#you should familiarize yourself with your coverage

[mirdaniaa]

People love to pay a monthly premium for insurance and not know how to use it. God bless, you are all so stupid

[kmi-02]

Pairing: Husband!Phillip Graves x F!reader

Wordcount: 3.3k

Warnings/tags: mdni. SMUT, porn w/o plot, fingering, riding, unprotected sex (p in v), no use of Y/N

"Love?" You ask softly, voice barely heard above the buzz of the TV. The side of your body rests on the doorframe, watching your husband's lost in thought expression as different colored lights flash on his face.

He's startled out of thought, not expecting you to be up so late. His eyes find your darkened figure and all he can give you is a tired smile.

"Can't sleep" his hand reaches for the remote and lowers the, already low, volume a little more "Didn't mean to wake you"

"No, just-" you start to explain, letting him know it wasn't his doing. Your arms hug your waist in an attempt to warm yourself, Phillip's flimsy shirt didn't serve as enough coverage when out of bed "Woke up and you weren't there"

"Sorry, darlin'" he replies with an apologetic frown. As his eyes adapt to the darkness, he notices your state: barely dressed; with only his shirt and, probably he thought, panties. His eyes traveled down your naked legs, stopping at the sight of your sockless feet changing weight, attempting not to freeze against the cold hardwood. "Come 'ere" he says as his arms raise, ready to welcome you in their embrace.

Pat-pat-pat is heard as your naked feet step on the floor, you quickly make your way to your husband's lap. You giggle at the action, the short sprint and jumping into Phillip's arms, his reclining chair rocking back and forth; and you're not sure if you kneed his thigh or if it was just the chair, but he didn't seem to care. He smiles and chuckles, the constant I love her thought never leaving his head.

You look at him as you settle on his lap, straddling his thighs– you secretly hope he doesn't notice the lack of underwear. His warm hands rest on your lower back.

"Wanna talk about it?" you ask, hoping the reason wasn't nightmares or worse, his own conscious mind.

He shakes his head, "No, not really". And you know he feels bad for denying you his worries, but there's things you simply should never know about, and you respect it.

"Hm" you hum, warm and sleepy but still aware. Your hands move along his arms and linger on his shoulders. Eyes locked on his, you lean and gently place a kiss on his forehead; sweet but not quite what Phillip wants.

One of his brows raise, questioning, you are barely able to notice it in the darkness of the room, TV lights covered by your form, but you pay it no mind. Your tongue swiftly swipes over your lip, a habit. Hands moving again, they creep over his neck until reaching his face, your thumbs caress his cheeks lovingly. You lean again, lips landing on the bridge of his nose.

"Hey..."

"... What?" You ask in a whisper, feigning ignorance. Your lips morph into a smile at his caution.

"Are you trying to seduce me?" He asks half jokingly, a smile of his own appearing on his face, enjoying thoroughly the gentle caress– the attention.

"Perhaps?" Caught in your intentions, you huff a tiny laugh but continue your ministrations, quickly leaning in and kissing the tip of his nose.

"Ah-" If you weren't as familiar as you are with how noisy your husband can be, you would've thought he sighed, almost frustrated; a protest. But you know better. A sweet, tiny moan, filled with expectation. It let's you know you're doing the right thing; arousing him, railing him up.

You watch his reaction carefully, noticing how his hips shift, how his breathing deepens, how his fingers dig a little deeper into your back. "You like that?" You ask breathy, teasingly, but he doesn't respond. The excitement palpable. Your gaze darts between his pretty eyes and his lips, but as tempted as you might be, you stick to your plan.

You swallow and lean in, lips dangerously close to his as you try to keep your cool. You get so close Phillip wonders if he's imagining the sensation of your lips in his, but he doesn't move, doesn't chase. Your mean lips land directly over his cupid's bow and you hear his breath hitches, hands desperately trying to pull you even closer.

If you were to be wearing panties, you are positively sure they'd be soaked.

You almost miss the breathless God that falls from Phillip's mouth, but the sound makes you so needy that you have to fight a protesting whimper against your own actions. Even if this was your idea, sometimes it surprises you just how strong your lust for your husband can be.

Bracing yourself, you strike again, kissing the corner of his mouth. You could feel the pace of his racing heart while your chests were flushed, he knew what you were doing and he was so turned on by it. He shifted on his seat again, this time with purpose– bucking his hips into yours to get any friction he could against your crotch. No panties he concludes, but the thought is quickly replaced by the angelic sound of a mewl; soft, needy, perfect.

You were so, so close.

"Please" he begs in a murmur, whining.

You close your eyes suddenly, his simple word like a thunder coursing through your body and lighting your cunt on fire. "Next one‐" you start between deep, heavy breaths, "This one's gonna be on the lips, hm?" You warn, expectation high.

He nods firmly as his eyes fight not to close. You move your hands to his neck, thumbs gently following the line of his jawbone while the rest of your fingers thread themselves with the hair of his nape, you were doing everything you could to put him more and more on edge. He groans at the feeling of your delicate fingers.

"Stay still for me, yes?" Your words no more than a whisper, reason no other than to drag this moment just a bit longer. But you knew it was a dumb request, in Phillip's mind there was nothing else than pure compliance– he was giving up control. It was far from a rare occurrence; Phillip leaving the situation in your hands to lead you both to play with pleasure in a slightly different way he would. So, he just waits and listens until you take what's rightfully yours.

The muscles on your thighs tense as you lift yourself off his lap, not much, but enough to look at your husband's face from above. You tilt his head upward and inhale deeply, cruelly taking your sweet time until you hear a, barely there, moan. You notice how his lips part in anticipation, his eyes unable to stay focused on one thing.

You dive in. Lips meeting his on a crashing kiss, wet and messy and so desperate. You moan into the kiss almost immediately, basking on the sensation and the taste of the lips you so much craved. Your arms hug around his neck as you sit directly over his growing, aching cock. You let your tongue venture into his mouth and you feel his heavy hands kneed the flesh of your ass, pushing your hips impossibly closer. You can feel how his chest rises and falls and you suddenly notice how you aren't even breathing, too engrossed to prioritize your own oxygen.

After a couple of seconds, you unwillingly start to pull away. Panting, you gently bite his lower lip and open your eyes to the fucked up expression of your husband– pupils blown, reddened lips. There's no words for a moment, no movement aside from the heavy breathing, the both of you silently processing what just happened. But you're not finished yet.

A sharp inhale breaks the trance, "What do you want, love?" You ask with urgency, "Hm?". You keep talking before he can even start to open his mouth "Want me to tire you out? To help you sleep?".

A long groan scapes Phillip's lips as he finds the strength to respond, a pathetic mumble of "I- I want" that you don't entertain. You cut him off, frowning while nodding in understanding; a condescending expression. But you are well aware of his needs– "Oh, I know baby" you reassure, "I'll take care of you, hm? That's what good wives do".

Your words make desire spark in Phillip's body, a proud smirk spread over his face at the mention of wife. Such an easy-to-please partner, the mere remembrance of your relationship status enough to put him in a good mood. You dive in again, peck after peck over his soft lips, working as a distraction while your hands travel down his toned torso, swiftly finding the strings of his sweatpants and untying it�� fingers dive past his boxer's waistband freeing his pretty cock. An amused hum leaves your mouth at the sight, one you could never get tired of. Phillip's mouth falls open as you work languid strokes on him, still delivering sweet little kisses; peppering from his lips down to his jaw and neck, showing your reverence to every inch of skin available until you hear your husband moan, long and sweet. As much as you would love to make him cum here and now, you can't let him have fun alone– your hand stops abruptly and you nearly chuckle at the objecting groan that left Phillip's throat. "Sorry baby" you coo at him, but quickly explain your action by sitting back and hastily grabbing the hem of your – his – shirt, undressing and throwing it to the side.

His hands wander all over your body, marveling over the now naked skin; eyes shamelessly glued to your chest. He pulls you closer to him, his lips landing between your tits, aiming to start working your nipples with his experienced tongue, just how you like it. But you don't let him, not now. Your hands gently push him back against his chair and he looks at you like a kicked puppy– How dare you not let him suck your tits?

Your fingers wrap around the flesh of his wrist, ripping his hand off your hip and guiding it sensually up your torso. He looks mesmerized as you take two of his digits into your mouth, wetting them with saliva even though you're sure you don't need extra lubrication– your slick covered cunt more than ready to receive attention. You smirk mischievously as you take them out of your mouth with a lewd pop and he moans, breafly wishing it was his cock instead. His pretty blues follow every movement, every action; they watch how you take his hand down your body tentatively slow, making his fingers graze your skin and shivering at the sensation. They watch how your mouth falls open as his fingertips ghost over your navel, down over your clit. His pretty blues watch, through shuddering lids, how you rotate his hand and desperately push it upon your cunt, uncaring of the lack of technique applied, just craving his touch.

"Ah-" you moan as your clit feels the pressure of his palm's heel, brows furrowed while you squeeze his wrist, urging him to please you himself. Phillip catches on immediately, too used to your behavior. His hand separates mere centimeters from your heat to bend its wetted fingers and circle them around your needy hole before sinking, knuckle deep, into your cunt. Your head falls back, a satisfied hum sounding through your throat as you bite your lip.

"Don't even need prep, darlin'" he says with a chuckle, his fingers entering your heat with little resistance– still, he lingers a little longer to get you used to him. He takes his hand away, swiftly bringing his fingers to his mouth and licking them clean. God, he's hot.

You sigh at the new emptiness, dizzy with desire. Suddenly, a firm hand wraps around his length, drawing a surprised gasp out of Phillip. You rise to your knees again, cunt eagerly awaiting as you move his tip around your wetness, nudging your clit and making it circle your hole, just like he did with his fingers. His hands fall to your thighs, massaging the flesh as a last resort to keep sanity, your constant teasing driving him crazy by the second.

You sink, seatting yourself completely on his cock.

Phillip's nails dig into your thighs as a loud moan rips through his lips, finally able to feel what he knew he was getting the moment you started with your provoking kisses. His ears fill with your little moans, full of pleasure as his girthy cock nudges its way deep within your walls, deep enough to kiss your cervix. It's fast and impatient, the way your pussy swallows his length in one go– as if you lacked time, as if being rushed.

You sit still for a couple of seconds, tight pussy getting used to the fullness your husband's cock provides. There's no words, they're not needed. Both set of eyes lock onto each other, they take in the state you both are left in: fucked– you feel how Phillip's fingers dig even more into your thighs, how his needy dick twitches inside of you, you notice how his back is slightly arched off the backrest, how his chest heaves. On the other hand, Phillip feels your muscles tensing, your cunt clamping on him like a vice, he sees your puffy, bitten lips, moonlight coming through the window and illuminating you like the angel that you are; for him, at least. He watches as your face gets closer to his and your mouth takes his own, kiss lasting a mere second.

He tries to chase after your lips but you lean back, hands finding his knees, arms locking behind you and supporting your weight as you wickedly roll your hips into his.

"Hmm so good " you say honey thick, laced with lust.

His eyes snap shut at the feeling, all too good but you know it's not enough. Your hands squeeze as you start to lift yourself, brows furrowing in pleasure before you sink back, heavy– testing the waters. A shaky sigh it's all you get. Still not enough, huh? you think, but you take it as a challenge. In Phillip's mind, he couldn't stop cursing himself; too focused on not cumming early as his sweet wife was trying exactly the opposite. He was fucked, he knew, when he opened his eyes and saw that expression in your face, the one you wear when you're not satisfied with something, with an outcome. Maybe when he steeled himself to last longer, too into his head to express correctly the heavenly pleasure you bestowed upon him, you took his, rather tame, reaction as something else. But, well, not much he can do about it now.

Phillip swallows thickly, readying himself. His hands glide across your thighs up to your asscheeks, partly because he loves your ass, partly because he wants to have a good grip around your hips may things go too crazy. You smirk, devilish, before starting a relentless rhythm; your body bounces up and down on his cock, stoping abruptly and sitting yourself fully on him for a couple of seconds while grinding your hips, only for it to start again. Phillip isn't sure if he's in heaven or hell, but, knowing better, he moans and hums and groans unabashedly as you give your best to work him to completion.

"C'mon baby, c'mon baby, c'mon baby... Fuuck " your husband's plea bleeds into a lusty hum as he hugs your hips close to his when you take one of your little breaks, basking in the pleasure– he's completely sure your thighs are on fucking fire but you don't seem to mind. Such a good wife.

"Touch yourself baby," he commands, tone dominant "Show me"

In a show of amazingly fast shift in dynamics, you comply immediately. One of the hands that was on his knees is between your burning thighs and giving your husband what he asked for. He moves his hands slightly up, supporting your lower back and hips with his hands and forearms, providing extra help so you can keep the ruthless pace. He leans back as much as he can, just to watch you work yourself– your digits massage your clit in tight circles, trying as best as they can to time it with the bouncing. The sudden addition of stimulation drives you stupidly close to orgasm, and Phillip knows it.

"'M close-" you blabber in a blissful daze, mind so focused on the pleasure that you feel your body move on autopilot, mind and body two separate entities, one made to receive and the other to give– your mind eager for pleasure and your body working overtime to give it to you.

In a moment of clarity, you remember your husband. Not that you could forget, bouncing up and down on his cock, but it is true that you promised to take care of him. Feeling slightly guilty about the sudden shift in focus, you open your beady eyes to watch him, to assess his state, hoping he's as close to coming as you are.

"Yeah?" He replies breathlessly to your warning, eyes never straying from your soaking cunt; her clit being played with while his big cock spears her open, such a champ.

"Mhm" you nod, your senses overwhelmed. A long groan from Phillip lets you know what you were so worried about, he's definitely close. You retreat your fingers from your clit, hand returning to his knee and keeping you steady, helping you completely focus on his impending orgasm. You can see how he's not please by your action, but you don't care; you can cum after him. His breathing starts to stutter, eyelids fluttering while his mouth falls open, letting loose shameless moans that he can't, and doesn't care to, control– you take the cue, tightening your walls around him in the rhythm of your bouncing.

He spills inside of you with a throaty groan, his hands and arms holding you tight as his whole body stiffens. His hips jerk up, chasing your own as you lower yourself on his cock. You feel the warm cum start to slide out of you, and you take the opportunity to, again, bring your fingers to your clit and finish the job. It doesn't take much, a couple of fast, tight circles over it have you whimpering as you come undone on his cock, the spasms of your walls making Phillip's eyes to snap shut. You can feel Phillip's breath hit against your chest as he pants, and soon after you fall completely limp over his chest.

"Careful" he says softly as he leans back on the chair, cradling you between his strong arms. He sighs, hands moving up and down your back in a soothing manner, letting the comforting silence engulf you both as you come down from your respective highs.

After some seconds, or minutes, you're not sure, and when both's racing pulses had calmed down, Phillip breaks the silence.

