#i guess if i wait another 13 years i will once again not have an answer to any of these questions
there are many good reasons not to see avatar but if you DO see avatar definitely see the 3D version. the entire movie is effects. same movie as the first one just underwater now. also if you are wearing 3D glasses it is less obvious that you will cry like seven times.
dierosenrot → feralrosie
Cling Fast: Prologue
Read below, or read the updated/edited version over on AO3.
The Sandman (Netflix with some sprinkling of comics canon and Gaimanverse)
Dreamling (Hob Gadling x Dream of the Endless | Morpheus)
PG-13 (for now)
Hob Gadling is a clingy bastard, and he's not ashamed to admit it. He clings to life. He clings to hope. He clings to his love of humanity. He clings to his Stranger. He also, unfortunately, has a habit of clinging to his name.
Which means, when the BBC is looking for a new pet history expert to appear in their educational docudrama series "Elizabethan Manor," they're overjoyed to find a professor of domestic history who, according to their meticulous research, is actually descended from the Master of the National Trust building they're filming in - Gadlen House.
Only Hob knows how right they are.
Picks up a few hours after the end of Episode 6.
Author's Note: I don't know what I'm doing. New to this fandom, new to this ship, and this is the first fanfic I've written in over a year. I am just coming back from a creative burnout so bad that I ended up leaving my literary agent. I haven't written anything that isn't loosely connected drabbles in literally years. So, I don't know what's going to happen with this fic. It may get written, it may fizzle. I have the idea plotted out, but I'm trying to approach it cautiously, with my eyes averted, in case it spooks and bolts.
That's why I'm posting this here instead of AO3, I guess. I want to see if it's something that resonates with people, and me, before I commit to posting it there.
"One hundred years, then?" Hob's Stranger asks, hours later, when Hob's talked himself hoarse and his business partner is flipping chairs onto tables to mop. Hob's marking has been jammed unceremoniously into his briefcase and completely forgotten, and there are three empty pint glasses at his elbow. The wine glass in front of his Stranger is still full.
"2089 or 2122?" Hob asks, through disappointment like broken glass on his tongue. Hob's stomach sinks when his Stranger rises from his chair.
Hob's Stranger seems to mull this over. "'89," he says at length. "I believe it is customary for friends to meet more frequently than a century."
"Then why wait even that long?" Hob asks, both startled and completely unsurprised with how desperate he sounds. "Or is that some sort of… of supernatural law? That the terms of our bargain have to be adhered to and we can't… I don't know," he confesses helplessly. "Renegotiate?"
Yes, that's how he feels.
Helpless and desperate for his Stranger to stay, to not abandon him again, to not leave Hob wondering if he may miss another meeting on a whim. If his Stranger was getting tired of playing with his little mortal toy and Hob would be left to eternity with no friend, no through-line, no continuity, no foundation—
Unavoidably detained, what does that even mean? Hob thinks viciously, brain spinning in circles between despair and hurt, elation and greed. Is it an excuse? Did he even want to—
His Stranger frowns, a fearsome, dark expression that Hob's never seen on the man's face before. Hob flinches when his Stranger makes an abrupt flicking motion at Hob's shoulders, as if shooing off a housefly. All at once Hob's breathing eases, the panic and surging loneliness retreating.
"What?" Hob asks weakly, when he realizes that… that somehow that single gesture from his Stranger has banished decades worth of crushing loneliness and anxiety. Hob had grown so used to bearing the ever-grinding worry that he'd forgotten what it felt like to be without it.
"A waking nightmare," his Stranger says. "And a bold one, too, to cling to you so persistently in the face of its king's displeasure."
Hob had always figured that his Stranger had to be some sort of nobility. It was in the way he dressed at the peak of fashion each century, the softness of his skin and hands, the cleanliness of his hair, the way he spoke and held himself as if he'd never been denied anything his entire life. And the giant ruby of course, which, Hob had noticed a few hours ago, was nowhere to be seen this time around.
But a King.
"My friend," Hob whispers, mindful of the staff closing the New Inn around them. He swallows hard enough that his throat clicks. "Forgive my boldness, but… what are you? Who are you?"
"It… it is not important," his Stranger hedges, hesitating for the first time since Hob's known him.
That's a crack Hob can get his fingers into.
"It is, though," Hob says, rising to his own feet. He dares to reach out, to pinch the fabric of his Stranger's coat cuff between his fingers in an old-fashioned, petitioning plea. The way you would kiss a queen's hem, or a king's ring, Hob pinches the cuff and hopes his Stranger understands. "It is to me. You are important to me."
"Hob," his Stranger says, but it's not a rebuke or a dismissal. It sounds awed, and humbled. Mercury shimmers along his bottom lashes, mouth pulled tight, a display of emotion that Hob never thought to garner from his Stranger, and not one he's sure he knows how to read, just yet.
What has him so upset?
"When you didn't come, I waited," Hob whispers, daring to press closer, so the words are little more than a puff of air between them. "I waited hours. Days. I returned every day for weeks. Where were you?"
"Rest assured, I did not want to miss our appointment."
"Then why?" The Stranger hesitates again. "Please. Please, if you're really my friend, please don't…" Hob trails off, not sure what he's really trying to say here. Don't shut me out. Don't treat me like a servant who only needs to do as he's told. Don't run away from me all the time. "Please don't go without telling me how to reach you, at least. I couldn't bare it if you…"
Without his meaning it, Hob's grip on his Stranger's cuff slips, and his fingers brush the cool, smooth back of his Stranger's hand. The Stranger hisses as if he's been burned.
"Sorry, sorry," Hob says, jerking his hand away. "I'm—"
"That is the first kind touch I've had in…" his Stranger's eyes drop to where their hands meet. Slowly, he reaches out with one shaking finger to stroke it along Hob's knuckles.
Understanding and rage flash through Hob like a lightning strike. The little hints that his Stranger probably hadn't realized he was even dropping come together, all at once, into a horrible picture.
You can be hurt. Or captured.
Hob seizes his Stranger's hand in his own, enraged further when his Stranger gasps, cheeks flushing pink and lips parting in a soft 'oh' that might have sounded lewd if it wasn't so obviously overwhelmed.
"Who did this to you?" Hob growls, low and dangerous. "Where are they now? I'm going to kill them for—"
The Stranger jerks his head up so fast that one of the quicksilver tears shakes free and rolls down his gaunt cheek.
"Hob," his Stranger chokes, and Hob is sure he would have said more, maybe even leaned closer, except that Dennis at the bar shouts:
"Fuck's sake, Gadlen. Take your booty call upstairs. I wanna close!"
"Sorry!" Hob calls back, leaning to the side and modulating his volume so he doesn't shout in his Stranger's ear. "Sorry Dennis, right. We're going."
Hob tugs on his Stranger's hand, and is absurdly grateful when the man allows himself to be led toward the back of the bar. Hob snags his briefcase from the banquette as they pass, and heads straight for the door marked "Staff Only." He punches in the keycode and within a few quick moments, he's gently pulling his stranger over the threshold and into his flat.
