heartbroken person is unlike any other person. Their time moves at a completely different pace than ours. It’s this mental, physical, emotional ache and feeling so conflicted. Nothing distracts you from it. Then time passes, and the more you live your life and create new habits, you get used to not having a text message every morning saying, ‘Hello, beautiful. Good morning.’ You get used to not calling someone at night to tell them how your day was. You replace these old habits with new habits, like texting your friends in a group chat all day, and planning fun dinner parties, and going out on adventures with your girlfriends, and then all of a sudden one day you’re in London and you realize you’ve been in the same place as your ex for two weeks and you’re fine. And you hope he’s fine. The first thought that came to my mind was – I’m finally clean.”

“'Clean' is the last song on the album for a lot of reasons, but mostly because it felt like the complication of this emotional process I’ve been going through for the last couple of years. You know, I feel like my personal life was really, really discussed, and criticized, and debated, and talked about to a point where it made me feel almost kind of tarnished, in a way. And the discussion wasn’t about music. It broke my heart that I had made an album that I was proud of, and I was touring the world, and playing sold-out stadiums, and still they managed to only want to talk about my personal life. At a certain point I felt a switch and it was at the end of recording this album that I began to feel like my life was mine again and my music was at the forefront again. I was living my life on my own terms and I really no longer cared what people were saying about me. That was when I started so see people talk less about the things that didn’t matter.”

“I had this metaphor in my head about being in this house, there’s been a drought but you feel like there’s a storm coming. Instead of trying to block out the storm you punch a hole in the roof and just let all the rain come in, and when you wake up in the morning, it’s washed away.”

[Imogen Heap] “We met at my studio in London. She had the bare bones of “Clean.” She had the lyric, the chorus and the chords. I thought it was brilliant.I was really writing the tiniest amount just to help her do what she does. I put some noises, played various instruments on it, including drums, and anytime she expressed she liked something I was doing, I did it more. It was a really fun day. She recorded all her vocals during that one session. She did two takes, and the second take was it. We always thought she would probably re-record it, because we thought it can’t possibly be that easy. But after we lived with it for a few months, we felt it was great. I knew she loved it. She said she loved it and her mum loved it. But I wasn’t sure it would be included on the album. But everyone felt it had something special. It came together really magically.”

Imogen's detailed blog entry about this songwriting session.

[Taylor about Imogen Heap] “The coolest thing about Imogen for me was that there was no one else in the studio. There was no assistant; there was no engineer. It was her doing everything.”

February 11, 2014: Taylor gets a haircut. (I'm including this for funsies)

February 15, 2014: Taylor, Max Martin and Shellback write Shake It Off.

Voice memo here;

[Lover Journal] LA. This week I've been in the studio with Max and Johan every day and it has been the most creatively successful and fulfilling time. The first day, Johan just made a really up tempo drum beat because we decided we needed something up and light. We worked at it for a few hours before i just started singing "shake it off, shake it off, shake it off" And then the best way i know how to describe it is that the chorus just fell out of the sky. It ended up being this song about doing your own thing even though haters are gonna hate, and you just have to dance to your own beat. We all went home and I wrote the first and second verses and brought them in the next day. We wrote this chanty cheer leader bridge that I absolutely LOVE. We spent all day doing vocals and the next day recording the background vocals. I think it'll end up being the first single and Max said it's his favorite song he's ever been a part of.

[Max Martin during the lawsuit] “Shellback started out with a drumbeat. Shellback, Taylor, and I then collaboratively developed the melody and other lines of ‘Shake It Off’ to Shellback’s drumbeat. I did not write or provide any input into any lyrics in ‘Shake It Off,’ which were written entirely by Taylor.”

“I've had every part of my life dissected – my choices, my actions, my words, my body, my style, my music. When you live your life under that kind of scrutiny, you can either let it break you, or you can get really good at dodging punches. And when one lands, you know how to deal with it. And I guess the way that I deal with it is to shake it off.”

“The message in the song is a problem I think we all deal with and an issue we deal with on a daily basis. We don’t live just in a celebrity takedown culture, we live in a takedown culture. People will find anything about you and twist it to where it’s weird or wrong or annoying or strange or bad. You have to not only live your life in spite of people who don’t understand you, you have to have more fun than they do.”

February 19, 2014: Taylor, Max Martin, Shellback and Ali Payami write Style. This is the last song made for the album.

“I loved comparing these timeless visuals with a feeling that never goes out of style. It's basically one of those relationships that's always a bit off. The two people are trying to forget each other. So, it's like, 'All right, I heard you went off with her, and well, I've done that, too.' My previous albums have also been sort of like, 'I was right, you were wrong, you did this, it made me feel like this' – a righteous sense of right and wrong in a relationship. What happens when you grow up is you realize the rules in a relationship are very blurred and that it gets very complicated very quickly, and there's not a case of who was right or who was wrong.”

“This song is about those relationships that are never really done. You always kind of have that person, that one person who you feel might interrupt your wedding and be like, ‘Don’t do it cause we’re not over yet.'”