"Don't fall asleep on me now, sweetheart" you can hear the smug smirk in his tone, cocky bastard. You place a hand on his chest to help you push yourself out of his embrace, sitting straight– you feel how your thigh muscles twitch in pure exhaustion and a fleeting it's gonna hurt like a bitch later crosses your mind.

"Can we?" you ask softly. "Go to sleep, I mean"

"Hm" Phillip hums, resting his hands on your dying thighs "'Course"

You smile at his response and look him directly in the eyes, as if waiting for him to notice something. After a couple of seconds, he seems to get it "Should I carry you...?"

"Mhm" you reply plainly before chuckling. Your arms move to hug around his neck as he grabs under your thighs and gets up, heading to the bedroom.

Maybe you should worry about getting clean, or getting your husband's softening cock out of you, but you can't muster the energy to really care.

[baigepueckers]

Caitlin Clark X Reader

New Beginnings

The draft was over, and Caitlin Clark’s name had been announced as the number one pick for Indiana. The cheering from both of your friends and family still echoed in your mind, even though the party had ended hours ago. You both now sat in your shared apartment, where the only sound was the low hum of post draft coverage from the TV, replaying the highlights of what had just happened.

Caitlin sat on the far end of the couch, phone in hand, scrolling through the flood of congratulatory texts and social media posts. She looked radiant, her face still glowing with excitement. Yet, despite how proud you were of her, the creeping sensation of dread had been gnawing at you all evening.

This wasn’t how you imagined feeling. You were supposed to be celebrating, supposed to be thrilled for her, for both of you. But now, as the reality of her draft pick settled in, it felt like a fog had rolled over you dense, suffocating. She was leaving, and nothing would be the same.

The future you had both spoken about so many times, the nights you dreamed together about her career and all the milestones ahead was suddenly staring you in the face, and it looked different now. Indiana wasn’t a dream anymore. It was real. It was happening. And it wasn’t just her future that was changing it was yours, too.

You pulled your knees up to your chest on the couch, eyes fixed on the TV screen, though you weren’t really watching. Caitlin’s attention was still on her phone, fingers tapping out responses to messages that came in every few seconds. As much as you tried to be present, your thoughts spiraled. Caitlin was leaving to chase her dream, and you didn’t know what that meant for your relationship. What did it mean for you?

It wasn’t until Caitlin stopped texting and looked over at you, concern flickering in her eyes, that the silence broke.

“Y/N?” she said softly, her voice cutting through the haze of your thoughts. “You’ve been quiet since we got back… are you okay?”

You blinked, trying to pull yourself together, but your throat felt tight. You swallowed hard, forcing a smile that felt too fake even to you. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just… a lot to take in, you know?”

Caitlin frowned, setting her phone aside and sliding closer to you. Her hand found yours, her fingers warm and familiar as they laced through yours. “You don’t have to pretend with me. What’s going on?”

You tried to find the words, but they felt stuck in your throat. How could you admit to her that, even in the middle of her greatest achievement, you were afraid? That her dream come true made you feel like the ground beneath your feet was crumbling?

“I don’t want to ruin this for you, Cait,” you murmured, your eyes cast down at your hands, feeling selfish. “This is your night. You should be happy.”

Her grip on your hand tightened slightly, and she leaned in closer. “Y/N, this is our night. You’ve been with me through all of this, so if something’s wrong, I need to know.”

You sighed, feeling the weight of her words press down on you. She was right, of course. You’d been with her through everything every game, every late night practice, every doubt and every achievement. You were her biggest supporter. But now, the fear was hard to ignore.

“I’m just…” You paused, struggling to keep your voice steady. “I’m scared, Cait. You’re going to Indiana. You’re starting this huge new chapter of your life, and I don’t know where that leaves us.”

Caitlin’s face softened, her concern deepening as she shifted closer, now sitting directly in front of you. “What do you mean? Nothing’s going to change between us.”

You felt a lump form in your throat, and you blinked rapidly, trying to keep the tears at bay. “But it is, Cait. Everything is changing. You’re moving away. You’ll be busy with the team, with training, with all the new people you’re going to meet… You’ll have this whole new life, and I’m just… here.” Your voice trails off.

The vulnerability in your voice cracked something in Caitlin. She hadn’t realized how much this was weighing on you, how much you were quietly holding inside. “Y/N,” she said gently, her voice soft but firm, “you’re not ‘just here.’ You’ve been my everything. There’s no way I could’ve made it this far without you.”

“But I don’t know if I can just pick up my life and follow you,” you whispered, voice trembling now. “I love you, Cait, more than anything, but what if I’m not enough? What if I hold you back? You’ll be surrounded by people who understand your world in a way I don’t people who are part of it.”

Caitlin’s eyes glistened as she heard the depth of your fear. She had always known you were her anchor, her greatest source of strength, but she hadn’t realized how much you doubted your place in her future.

She moved closer, cupping your face gently in her hands, forcing you to look at her. “Listen to me”she said, her voice strong but filled with emotion. “You could never hold me back. You’ve been the one who’s pushed me forward, believed in me when I couldn’t even believe in myself. You’re the reason I’ve gotten this far, and I don’t want to do any of this without you.”

Your heart clenched, a tear slipping down your cheek. “But what if you get too busy? What if there’s no room for me in your new life?”

“There’s always going to be room for you,” Caitlin said, her thumb brushing away your tear. “You’re my home. No matter where I go or what I do, you’re the one thing I can’t lose.”

Her words cut through your doubt, but the uncertainty still gnawed at you. “But what about my life here? My job, my friends… everything I’ve built?”

Caitlin let out a small sigh, knowing this was the part she couldn’t make easy. “I know it’s a huge ask, and I won’t pretend it’s not. But I don’t want to start this chapter without you by my side. I’m asking you to come with me, Y/N. I need you with me.”

You stared at her, emotions swirling inside you. You’d known this was coming known that her success would mean leaving behind the comfort of your current life but hearing her ask you to follow her, to uproot everything for her, made the weight of it real.

“I don’t want to be selfish,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “I don’t want you to feel like you owe me anything.”

Caitlin shook her head firmly, pulling you even closer. “You’re not being selfish. You’ve sacrificed so much for me already, and I’m asking for more, but not because I owe you. I’m asking because I love you. And I need you.”

Your tears flowed freely now, the depth of your fears and love for her crashing over you. “I’m scared,” you admitted, voice shaking. “I don’t know if I’m strong enough to do this.”

Caitlin wrapped her arms around you, holding you tightly as you cried into her shoulder. “You’re the strongest person I know,” she whispered. “we’ll figure it out together, I promise. Whatever it takes, we’ll make it work. I need you with me, Y/N. Not just for me, but for us.”

You clung to her, the warmth of her embrace a lifeline amidst the storm of your emotions. It was terrifying to think of leaving everything behind, of stepping into an unknown future with her. But as much as the fear gripped you, her love was steady unwavering.

After a long moment, you pulled back slightly, looking into her eyes. “You’re really sure about this? About me?”

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life,” Caitlin said, her voice filled with certainty. “You and me, Y/N. We’ve got this.”

You nodded slowly, the weight on your chest easing, though it wasn’t entirely gone. “Okay,” you whispered, your voice still shaky. “I’ll come with you.”

Caitlin’s breath hitched, her face breaking into a smile as she kissed you, slow and tender. When she pulled back, her forehead rested against yours, and you both sat there in the stillness of the moment, knowing that no matter how uncertain the future seemed, you would face it together.

“I love you,” she whispered against your lips.

“I love you too,” you replied, feeling the first real sense of peace you’d had all night.

In that moment, surrounded by the aftermath of her draft night, you knew that whatever came next you had Caitlin.

[strangererotica]

EXPLICIT CONTENT | MINORS DNI

Jim Hopper x reader • Hopper has been your dad’s best friend for years. He always thought you were a nice, if not slightly awkward, kid. But when you return home to Hawkins during a break from college, Hopper is immediately smitten with the young woman you’ve become. He indulges his infatuation with you in the only way he can. Hopper lets his mind run wild with a fantasy that’s become familiar to him, even though his feelings for you leave him racked with guilt. And maybe that’s where the story would end for Hopper, alone and burning up in a desire he would never be set free from… But when you came home to Hawkins, you brought with you a knowledge, a craft, that a practical man like Hopper would never give credence to, until it captures him wholly, body-mind-and spirit…

Quiet moments like this were the most difficult for Hopper. When he wasn’t physically kept busy with his job, he was mentally kept busy by his conscience. Guilt tended to creep up on him most acutely in the moments he should have been able to rest, especially the early hours of morning. While Hopper believed mornings should be spent with warm coffee and personal introspection, he found it impossible to practice what he preached.

In fact, Hopper’s hypocrisy extended to more than one area in his life. While the town of Hawkins assumed their Chief of Police was, for the most part, an upstanding and honorable man, he harbored an uncomfortable secret that burned in the back of his heart: Jim Hopper was in love with his best friend’s daughter…

If only you’d never come back to Hawkins, Hopper told himself, he wouldn’t be caught in this moral storm. If you’d stayed away at college, Hopper never would have given you a second thought, except for when your dad mentioned you. His only memory of you would have remained the one Hopper had always had, of you as a skinny, polite-but-awkward kid.

The current image of you in Hopper’s mind was vastly different. You were all grown up now, the clumsiness of your youth replaced with a woman’s elegance. A gentle, refined softness had replaced all your rough edges, the gangly limbs of your teen years now shaped into the graceful form of a young woman. A beautiful woman, Hopper realized, who had him completely wrapped around your finger…

The day began as a regular Monday morning for Hopper, complete with the weight of guilt on his conscience. He stared up at the ceiling from bed and had a cigarette, his free hand moving beneath the blanket covering him, lazily massaging his cock. Hopper had always taken care of his morning wood, usually as his first activity of every day. But what now darkened his behavior and made it feel wrong, was the fact that Hopper couldn’t touch himself without thinking of you…

He tried to imagine someone else…anyone else. Hopper’s usual mental reference for masturbation was Bo Derek, an actress he’d had a crush on for years. The recurring fantasy Hopper had entertained for so long now felt stale in comparison to his thoughts of you…You, with your pretty, bright eyes flashing wide up at Hopper, a blush blooming on your cheeks as you realize he’s standing in the doorway of your room…as you realize he’s been standing there, watching you undress, for minutes now. And you’re covering yourself with the first item of clothing you could grab, a thin t-shirt, clutching it over your breasts in an attempt to hide your nakedness...

…But the shirt’s fabric is too sheer to provide any true coverage, any real protection from Hopper’s penetrating, wolfish stare. He steps inside your room, closing the door behind him, and presses in the lock with his thumb…

In the privacy of his bed, Hopper’s hand moved with more direction beneath the sheet, his grip around his cock tensing. As usual, he’d give in to the temptation that plagued him daily: he was going to come to the fantasy of you.

In Hopper’s mind, there were no moral obstacles in his way, no societal expectations from anyone preventing him from having you. He could fuck your face, your tits, your cunt, your ass, and come anywhere on and in you that he pleased. No one was there to stop him in the safe enclosure of his fantasy. And Hopper allowed himself to indulge.

“…Chief?” your wide eyes darted over his face. “W-what are you doing here?”

Hopper’s hand left the doorknob, moving to his shirt collar. “I think you and I already know the answer to that question, (y/n),” he said, his voice low, husky. You took a step back as you watched Hopper loosen the first few buttons of his shirt, your grip on the fabric covering you faltering slightly.

“How long were you standing there?” you asked tentatively. “Watching me?”

Hopper smirked as he undid the last button on his shirt. “Long enough to know that everything I’ve imagined about your body is right,” he replied, moving closer. “You’re fucking beautiful, (y/n)…Has anyone ever told you that?”

Your eyes drifted over Hopper’s exposed chest and down his stomach, watching as he unbuckled his belt. You nodded confidently, feeling less embarrassed. “Plenty of guys have told me I’m beautiful,” you replied, your voice a little sharper than you intended. You allowed the t-shirt over your chest to slip a little further down, revealing your nipples. “I’m twenty-one years old, Chief Hopper. Of course I date.” You smirked back at him now. “Lots of guys have fucked me.”

“Mm-hmm,” Hopper chuckled to himself, pulling his belt from his jeans. “I’m sure they have. And all these guys-,” He emphasized the word. “-any of them actually make you come?”

Your cheeks heated again, going pink. “I…uh-,” you stammered, as Hopper tossed his belt to your bedroom floor. “Any of these boys...” His hand moved to his cock, palming the bulge tenting his jeans. “…Make you feel like a man could make you feel…?”

Your chest dipped, your breath quickening as Hopper closed the space between your bodies. “…Like I could make you feel?” he continued, his dark blue eyes probing yours. Hopper was standing right in front of you now, mere inches separating your bodies. His hands moved to cover yours, gently removing them (and the t-shirt) from your breasts.

Your lips parted in an expression of both surprise and desire. Hopper cupped your cheek warmly in his palm, gliding his fingertips lightly along your chin. Your eyes fell closed in blissful surrender as Hopper touched you, the last of your defenses evaporating…

Hopper groaned as he fisted his cock, the muscles in his stomach tense. He knew he needed to hurry his fantasy along, or risk arriving even later at the station than he usually did Monday mornings. Hopper had already overslept and still had to shower, shave, and grab something quick to eat before heading into the station. So in his mind, Hopper fast-forwarded a bit to the part of his fantasy he liked best…the part where you begged…

…Hopper’s cock punched deep, sloppy thrusts inside you, rocking your bed frame, knocking off several plushies as he split you in half. One of his hands was wrapped in your hair, pulling your head back, your lips parted in a moan of ecstasy as he fucked places inside you no other man had reached.

“Come on, honey,” Hopper murmured down at you, his voice thick with exertion. “Go ahead and let go; I’ve got you sweetheart, just let it go…”

You whimpered beneath him, bucking under the weight of Hopper’s body. “Chief-,” you started, but Hopper cut you off, his words punctuated by each thrust of his hips. “That’s not my name, honey,” he gently insisted. “Go on-say my name-I know you know it-.”

“-Jim,” you panted against his shoulder. “Jim please, please Jim, please come inside me-.”

Hopper’s cock twitched at your request, at hearing you whimper his name. His balls were tight, aching for relief. Hopper’s eyebrows met, his forehead creased as he strained to withhold his climax just a little longer…

“Say it again,” he growled beside your ear, but your reply was lost in a groan. “Hey!” Hopper said forcefully, taking hold of your chin and holding it firmly. Your lips parted, and he spat between them. “Say my name if you want my cum,” Hopper ordered. “Say-,” *thrust* “My-,” *thrust* “Name...”