"You live above the pub?" his Stranger asks, looking around with curiosity as Hob toes off his shoes and drops his briefcase by the door. The Stranger has neither released his hand, nor wiped the moisture from his own face. When Hob looks down to see if his Stranger has taken his boots off, Hob is startled to be met with a pair of bare, moon-pale and delicately arched bare feet.
Hob knew he wasn't human.
Apparently that includes vanishing clothing at will. Which probably means making it, too. Which definitely explains why his Stranger has always been in the pits of fashion.
Absolutely 100% not a Vampire, Hob adds to his mental List Of Things I Know About The Stranger. It's a very short list.
"Live above it, own it, built it," Hob says, pulling his Stranger gently into the living room and toward the sofa. "When I heard they were going to tear down the White Horse, I did some financial juggling, dug up a few treasure caches, and bought it. The building, the land… I mean, really, the whole area. I own most of this side of the river, all the green bits at least. I couldn't stand the thought of losing all the parks and the trees and… I wanted to save the White Horse itself, but the… well, the restoration is tricky. Time-consuming and costly. Cheaper to knock it down and start over but…" he shrugs as he encourages his Stranger to sit. "I'm not into bulldozing the past because it's cost efficient. Is it okay if I let go of your hand?"
His Stranger looks down at their entwined fingers and blinks as if he hadn't realized he was still holding onto Hob. "My apologies," he says softly, and lets go.
"Don't apologize," Hob says, even as he retrieves his arm. Touch starved, his brain screams, adding it to the list of sins that his Stranger's… captors must have perpetrated. "I'm making tea. Do you drink tea?"
"I could… I could drink tea, yes," his Stranger ventures, as if he's unsure if he actually can.
"I'll be right back."
You can still be hurt. Or captured, his Stranger in his memory says again, and Hob waits until he's turned away and headed to the kitchen before he lets his face transform into a scowl.
Behind him on the sofa, the real-life Stranger makes a wounded little noise, as if he'd heard the memory.
As he fills and sets the kettle to boil, Hob tries to dissipate the frisson of tenseness hanging between them with nonsense.
"The National Trust is both amazing and a huge pain in my arse," he laughs, but it sounds strained even to him. "It's half the reason I'm a history professor now. I wanted to preserve the White Horse right, you know? I spent so much time in historical architecture lectures, buried up to my eyebrows in library books and research grants and… well, when it came time to establish this identity I thought, why not? Fudged up an undergrad degree in Medieval History, breezed into University of York for a Masters and spent it focussing on the lives of the common folk, you know, hearth and home kind of archeology. Wattle-and-daub construction, wooden nails and cooking fires, sellswords and home remedies, the beautiful mundanity of the everyday. And now here I am. Professor Bob Gadlen, with a PhD in my own bloody life."
The kettle whistles and Hob leaps to pull it off the hob when his Stranger flinches at the sound.
I'm going to stab them through the earhole, Hob snarls to himself. When he tells me who they are, I'm going to—
"Justice has already been delivered, Hob Gadling," his Stranger says softly, as Hob pours the water into a teapot. There's not a lot of modern conveniences that Hob eschews—humanity invented new and exciting things all the time for a reason, and that reason is usually that it's better—but he has never managed to get on board with tea bags. Looseleaf all the way. "And revenge has been, as they say, dished out."
Hob sets up a tray with two mugs, some biscuits, and the teapot under its hand-knitted cozy from the 50s. He's done this so often over the last few hundred years that muscle memory takes over, even as his brain stutters to a fizzy halt as he registers what his Stranger has said.
And what it means.
"Oh," Hob says, setting down the tea tray on his coffee table. He drops into his armchair beside the sofa with a thud. "Uh. Can you... Can you read my mind?"
"Only your daydreams," his Stranger confesses. "And only those on the surface of your thoughts. You dream of doing violence to people who, I assure you, are already dead."
"My daydreams. And my waking nightmares," Hob echoes, feeling like his brain is slogging through molasses. There's a… there's a confession in there, somewhere. A truth that his Stranger is trusting him with, if he could only work it out.
And then he remembers, suddenly, what he had been daydreaming about in 1789 when he'd caught sight of his Stranger's extremely shapely calves in his silk hose, and Dear Lord above. Hob has a sudden and humiliating urge to be swallowed up by the ground. A glance at his Stranger makes it very clear, by the smug little microexpression around his eyes, that his Stranger also remembers Hob's fantasies from that particular evening.
"You're a King," Hob says slowly, pouring out a measure of tea for each of them to hide his blush.
Hob dollops milk into his own, and invites his Stranger to doctor his own to his liking with the sugar and milk he'd left on the tray. His Stranger only holds the mug between elegant pale hands, and simply inhales the steam instead.
"A King of… Dreams and Nightmares?" Hob ventures.
"Yes," his Stranger says.
"So you're a, a what… a god?" Hob asks, feeling both giddy and foolish to be saying it out loud. But then, he's been alive for six hundred and seventy-two years. That's a long time. He knows for certain that while his Stranger is not the Devil by his own admission, there are more things that walk the earth than are dreamt of in anyone's philosophies.
Hob scowls at himself for letting Shaxbeard's drivel cross his mind, and hides his pout in his mug.
"No," his Stranger says slowly. "And yes." He pauses.
Hob leans back, and lets his Stranger work through what he's trying to say. His Stranger sips his tea and seems to find it lacking, because he pauses to dump four cubes of sugar into it.
Sweet tooth, Hob files away, right under the entry on the list that says God.
"I am a being beyond gods," his Stranger goes on once he's tasted his tea again and found it satisfactory. "I am older. I am more powerful. I am… simply more. I have existed since the moment the first sentient being closed its eyes and sought its rest, and I will continue to exist until the final one slips away to the Sunless Lands in its sleep. And yet, the version of myself that you see before you was once worshiped as a god."
"That explains a lot," Hob says, redirecting the buzzing adrenaline from his lingering, now futile rage into sarcasm.
The Stranger blinks again, as if unused to being teased. Being a… whatever he is, he probably is.
"Endless," his Stranger corrects. "I am Dream of the Endless. I am…" he gestures in an elegant arc with his free hand. "Limitless. Everywhere. Unchanging and ever present. I am every Dream of every creature, across all of space and time. I am both master of all dreams, and I am the dreams themselves."
"Bit like a TARDIS," Hob says, trying to wrap his head around what his Stranger, Dream of the Endless, is saying.
Dream blinks, head tilting like a corvid, a far-away look in his pale eyes as if he's shuffling through a mental rolodex. His lips curl up into, what is for him, a very wide, expressive grin when he seems to hit on the right entry. His face brightens with mirth.
"Yes, Hob Gadling. I am indeed bigger on the inside."
Hob laughs, if maybe only to contain the slow creep of existential horror. He has some sort of cosmic entity sitting on his squashed, unhygienic sofa that he hasn't cleaned properly since the day he moved in thirty years ago. Yeah. Hob's totally fine.
What's the bigger leap of understanding, anyway? Illiterate peasant sellsword in 1389 to university professor who taught the last two years through Zoom in 2022, or normal boring human with a bit of an Immortality thing to God's teeth there is a celestial creature in my apartment, and he is my friend.