[Guitarist Niklas Ljungfelt] “I played on “Style,” a song I started with Ali Payami for ourselves. He was playing it for Max Martin at his studio; Taylor overheard it and loved it. She and Max wrote new lyrics. But I recorded the guitar on it before it was a Taylor song. It was an instrumental. I didn’t have a clue that Taylor would sing on it. The inspiration came from Daft Punk and funky electronic music.”

1989 is officially done!

[Taylor On Ryan Seacrest] “I'm pretty sure after we finished this one I knew the record was done. Shake It Off and Style were the last two songs to be written for 1989.”

February 19, 2014: While on tour, Ryan Tedder produces another three versions of Welcome To New York.

[Ryan Tedder interview] “I was in Switzerland on a tour bus, and I did four versions of 'Welcome to New York,' one of which I liked personally more, but the thing about artists is they become very obsessed with the demo. She was in love with the demo so no matter how hard I fought, she brought it back to the demo, so really what you hear is what I did on the first day.”

March 22, 2014: Billboard reports that Taylor and Ryan Tedder have worked together in LA in January

March 24, 2014: [From a Lover Journal] Taylor moves to New York.

[Lover Journal] So in the last few weeks, I've completely moved into my apartment in Tribeca. That's right, I'm writing this from my new bed in my new place, watching Law and Order with Meredith. Strangely, I've never felt more busy.

May 1, 2014: 1989 Photoshoot.

Behind the scenes photo shared by the photographers Sarah Barlow and her husband Stephen Schofield.

May 29, 2014: [From a Lover Journal] Taylor chooses another photo for the cover, after having a nightmare of the previous one being not enough.

May 30, 2014: Taylor chooses the album cover.

[Lover Journal] Shanghai. So we got to China at around 2pm and I knew it would completely ruin me if I slept when i got to the hotel, so I decided to work out. WHY IS THIS PEN RUNNING OUT?! Just went to my purse and got my pen. So a crazy story unfolded in the last 24 hours. Last night, I had this vivid dream where the photo I'd chosen for the album cover wasn't good enough, intriguing enough, artful enough. it woke me up. I couldn't shake it and it stayed with me all day. Because that nagging feeling I'd been pushing back for weeks was now confirmed in my gut... it wasn't good enough. I went to the venue, mind racing, wandering if I'd have to do an entirely new photo shoot... I got to my dressing room with newer versions of the "cover" I looked at it and felt nothing. The team pulled up this new scanned file of the polaroids we had taken during the shoot. I saw it within 10 seconds. The shot. The cover. It's a polaroid of me sitting against a beige wall with a blue seagull sweatshirt on. You can see my red lips but the photo cuts off my eyes. For some reason unknown to me it's the most intriguing photo i've seen. I think it's the mystery of not seeing my eyes. Maybe it just looks effortlessly cool. The craziest moment came when something caught my eye. The cover photo is photo 13. I kid you not. I played a sold out show in Shanghai tonight and the crowd was amazing. Tomorrow we go to Tokyo, where they'll have the whole ticker tape parade at the airport. Smile and wave...

Mid To Late 2014: Taylor and Jack write Now That We Don't Talk.

[Tumblr Music] "Now That We Don't Talk is one of my favorite songs that was left behind. It was so hard to leave it behind, but I think we wrote it a little bit towards the end of the process, and we couldn't get the production right at the time. But we had tons of time to perfect the production this time, and figure out what we wanted the song to sound like, and I just think it's, I think it's the shortest song I've ever had. I think it packs a punch. I think it really goes in for the short amount of time we have, I think it makes its point."

Conclusive notes

What 1989 represented for Taylor:

“The 1980s was a very experimental time in pop music. People realized songs didn't have to be this standard drums-guitar-bass-whatever. We can make a song with synths and a drum pad. We can do group vocals for the entire song. We can do so many different things. And I think what you saw happening with music was also happening in our culture, where people were just wearing whatever crazy colors they wanted to, because why not? There just seemed to be this energy about endless opportunities, endless possibilities, endless ways you could live your life. And so with this record, I thought, 'There are no rules to this. I don't need to use the same musicians I've used, or the same band, or the same producers, or the same formula. I can make whatever record I want.'”

“In the past, I've written mostly about heartbreak or pain that was caused by someone else and felt by me. On this album, I'm writing about more complex relationships, where the blame is kind of split 50–50 ... even if you find the right situation relationship-wise, it's always going to be a daily struggle to make it work.”

Bonus: Secret Messages

Author's note: I wrote this timeline around 2 years ago. While I found some dates later on, this is 100% my research. If you use this timeline for your posts, research or whatever, PLEASE, credit me! I'd be very thankful. This is 2 years of work.

Links to my other Timelines:

Writing of Fearless Timeline

Writing of Speak Now Timeline

Writing of Red Timeline

My Spreadsheet with a timeline overview

Credits:

Most of the quotes have been copy-pasted from Taylor Swift Switzerland.

Taylor Swift Pictures for the candids.

Heather from Nerdy by Nature for the WTNY handwritten lyrics picture.

#taylor swift #1989 #1989 taylor's version #1989 era #red era #taylor swift timelines #1989 tv #blank space #shake it off #harry styles #out of the woods #wildest dreams #style #imogen heap #1989 tour #taylor swift unreleased songs #vault songs #1989 vault

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