You came undone beneath Hopper, his name spilling out from between your lips like a prayer as he spilled his release inside you…

Hopper’s cock pulsed in his fist, his stomach clenching as a thick, creamy load of cum gushed from his tip. He cursed as his semen made a mess all over the bed; Hopper would have to wash the sheets later, or else sleep in his own cum that night. He reached for a fresh cigarette and stared up at the ceiling while exhaling thin clouds of smoke in its direction.

Hopper wondered how much longer he could go on like this? His ability to resist fantasizing about you was virtually non existent. Eventually, he’d have to either figure out a way to let go of his lust for you, or tell you how he felt. And Hopper knew the second option really wasn’t an option at all. There’s no way in hell you’d actually be attracted to him, Hopper thought. He was the same age as your dad, and that alone had to be a major turn-off for you. The likelihood of you ever viewing him as anything besides a contemporary of your dad’s was slim to none. And the last thing Hopper wanted to be, for you, was a father figure…

He swung his legs over the bed, and forced himself to the shower. Hopper knew that revealing his sick secret would destroy his friendship with your dad. He didn’t want that. And maybe more than anything, Hopper didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. He chuckled darkly to himself as he stood in the shower, letting the water run over him. A sweet, pretty young woman like you would never guess she was the subject of a perverted cop’s fantasies. Not with all the men who probably pursued you at college, men twenty years younger than Hopper. At best, you likely viewed him as a nice older man, someone you could trust just like you could trust your dad.

Hopper shook his head, gazing down at the shower drain. How wrong you were, he thought to himself. Because there was nothing about Hopper that was trustworthy, when it came to his true feelings for you. He was a hypocrite, a liar, and a convincing one. For now, he would go on spending time with your dad, at your home, pretending like everything was okay. And one day, when you returned to college, maybe Hopper would be free of your spell…

✨ one week earlier ✨

It was a peaceful Monday morning for you. Home from college on Summer break, waking up in your childhood bedroom filled you with a rush of nostalgia you hadn’t experienced in a long time. Sunlight feathered through your curtains and across your bed. You stretched your legs and arms, and let your thoughts drift to the evening before.

Jim Hopper had stopped by to visit your dad last night and watch a football game together. You hadn’t seen Hopper in over two years. To be honest, you’d forgotten about your old crush on the town’s chief of police, letting it fade to the back of your mind as college life became your main focus. Traveling away from home to the big city of Indianapolis, Indiana, was a life-changing experience. You’d never been that far from Hawkins before, and while a few familiar faces from home were there as well, it still felt like the small town you loved was a whole world away.

Over time, you’d forgotten about Chief Hopper and the silly little crush you’d had on him when you were younger. But when he showed up at your house last night, your feelings for him were…brand new. Now, you were an adult, and nothing about your previous crush was present in the feelings you had watching your dad’s friend enter your home. Viewing Hopper through the eyes of a woman, your perception of him was completely different.

You’d been with a man before, a man your age. It had only happened once, and it was terrible. You regretted losing your virginity to someone who obviously had no idea what he was doing, let alone what he was supposed to be doing to you. Part of you wondered what a man like Jim Hopper, a man with decades of experience fucking women, could do to you? The Chief’s love life had always been a popular topic of gossip around town. Rumor had it that Hopper was quite promiscuous, and had developed a reputation as a womanizer in his younger days. A man like that, who you just so happened to be insanely attracted to, could probably show you what sex was supposed to be like. What a real, rough fuck was like, the kind of fucking you fantasized about, the kind of thoughts you touched yourself to…

You sifted through the pages of a well-worn notebook. In its contents were various notes on divination, the phases of the moon, a record and analysis of your dreams, the magickal correspondences of crystals, colors, and more. But by far, the most important content in your notebook were the spells you’d written. Some had worked, some had failed, and there were some you had written but not yet used. One of these un-cast spells was the love spell you’d written. Admittedly, it was less of a love spell and more of a lust spell, but…regardless, you hadn’t yet found the right person to use as inspiration when the spell was cast. You’d never desired anyone enough to make an attempt at bending the Universe’s will to influence your love life, but…seeing Jim Hopper again had stirred something powerful inside you.

Gathering your supplies, you prepared yourself mentally and physically to carry out the spell. You opened your bedroom window and let the sun sink its fingers beneath your skin, absorbing its masculine energy. Performing the spell by moonlight would have been useful in securing a lover whose energy was feminine. But the object of your desire was absolutely dripping with a masculinity so potent, you didn’t think you’d ever been near a man who exuded such powerful masculine energy.

After completing the spell, you trusted that the only thing left to do was wait. You climbed back into the familiar warmth of your bed, feeling a bit sleepy, but with a thrumming ache between your thighs that just couldn’t be ignored. Slipping a hand beneath your panties, you imagined it was Jim Hopper’s hand instead. Believing in your personal power, you trusted that the Universe was working with you. It may take a week, or ten days, or fourteen; but you would have Jim Hopper. If he didn’t want you already, he would, and badly. He would soon be craving you, not just desiring you, but burning alive inside with the need to possess you. Closing your eyes, you began to rub soft circles over your clit, building the pressure until it broke in waves, and Jim Hopper’s name was spilling from your lips in panted, grateful whispers… ✨

PART TWO

[penvisions]

return the favor {chapter 22}

Pairing: Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Smuggler! Reader || M! OC x Pre Boston QZ! Reader (flashback scenes)

Summary: Memories often spring up at the worst of times, but as you continue to travel alone there's not much else to occupy your mind.

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: minor character death, m! oc death, canon typical violence, canon typical language, cursing, insult, sexual content, non con, allusions to non con sexual advances, allusions to p in v, unprotected p in v that results in pregnancy, kissing, pregnancy, symptoms of pregnancy, mentions of nausea but no vomiting, allusions to child loss, fighting, blood, reader gets injured, joel gets injured, guns, gun violence, self-depreciating internal monologue, if i left anything out pls lemme know!

A/N: trying something new with this chapter, i hope it reads well! thank you to everyone who participated in the poll for the next few chapters of this fic! this one is a little shorter, but the next one will be a doozy. my mind is a little overwhelmed with school and tutoring and four different WIPS

ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist || ko-fi

Joel was trying.

He was trying to tamp down the anxiety he knew would thrum in his veins the second the gates of Jackson closed behind him. Back out in the unknown and unpredictable landscape. Winter was granting him a passive day, no snow, no biting wind, cloud coverage clear for the sky to shine a light blue to crystal clear you would think it was a brisk summer day. But the pause in extreme weather aside from the near freezing temperature did nothing to quell the pulse beneath his skin.

He was alone, traveling with a teenager he had come to care about in a dangerous way.

The journey had been meant to be made with Tess, first. Strong-willed, no-nonsense saint of a woman for taking what he could offer her and not asking for anything in return. Just wanting to share space and renown within a controlled setting that allowed for them to execute their runs and make what passed for a decent living back in what was left of the quarantine zones. To share their bodies when human nature sparked connection in the oldest and most instinctual of ways. She had turned an eye to his abuse of the very same things they traded for food, for water, for supplies for their shabby apartment that had seen far better days before they stepped foot inside.

Then journey was then meant to be made with you. A surprise in the moments after her death. Skilled in many things and willing to help a man suddenly saddled with a teenager he had no clue how to interact with. But he had, once upon a time. The situation tasting of irony and self-destruction. Selfless to the point of disembarking on your own path in the wake of his own attempt at running when faced with something too real for the world. Maybe in the Before times, it would have worked out. Perhaps a meet cute as he delivered his brother to an urgent care for a drunken blunder, a work accident he himself fell victim to, or a begged visit for Sarah should she had fallen off her bike or taken a tumble in soccer practice. Maybe then it would have been given life, hopeful glances and lingering touches that would have turned into nervous dates. Nervous dates that would give way to regular familiarity and then heated nights beneath sheets of his bed.

But it had never should’ve blossomed in the now, in the after. And yet, it had tried.

Ellie was mad. She wasn’t trying.

Not the first day at least.

Speaking when spoken to, ire and hurt flaring uncomfortably in moments he could sense weren’t aimed at him. At least not completely. Aimed at you, for going back on your word. Something you wouldn’t have had to do if he hadn’t screwed up so monumentally by falling for you. He had been wrong in his accusations, throwing the proposition you made to him all those days ago back in your face. Like you had forced yourself on him, forced him into thinking of you that way, of wanting you that way. But it had been him, his decision to take you up on it in his grief. Wanting to feel something other than the gaping hole that seemed to eat up more and more of him as the years went by.

But instead of just taking his body in the ways he allowed you to, you had also begun to heal that black hole he was made up of. Slowly and so minimally at a time that he hadn’t noticed until it was too late.

He stopped and made the time to teach her how to shoot the rifle, hoping it would help to bring her out of her shell. And it worked, he silently thanked the universe, it worked. She was cracking jokes and quipping like normal. Mirth lighting up her eyes and questions flowing from her. And he indulged them, as best he could. Telling her of how he supported himself before the world fell apart. About how he always dreamed of singing and making music.

But just as everything seemed to be on the mend, it was broken once again.

With the crack of a wooden bat.

“A-Angelo?” You voice was as shaky as your reaching hands, fingers brushing against the man’s face only a few steps away. He was older, that much was certain. Only a year apart back then, back when the world functioned in an entirely different way. Only a year apart, but two decades of time separating you now, turned into completely different people. A wave of emotions at finding your family by pure chance and circumstance in the wilds of a state you had never been to before while on your way to look for them hit hard. You both surged forward and embraced, the man’s arms coming around you and tightening.

“I thought it was you, the hair,” He choked out, deep voice cracking. He was so broad, tall frame looming over you, developed fully into a man who had survived the worst of nature and humanity. Just as you had grown into a woman who took nothing of ill nature aimed at you, taking the things that had happened to you and using it as a foundation to be stronger.

“It’s me, I’m okay.” You gripped his shoulders tight, pushing him back a little to look him over.

“No injuries, no bites, you’re okay?”

“Yes, yes, I’m okay….We both are.”

That’s when your mind decided to remind you of the other voice you heard, the feminine one.

A young girl, no more than her teens and far too skinny was half concealed behind a tree trunk a few yards away. Her eyes were brown, honey brown and beautiful and they reminded you of so many people lost to space and time. They shown just as Taylor’s had done, once upon a time. Like you had both talked of wishing to see on a bright new, chubby face…

“Oh.” The phantom jolt of a kick felt through the skin of your aunt’s stomach so many years ago sprung to life in the palm of your hand. “Oh, Angelo. I’m-I’m so sorry.”

He detached from you, taking a few steps toward the girl, now in between you both equally. He held out a hand to her, his gloves tattered and stitching frayed in certain places.

“It’s okay, she’s okay. She’s family.”

“You’re so beautiful,” You gently coached her out, hoping nice words would help her to feel safe. “I’ve never met you, but I’ve waited a very long time to. You- you can call me by my name or Bean, if you’d like?”

“This is our cousin, from mom’s side. Do you remember her saying that we needed to go East?”

A small nod, wide eyes taking in the situation.

“It was to find her. She’s good, smart, she can help keep us alive.”

“You’ve been doing good on your own.” She didn’t move, not taking a step to back away and put distance between you nor toward you in a hesitant greeting. Her wide brown eyes were alert, telling of the things she’d experienced and been witness to. Of how cautious she was in the face of new people, a good thing to be but completely unwarranted in this particular case.

“Yes, but…Adela, we…we need help. This season, it’s harsh and we don’t know this land as well.”

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, I know we’re practically strangers but we are related. I know that doesn’t mean much these days to some people, but it means a great deal to me. I will do everything in my power to protect you, just like your brother.”

Hours later, after a shared meal and an introduction of your gifted appaloosa, camp was made and secured. Adela was fast asleep, one of the blankets you had tucked underneath the saddle wrapped around her small frame inside her sleeping bag. Light snoring sounding from the bundle she made against the horse.

“We’re the only ones that made it.” Angelo said before you could even figure out how to ask after everyone. Outbreak day a rather taboo subject amongst those that survived it. For Joel, at least, for you it was easier to divulge but still not a light subject to talk about. You had been willing with Ellie, with Maria.  The first to quell her curious questions, to allow her another perspective on the events before her time that shaped the world into the one that she knew. The second to appeal to her, to connect with someone who felt comfortable.

“We didn’t know anything was going on for a while, you know how it is working in a ware. house all day. But when I got home that evening, apparently grandma had passed during the morning. Scared the hell out of everyone when she came sprinting into the living room and lunged at dad.”

“I…I can’t imagine, I’m so sorry. I know I had a missed call from the house that day, but I had been running late. And then, you know….”

“It’s okay,” One of his gloved hands reached out, taking the closest one of yours and squeezing. “We both made it, Adela made it. I love our family and cared so much for everyone, but this world is too harsh for them. It was always going to be us and that’s the only comfort I have in what happened.”

Silently agreeing, you squeezed his hand back. He was right, your grandparents had softened in their age, his parents and your father caring for them together. Soft in their endearment too, not suited for a life of constant unrest, of constant fear and paranoia. Of scrounging for food and basic supplies, having to defend what was yours by any means necessary.  

“I was traveling with a man from Boston QZ and a girl, we were trying to find her family out this way. The last lead would’ve taken us to the University of Eastern Colorado.” You admitted over dinner the next day, having taught Adela the basics of how to properly interact with a horse, how to climb up in the saddle. While she was tall, she was skinny. Alarmingly so, but Angelo assured you that he always made sure she had enough to eat. He was willing to go without to provide for her, to ensure her still growing body had as much as it needed, or close to it at least.

“We were just there,” He took a breath, savoring the smell of the coffee that you had brewed for him as you all settled around the fire for the night. Scraps of foil that had contained easy, portioned meals to through on the fire that Maria had provided you with. “Well, around there. We came across a group of people settled into an old lodge town. Not to far from the city actually.”

Something about the man’s tone had you delaying your questions until Adela had laid down to rest for the night, tired from the day of interaction. But she was warming up to you, a familiar comfortability between you both as you talked to her about her mother. She admitted quietly that Angelo wasn’t willing to talk about their parents, people she had never had the chance to meet. The chaos of Outbreak day and those following it too much for him to talk about.

“We-uh, we left the group pretty quickly.” The man cleared his throat, turning around to ensure that his little sister was indeed asleep and not feigning it in order to eavesdrop. “The leader, god – what was his name? It doesn’t matter, he was so nice at first. Preaching about how people need to stick together, that his flock chose him to lead them and look after them.”

Your heart sank to your stomach, religious fanatics always putting you on edge. The way they manipulated the words of the bible in order to further their own agenda. And the way Angelo described him as initially nice and welcoming. A ploy, a trap laid out to ensnare people.

“But the first morning there, he came to visit us in the small set up they provided us with. Asked Adela to go out on a walk with him while I was still asleep. She hadn’t wanted to go, but felt obligated. Like he was just going to give her a tour or somethin’ and it was harmless, ya know?”