"But that is the… the whole of me," Dream goes on, seemingly amused by Hob's quiet panic. "And the facet that sits before you, this particular anthropomorphic personification, is the one born of a worship and naming on this world, several eras ago."
"Oookaaay…" Hob says slowly, not entirely sure what Dream is getting at.
"Humans create gods," Dream says, filching a biscuit and crunching on it delicately. "Not the other way around."
Even spilling crumbs across his black teeshirt like stardust looks deliberate and elegant when he does it. Hob shoves down a new daydream, as far as it will go. If Dream catches it, he doesn't let on.
"Didn't God create mankind and all the world in seven days, though?" Hob asks, dragging his treacherous brain back on topic.
"In one story," Dream allows. "And in others, Zeus sculpted humanity from clay, and sundered the pieces to create soulmates. In yet another, Skywoman fell through a hole she dug through the world, and landed upon the back of a turtle. There are as many origin stories as there are gods, and there are as many gods as there are humans to imagine them. This—" Deam gestures to himself, and only then seems to see the crumbs on his shirt. He whisks them away with a flick of his wrist. "This embodiment was thought into being by what you would call the Bronze age cultures of the Mediterranean. To them, I was the God of Sleep. I have other names, but the most appropriate and widely remembered in this day and age is Morpheus."
"Morpheus," replies flatly.
"Yes," the creature on the sofa says, preening. "I desire that you call me that, Hob Gadling."
"Not Dream of the Endless?"
"Dream of the Endless is… Dream belongs to all sentient beings, of all kinds, on every planet and plane of existence. That creature has as many names, and faces, and physical embodiments as there are species to sleep. But here, the man who sits before you, whose form and face you know—"
Thank god he said 'know' and not 'desire', Hob thinks frantically.
"--this is Morpheus."
"The God of Sleep," Hob repeats, because is bears repeating.
"And you built me a temple."
"I… what?" Morpheus flicks a look around the room. "The New Inn? No, I built it for you so you could find me." Hob clocks what he just said. Then he thinks about the libations, the singing on karaoke night, the offerings and toasts, the way everyone totters away to pass out after last call. "Fuck me, I built the god of sleep a temple."
"If that unsettles you, you may alternately call me The Prince of Stories. The Shaper of Forms. The King of Nightmares. The Sandman. The—"
"Okay, okay!" Hob laughs. "I ask for one name and I get a hundred. Careful what you wish for, eh?" Hob scratches his fingers through his stubble and heaves a sigh as Morpheus helps himself to another biscuit, munching peevishly. "So if I'm understanding this right, Dream is… is like a diamond. And Morpheus is just one facet. And there are hundreds of facets of you."
"Millions of millions," Morpheus agrees.
"And it's Morpheus I have my agreement with? And my… friendship?"
"Yes, Hob Gadling," Morpheus says fondly. "Though I can assure you that the whole of all I am considers you a friend, not just this facet."
Something in his posture that changes then, something that relaxes a little. Relief, that's what it is. Did he think Hob would be scared of him?
Overwhelmed, maybe. Confused, a little. Intrigued, definitely. Attracted to? Hob's mind shies away from that one. But scared? Never. Except for when he was worried he may have condemned his soul to Hell, Hob has never been frightened of Morpheus. And even that fear was of purgatory itself, not of the man-shaped thing that may end up dragging him there.
"Then it's Morpheus I'd like to… see more of," Hob decides on, tripping over confessing something maybe a little bit too intense for just now, and sidestepping it as politically as possible. "More than once a century. If that's okay."
Hob blanches. "Are you not allowed to? Or… or do you not want to?" Hob asks, wondering if he's completely misunderstood the point of Morpheus' confession.
"I did not say I was opposed to it," Morpheus says gently. "I simply wonder why my company is that which you would… choose."
Hob wonders, in turn, who it was that made Morpheus feel like his company was a burden, as he clearly thinks it is. He carefully does not daydream of doing them any violence. He wants to, though.
"Listen, I…" Hob says, and stops to lick his lips, wet his throat with tea, and choose his words carefully. "Before I explain, I want to make it clear that I don't regret, or rue, or am bitter about this… this gift you've given me."
"My sister gave you," Morpheus corrects him gently.
"Sister?" Hob asks, derailed. "It wasn't you who… made me like this?"
"You and I have but an agreement to meet every hundred years. No more, no less," Morpheus explains. "My sister is the one who granted your request to never die, and traded a boon with our father to ensure you that you and I could keep our appointments."
"Uh. And who is this sister of yours I need to thank, then?" Hob asks.
"The woman who accompanied me at the White Horse that first night, do you recall her?" Hob nods. "She is Death."
"Death," Hob warbles, heart kicking in his chest. "Oh. Okay. Yeah. Makes sense. Death. I called her stupid to her face."
"She thought it charming."
"Fuck. And… your father?"
"Time," Hob squeaks. The mug in his hand trembles and Hob sets it down before he sloshes on himself.
Morpheus frowns. "My sister did not think that the terms of the agreement between you and I would be fair if you continued to age, but did not die."
"No, no, makes sense," Hob says, heaving in a breath and trying not to freak out at the idea that Death and Time know who he is, and granted him his greatest wish simply because he was a loudmouth braggart in the right pub, on the right night.
"But you were speaking of the terms of our friendship," Morpheus prompts him.
It's a kindness, and Morpheus must know it, to be distracted from the existential crisis that is creeping up on Hob. Maybe Morpheus can see the waking nightmare hovering behind him, who knows.
"Yes, as I was saying, I don't regret being, uh, like this," Hob starts again, pointing at his own heart. "But it gets… well, it's hard. Maybe you know what I mean, being you know, Endless. Maybe you don't notice the passage of time, or maybe mortal lives are so fleeting that you don't care—"
"I care. And I notice."
Hob swallows hard again, and plows on, because if he stops to unpack the utter misery with which Morpheus just said that, he thinks he's going to have to get up right now, race out into the early morning dawn, and dig up whoever did this to his friend and kill them all over again.
"Right. Okay. Yes, you care, so you understand that… you have to let go. Do you know what I mean? You have to walk away. You have to… let things, let people, slip through your fingers. It doesn't matter how tightly you hang on to someone or something, change is inevitable. Time… ah, your father… has its… his way with us all. Except me. And you."
Morpheus watches him carefully, intensely, and Hob can't read what that expression means, hasn't seen it before. But if it was on a human, he'd call it intense and focussed affection.
"And I love life. I love humanity. I love the weird shit we come up with, and the ways we change, and grow, and at the same time stay exactly the same. I love people. I love love. But it can be…" he spreads his arms wide, clutching at the empty air, wishing he was better at putting thoughts into poetry. Then maybe he could explain himself better to the Prince of Stories.
Oh, so that's why that bitchy little twink Shaxbeard—no, focus, Gadling. Not right now.
Morpheus smirks at Hob's line of thought, but otherwise doesn't interrupt.