The rush of blood in your ears was loud, but you strained against it, needing to hear the words coming from the man beside you.

“He- that motherfucker, he exposed himself to her. Said that if she wanted to stay and use their resources that she needed to earn her keep. She begged me to leave right that second, to gather our stuff and make a run for it. But I don’t her we needed to act like nothing happened, to wait until nightfall and take what we could. So we did….but if you said you were traveling with a girl…brown hair, short, scar in her eyebrow?”

“Yes.” You breathed out, body thrumming with fear. No….no…there was no way Ellie could’ve been taken by the same men. She wouldn’t willingly go with anyone, had been hesitant to even let you or Joel out of her sight for too long….That meant…Joel had to have been injured in order for them to steal her away from him.

“She was unconscious, they were…they were carrying her into the settlement.”

Your head shot up, drink spilling over your hands cupped around the thermos.

“No.” You stood, hands steady despite the flood of emotions raging around in your mind. “No, no, no. I know those people, without them I wouldn’t have made it back out this way. We traveled from the other coast.”

It was late, but you didn’t care. You were gathering everything you needed, your pack and half of the food supply.

Adela roused at the noise, springing up and reaching for your hands.

“No, please, don’t leave us. We’ve lost too much already.” Tears were in her wide eyes, tugging at your heart in more ways than one. You crouched down in front of her, clasping your gloved hands around her own. Giving her your undivided attention.

“Honey, please, listen to me. I’m- I – I don’t want to leave you two, but I have to. Please understand. The girl that you saw, that was…she’s important to me. And she needs my help. I’ll see you again, I promise. I swear to you, Adela, I will see you again. Behind the walls of Jackson, we can…we can have a life there.”

Standing, you pulled her into a tight embrace.

“I’ll tell you embarrassing stories about your brother from when we were little.”

Pulling the map from your pocket, you circled the spot for Jackson with a marker.

“Here, this map will get you back to a settlement. Jackson. It’s large, has walls, it works. Ask for Maria or Tommy, tell them my name and that I sent you. Tell them you’re my family, you are. Take this,” You moved to wrap your old coat you had draped over your lap over the small frame of the girl and push the map that would lead them back to Jackson in the man’s hands.

The man surged up and gripped you tight in a bear hug, his body wrapped completely around you like he would do ever since he had begun to tower over you as children.

“Please, be safe!”

“Seek refuge in Jackson. I’ll return there, I promise.” You urged as you mounted the horse, reigns tight in your hands.

You clicked your tongue and tugged hard, urging the horse forward. The sound of hooves beating on the frozen ground was the only sound in the quiet, frozen night.

The remains of the a few bodies were scattered about the derelict campus that had been the destination sought out by them. Joel and Ellie. Those you were searching for nowhere to be seen, only hints of them in the bullet casings, the torn-up dirt, a bat broken in half- the jagged ends of one piece soaked in a deep red stain of blood. Joel’s, if your cousin’s words and your spiraling thoughts were correct.

Internally cursing at the man for pulling it out, for not waiting for a better moment, for not thinking in the haze his mind must’ve been.

Just as you began to trace the trail of rather fat droplets, you heard the crunch of someone stepping on fallen leaves behind you. Before you could even turn around completely to face them, someone was wrapping their arms around your neck, cutting off your air.

Your last thought was of Angelo and Adela. Of Joel and Ellie.

‘It was hot. Sweltering. And your dress was too tight over your swollen middle. It was a small bump, barely visible from the front, more so from the side. You had thought you indulged in too much food one evening after a deer had been caught but the teasing jab soon delved into something more serious. Especially when the swelling hadn’t gone down in the following days and nausea became a morning ritual.

You had been ecstatic, a first for you. And exciting thing you had always wanted. A faint thought you hadn’t entertained even in a working world, a notion you hadn’t thought possible at all with the demise of the world. When you had told him, Taylor had shared in your excitement, immediately beginning to hoard everything he could loot from the nearby state park. Gathering everything you could use, whether it was to repurpose it or store it for the future.

You had found a pocket of happiness and security in the rubble of the world, hidden deep in the forests of Tennessee in the form of a man who welcomed you into his space when all you had wanted to do was run. Finding yourself injured and needing aid, he had offered it to you.

What had begun as a small stay to ensure you would heal okay, that your stitches were secure and wouldn’t pull. But the conversations that flowed from one to another over those first few days tied you to each other. Braiding together your futures in such a wonderful way. There was no way to know how badly the universe would fray the untethered strings.

The only consolation was that the nights were cooler, the evenings and mornings twinged with a chill that signaled the end of an unseasonable warm fall. But as time moved on, Taylor had pleaded with you to consider staying close to the cabin. You had agreed, the symptoms of your pregnancy making it hard to do much of anything for long. Hunting and patrolling far too much for you to handle at the moment.

You were tending to the horses when he appeared behind you, arms snaking around your shoulders. The tickling of his facial hair sprouting giggles from you. The horses snickered, sharing in your delight. After securing them back in the modest stable, large hands were wrapping around you and sweeping you off of your tired feet.

“C’mon, princessa, let’s go have a nap.”

“But I don’t wanna,” You whined, not wanting to waste the sunshine while it was still showing, winters notoriously gray and overcast in this part of the region. The looming mountains casting dark shadows over pockets of land. Thankfully the cabin wasn’t in one of those regions, hidden well by the tall trees and stained a dark green all along the roof to avoid searching eyes to those at a higher altitude.

“Who said we were gonna sleep, silly girl?” Taylor swooped down to kiss you fully on the lips. Stirring warmth in your core. With a deep laugh at the chasing of your lips after his, he carefully rushed up the stairs and through the front door. “I’m gonna devour you, you’re too good looking a snack to leave untouched.”

“Oh hush,” You curled your hands into the long hair he had tied into a bun at the back of his head. Taking the band from around it and causing the strands to cascade around his handsome face.

“Glowing and full of me, carrying our baby in your pretty little tummy. Good god, you’re constantly on my mind, princessa, you’re my entire world.”

“And you’re mine, mi amor.”

Bubbling giggles flowed through the cabin as he made his way up the stairs and through the small landing. Into the bedroom that you found happiness in the midst of the fallen world.’

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[thebiggerbear]

WIP Wednesday - 9/18/24 - Beau Arlen x Reader

A/N: Something I've been working on since late last year. Any specific spoilers have been taken out.

Warnings: a smidgen of smut/implications; language

Your phone buzzed from where it sat on the floor, presumably where you’d dropped it the night before as you both stumbled into the room, lips and limbs locked while clothes flew everywhere. The vibration broke into your reverie when you heard it again. It was probably Jenny texting you to check in. You really should move to get it to answer her, but you hated to disturb Beau after such a late night, where you’d kept him going like the damn Energizer bunny. Plus, you were nice and warm here against him, all cozy and snuggled up into his side with his arm wrapped around you and pinning you to him, the cold chill of the morning kept at bay. You were in no hurry to leave your toasty cocoon, or to rush back to reality. You burrowed your head into his chest and closed your eyes, content to stay there. There was no way you were moving right now; you’d text Jenny as soon as you could muster the courage to move one bare foot from under the covers and place it on the cold ground.

A minute later, you began to have all-too familiar pangs and you nearly moaned in frustration. You were going to have to get up whether you wanted to or not. You mentally cursed out your bladder and attempted to carefully extract yourself from Beau’s grip. You were just about free when his arm suddenly tightened around you and brought you back towards him, his eyes open and intent on you. “Where’re you running off to, sweetheart?” His voice was deeper than usual, evidence of sleep still masking it. He had phrased the question in a teasing way, like always, but underneath you swore you could detect a tiny layer of hurt. As if you would have just skipped out the door while he was still asleep, no note left behind, no goodbye, nothing. Sure, you both may have had one hell of a one night stand, but he was still your best friend; you could never do that to him.  

You slipped your fingers up into his hair, tenderly stroking his scalp and making his eyes close halfway. He loved it when you did that. “To the bathroom,” you reassured him, noting the relief that began to saturate his features. “I really have to go. I think my bladder might explode.”

He had been pressing a tender kiss to your wrist when he let out an amused chuckle. “It’s not going to explode.” He released you and gave you a warm smile. “But all the same, you should go take care of business.” 

You gave him a nod and got to your feet, grimacing. You had been right; the floor was cold as hell. You grabbed his shirt and quickly slipped it on, only doing up a few buttons to give you basic coverage. You glanced back at him to find him watching you, his smile suddenly melting into a smirk and his eyes darkening slightly. Uh oh.

“Make sure you hurry back, darlin’.”

You watched as he placed an arm behind his head and laid fully on his back, making the very obvious tent underneath the sheet covering him stand tall. Your eyes widened slightly and you felt the pangs of something else stirring, flooding you with memories of just how well Beau had fucked you with that last night. You pressed your teeth into your lip to keep from moaning out loud when you saw him move the sheet away and wrap his hand around his erection, slowly sliding his hand up and down. 

“I thought you were going.” Your eyes met his and you could see the teasing gleam that was all too present. 

Normally, you would have teased back but right then you couldn’t care less about his cockiness. All you did was want. You felt a familiar ache between your legs that you had felt last night and it wasn’t the soreness. Besides, two could play that game.

“I suddenly don’t have to go anymore.” You made your way back onto the bed, slowly crawling up his legs to right where his hand was, wetting your lips with your tongue. 

His free hand lifted your chin to look at him. “Go. Like I said, just hurry back. Or I’ll come in and take care of this in the shower while you watch.” Seeing his dark gaze and hearing his voice dip in register, in addition to the very naughty images he put in your head just then, you were tempted to mount him right there, your bladder be damned. 

“You know, I’m technically a guest and a guest should automatically get breakfast,” you purred, running your fingers teasingly up his length until they met his. 

“Breakfast, huh?” He suddenly lunged forward, smacking his hands onto your ass and pulled you into his lap, making you squeak loudly in surprise. He yanked his shirt down enough to engulf your nipple into his mouth, eliciting a gasp from you and forcing you to coil your fingers into his hair, holding him that much closer to you. You felt his erection rubbing into you from behind and you moved back against it, moaning quietly. He released your nipple with a pop and trailed his lips up to your neck. Your fingers tightened their grip on him, and you began to rock yourself a little more fervently against him. You wanted him badly, and if you didn’t get what you wanted in the next few seconds, you didn’t know what you’d do. 

“Baby,” he murmured into your ear. “I’ll give you all the breakfast you want if you go take care of business and come right back.” He nibbled at your earlobe and then moved back to your neck, feasting on that spot he had found last night and making your eyes cross.

Fuck.

Please let me know if you would like to be tagged for this upcoming work.

dividers by @firefly-graphics

[soscarlett1twas]

20% Convergence

↳ You and Elias watch the eclipse together ↳ 540 words / also available on ao3! ↳ A quick, unedited flash piece for the North American eclipse; hope y'all enjoy <3

Elias handed you a pair of glasses, shockingly flimsy for their protection. You opened the wings and pushed them back into your hair.

“How mad will your dad be about this?” It was a partial joke, though mostly not – you’d rather face a bullet than Warden’s wrath.

Elias laced his hands into yours. “Fuck that. Let him be pissed.” And he whisked you out the door, finally done punching in the keycode.

Outside was slightly dimmed, only noticeable through the knowledge that it was supposed to be. The sky was grayer; the shadows uneven and calm; a world seemingly stopped for the hiding sun.

You entertain the thought for a moment. How many were just like them, trailing the sky for a glimpse at the phenomena?

Rough hands glide the glasses down over your eyes and the world goes dark. You open your mouth in protest before they move your head upwards, and it comes into view.

The sun is ablaze, vivid with unpatternable fire, making a color so dark and vibrant it seemed otherworldly. And the moon was nothing, a cookie-cutter to the sun.

It was a reversal in every way: The sun, normally so bright that it defined the moon with its glow, became molded by the umbra.

But above all else, it was beautiful.

Minutes pass as you both bask in the rarity, Elias not letting a moment go without explaining a facet of it. Ultraviolet to orbits mesh in his voice. You barely understood a word, but the passion was familiar.

As the sun became more obscured, you felt a chill seep into the air: Something deeper than any breeze, cold in more than just the temperature. The sun, and thus its warmth, was being cut off.

You draw your hands around yourself, knitting a tight blanket of arms to combat the rising bumps on them. “Maybe we should grab a blanket…” you say, having waited for a moment he seemed to take a dip in his rants.

Elias glances at you before looking back to the sky. Continuing in his explanations, he slips his leather jacket off and places it around your shoulders.

His hands work down from the shoulders to your waist, wrapping them around it before propping his head right where his hands used to be. He constricts, and you’re pulled closer to him. With every breath is a fleeting patch of warmth. Smoke has never smelt so romantic.

You feel like the eclipse: So close, and yet so far. Selfishly, you wish to be closer to him, your lips on his, hands not blocked by the jacket. So you lean in, a kiss peppered to his cheek.

He smiles, pulling up his cheek into a crooked hook – and you look back to the sky.

You stay like that until the moon reaches its zenith, a measly twenty percent of coverage here in California, but alluring all the same.

For a moment, you tilt the glasses down to catch a glimpse of Elias. That ever-growing smile, waxing in rhythm with the eclipse, is all you needed. Even with shaded eyes his affections lay bare. You lean back into his shoulder and let yourself drift with the moon, which began its climb back down.

[yoke9494]

Baby Bunny.🐇 Pt.1

Bonten mini series.

* pt. 1

*(Request) Hybrid bunny reader/ animal hybrid Bonten. First time ever writing something like this so I'm sorry if it's bad! I tried my best. Have any tips? Let me know!♥️

*Don't know how to label this chapter but the whole series will contain Angst/Smut and the fallowing TW.

*⚠️ Trigger warnings!: Sex trafficking, drug/alcohol use, stockholm syndrome, rape, (not on reader) mental and physical abuse,.. Sanzu.

_______________________________

How did you end up here?

You knew better.. You knew better than to walk home alone, especially at night.. Though you lived in a small town, covered by thick forest-- that didn't mean a predator would never find its way in..

You knew better than to stay at Molly's home for longer than you were allowed to.  But time had gotten away from you when you began to tell Molly about a date you had coming up with your boyfriend who was half lovebird. He was such a beautiful man with midnight black hair and the bluest eyes you've ever seen.

You had a feeling he was going to propose since he had been extra excited about your date together. He even told you to go out and buy a new dress, plus to get your nails and hair done also. All with his hard earned money..

She was over the moon for you! And a little jealous. Being half sheep herself, her parents only let her date her own kind. (Yes, they were stuck up and awful-- the complete opposite of your beautiful Molly. She was such a sweetheart with a soul and heart made of gold.)

Her words repeated in your head as you walked home. "I'm so happy for you Y/n! Elden is such a sweet and handsome man. Just the type of guy a shy little bunny like you needs! Eeek! Can I be your maid of honor?!"