"The point of what I'm saying is that…" Hob takes a deep breath and plunges in. "You're my anchor. And you pull me through the years, and I follow along the tow line and… no, no, that sounds like you're dragging me down." Hob scrubs a hand through his hair, the beer and the adrenaline and the late hour catching up with him. He feels giddy and tongue-tied and stupid. "Maybe, you're a kite, then? And our meetings is the string, and when it's wound around my wrist, when I know what direction my life is being pulled by you and the wind, then it… it's full. It's taught. It's exciting. But when that string was… was slack… when you didn't come, when I thought I'd driven you away, I… I couldn't… there was no direction, and there was no point, and I—" Hob laughs flatly, false. "I had to build myself a fan, I guess. An Inn to fill the sail of the kite, and just hope that my breeze would come back and—"
And he doesn't talk about the years in the middle. The years between when he bought the White Horse, and before he threw himself into his schooling. The years when the misery of being forced to shut down the one place he needed more than air and food and water, because it tied him to his Stranger, the years when the White Horse continued to deteriorate and there was nothing he could do, except maybe sleep until 2089 and hope. The years when he put anything and everything down his throat, into his veins, up his nose just so that he didn't have to feel it, the wretched passage of time, the despair, the isolation and loneliness, the—
Morpheus' hand on his knee brings Hob back to himself. He huffs and wipes the moisture away from the corner of his eyes.
"What I'm saying is… I lost who I am, without you," he says slowly, covering that moon-pale hand with his own sun-browned and sword-calloused one. "And I'm not saying that you have to spend time with me. But I thought I ruined everything. And learning that instead you were captured and suffering, and I had no way of knowing and no way of helping, that's just so much worse. I need you, Morpheus. And more than that, I like you. These last few decades were awful without you, and I… I don't want to force you to spend time with me to keep me sane, that's not what I'm saying. I don't want to drown you in order to keep my own head above water."
Mixing metaphors again, Gadling. Get to the point.
"I guess what I'm saying is that I want to spend time with you. More than once a century. I want to be your friend, and I want to know when you're hurt, or in trouble. I want to be there for you, the way that you're there for me. I want to be the solution to your loneliness, the kind that only people like you and me know. The people who go on, and on, and on, when everything around you is always changing or withering away. Because you are the solution to mine. You're…" Hob decides that six hundred and seventy-two is too old to speak in euphemisms. "You're all that I get to keep. So, please. Can I keep you?"
"I too find that I thrive when I am seen," Morpheus says, summing up Hob's rambling with eloquence and sincerity. "And I am more than satisfied with your explanation. I find that I… share your sentiments. So yes, I shall give you a way to contact me, and a way to know if I am in distress. And I will be happy to meet with you more often."
"Once a week too much?" Hob asks, sniffling with pent up emotion and swift relief. "God's bones, I sound like such a clingy bastard. I guess I am. I won't be ashamed of it."
"If that is the case, then I find I am one as well. Will every Tuesday evening be acceptable?"
Hob didn't teach Tuesday afternoons, but Morpheous probably already knew that. "More than."
"Excellent. It is done."
Hob huffs out a weak laugh, flopping back into his chair and feeling like he's just gone a hundred rounds with a heavyweight champ. Or sold his soul to Morpheus all over again. Morpheus releases his hand and pours them both more tea, though when Hob takes a drink, he finds it's become a sweet, cool wine, the kind he'd once had in Greece, centuries ago.
After they sip for a few moments, Hob screws up his courage, and asks, "And was it Morpheus who was… 'unavoidably detained'," Hob says, putting the finger-quotes around the phrase.
Morpheus goes silent for long enough that Hob worries again that he's offended his friend again.
"We don't have to talk about it," Hob assures him. He reaches out his hand for Morpheus, offering support and understanding, just as his friend had offered it to Hob. He is relieved and flattered when Morpheus takes it again, without a moment's doubt.
"I… do not think I could bring myself to speak of this again, if I were not to unburden myself now. You have confessed so much this evening, and I feel I must honor your truth with my own, no matter how… infuriatingly painful and humiliating the confession may be. I was, as you surmised, captured."
"How can someone capture a… a concept?" Hob asks softly. "A literal, actual force of nature?"
"How indeed," Morpheus says, rueful and bitter. "While most magic is insubstantial nonsense," Morpheus begins slowly. He lifts his free hand and spreads his fingers wide, and on his palm a whirlwind of golden sand swirls into the shape of a small glass cage, with a tiny, prone man trapped inside. Hob's heart clenches when he realizes what he's looking at. "There are some immutable laws of existence that can be harnessed and twisted to entrap even one such as I. But it was not Dream of the Endless that Rodrick Burgess sought to enslave, nor even Morpheus the God of Sleep, but Death her very self…"
In the cold November rain Part 13
Eddie Munson/FemReader Steve Harrington/FemReader
TW: Story runs congruent to events in the show. If you know what happens in season 4, then you'll know how this will end.*Be warned.* 18+ Eventually Smut, Angst, High School Fuckery, Drinking, Drugs Let me know if I miss any.
Can you have two great loves in a lifetime?
A story about the pain of growing up, unrequited love, and loss.
Dedicated to Eddie Munson & all those that love him.
Sincerest & Eternal Thanks To @loveshotzz & to all of you that have read, commented, sent asks, & rebloged. Thank you for taking this journey with me.
Part 13/13 Series Masterlist Fic Menu
Steve comes back quicker than you expected, or maybe he was gone an hour; you wouldn't know the difference. Taking you by the hand, he leads you to the passenger side of his car. He helps you inside and buckles your seatbelt for you.
"I don't want you to get in trouble at work," you say.
"It's no trouble. Robin knew Eddie. She understands."
Steve drives along the familiar route in silence, glancing at you, making sure you're not breaking again. At first, it's a blur, colors bleeding together, but slowly things sharpen into focus. His face is full of concern, but there is something else you almost missed in your grief, his sadness. He shuts off the engine, and you both sit, listening to the engine tick as it cools.
"Where are your parents?" He's looking at the dark windows and empty driveway. Being alone felt like such a great idea only an hour ago. Now the prospect was overwhelming.
"They're at the lake. I'm just here for the weekend to relax."
"I guess that's not happening any time soon. Do you want me to come in with you?"
Relieved, you gratefully accept his offer. Once inside, you make a beeline for the liquor cabinet, pulling out a bottle of Jose Cuervo. Steve follows you into the living room and plops down on the couch.
"Isn't it funny how everything seems smaller now?" He asks, looking around. "It looks exactly the same as the last time I was here. It must have been around three years ago since then."
"Has it been that long?" Taking a glass from the stack your parents keep in the cabinet, you twist off the cap and pour yourself a double.
"Are you sure that's a good idea right now?" Raising a defiant eyebrow, you tip your head and knock it back. The alcohol burns your throat on its way down. It's been a while since you had a drink.
"I think it's an excellent idea."
"Well, bring me one then. I'm not going to let you drink alone." After retrieving another glass, you bring everything to the coffee table in front of the couch. The light from the afternoon sun bounces off the glasses, leaving little rainbows on the wall covered with framed photographs. Some of them are of the boy sitting next to you. The brown liquid glugs from the bottle as you fill the glasses with a generous pour. Sliding his drink across the polished wood of the table, you wait for him to join you in raising your glass before you both drink it down. He coughs a little. Looks like you're not the only one out of practice. When you reach for the bottle, he pushes it away from you. "Let's pace ourselves."
The tequila is starting to do its job, taking the edge off. Sighing, you sink back against the couch cushions and wait for Steve to say something. It doesn't take long.
"Do you remember the Christmas we tried to stay up late to catch Santa?"
"I don't remember that at all."
"That's probably because you kept falling asleep. We made this grand plan to sneak out here after everyone was asleep. We sat next to the tree, and you couldn't keep your eyes open. I kept shaking you, but eventually, I just gave up. I sat there watching you sleep with the tree lights twinkling. Then it got close to morning, and I was scared we would get in trouble. I tried to carry you to your room, but I wasn't strong enough, and I kept smacking your head into the wall."
"Well, maybe that's why I can't remember. You gave me a concussion." You laugh.
"That sounds about right." He rolls the glass between his hands. "Where were you during the earthquake? Why didn't you know?"
"I got the chance to study abroad. I left in February, and I was gone all summer. My parents called, but they were fine and said not to worry."
"I should have called you and told you about Eddie. It was such a mess here I didn't even think about it. I didn't realize you two were so serious."
"We weren't. I mean..it was…I don't know. It's complicated."
He nods, understanding. "Trust me, I know, complicated. It's kind of my thing now. Steve Harrington. It's complicated." He uses a newscaster voice and gestures in the air before pouring himself another shot and drinking it down.
"You have changed, Steve. Thank you for staying with me. I want you to know it means a lot to me. I'm glad you're here."
"Me too," he replies, patting your knee. "You two weren't still together, were you? You and Eddie."
"No. Not for a while. It ended when I left for school. He was really good to me." Your knee bounces, and you swallow, trying not to cry again.
"I'm sure. He was different than I thought. He was pretty tough on himself, but he paid attention, you know, to what everybody was feeling. I think maybe he felt things a little more than the rest of us."
"You did know him. I thought maybe you said hi to each other when he came in to rent a movie."
"I didn't know him very long. Just long enough to know he was a good person. Listen, whatever you hear in town, don't believe any of it. It's all bullshit, just like in high school. They don't know what happened."
"And you do?"
"Yeah, I do. He saved a lot of people. Including me. Do you understand?"
"I don't. I don't understand any of it. An earthquake? That doesn't make any sense. There has to be more to it."
"There always is, Peach." His hand covers the top of yours, his thumb moving back and forth on the underside of your wrist. He hadn't called you that since middle school. It started when you were nine, carrying around a worn copy of James and the Giant Peach to all his games. He said it to tease you, but you ended up looking at your feet, blushing like crazy.
A lone tear balancing on the edge of your lid falls, running over the apple of your cheek. A deluge follows. "I have so many regrets. They are stacked up like this heavy weight. I'm not sure if I can carry it, Steve." His big soft hand slides along your shoulders, pulling you to him until your head rests over his heart. With your arms around him, you cry out your truth. "I was so selfish. I waited until it was too late. The last thing I said to him…I was so cruel. And now I can't tell him that I'm sorry or that I loved him. I had so much left to say."
"It's okay. It's okay." He whispers with his lips pressed to the top of your head. "He knows. He wouldn't hold anything against you. In fact, I'm pretty sure the guy thought you shit out lucky charms." A little laugh sneaks through your tears." He was always staring at you. I thought he was such a creep. It used to piss me off. I wanted to punch him, but I knew I would have had to deal with you, so I didn't. Remember that asshole from the hockey team that was sniffing around you senior year? What is his name?"
"Matt?" It has been so long that you've forgotten how good Steve is at holding you together. It makes you feel like you did when you were little, like he could save you from anything.
"That's right, Matt dickhead Crestwood. I never would have let you go out with that guy. He used to run his mouth in the locker room about every girl in school. I was about to say something to him, but someone keyed his car and slashed his tires. I'm pretty sure it was Eddie."
"What? No way. I don't remember that."
"It's been pointed out to me that we were all in our own little world. Not really paying attention to what wasn't right in front of our faces."
"Who are you? Yoda? Next, you're going to tell me you can move things with your mind." You sit up and pour more shots. He has a strange look on his face, but he shakes it off and laughs, taking the glass from you.
"Nope. That's someone else, actually." He raises his glass and waits for yours to clink against it. "This is what happens when you grow up." He uses your words from earlier. You drink, and you talk. The tequila bottle gets a little more empty. The room gets darker, and you have to turn on the lights. "What was your plan this evening before everything?" He asks. "Nothing special. Popcorn and Molly Ringwald."
"She's kinda hot." He says with a lopsided smile. There's your Steve. "We should probably eat something before that tequila burns a hole in our stomachs. Do you want me to make you something?"
"I don't know. Are you going to burn the house down?"
"Hey, I can cook. How else do you think I got fed? My mom?" He scoffs.
"True. They kind of quit on you, huh?"
"Yeah, I guess you could say that. I don't want to talk about them. Come on." You follow him to the kitchen to sit on the counter and watch him make you the perfect grilled cheese sandwich.
"This is really good," you say with your mouth full.
"I'm a man of many talents. Kind of like James Bond but with better hair."
"And just as humble."
He washes the dishes and sets them on the drying rack when you're finished. You ask him to spend the night, and he agrees without hesitation. He pauses in the doorway of your room. "You still have a Strawberry Shortcake bedspread." He throws himself down on your twin bed so hard he bounces.
"The sheets too. My Monchichi is still in the closet. Do you want me to get it?" Clicking on the little light next to your bed casts a soft glow around the room.
"Gross. You know I hate that thing." He stretches out, taking up all the space on your little bed. "This was much bigger the last time we shared it."
Images of two small kids curled on their sides, sleeping back to back, fills your mind. Sleepovers happened less often once you hit middle school and the last time was freshman year, the first time he got dumped. His parents weren't visiting that night. He just climbed through your window and got in bed with you. You were already in love with him at that point. He fell asleep quickly, and you stayed awake the whole night. Your body vibrating next to him, praying he would touch you. Of course, he hadn't, and it was another crack in your tender heart. Thinking about him coming through that window and kissing you stupid was once your favorite fantasy.
"I think we've gotten bigger. Do you want to sleep on the couch?"
"Nah, we'll manage." He stands up, toeing off his shoes before pulling his shirt over his head.
"Steve, what happened to you?" The light catches the newly healed scars on his abdomen. Moving closer, you run your fingers over the shiny pink skin. The texture is bumpy and uneven with jagged edges. His muscles jump at your touch. "Are those bite marks?" Trying to avoid the question, he turns his back to you only to startle and turn back toward you quickly. "Let me see your back."
Reluctantly, he turns to let you examine him. These scars aren't as deep. He looks like he was dragged behind a truck. You gently place your hand on him, wishing it would be enough to take them away. "This is scaring me. Tell me what's going on, please. That's not from an earthquake." Your voice comes out shaky. He turns back and catches your hand in his, his expression full of pain. Standing this close to him, you can see more faint scarring circling his neck. He shakes his head from side to side and looks down.