You shook your head as you tried to rewind the memories of you day. A way to keep the fear of the darkness away.

How could you fall for such a easy trap? You replayed the event over and over in your head. Wishing you had handled it differently...

******

"Help! Oh miss.. help!"

You heard a pained voice coming from the opposite end of the road. The streetlights were always dim and didn't provide a far range of coverage.

"Help! Please! I hurt myself."

You swallowed down your fear but still couldn't move. The prey in you was too scared.

"Girl! Come help me up!"

The voice that called out to you didn't sound familiar at all. Your town was so small that you knew everyone by their voice.

Your spotted and floppy ears slightly picked itself up on instinct. Your cotton ball tail shivering as if it was dead of winter.. Something wasn't right.

Maybe you should run back to Molly's house and ask her father to walk you home. Yes you were an adult but you weren't physically strong.

Fast footsteps came your way. The person began to yell out to you again.

Your ears shot up and you began to run. Molly's house was a lot closer than your own so you decided to go there.

"Grab her! But don't hurt her! Bunnies bring in a good amount of money!"

Your heart was racing-- your skin crawled with panic and fear! You pushed yourself as hard as you could as you rounded the corner. Nearly tripping over your own feet like the idiots do in horror movies. Your poor calves felt like they were being ripped to shreds!

But there it was.. The gate to Molly's home!

You were so close! All you had to do was swing it open and run to the door and scream at the top of your lungs.

"Got you!"

No.. No. No. No. No..

Completely darkness covered your vision. You struggled against two large sweaty bodies as you tried to free yourself.-- a sour burning smell burned the little hairs in your nose. You tried to scream but your mouth was muffled, suffocating from whatever they had shoved onto your head..

"It's okay bunny-- go to sleep."

Like hell you were!

"There you go."

One of the males cooed into your ear as suddenly your body began to give up on its own. Your brain kept trying to make your arms and legs move but you began to feel like mush. Your brain became hazy and it felt like you body was a million times heavier. Your eyelids felt like they were made of led--

Voice's faded in and out..

"Took her a while-- I swear I used half the bottle."

"She's gonna be a problem... But not for us!"

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

Your body jerked and startled you conscious. What was going on?--

Your body felt like it was run over by a truck, your head was spinning and your could feel your body breaking out in a cold sweat.

A sudden whisper had you panicking.

"Shh. It's okay. Here drink some water."

You tried to blink the blurriness away.. Molly? Oh thank goodness it was her! You tried to speak-- to tell her about the most terrifying dream you had.

You must have fallen asleep while you both were gossiping!---

"Mol--" you couldn't get a word out. You gasped for air and it felt like you had swallowed sharp pins. Your tongue was as dry as sandpaper..

Molly whispered to you. "Shh. Don't try to talk right now. Drink-- slowly."

You felt the rim of a plastic water bottle brush against your lips.-- Expecting a flow of cool refreshing water to wet your tongue-- you gagged when a dirty taste filled your mouth. A wheeze left your throat when you wanted to ask Molly what she had given you? It tasted like nasty pool water!

"I'm sorry. It's all we have."

What was she talking about? The town had access to the cleanest well water around..

Finally your vision came to and you wanted to scream. This person wasn't your Molly!-- This person was another sheep, with the same beautiful white curls as your best friend-- but her face was different, eyes, nose, mouth and ears..

You rolled your eyes and noticed she had you on her lap. Her hand running through your hair as she wore a worried look.

Your voice was so weak. "Who are you? Where am I?"

You couldn't see anything besides her. It was so dark-- but you swore you could hear quiet whimpers and small sniffles.. Like you were surrounded by people crying?

You tried to sit up and let out another gasp. Pain ran through your body while whatever energy you just had completely disappeared..

The girl shook her head. "Please don't move yet. You still need to rest-- it'll take awhile to get whatever they used on us out of your system."

Your body was jerked again. More pain set your nerves on fire-- even the girl herself looked pained as she tried to keep herself up right.

You felt your eyes sting as you began to cry. You couldn't move, you couldn't see, you couldn't even speak! You were so scared-- you wanted to go home! You wanted you parents! You wanted your love Bird to come hold you and tell you that he'd cherish you forever.

"Rest a bit more okay? I promise you we won't hurt you-- were all scared."

What was happening?--- you needed to go home. But your body gave out once more..

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

This time your body was woken up by loud clanking noises followed by the sounds of male voices.

"holland lop bunny huh? We don't get many of those. Call our clients in Tokyo-- fuck what was his name?- Hajime. The bastard has bids on the more exotic girls.."

The voices began to fade away with retreating footsteps..

Your body shivered. It was freezing! You felt sore and still a bit weak. Your eyelids felt sticky that you had to force them open--

Metal bars? Behind that was what looked like dirty cracked concrete?

With a low groan you were able to roll your body from its side to your back.-- a wave of nausea took over..

"Hey bunny. Take it easy.. you'll hurt yourself."

Your eyes roamed over... A flat rusted metal roof, more bars . Were you in a cage?!

You silently answered your own question when you met eyes with the same sheep from before. She sat on her knees in a rusted cage in front of yours.

You gasped and covered your eyes when you noticed she was naked. She let out a weird sound that almost sounded like a pained laugh.

"Don't get shy Bunny. We're all naked here.."

What did she mean? You peeked up and used the bars to slowly help you sit up. Gritting your teeth as you did-- You bones felt stiff-- how long were you asleep?

Your eyes began to water when you got a good look at what was around you. Rows of dirty cages filled with one or more naked bodies.. Mostly women, but you swore you saw a masculine body or two.. You tried not to stare-- Completely terrified and exposed just like the rest..

"What's happening?"

The sheep was about to answer you but another voice came from the cage beside you. "They're going to sell us, Break us, and turn us into slaves.."

She was a love bird just like your Eldon... Only she had chestnut hair and large gold eyes. Her face was bruised and her body was dirtier than all the rest..

"This happened to me before--. I got away.." Her eyes began to water. "But they found me-- punished me.. and now I'm going to die here."

She began to cry. Soon the room almost filled with small whimpers-- even your own tears began to roll down your cheeks.

Sold? Slaves? Breaking?--

The sheep across from you began to panic. "Everyone shh! If we make too much noise they'll come back down here again. Do you all want what the poor skunk got--"

Her eyes traveled to the cage on the opposite end of you. And you made the mistake to follow her gaze---

You let out a scream, you really didn't mean to-- Your body scurried away, closer to the love bird. The cold metal dug into your back as you tried to get as far away from the beaten and dead girl..

The lovebird reach over and covered your mouth. You could feel her shaking against you-- "Quiet!"

And you were. Everyone was-- heavy footsteps sounded like they were so close! But then they began to fade away.

Some let out a breath they didn't know they were holding. ----

A sharp pain bloomed at the back of your head. The love bird had yanked your head back by your hair.

Her voice was low but it held Anger. "You need to shut up. They won't come down here and beat you but they'll beat us. You're worth more money than half of us combined."

You scratched at her skin and she let you go. Of course she called you a bitch but you didn't care. You just wanted away from her and the deceased girl next to you. But all you could do was curl you body into a ball as you sat right in the middle of your cramped cage.

You shook your head and looked at the sheep. She was the only one who seemed a little sane. "I don't want to be sold.. I want to go home-- I miss my boyfriend, my Molly, my family.."

The sheep gave you a sympathetic look. "You don't have a home anymore pet. .. But She's right you know. Bunnies that look like you are rare. - you have the long floppy ears and huge puffy cotton tail. Your kind is naturally obedient.. Someone with money will most likely keep you as their arm candy or trophy wife. You'll have to be okay with that life if you want to live."

"--- Or they'll breed her and sell off her children till she dies.."

Another voice-- A male cat? His body was lean with a bit of muscle and he had dark grey hair, but his ears had white stripes.. He was next to the sheep and had been curled up this entire time.

His bright green eyes locked on you. "I've heard stories about that when I was working in a night club. Your kind can have a good litter if I'm not mistaken. 5-6 if you're lucky?"

You nodded... You had so many siblings it wasn't funny. (47 brothers and sisters) "I was a part of a litter of 10 actually. My mother was very fertile.."

He shook his head. "I'm so sorry. Let's hope you aren't that lucky.. They'll kill you faster if you don't provide them many spawns.."

You gulped-- but didn't say a word as your ears picked up.. Someone was coming!

You could heard two separate steps of heavy feet. They heard you scream! They heard you and were going to take it out on everyone. They'll all hate you even more--

Two dirty looking men began to walk down a couple of concrete steps at the end of the room. "Meal time!"

Almost everyone scooted closer to the bars as you stayed huddled at the back. You could hear the bowls being thrown at everyone along with soft smacking and chewing.

You didn't notice it before but your stomach began to growl.. When was the last time you ate? It had to be the dinner you had with Molly before you were taken..

When the man reached your cage he slammed a dirty metal bowl in front of the bars. He gave you a quick look that left you feeling violated.. But his attention went over to the lovebird..

What was she doing? She had curled up into a ball-- had he gotten hurt somehow?! She didn't look like she was breathing...

"Hey! Feather bitch, meal time."

She didn't flinched..

The man walked away from your cage and you scooted to the bowl.. it had what looked like white rice and some type of brown slop on top... It didt look appetizing-- it smelt sour..

You looked at the sheep and cat as they ate. The male cat locked eyes with you and motioned to your bowl. He mouthed the words "Eat." Before reaching his hands out and getting another scoop with his fingers.

The man began to hit the lovebirds cage as you reached out to the food. The rice was cold and a bit hard-- the tan mush on top tasted horrible. Sour and it felt slimy going down your throat.. But you were so hungry, so weak..

"Bitch get up!"

You stopped trying to chew and just swallowed. It seemed like everyone was trying to mind their own business and eat--

The sheep gave a quick glance and looked worried. But she held her head down and closed her eyes. The cat swiped off any food on his fingers and covered his ears.. He looked disappointed?

You scurried back into the middle of your cage when the man yanked open the lovebirds. He reached in and--

She screamed.. She screamed and called him every dirty name in the book. Her little talons scratched into his skin as he groaned in pain..

"Son of a bitch!!"

She was yanked out by her hair and began to scream. Your eyes wide as her body hit the ground in front of your cage. It was such a loud *Thud* that you were sure you heard a crack when her head was shoved to the ground..

God help her... What do you do? What can you do?!

Nothing....

His belt hit the floor before he picked it up and began to hit her back with his metal buckle. His friend had join him in holding her down.

Your tried to look away. Closed your eyes tight as her screaming made your body shake. But you could hear everything..

You heard them speak in a language you never heard. They began to laugh as you heard the zipper of their pants being pulled down..

She was crying now. You tried to cover your ears but they were right in front of you. Tears squeezed out of your eyes as they began to use her body..

She yelled, cried, begged them to just kill her..

Your heart was breaking.. "please stop."

You tried to yell. But you were a coward, a coward who was just yelling in her mind.

"Stop! Stop! Stop! Stop!-- please stop hurting her!"

When they were done with her you were still yelling in your mind. Trying to escape as they threw her bruised and abused body back into her cage. She was no longer conscious but still slightly breathing--

"Bunny you okay?"

It was the cat-- why was he asking you that! You were far from okay! You could feel what you had just ate coming up your throat. Your mind panicked and brought you home.

Your mother in the kitchen, cooking.. And your father at the table telling her what was in the newspaper. Your warm home on the side of the largest hill in your town. Covered in while flowers and thick trees.

You found a way to escape... But you really should have payed attention, you should have opened your eyes.

If you did, you would have seen another man enter the basement-- You would have seen him point at a few cages before he pointed at yours.

You wouldn't have been frightened when your cage jerked and 4 men began to carry you out with a few others.

"What--?"

"Shhh." It was the cat!

He was being carried right in front of you. "Stay quiet, stay calm.."

You felt queasy all over again...

...................

[kichous]

✧･ﾟ:*   to all the earthly remains

summary. in the settled dust, all that remains is the boy with the pink hair. series. history lesson. part one . part two . part three . part four . part five you’re here ! pairings. itadori yuji x reader. ryomen sukuna x reader. warnings. none.  word count. 1591.

You’ve been wandering the wreckage of Shibuya for days. It looks like the set of a post-apocalyptic movie, like you’ve stumbled onto the remake of War of the Worlds. But all of it’s real.

Even now, you’re still reeling at how quickly everything went south. Less than a week ago, your biggest concern was making sure you actually had coverage for your Halloween night shift. Begging and pleading with your manager hadn’t worked, as everyone else also wanted the night off to party. Your saving grace had been a recently dumped coworker, who was free and miserable enough to actually want to work. At the time, you’d felt guilty for taking advantage of her sadness. Now, a different guilt weighs upon you. She lived in Ikebukuro. If she hadn’t taken your shift, she wouldn’t have gotten caught—as did your other coworkers, your friends, and yourself—in Sukuna’s Malevolent Shrine.

As far as you can tell, you’re the only survivor. Whether that’s up to muscle memory, constantly cycling reverse cursed energy to heal yourself from the cuts and slices, or whether he deliberately chose not to hit you in that massive radius is anyone’s guess.

It would’ve been nice if one of your sorcerer friends had given you a heads up. Both Nobara and Fushiguro had your number. Yuji, of course, did as well. If even one of them had said, “Hey, something bad’s gonna happen in Shibuya on Halloween,” then you would’ve dragged your friends to Ginza or Roppongi with the excuse of watching the parade. Instead, the six of you stayed in the area, and now you’re the only one left. You watched them get diced into pieces.

But it’s hardly fair to blame sorcerers who, ultimately, were high schoolers just like you. Knowing what you did about jujutsu society, they were probably out there fighting and bleeding while you and your friends hid. That Inumaki boy you’d seen was another casualty, and he hadn’t been much older.

In truth, you have no idea where you’re going.

The last couple of days, you’d sort of been ambling around aimlessly. You scourged for food and replaced your shredded costume with something that could actually withstand the cold. But other than survival, you really hadn’t any future plans. You should go home. Make sure your family knows you’re okay. Make sure that they’re okay.

You come across the cursed spirit first.

He’d been squatting as he kept watch, shooting up at your approach into a ready stance. He claps his hands together, all ten fingers pointed at you. “Don’t come any closer!” he barks.

“I mean you no harm!” you call back after raising your hands in surrender. In this body, you have no innate technique, but you remember how to fight from your past lives. Once upon a time, you’d held the record for the most consecutive black flashes at three strikes. Someone’s probably beaten you by now, but a hit’s a hit. You pool cursed energy into your fists. “I’m just passing through.”

“Then you better keep moving,” the cursed spirit growls, the line drawn across the bridge of his nose distorted by the ferocity of his glare. “It’s not safe here.”

“Choso, what are you doing?”