"I can't tell you anything. Let's just say my life hasn't exactly turned out the way I hoped."
"Don't! There is no way in hell I'm dragging you into this. I can't put you in danger. Please, trust me, I'm doing what's best for you right now."
He won't say anything more. He moves to the bed and turns down the covers. Alarm bells are going off in your head, and you don't have the first clue how to help him. Leaving him, you go to the bathroom to brush your teeth and change into your PJs, which consist of an oversized Garfield shirt that reads Give Me Lasagna Or Give Me Death. While washing your face, you examine your reflection in the mirror; you look older than you did that morning. When you return, Steve's in his boxers, lying on his side of the bed, which is the outside, so you have to crawl in from the foot.
"Nice shirt." He teases, pulling back the covers for you.
"Next time, I'll wear my nightie."
"Don't do me any favors." Both of you lay on your sides facing each other. His eyes are closing. "Steve, do those scars have anything to do with Eddie?" He nods his head. "Were you with him when he…." you trail off, but he knows what you're asking.
"No. He was already gone when…I couldn't help him." You shake your head, trying not to get emotional again. "Was there a funeral? Is there somewhere I can visit him?" He shakes his head no. You think you've cried out every tear in your body, but somehow there are still more.
"How am I supposed to get past this?" You ask, trying to wipe away the wetness on your face.
"You won't, but you'll live anyway."
"What if I don't want to?"
"Don't say things like that. I can't worry about you that way." He grabs your hand and holds it between you.
"I'm sorry. You're right. I don't mean it. I'm just really sad."
"I know you are, Peach." He kisses your forehead, and your eyes close as his lips linger, comforting you.
"Have you ever known anybody that died? Besides Eddie.
"Yeah." He rolls to his back and looks at the dark ceiling while he ticks names off his fingers. "My grandparents. My uncle Dave. Barb Holland."
"I thought she ran away."
"No." He sighs and scrubs his face. "Billy Hargrove."
"He died? He asked me out once."
"He did? Did you go?" You raise an eyebrow. "Yeah, I guess he wasn't your type. He died right in front of me."
"What? When?" Concerned, you prop yourself on your elbow to look at his face.
"Heather Holloway, Jason Carver, Patrick Mckinney, Chrissy Cunningham, Fred Benson. I know I'm forgetting a few." The moonlight filtering in through your curtains is enough to see that his eyes are shiny, and he's taking deep breaths, trying to calm himself.
"I'm so sorry. I didn't know." Feeling helpless, you watch his chest rise and fall quickly. "What the hell is happening here?" He just shakes his head, refusing to answer. "Are you okay?" You ask, stroking the hair at his temples, trying to soothe him.
"I'm so fucking far from okay, and I can't tell anybody because people depend on me. I just have to push through it. But now that I've told you, maybe I'll start feeling better."
"You can always talk to me. I want to be here for you." Snuggling down against the pillow, you tuck one of your hands under your head, and the other runs through his hair until his breathing returns to normal.
It's quiet. The familiar noises of the house feel unsettling tonight. As it often does, your life has been changing without you knowing. It has been building like a wave crashing against you all at once. Now you're trying to keep your footing until the tide goes out again. Unanswered questions plague your thoughts, keeping you from sleep. He has the answers, but your conscience won't let you push him. Counting your breaths, you try to stop the memories that cycle through your tired mind. The tree branches outside rustle in the wind as the first pings of rain hit your window. Steve breathes out a soft sigh and shifts slightly beside you. A smile tugs at your lips. Watching him trying to keep his eyes squeezed shut, he shares the same restless battle. Delicately, you place your hand on his stomach, smoothing it upward until your fingertips move through the hair covering his chest. His eyes pop open,
"When did you get so hairy?" His lips turn up into an affectionate smile. You start giggling, and he can't help laughing with you. He turns back over to his side to face you. "Probably around the same time you got boobies." He pokes his finger into your breast. "Hey!" Rubbing the tender spot he just poked, you pinch one of his nipples in retaliation, "Oww. You want to play the pinching game?" He reaches around you and pinches as much of your ass as he can gather with his fingers. You howl in pain. "Okay, Okay, you win."
"I always win." He reminds you. "You didn't have to do it so hard," you complain.
"That's how I win. Let me rub it for you." His hand kneads your ass. Something is waking up, something between you that you thought you'd lost.
"Stop. What's wrong with you?" You push his arm away from your butt. It doesn't go far, landing on your hip. "Are you drunk?"
"No. Are you?" He squeezes your hip.
"No." You slide one of your smooth legs between his liking the way his bristly hair lightly scratches you. "You kissed me once when you were drunk."
"No, I didn't. I would remember that." The hand on your hip pulls you a little closer.
"You did. It was after one of your parties sophomore year. I stayed to help you clean up, and you kissed the hell out of me. It was my first kiss you didn't remember the next day."
"Fuck, you're kidding me. I'm such an asshole. I'm so sorry."
"I'm not. I didn't tell you to make you feel bad."
"Are you sure you don't hate me?" He asks, looking into your eyes.
"I was upset at the time, but I'm glad it was with you. I was so in love with you back then. God, I thought I was going to pass out. It feels good to finally say it."
"I knew. I just didn't know what to do with it. I wasn't ready for someone to love me like that." He pulls you that last little bit closer to him, so you're flush against his body. His hand smoothes from your hip to the small of your back, where he rubs little circles on your spine.
"How do you know how I loved you?" The question comes out in a soft whisper.
"I know you." Those dark hazel eyes stare into yours.
"Are you sure about that? I don't think I knew myself that well back then."
"I know you like cinnamon better than marshmallows in your hot chocolate. You'd rather have sunflowers than roses. You don't mind when it rains, especially when you're already feeling sad. You hate mustard on your sandwiches. You only sing if you think no one's listening. And I know why you keep those Weebles that are on that shelf over there."
"Oh yeah, and why is that?" You ask, looking down and hiding your smile against his chest.
"Well, your mom made you give Mrs. Johnson some of your old toys when she had the twins. You weren't ready to let them go, and you cried and cried. You were too old for all that stuff, and I told you to quit being a brat. You stopped crying right away. I hurt your feelings, and you were so mad you weren't going to let me see one more tear fall. You stuck your chin in the air and ignored me all afternoon. I felt so bad about it. I just wanted you to play with me again. So I snuck over to the Johnsons and stole back the princess and the knight because I knew they were your favorite. You keep those Weebles because I gave them to you."
"You know you're awfully full of yourself. Maybe I just really like Weebles." He tips your chin up to look at your face. "I was so dumb. I was always hurting your feelings. I should have been more careful once I realized how you felt." He kisses the corner of your mouth.
"It's not your fault. You didn't feel the same way, and I couldn't let it go. I was kind of pathetic back then."
"Nah, you weren't pathetic. You were cute. But Jackie had those really big boobs." You try to pull away from him. "Way to ruin it." Both of your hands push against his chest, trying to squirm out of his grasp, but he easily holds you in place. "They were huge. They would hypnotize me when she walked."
"You're lucky you didn't need penicillin afterward."