A familiar head of pink hair steps into view, and you go weak in the knees. You whisper Yuji’s name, a sound so soft it’s carried off by the wind. Before you know it, you’re sprinting for him. The cursed spirit shouts in alarm, and you only just manage to bat away his attack before you launch yourself into Yuji’s arms.

He catches you, warm and solid. “No way…,” he mutters. His voice cracks when he says your name, and his eyes are disbelieving as he pulls back to get a good look at you. Yuji’s face falls, to your alarm, when he confirms it’s you, and his warm, comforting hands morph into claws around your biceps. “If she was here when Sukuna attacked, then she’s… whatever you are, you better not be—be wearing her skin or something like that. I’ll—”

“No one told you?” you blurt, shaking free of his aggressive grip. “Not Fushiguro-kun or Nobara?” At the mention of the latter’s name, Yuji flinches and your breath catches in your throat. Casualties. Right. “I’m—I’m a sorcerer too. Sort of.”

The word sounds wrong on this body’s tongue. You were a normal girl up until a few months ago, ignorant of the world of curses and jujutsu. If you had never crossed paths with Yuji, you would never have known. And it’s never really come up between you two. You just figured his friends would have informed him of something this major. But then again, maybe they had expected you to explain. You should have, but you’d only seen each other a couple of times since his apparent return from the dead. He hadn’t exactly told you about that, either, so you were even.

He believes you a little too easily. “‘Sort of’ doesn’t exactly inspire confidence,” Yuji hisses. “It’s dangerous here, especially around me. You’ve got to get somewhere safe.”

“No.” The word pushes past your lips without permission, but you don’t find yourself disagreeing with the sentiment. “Something… something drew me here. At first I thought I’d just picked a direction and started walking, but now I get it. There was a beacon calling out to me, and it led me to you. I’m where I’m supposed to be.”

You hadn’t been actively tracking his residuals, searching for Yuji (or his hitchhiker) in particular, but… well, in a world like this, is it so wrong to believe in something like fate? Of all the boys in the world, you’d found Ryomen Sukuna’s vessel. He even looked like Sukuna a little, back when he was Yuji’s age. Some things never change, it seems. Lady Otagi’s heart used to beat a little faster when she saw him, too.

And of course, in these times of forced, traumatic solitude, you thought of revenge. You’re a fifteen year-old, hardly the most mature person you know, and the face of the man who murdered your best friends and countless others was burned into your retinas. Except that wasn’t really true, was it? The image you conjured up was from the memory of a Heian noblewoman a thousand years ago. What Sukuna actually looks like today is Itadori Yuji. And with that alteration, vengeance dies in your throat, replaced by pity. You want to free Yuji about as much as you want to punch Sukuna in his stupid, handsome face.

Yuji, who is also quite handsome and equally stupid, takes a completely different meaning from your words. “People around me get hurt or drop dead,” he protests. “And, really, we barely know each other. We haven’t even been on a single date, besides that time I dragged you along to meet my friends and this girl I knew in junior high—”

“What,” interjects the cursed spirit Yuji called Choso.

Heat floods your cheeks as you lift a hand to stop him. “I like you a lot, Yuji, but God, I did not mean it that way.” This is mortifying. You can hardly look him in the eye. “One, I can take care of myself, so I won’t let you or anyone else hurt me. And two, before you give me this whole spiel about not being you that you’re afraid of, he won’t hurt me either. Or else he already would’ve, when I was smack dab in the middle of his Domain Expansion.”

Yuji’s chin drops to his sternum when you press your palm flat against the center of his chest. When he looks back up at you, there’s a deep, intense pain in his eyes. Nobody your age should ever have to bear it. He squeezes your fingers when you move your hand to weave through his. It almost hurts, but it’s the most human contact you’ve had in ages. You have a feeling it grounds him as much as it does you. “But…”

“Please. This is—it’s my fault too. Or the me from a thousand years ago, anyway.” Yuji makes a noise of puzzlement, and you stroke the back of his hand with your thumb. Chuckling sadly, you sigh. “It’s… kind of a long story. But I know Sukuna pretty well. I don’t think it would be too conceited of me to say I’m part of the reason he is the way he is. So it’s my fault. Give me—give me the chance to make this right.”

He doesn’t fully get it, but he doesn’t stay hung up on the confusion. Making it right is something he wants for himself, too, it seems. He was always so bright and sunny, yet now his shoulders slump with the weight of the world. Sukuna did this to him. The monster wouldn’t stop ruining everything he touched until he was gone. You know what you have to do.

It wasn’t by chance that Lady Otagi’s soul dwelled on this earth for a millennium. She had been waiting for something. Waiting for you, and waiting for him, to end this once and for all.

You take Yuji into your arms, squeezing him tight against you. You feel his nose press into your crown, and you shut your eyes, inhaling his scent. It’s hardly pleasant, ash and rubble and sweat, but you feel safe nevertheless.

“Yuji?” asks Choso uncertainly. “Little brother?”

Yuji lifts his head from yours, not breaking his hold on you. “She’s coming with us.”

And that’s that.

[shuxiii]

Everyday pt. 8

Hanni Pham x reader pt1, pt2, pt3, pt4, pt5, pt6, pt7, pt8, pt9, pt10, pt11, pt12, pt13

a/n i am dying, credits ''every day'' david levithan

TW: homophobia

a/n me messing i saw hanni in edits today and pictures I had to make chapter 8, still credits all to ''every day'' by David levithan, edit: I'm losing my sanity

Day 6006

The phone rings.

I reach for it, thinking it’s Hanni.

Even though it can’t be.

I look at the name on the screen. Austin.

My boyfriend.

“Hello?” I answer.

“Hugo! This is your nine a.m. wake-up call. I will be there in an hour. Go make yourself purdy.”

“Whatever you say,” I mumble.

There’s a lot I have to do in an hour.

First, there’s the usual getting up, getting showered, and getting dressed. In the kitchen, I can hear my parents talking loudly in a language I don’t know. It sounds like Spanish but isn’t Spanish, so I’m guessing it’s Portuguese. Foreign languages throw me—I have a beginner’s grasp of a few of them, but I can’t really access a person’s memory fast enough to pretend to be fluent in any of them. I access and find that Hugo’s parents are from Brazil. But that’s not going to help me understand them better. So I steer clear of the kitchen.

Austin is picking Hugo up to go to a gay pride parade in Annapolis. Two of their friends, William and Nicolas, will be coming along. It’s marked on Hugo’s calendar as well as his mind.

Luckily, Hugo has a laptop in his room—since it’s the weekend and a school computer isn’t an option, I am going to risk checking in. I quickly open my email and find something that Hanni sent only ten minutes ago.

Yn,

I hope it went well yesterday. I called her house just now and no one was home—do you think they’re getting help? I’m trying to take it as a good sign.

Meanwhile, here’s a link you need to see. It’s out of control.

Where are you today?

H

I click on the link beneath her initial and am taken to the home page of a big Baltimore tabloid website. The headline blares:

THE DEVIL AMONG US!

It’s Haruto’s story, but it’s not only Haruto’s story. This time there are five or six other people from the area claiming to have been possessed by the devil. Much to my relief, none of them besides Haruto are familiar to me. All of them are older than I am. Most claim to have been possessed for a time much longer than a single day.

I would think the reporter would have been more skeptical, but she buys the stories uncritically. She even links to other stories of demonic possession—death-row criminals who claimed they were under the influence of satanic forces, politicians and preachers who were caught in compromising positions and said that something very uncharacteristic had come over them. It all sounds very convenient.

I quickly run Haruto through a search engine and find more coverage. The story, it seems, is going wide.

In article after article, there is one person quoted. Essentially, he says the same thing every time:

“I have no doubt that these are cases of demonic possession,” says Rev. Anderson Poole, who has been counseling Watanabe. “These are textbook examples. The devil is nothing if not predictable.”

“These possessions should come as no surprise,” says Poole. “We as a society have been leaving the door wide open. Why wouldn’t the devil walk right in?”

People are believing this. The articles and posts in the comments sections are legion—all from people who see the devil’s work in everything.

Even though I should know better, I shoot off a quick email to Haruto.

I am not the devil.

I hit send, but I don’t feel any better.

I email Hanni, telling her how it went with Jiwon's father. I also let her know that I’m going to be in Annapolis for the day, and tell her what T-shirt I’m wearing and what I look like.

There’s a honk outside, and I see a car that must be Austin’s. I race through the kitchen and say a hurried goodbye to Hugo’s parents. Then I pile into the car—the boy in the passenger seat (William) moves into the back with the other boy (Nicolas) so I can sit next to my boyfriend. For his part, Austin takes one look at my outfit and tsk-tsks, “You’re wearing that to Pride?” But he’s joking. I think.

There is conversation around me the whole car ride, but I’m not really a part of it. My mind is completely elsewhere.

I shouldn’t have sent Haruto that email.

One simple line, but it admits too much.

From the moment we hit Annapolis, Austin is in his element.

“Isn’t this fun?” he keeps asking.

William, Nicolas, and I nod, agree. In truth, the Annapolis Pride events aren’t that elaborate—in many ways it feels like the navy has turned gay and lesbian for the day, and a ragtag assortment of people have come along to cheer it on. The weather is sunny and cool, and that seems to cheer everyone further. Austin likes to hold my hand and swing it like we’re walking down the yellow brick road. Ordinarily, I’d be charmed. He has every right to be proud, to enjoy this day. It’s not his fault I’m so distracted.

I’m looking for Hanni in the crowd. I can’t help it. Every now and then, Austin catches me.

“See someone you know?” he asks.

“No,” I say truthfully.

She’s not here. She hasn’t made it. And I feel foolish for expecting her to. She can’t just drop her life every time I’m available. Her day is no less important than mine.

We come to a corner where there are a few people protesting the festivities. I don’t understand this at all. It’s like protesting the fact that some people are red-haired.

In my experience, desire is desire, love is love. I have never fallen in love with a gender. I have fallen for individuals. I know this is hard for people to do, but I don’t understand why it’s so hard, when it’s so obvious.

One of the protestor’s signs catches my eye. HOMOSEXUALITY IS THE DEVIL’S WORK, it says. And once again I think about how people use the devil as an alias for the things they fear. The cause and effect is backward. The devil doesn’t make anyone do anything. People just do things and blame the devil after.

Predictably, Austin stops to kiss me in front of the protestors. I try to oblige. Philosophically, I am with him. But I’m not inside the kiss. I cannot manufacture the intensity.

He notices. He doesn’t say anything, but he notices.

I want to check my email on Hugo’s phone, but Austin isn’t letting me out of his sight. When William and Nicolas make a move to get some lunch, Austin says he and I are going to go our own way for a little while.

I assume we’re going to get lunch, too, but instead he pulls me into a hip clothing store and spends the next hour trying things on, with me giving my outside-the-changing-room opinion. At one point, he pulls me into the changing room to steal some kisses, and I oblige. But at the same time, I’m thinking that if we’re inside, there’s no way Hanni is going to find me.

While Austin debates whether the skinny jeans are skinny enough, I find myself wondering what Jiwon is doing at this moment. Is she unburdening herself, going along with it, or is she defiant, denying that she ever wanted help in the first place? I picture Beomgyu and Soobin in their rec room, playing video games, not having any sense that their week was disrupted. I think of Keeho later tonight, preparing his clothes for church tomorrow morning.

“What do you think?” Austin asks.

“They’re great,” I say.

“You didn’t even look.”

I can’t argue this. He’s right. I didn’t.

I look at him now. I need to pay more attention.

“I like them,” I tell him.

“Well, I don’t,” he says. Then he storms back into the changing room.

I haven’t been a good guest in Hugo’s life. I access his memories and discover that he and Austin first became boyfriends at this very celebration, a year ago this weekend. They’d been friends for a little while, but they’d never talked about how they felt. They were each afraid of ruining the friendship, and instead of making it better, their caution made everything awkward. So finally, as a pair of twentysomething men passed by holding hands, Austin said, “Hey, that could be us in ten years.”

And Hugo said, “Or ten months.”

And Austin said, “Or ten days.”

And Hugo said, “Or ten minutes.”

And Austin said, “Or ten seconds.”

Then they each counted to ten, and held hands for the rest of the day.

The start of it.

Hugo would have remembered this.

But I didn’t.

Austin senses something has changed. He comes back from the dressing room without any clothes in his arms, looks at me, and makes a decision.

“Let’s get out of here,” he says. “I don’t want to have this particular conversation in this particular store.”

He leads me down to the water, away from the celebration, away from the crowds. He finds a somewhat secluded bench and I follow him there. Once we sit down, it all comes out.

“You haven’t been with me once this whole day,” he says. “You aren’t listening to a word I say. You keep looking around for someone else. And kissing you is like kissing a block of wood. And today, of all days. I thought you said you were going to give it a chance. I thought you said you were snapping out of whatever it is that’s been afflicting you the past couple of weeks. I am sure I recall you saying there wasn’t anyone else. But maybe I’m mistaken. I was willing to bend over backward, Hugo. But I can’t bend over backward and walk around at the same time. I can’t bend over backward and have a conversation. I guess when it all comes down to it, I’m just not that damn flexible.”

“Austin, I’m sorry,” I say.

“Do you even love me?”

I have no idea if Hugo loves him or not. If I tried, I’m sure I could access moments when he loved him and moments when he didn’t. But I can’t answer the question and be sure I’m being truthful. I’m caught.

“My feelings haven’t changed,” I say. “I’m just a little off today. It has nothing to do with you.”

Austin laughs. “Our anniversary has nothing to do with me?”

“That’s not what I said. I mean my mood.”

Now Austin is shaking his head.

“I can’t do this, Hugo. You know I can’t do this.”

“Are you breaking up with me?” I ask, genuine fear in my voice. I can’t believe I’m doing this to both of them.

Austin hears the fear, looks at me and maybe sees something worth keeping.

“This isn’t the way I want today to go,” he says. “But I have to believe that it isn’t the way you want it to go, either.”

I can’t imagine that Hugo was planning to break up with Austin today. And if he was, he can always do it tomorrow.

“Come here,” I say. Austin moves in to me and I lean into his shoulder. We sit like that for a moment, looking at the ships on the bay. I take his hand. When I turn to look at him, he’s blinking back tears.

This time when I kiss him, I know there’s something in it. When he feels it, it may come across as love. It is my thanks to him for not ending it. It is my thanks to him for giving it at least one day more.

We stay out until late, and I am a good boyfriend the whole time. Eventually I lose myself a little in his life, dancing along with Austin, William, Nicolas, and a few hundred other gays and lesbians when the parade organizers blast the Village People’s “In the Navy.”

&n

bsp; I keep looking for Hanni, but only when Austin is distracted. And, at a certain point, I give up.

When I get home, there’s an email from her:

Yn,

Sorry I couldn’t make it to Annapolis—there were some things I had to do.

Maybe tomorrow?

H

I wonder what the “things I had to do” were. I have to assume they involve Minji, because otherwise, wouldn’t she have told me what they were?

I’m pondering this when Austin texts me to say he ended up having a great day. I text him back and say I had a great day, too. I can only hope that’s the way Hugo remembers it, because now Austin has proof if he denies it.

Hugo’s mother comes in and says something to me in Portuguese. I only get about half of it.

“I’m tired,” I tell her in English. “I think it’s time for bed.”

I don’t think I’ve addressed her questions, but she just shakes her head—I am a typical, unforthcoming teenager—and heads back to her room.

Before I go to sleep, I decide to see if Haruto has written me back.

He has.

Two words.

Prove it.

[jennyboom21]

Over the next two days, we’ll be getting into all that and more with hours of presentations and deep-dive analyses. This is set to be a smallish, grassroots-y gathering—only 25 in-person campers are enrolled plus a dozen or so volunteers running the show. Meanwhile, about 300 remote Gaylors have signed up for streaming access to the learning sessions, building on the success of a virtual Gaylor summit that happened last year.

As a Gaylor myself, I’d be here even if Cosmo hadn’t sent me. I introduce myself to campers as we craft cute name tags for ourselves in the lobby of the Craigville Retreat Center. I meet Morgan, 30, who came here from conservative small-town Wisconsin, where she’s been living with her parents due to some unspecified tumult in her life. “I am desperate to be around gay people,” she tells me. When she heard about Camp Gaylore, “I jumped at the opportunity to come here and feel a sense of community.”

Paris, 25, a Boston-based attendee who grew up in Arizona, agrees. “With everything that’s happening legislatively right now, it’s really important to be able to find spaces where you’re able to be with like-minded individuals and feel safe and comfortable expressing yourself.”

Nevada, 25, a newcomer to the Gaylor realm, tells me they were able to attend only thanks to a scholarship the camp offered to defray the $350 tuition cost. “I really thought this was a dreamland that was completely out of reach for me,” they say. Just being here, in congress with others, feels like some kind of miracle.

So maybe I should revise: This weekend is about decoding Taylor Swift songs...but only sort of.

I didn’t travel far to get here, but I’ve come a long way. Four summers ago, I left my marriage to a straight man, right around the time Taylor released Lover. I had a passing familiarity with her oeuvre but didn’t consider myself much of a fan. I was crashing with friends—a lesbian couple—while searching for a new home and striving to create a more openly queer life for myself. With its pastel cover and pro-LGBTQ+ anthem “You Need to Calm Down,” Lover got a ton of airplay in that two-bedroom apartment. And the breakup songs—“Death by a Thousand Cuts,” “I Forgot That You Existed”—certainly spoke to me. But given everything I was going through, Taylor’s music felt like little more than a fluffy distraction.

Jump cut to the following July, when Taylor surprise-released folklore. Every lesbian I knew seemed weirdly excited for this album. With my divorce freshly finalized, I now had the bandwidth to dig in. I discovered Gaylor theories on TikTok and plunged into Taylor’s discography with an eye toward gay themes. For the first time, I listened—really listened—to 2017’s Reputation, an album marketed as Taylor not caring about her press coverage but could just as easily be about a secret queer romance powerful enough to blow up her life. This notion, of hiding in plain sight while inhabiting a straight-presenting persona, resonates deeply for me in queer readings of Taylor’s work.

Here at Camp Gaylore (alternately known as GayloreFest), the analysis is served up with mock-academic gravitas. “We all love to cosplay that we’re professors in this field of Gaylor education,” explains Madyson, 23, a camp co-organizer who hails from New York. To wit, the workshop lineup includes sessions like: “Darling, Everything’s on Fire”: An Exploration of The Hunger Games Through Taylor Swift’s Discography; Unpacking Parasocial Relationships: A Conversation in Favor of Imagination & Community; Friends of Fletcher: Themes in the Music and Visuals of Sapphic Singers & Songwriters; and “Now I’m Your Daisy”: Reimagining The Great Gatsby as Gilded Sapphic Fantasy.

What’s happening here is really nothing new—Gaylors are performing the kind of close reading that happens in pretty much every English lit seminar. For campers like Amanda, 30, a longtime Swiftie who discovered Gaylor theories during the pandemic while awakening to her own queerness, this interpretative exercise is more meaningful than the objective facts of Taylor’s sexuality. “I’m not over here trying to convert people like, ‘Hey, Taylor is gay, and it’s really important to me that you believe that,’” Amanda says. “It’s more about Taylor being this incredible writer who intertwines all these incredible things into her lyrics.”

“We are not the first gaggle of gays to go book a conference center and hang out with each other for a weekend just to talk and gab,” Madyson says. “It just so happens that we all met because Taylor Swift put out some bangin’-ass albums.”

“I don’t even care if she comes out,” Madyson adds. “I actually would prefer she didn’t because I think it’s more fun this way.”

After I check into my single room—a rustic BYO-bed-sheets situation—I return to the common area and settle in for the afternoon’s presentations. Remote presenters will be streaming from all over. A few campers here will be presenting too—streaming from a dedicated quiet room elsewhere on the property. In the common space, all sessions will be projected onto a wall.

And here I have to admit that I end up…not paying much attention to the material. In the best possible way, neither do many of the other campers. I watch as they focus on making friendship bracelets, add artistic flourishes to Gaylor-themed coloring pages, and paint each other’s nails. Chatty groups check in on solo folks: “Are you good by yourself? Would you like to come over here with us?” Sometimes a comfy silence envelops the room. A few campers even nap on couches, the presentation audio forming a sort of pleasant background drone.

This dynamic is striking in its chillness—different from most camps and retreats, where schedules are packed with structured group activities. Kae, a 26-year-old from Saskatoon, Saskatchewan, much prefers the format here. Although Gaylor TikTok was helpful in “expediting” her awareness of her own bisexuality, she finds the noise of social media kind of bad for her mental health. Camp Gaylore feels like the 3D version of a friendly Gaylor group chat she joined on WhatsApp a few months ago, she says. “It’s nice, having a much smaller source of information and also a place where you can just be yourself and be accepted.”

Presentation topics aside, Taylor’s aura at camp is surprisingly scarce. The aesthetic is one of nostalgic/analog summer whimsy. Think: String lights and wildflowers. Salt air and disco balls. Strawberries and rainbow balloons. An activity table set up by camp staffers includes a deck of botanical oracle cards, the social-bonding game We’re Not Really Strangers, and a handful of book selections ranging from Emily Dickinson poems to contemporary works by queer authors like adrienne maree brown.

It’s almost as though the organizers plucked a handful of nice humans off the internet and closed tab on literally everything else, a welcome break. Gaylorism in general is Very Online—born on Tumblr, increasingly huge on TikTok. Along with Madyson, camp co-organizer Katie, 30, recently wrapped a popular Gaylor podcast called The Archers, the duo’s contribution to a booming cottage industry of queer-minded Swiftie content. (Madyson has already launched another pod.) Tess, 30, a London-based camp co-organizer, is a prolific Gaylor creator too. This camp is the group’s way of passing the mic to others to invite their perspectives, to “recognize the brilliance and beauty of our community,” as Tess puts it. There’s even been talk of starting a literary-style magazine that goes beyond Taylor and into the open waters of, well, gay lore. That’s why the camp name has an “e” at the end—an indicator of deeper possibilities.

Gaylor subculture has now gotten big enough to attract coverage from major media outlets, some of it less than favorable—a Salon article last fall compared Gaylors to QAnon. Many face harassment from a hostile cohort of Swifties known as Hetlors, notorious for a queerphobic insistence that Taylor is straight. Bullying from Hetlors has driven some Gaylors to go dark and wipe their social accounts, which explains why most here at Camp Gaylore have asked that Cosmo publish their first names only.

Taylor herself is outspoken in her LGBTQ+ advocacy—granted, as more of an ally. “I didn’t realize until recently that I could advocate for a community that I’m not a part of,” she told Vogue in 2019. But as many Gaylors like to point out, that’s not quite the same as Taylor declaring she’s 100 percent straight and cisgender either. For now, the details of her identity remain anyone’s guess.

“In a cisheteronormative world, we are more likely to assume people to be cis and straight until told otherwise than to assume they’re trans or queer,” says Melissa A. Fabello, PhD, a sex and relationships educator. Her group coaching session this weekend, titled “The Bisexuality Crisis,” will address this very subject.

Camp Gaylore’s idyllic seaside haven is blessedly Hetlor-free. Madyson, who sometimes struggles to socialize in groups, tells me they feel “soothed” mingling on our private stretch of beach. This weekend has always been more about reinforcing the Gaylorverse than dissecting Taylor’s suspected queerness. “It is very much for people to meet and see each other physically and be like, This community is just as real offline as it is online,” Madyson says. In the sand, they spell out GAYLORE in dozens of tiny seashells.

We head to dinner in the large dining hall for a taco buffet—a communal setup that amuses Nevada. “This is so sweet, like the positive parts of going inpatient at the psych ward,” they joke. Then an earnest elaboration: “It’s just nice that other people understand what I’m thinking. I don’t have to explain a million things. I don’t have to be like, Okay, I guess I’ll let you ignore my pronouns. It’s a very good space.”

Afterward, we gather around an outdoor firepit for s’mores and impromptu performances. One camper breaks out an acoustic guitar and shares songs she wrote during a period of homelessness. Her voice is husky and powerful—a howl of survival. A few campers pass around a bong. Inside jokes are hatched. “As cliché as it sounds, I do feel like I’ve known these people forever,” says Lee, 33, a camper from California who credits Gaylor theories with fueling her lesbian awakening seven years ago. For her, this night is “cathartic.”

In the 10 o’clock hour, everyone heads back inside to watch the livestream of the Eras Tour. This has been a ritual for many of us since Taylor hit the road in March. Lots of campers have been tracking the surprise acoustic songs she performs each night—one or two per show, with no repeats from the pre-Midnights archive unless she messes up.

Tonight, Taylor is in Pittsburgh. One member of the Gaylor community—not at camp with us but someone who’s friends with a few campers—has been publicly campaigning for Taylor to play “ME!” at this stop, a track many Gaylors love (see: the big gay energy of its music video). Taylor playing “ME!” would be everything, a definitive acknowledgement of us.

As the livestream plays, campers string together bead bracelets with Gaylor references—the letters “SITBTTEBM” (“She is the best thing that’s ever been mine”), the phrase “WIDE EYED GAYS” (an intentional misspelling of the “All Too Well” lyric). Then the first surprise song begins: It’s “Mr. Perfectly Fine,” off Fearless. Everyone groans. The second song is a miss too: “The Last Time,” from Red. So much for “ME!”

Everyone is super bummed. A few campers even cry a little bit. But there’s beauty in the heartbreak too—something profound and unifying in our shared disappointment. “Even if Taylor were to go away and never do another thing, I feel like we still have this,” Amanda tells me later. “And that’s really cool.”

The big social event of the weekend, on the second and final night, is prom. Given that it’s being held in the retreat’s tabernacle building, camp staffers have printed out a color picture of Jesus, along with big letters that spell out “LYRICS TOO?”—a cheeky nod to the fact that we’re in a house of worship but mostly a deep-cut Gaylor reference (to something once uttered by Taylor’s pal and collaborator Jack Antonoff). A tattooed camp staffer DJs from a heavily stickered laptop, next to a whirling party light that scatters rainbow beams throughout the space.

Many of our prom looks are encoded with Taylor allusions. One camper wears a tiered, ruffled frock in pastel hues, à la Taylor’s Lover era. Another, channeling the Reputation album art, dons a matching corset and skirt in newsprint-pattern fabric. Still another is turned out in the crochet crop tank Taylor wore while promoting Midnights, its colors a near-perfect match for the lesbian pride flag tacked to one wall.

“Cruel Summer”—a Gaylor fave, theoretically chronicling Taylor’s rumored relationship with supermodel Karlie Kloss—blasts from the speakers. The dance floor fills up. We scream-sing the lines about sneaking in through the garden gate, about the shape of a lover’s body being new. As the song reaches its bridge, our collective joy turns incandescent.

“It felt like 70,000 of us in the room,” Lee marvels the next day as campers pack up to leave. “This was the most magical weekend of my summer—and I’ve been to the Eras Tour twice.”

Frankie de la Cretaz is the co-author of Hail Mary: The Rise and Fall of The National Women's Football League. Their work has been featured in The New York Times, The Atlantic, Rolling Stone, and more.

[leads-view]

Understanding Google Search Console: An Essential Tool for Website Owners

In today's digital-centric world, having a website is critical for businesses of all sizes. But simply owning a website isn't enough - understanding how it performs and how users interact with it is just as essential. Fortunately, Google provides a free tool called Google Search Console (GSC) that allows website owners to monitor and troubleshoot their site’s presence in Google Search results. In this blog, we'll delve into the features of GSC and why it's an indispensable tool for all website owners.

What is Google Search Console?

Google Search Console is a free service offered by Google that helps website owners monitor, maintain, and troubleshoot their site's presence in Google Search results. It's not necessary for your site to be listed in the GSC for it to appear in search results, but it can certainly help you understand and improve how Google views your site.

Key Features of Google Search Console

1. Performance Reports

GSC provides detailed reports on how your website is performing in search results. This includes the total clicks your site received from Google Search, the keywords people used to find your site, your site’s average position in search results, and your click-through rate (CTR).

2. URL Inspection

This tool allows you to check a specific URL on your site to see its status and whether Google is able to crawl and index it. If Google is unable to access a page, the tool will tell you why and provide suggestions for resolving the issues.

3. Coverage Reports

These reports show which pages of your site are successfully indexed in Google Search, and which have problems. You can see the details of the issue, as well as suggestions on how to fix them.

4. Sitemaps

Submitting a sitemap helps Google understand the structure of your site and find its pages. GSC allows you to submit, test, and view your sitemap files and any errors they might have.

5. Mobile Usability

With the shift to mobile-first indexing, the usability of your site on mobile devices is more important than ever. This feature allows you to see any usability problems your site may have on mobile devices.

Why Use Google Search Console?

Using GSC provides several benefits:

Understand Your Audience: GSC can tell you what queries users are using to find your site, their locations, the devices they use, and the time they're most active. This information can inform your content and SEO strategy. Identify and Fix Issues: With its troubleshooting tools, GSC helps you identify and resolve technical issues that could be affecting your website’s performance. Enhance Your SEO: Using performance data, you can improve your SEO strategy, optimize content. And make your site easier to find from Google Search. Get Alerts: Google will send you alerts for critical issues detected on your site.

Conclusion

Google Search Console is a comprehensive, easy-to-use tool that every website owner should be utilizing. From boosting your website’s performance in Google Search, identifying technical issues, to understanding your audience’s behavior. GSC provides valuable insights to help you optimize your website and maximize your digital presence. Keep in mind that, like all tools, its outcomes depend on how proficiently you use it. So take time to familiarize yourself with its features and make the most out of this powerful tool.