"You're right about that," he says, laughing. "Maybe we should try it again? Like a do-over?"
"Try what again?"
"Your first kiss."
"Now I know you're drunk," you say, narrowing your eyes at him. "You want to kiss me?"
"I want to kiss you." He's looking at your mouth, and it's making you lightheaded. You can't wrap your head around it. "Why?"
"You're warm, and we're in bed together. You're half-naked. It's making me hard." You roll your eyes and scoff. "But mostly because I've missed you for a really long time, and you feel like home, when it was safe before there were any monsters in the world. And I need you right now, and I think you want me to touch you."
His mouth is just inches from yours. He angles his head and parts his lips, but he doesn't move forward, wanting you to make the decision. Inhaling a short breath, your lips unseal, floating just below his. And you can see it in his eyes, something that wasn't there before. Tilting your head, you close the gap. He hums into your mouth, kissing you over and over. His long fingers move softly over your jaw, the side of your face caressing you, holding you. They ghost over your lips before he brings his mouth back to yours. His tongue dips in, brushing against you softly. He quietly moans, savoring the taste.
You finally get what you always wanted, but it isn't erasing the ache. Eddie's sad brown eyes fill your mind as guilt spreads through you. Regrets are stacking up in a tippy pile.
"Stay with me."
Somehow, Steve knows you aren't thinking of him. He waits for your eyes to flutter open and connect with his. He deserves more than being your distraction. Your fingers move through the long bangs that have fallen over his eyes. He leans into your touch while his fingers gather the fabric at your hip, collecting it in his palm. Slowly pushing it up your body's curve until it's over your head, forgotten somewhere on the floor. His lips travel down to the tip of your chin, a hand on your shoulder easing you back so he can move over you, his warm skin pressing you into the mattress. The feeling of those silky lips gently sucking the delicate column of your throat has you lost. Your leg wraps around his waist, pushing him closer.
Another wave of change is building. Standing on the shore with open arms won't stop a thing if it's big enough to knock you down. His name echoes from your mouth, calling him back when he moves away to remove anything still between you. The short absence has made you desperate and needy. He doesn't tease or make you wait. He's against you. Inside you. Moving under your skin unhurried and sure. Finding the places that make you come apart. His mouth is on you when you come, swallowing your cries and stealing your breath. He whispers beautiful tender words in your ear as you ride out your high. He surges and throbs inside you, finally falling apart. Staying inside long after until sleep finally finds you both.
You wake up with Steve's arm crossed over your chest like a seatbelt, the hair on his chest tickling your back. The sheets and blankets are in a tangled pile at the foot of your bed. Cocooned in all his safety and warmth, you lay quietly watching the shadows cast on your wall by the last raindrops running down your window glass. The morning light has chased away the ghosts of last night but has brought doubt with it. It's easy to be caught up in him, but the bigger picture isn't as simple. Last night feels like a step too soon, and at the same time one, you've been waiting to take forever. The leg resting between your thighs shifts.
"Good morning." His lips graze the shell of your ear.
"Morning," you whisper, feeling all of him behind you.
His mouth is on your shoulder, tongue swirling over your skin. Every place he touches, he leaves little fires in his wake. Your chest rises and falls with rapid breaths as his hand leaves your shoulder to slide over your breasts and stomach stopping just shy of your pubic bone.
"You're trembling. Are you cold?" You're the very opposite of cold. With a hand on your chin, he turns your head to look at him.
"Are you okay with what happened last night?"
Your stomach drops. "You regret it."
"No. No." He shakes his head while running his hand along your cheek. "Last night was….Being with you…." He pauses, trying to find the right words. "Yesterday, you were suddenly there in front of me after all that time, and you spent the whole afternoon telling me you were his. But I couldn't help it. You have always felt like mine." His mouth takes yours, his tongue delving inside. There are demands in his kiss. Being his has always come with a high cost. Your intuition tells you that this time won't be different.
You return his kiss with the same fervor. The hand under the pillow snakes out to wrap lightly around your throat, anchoring you. He pulls back, more than a little breathless, his plush lips parted. His other hand moves to your breast, his fingers rolling your nipple. He watches your face. Your eyes stay on his, your lips part, and you moan from the contact. His hazel eyes darken as his pupils dilate. "Do you want me?" He asks in a low voice. "Yes," comes out as a breathy sigh. "Please tell me. I need to hear it."
"I want you, Steve," you say, pressing your ass against his thick swollen cock. A contented groan leaves his mouth, and his hand moves between your thighs. "Look at how wet you are for me." His fingers glide through your folds, dipping into your pussy. The hand on your throat tightens just slightly as he positions himself at your entrance and sinks inside you from behind. You cry out as your walls stretch around him, the position allowing him to go incredibly deep, burying himself to the root." So full," you gasp, feeling drunk on him. He moves your leg back down, so your thighs press tightly together. He moves at a slow tempo, smoothly rolling his hips. He softly and tenderly caresses your body. His fingers feather down your arm, the curve your hip, your stomach, and breasts.
The emotions build up inside you. The years of love and longing. The heartbreak and loss. You're so very tired of crying. You slam your hips back, wanting some pain to push it all down. "Hey, hey." He squeezes your hip to slow your movements. "Stay with me. Let me get you there." He presses small kisses to your cheek and temple. Breathing through your nose, you concentrate on the words he's whispering in your ear.
"It's okay. I'll take care of you. You don't have to hide from me. I feel it too."
He knows you, just like he said, and you know him too. He demands your vulnerability, your emotion. He's strong enough to carry them. His fingers begin to lazily circle your clit. Your orgasm builds incredibly slow, cresting in big surges that go on and on. You both moan as your muscles clutch him. He pushes your knees up, moving faster through his last few strokes before cumming hard while groaning your name.
After It could have been awkward, but it's not. He made eggs while you showered. Then he sat with you while you ate before taking his turn. He takes every opportunity to touch you, a hand on your shoulder or in your hair, his lips on your forehead. He holds your hand while driving you to your car. He kisses you deeply as his co-worker pulls into the lot and doesn't seem to mind that she could see him do it.
"I want to see you again," he tells you as you lean against the passenger door of his BMW while he keeps hold of your hand.
"You've got my number." Giving his hand a little squeeze, you let go and walk towards your car. His fingers wrap around your wrist, and he yanks you back to him, placing his hands on your biceps. "I know I have no right to ask you this." Those eyes, flecked with gold, bounce back and forth, watching yours with an intensity you haven't experienced from him before. "Is it too late? Could you ever love me again?"
You used to think your heart was made of glass. There was a limit to how much it could hold. It became more fragile every time it shattered and mended. But maybe it was always elastic, snapping but not breaking. Maybe it could stretch to love them both. "I can't make you any promises right now," you tell him honestly. "But yeah, I think maybe I could."
"We have time to figure it out, right?" He asks, swallowing.
You nod your head and wrap your arms around him. "I'll be back for Thanksgiving."
"That's not too far away." His fingers comb through your hair.
He holds the Beetle's door open as you climb inside. "What are you doing tonight?" He gives you that lopsided cocky smirk that tells you he already knows the answer.
"I'll be around."