[packernet]

New Post has been published on https://www.packernet.com/blog/2024/01/15/betting-on-the-nfl-dos-and-donts/

Betting on the NFL: Dos and Don'ts

t’s no secret that football is one of the most if not the most popular sport across the U.S. As such, the National Football League (NFL) has seen soaring popularity over the years both in coverage and in betting on matches. This is especially true since the The Professional and Amateur Sports Protection Act of 1992 has been deemed unconstitutional by the U.S. Supreme Court and now every state has the right to legalize and regulate gambling as they see fit.

As you might imagine, betting on NFL has skyrocketed since then. That being said, there are many beginners who wish to place a wager or two now that they can but they’re unfamiliar with how things are done properly. Worry not, you’ll learn the ropes in no time. So let’s go over some wagering tips regarding betting on NFL, as well as things you should or shouldn’t do in your gambling endeavors.

Understanding the NFL Betting Market

Before diving into NFL wagering, it’s crucial to have a good understanding of the betting market. The NFL wagering market is vast and offers a wide range of options, including point spreads, moneylines and over/under totals as an example of possible bets and odds you may consider. It’s important to familiarize yourself with these different types of bets and understand how they work.

Additionally, it’s essential to keep an eye on the odds and lines offered by different sportsbooks. Shopping around for the best odds can significantly impact the way you do things. Comparing odds from multiple sportsbooks will ensure that you are getting the best value for your bets. This is why research is of the utmost importance before you decide to place a bet or two on your favourite team or match.

Common Mistakes to Avoid when Betting on the NFL

When it comes to wagering on the NFL, there are several common mistakes that bettors should avoid. One of the most significant mistakes is wagering with your heart instead of your head. It’s essential to approach this activity objectively and base your decisions on research and analysis rather than personal biases. After all, wagering is not like playing casino games. Games of chance depend on luck while placing a bet depends on thorough analysis of the sport and various circumstances surrounding it.

Another common mistake is chasing losses. It’s crucial to have a clear wagering strategy and stick to it, even when faced with losses. Trying to recoup losses by making impulsive bets can lead to even more significant losses in the long run. Furthermore, it’s important to avoid wagering on every single game. The NFL season consists of 17 weeks, and not every game presents a favorable betting opportunity. It’s crucial to be selective and only bet on games where you have a strong edge.

Researching NFL Teams and Players for Better Betting

As mentioned before, research is key when it comes to successful NFL betting. Before placing any bets, it’s important to research the teams and players involved in the game. Analyzing team statistics, player performance and injury reports can provide valuable insights that can help you make more informed wagering decisions.

In addition, keeping up with the latest NFL news and developments is crucial. Pay attention to coaching changes, roster updates and any other factors that may impact the outcome of a game. Staying informed will give you an edge over other bettors and increase your chances of placing successful bets.

Closing Words

Betting on the NFL can be an exciting and potentially profitable endeavor. However, it’s important to approach it with caution and avoid common mistakes. Understanding the NFL betting market, avoiding emotional wagering and conducting thorough research are all essential for success. By following these dos and don’ts, you can improve your chances of making smart NFL bets.

[mexicoautoinsurance]

Exploring Mexico: What You Need to Know About Travel Insurance

Exploring Mexico: What You Need to Know About Travel Insurance

Mexico is a country brimming with rich culture, breathtaking landscapes, and vibrant traditions. From the bustling streets of Mexico City to the serene beaches of Cancun, it's a destination that caters to every traveler's taste. However, as you plan your Mexican escapade, one crucial aspect to consider is mexico insurance.

Understanding the Need

Travel insurance might not always be top of mind when planning a trip, but when exploring Mexico, it's an invaluable asset. Whether it's for unexpected medical emergencies, trip cancellations, or lost luggage, having the right coverage can provide a safety net during your travels.

Comprehensive Coverage

When looking for travel insurance for your Mexican journey, consider policies that offer comprehensive coverage. This should include medical coverage in case of illness or injury, coverage for trip cancellations or interruptions, coverage for lost or stolen belongings, and liability coverage.

Specifics for Mexico

Mexico has its own specific insurance requirements, especially for driving. If you plan to rent a car and explore the country's beautiful landscapes, you'll need Mexican auto insurance. This coverage is essential as U.S. and Canadian auto policies are not recognized in Mexico. Having Mexican auto insurance ensures you're covered in case of accidents, theft, or damages to your rental vehicle.

Choosing the Right Policy

When selecting a travel insurance policy for Mexico, ensure it meets the specific needs of your trip. Read the policy details carefully, paying attention to coverage limits, exclusions, and any additional riders or options available. Consider factors such as the length of your stay, planned activities, and the areas you intend to visit.

Emergency Assistance Services

In addition to coverage, look for policies that offer reliable emergency assistance services. Having access to a 24/7 helpline with multilingual support can be invaluable during unexpected situations, especially in a foreign country.

Tips for a Smooth Experience

Before purchasing travel insurance for Mexico, here are a few tips to consider:

Start Early: Don't wait until the last minute to buy insurance. Purchase it when you book your trip to ensure coverage for any unforeseen events leading up to your departure.

Check Existing Coverage: Review your existing insurance policies, such as health insurance or credit card benefits, as they might offer some coverage in Mexico. However, they might not be comprehensive, especially when it comes to activities like driving.

Understand the Terms: Familiarize yourself with the terms and conditions of the policy. Understand what is covered, what isn’t, and any deductibles or limits that apply.

Keep Documents Handy: Have a copy of your insurance documents easily accessible during your trip. It's essential to have contact information and policy numbers readily available in case of emergencies.

In Conclusion

Mexico is a captivating destination offering a myriad of experiences. While exploring its wonders, ensuring you have adequate travel insurance, including Mexican insurance if driving, is a crucial step in safeguarding your journey. Take the time to research and choose a policy that suits your needs, allowing you to explore this beautiful country with peace of mind.

Whether you're wandering through historic sites, indulging in local cuisines, or basking in the sun on picturesque beaches, having the right insurance lets you savor every moment worry-free.

[beingapotterheadisawesome]

Establishing Trust: How to Create a Local News Blog That Resonates with Your Community

Creating a local news blog that resonates with your community is a great way to keep people informed and engaged with the happenings in their area. By providing relevant and informative content, you can build trust and credibility with your readers and establish yourself as a trusted source of news and information. However, creating a local news blog that resonates with your community requires more than just writing about local events and happenings. Here are some tips for creating a local news blog that resonates with your community.

The first step in creating a local news blog that resonates with your community is to understand your audience. This means that you should be familiar with their demographics, interests, and pain points. By understanding your audience, you'll be able to create content that is relevant and valuable to them. Additionally, you'll be able to tailor your content to the specific platform you're posting on. For example, if you're targeting a younger audience on Instagram, you'll want to focus on creating visually appealing content.

Another important aspect of creating a local news blog that resonates with your community is to provide in-depth coverage of local events and happenings. This means that you should be providing more than just the basic facts and figures. Instead, focus on providing a deeper understanding of the events and happenings in your community. Share behind-the-scenes content, personal anecdotes, and company culture. This will help to build trust and credibility with your audience.

Another strategy for creating a local news blog that resonates with your community is to be transparent. This means that you should be open and honest about your coverage and your reporting process. Share your sources and explain how you gather information. This will help to build trust and credibility with your audience.

Creating a balance between informative and fun content is another way to keep your audience engaged. This means that you should be posting a mix of informative content, such as industry news and updates, and fun content, such as memes, quizzes, and polls. This will help to keep your audience engaged and interested in your brand.

Another strategy for creating a local news blog that resonates with your community is to use visuals. Social media users are more likely to engage with content that includes images and videos. Create visually appealing content that is easy to consume, such as infographics and short videos. This will help to capture the attention of your audience and drive engagement.

Finally, engage with your audience by responding to comments and messages. This means that you should be actively monitoring your social media accounts and responding to comments and messages in a timely manner. By engaging with your audience, you'll be able to build a relationship with them and keep them coming back for more.

In conclusion, creating a local news blog that resonates with your community is a great way to keep people informed and engaged with the happenings in their area. By understanding your audience, providing in-depth coverage, being transparent, creating a balance between informative and fun content, using visuals, and engaging with your audience, you'll be able to build trust and credibility with your readers and establish yourself as a trusted source of news and information. Remember, by providing relevant and informative content, you can establish yourself as a trusted source of news and information, and keep your community informed and engaged.

[iviarellereads]

Gideon the Ninth, Act Four, Chapter 26

(Curious what I'm doing here? Read this post! For detail on The Locked Tomb coverage and the index, read this one! Like what you see? Send me a Ko-Fi.)

(Seventh House icon) In which life struggles to go on.

The Fourth teens are laid to rest next to the adults who had failed them.(1)

Somebody, Gideon's not sure who or how, had retrieved Jeannemary's body from her arms, and a lot of people had said words at her that she couldn't remember. She remembers Harrow insulting her, and Palamedes looking at the bodies. The only thing that makes sense is that she's in the same room as Dulcinea Septimus, weeping slowly.

Eventually, Dulcinea says there's nothing she could have done. Gideon says that's bullshit, she's thought of at least fifty things she could have done and didn't. Dulcinea says you can could have and should have all day long, but it doesn't change what happened. Gideon says she just can't bear it, though.

"Life is a tragedy," said Dulcinea. "Left behind by those who pass away, not able to change anything at all. It's the total lack of control ... Once somebody dies, their spirit's free forever, even with we snatch at it or try to stopper it or use the energy it creates. Oh, I know sometimes they come back ... or we can call them, in the manner of the Fifth ... but even that exception to the rule shows their mastery of us. They only come when we beg. Once someone dies, we can't grasp at them anymore, thank God!--except for one person, and he's very far from here, I think. Gideon, don't be sorry for the dead. I think death must be an absolute triumph."

Gideon kinda thinks this is bullshit, too, there's no meaning or triumph in how the teens died, but before she can say so, Dulcinea coughs up "two and a half handkerchiefs" worth of something.(2) Instead, Gideon offers that they'll find Protesilaus. Dulcinea says she just wants to know what happened. Gideon can't quite agree with this either, as she'd be grateful to live not knowing how the teens looked in death. She wonders if Magnus had to watch Abigail die first, like Jeannemary had to watch Isaac.

Gideon's primary coping mechanism being her muscles, she offers to punch Silas Octakiseron to get Dulcinea's keys back, if she wants them. Dulcinea says she gave them up of her own free will, she has no use for them now.

Gideon asks plainly why Dulcinea is here. Dulcinea says the Seventh House thinks her condition is an asset, they even wanted her to get married and keep her genes in production "in case they produced poetry down the line." Gideon doesn't understand, so Dulcinea continues that when you're dying from the inside out, it's producing its own thanergy, its own necromancy fuel. Her House values beauty, and there's beauty in dying beautifully, wasting away, "within the very queenhood of your power."

After a moment's silence, Dulcinea asks Gideon if she looks like she's in the queenhood of her power, and not to lie. Gideon hesitates for a moment but admits Dulcinea looks "like a bucket of ass." Dulcinea giggles and says she told Harrowhark she didn't want to die, and it's true, but she's "been dying for what feels like ten thousand years". She just doesn't want to die alone, out of sight.

Gideon says she doesn't want Dulcinea to die at all, without intending to say it aloud. Dulcinea touches her hand, and Gideon presses Dulcinea's hand gently between both of hers. Dulcinea says she'll probably live forever, with her bad luck. She adds, "Whatever happened to one flesh, one end?" and Gideon says she's seen those words before, but what do they mean? Dulcinea asks if they aren't familiar, and Gideon asks if they should be.(3)

"Well," said Dulcinea calmly, "you would have said them to your Reverend Daughter the day you pledged yourself in the service of her cavalier, and she would have said them to you--but you never did that, did you? You weren't trained in the traditions of the House of the Locked Tomb, and you're nothing like a Ninth House nun. And you fight like--I don't know. I'm not even certain you were raised in the Ninth House."

Gideon, tired of pretending, admits it: she's been faking her way through the Ninth's cav duties for less than two months, and she's terrible at it. Dulcinea disagrees: Gideon is a cavalier worthy of a Lyctor, and she's curious what Gideon would become in the process.

Gideon and Dulcinea look at each other long enough to make things awkward and make Gideon panic about the admission, but conveniently, Palamedes walks in and stares for too long at their joined hands. He doesn't sound quite like himself as he says he came to check on them, and is it a bad time? Gideon says that it is, only in that she's ready to leave. Palamedes protests that there are still bone splinters in some of her wounds that ought to be removed. Gideon says why bother until she's done getting people killed, and storms out past him.

As she's going down the hall, she bumps into the Eighth pair. Silas says "They are dead, then," and Gideon says they had names, and she's in a mood to fight. Silas says he'd heard she'd given up her oath of silence, but she can save her "gaucherie" as he has no interest in "a Ninth House thrall", and calls her Gideon Nav. Gideon asks what he called her, and when he starts listing synonyms for thrall, she points out that he called her Gideon Nav. Silas says he's not insulting her, he's calling her what she is, a poor replacement for an already poor cav in Ortus Nigenad.

Gideon's brain needs a minute to puzzle through what's going on, until she remembers that Ortus and his mother stole her getaway shuttle on the Ninth, and that his mother had family on the Eighth still. Gideon says Silas has been listening to Sister Glaurica, and Silas admits he spoke to her, and now he'd like to talk to Gideon. Gideon is confused as heck, but Silas says Gideon is "a victim of the Ninth House."

Gideon stops dead, considers that she hasn't been attacked by Colum the Eighth yet, and takes one step forward. She tells Silas not to pretend he knows anything about her or the House of the Ninth. Silas says she's wrong, and invites her to tea. Gideon says that's "the dumbest thing to say, ever", but Silas repeats himself and says not to bring Harrowhark, but he has no hidden motives, he simply wants to talk and free Gideon from her "oppressors".

Gideon, having been through far too much in the last few days, turns and walks away. Silas asks if she'll come, and Gideon tells him to "Eat me, milk man," which she barely hears Colum confirm as probably a yes.

Gideon starts having nightmares every time she closes her eyes. Imagined deaths for Magnus, Abigail, Isaac, Jeannemary, even Gideon's own mother. She even thinks she dreamed Harrow bidding her to wake up. She's not totally sure it was a dream because neither she nor Harrow died in it, but Harrow looked at her with "an expression of absolute pity", which feels more like a dream than reality from her. Gideon goes on sleeping, "wearing her rapier, her gauntlet on her chest like a heavy obsidian heart."

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(1) Harsh. (2) Horrifying in an entirely different way than the imagery of Isaac being turned into a human colander invoked in the same paragraph. (3) Uh-oh.