He leans in to press his lips against yours. "I'll find you." He shuts your door and heads inside.
Loose asphalt crunches under your tires, and you bounce slightly in your seat as you turn onto the uneven road that leads into Forest Hill Trailer Park. It occurs to you that you hadn't made the conscious decision to come here, nor do you remember the drive over. Your foot hits the brakes, and a small cry escapes your mouth as Eddie's trailer comes into view. Whatever you expected, it wasn't this. The trailer is split lengthwise from the middle to the front end. The metal is curling and jagged at the edges as if it was cut open with a can opener. The two halves lean away from each other, exposing their contents. Steve had explained to you that Eddie hadn't died here. He made you promise not to dig for information. He would answer your question the best he could. It was a promise you would keep. For now.
A car horn honks from behind you, reminding you that you're stopped in the middle of the road. After pulling to the side, you step out, and you're hit with the pain all over again as the last glimmer of hope that somehow Steve had been mistaken dies inside you. Eddie's curtains blow out of his broken windows. Stepping to your toes, you try to get a better look. The walls in his room still hold pieces of ruined posters, and you can pick out a few familiar pieces of clothing lying amongst the debris. If you could reach them, would they still smell like him? No photos were taken of the two of you, no mementos or tokens. It's as if you two never existed. The only place that held any memory of your time with him is here, and it's in pieces. Wanting to be closer, you climb the front steps and reach for the door.
"Miss! Miss, you can't go in there." An older man standing there. His white beard stained yellow, likely from the lit cigarette in his hand. It takes a minute to register that he's speaking to you.
"It's not safe." He explains.
"Right. Of course," you say, stepping away.
"It's a shame what happened in there. Did you know that freak?"
"I loved him." You respond in a clear voice that carries no shame.
The man has the courtesy to look embarrassed and mumbles his condolences. You stare him down as he backs away, leaving you alone. There is a pile of weather-damaged furniture on the curb. Eddie's acoustic is lying on the old kitchen table, smashed to pieces. A lone string is still attached to the neck. There's a soft squeak as you run your fingertip down the ridged length. Alongside it, the light bounces off the single shard of mirror left in the cracked frame. Pulling gently, mindful of the sharp edges, you work it gently from the frame. Placing it in your palm, you angle it to catch a glimpse of your reflection, hoping it will be his face staring back at you. A sharp sting causes you to drop it, and like all fragile things, it shatters as it hits the ground. A thin line of red marks your palm.
Refusing to let the sum of his life be a pile of broken things, you sit at a nearby picnic table, tracing the scarred wood with your fingers, remembering him. There is the sound of children playing nearby, and a few people come and go staring at you curiously like you don't belong here. Maybe Eddie had thought that too. But you don't see any of that. All you see is him. The sound before his chuckle turned into a laugh. The way he would hold out his hand behind him without looking at you, knowing you would take it. How he would try to keep from smiling when you peppered his face with kisses so you would keep doing it longer, his cheeks eventually rising despite himself. His fingers moving swiftly over the frets of his guitar. His eyes bouncing to the clock waiting for Wayne to leave so he could pull you into his lap, sitting beside you wasn't close enough. Each smile that made your heart beat faster. How it felt when he touched you. His laughter. Every word. Every kiss. Every moment. Vowing to never let a memory fade, you lock them all in your heart where he'll live now, forever beautiful and always with you. This time you won't leave him behind.
5 years later.
It wasn't raining today, but it felt like it should have been. It was a clear, crisp day. A slight breeze has blown a few red and gold leaves to the base of the black granite stone that had been installed the day before, and you bend to clear them away. A hand wraps around yours as you straighten, giving it a squeeze. His blue eyes crinkle at the corners, and although taller now, the brown curls still make him look boyish. Dustin steps in front of the small crowd gathered to finally say their goodbyes. His words are brief but moving. Eddie would have been proud to have seen the man he had become. A few birds catch your eye as they sail from the swaying branches of the large white oak. It felt right that he should have some shelter when it storms. When it's over, people huddle in small groups sharing a memory or two before wandering back to their cars. Wayne makes his way to you, looking older than he should, his eyes full and watery. He grips your hand and breathes out a shaky "thank you." The tears you've been holding back start to fall.
"It wasn't me," you tell him, glancing over at Steve, standing just off to the side in a black suit, one hand crossed over the other. Steve looks surprised when Wayne holds out his hand for a shake but pulls him into a hug. The others walk back to the road, but you linger, sitting on the cold ground, legs tucked off to the side, tracing the words etched into the stone. There wasn't anything to bury, just the stone, but you can feel him here all the same. Steve returns after walking to others to their cars, offering you his hand. "Are you ready to go home?" After placing a smooth stone you collected from the ocean on Eddie's gravestone, you let Steve lead you back to the car. He came to you one morning, letting you know the arrangements had been made, saying he wanted you and Dustin to have a place to visit, but it also might have been a debt he felt needed to be paid. After much discussion on what should be printed on the stone, Steve left it for you and Dustin to decide.
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Accepted | F.H
Paring: Five Hargreeves X Wife!Reader
Summary: Five craves nothing more than to be accepted and loved by his siblings. That doesn’t appear to happen when he time travels back to 2019 after disappearing for seventeen years.
Five had never seen anyone so beautiful before. Even in the apocalypse, she was gorgeous. He knew it wasn’t because they were the only ones left either. She had his heart from the moment they accidentally ended up in the apocalypse together.
Y/n was a normal girl, an ordinary girl. She had no powers, completely powerless. It just so happens she was walking down the sidewalk and brushed shoulders with Five, which brought her with him.
He couldn’t be mad at her. It wasn’t her fault that they had brushed shoulders. He should’ve been more careful. Y/n was a shy and skittish girl. Not very talkative. It took her a week to use her voice after being thrown into the end of the world.
Despite Five’s commonly inpatient nature, he was extremely patient with her. She was all he had now, and he felt completely comfortable with her. It took a year for her to open up to him, to trust him finally.
She told him all about school and what it was like while Five listened intently. He loved listening to her talk about normal kid activities, things he never got to participate in. Y/n promised him once they got back to save the world, no matter how old, they’d do those things together.
The girl had a certain aura around her that just made him smile. After five years, they were inseparable. Five couldn’t imagine life without her. He couldn’t fathom how he lived without her. He could tell her anything and didn’t fear of being judged.
He had been strong for so long, but not he didn’t have to be anymore. He could let loose and be himself, whether it was being playful, cheerful, upset, or angry. He could be him, and that’s all that mattered to him.
At the age of twenty, they decided to date, knowing it’d be a risk but a risk well taken because Five proposed at the age of twenty-five. Obviously, getting married wasn’t really an option. Nevertheless, he always thought of her as Y/n Hargreeves. His pride and joy.
At the age of forty-one, they were both taken into the commission– a job they both loathed. However, in order to get back to their time, it had to be done. Every night after a mission or a long day, Five would snuggle up Y/n’s chest and sob.
It became a daily routine for the next four and a half years. Every night Five would cry. He missed everything and hated everything. He regretted not listening. He hated the killing. He missed his siblings. Y/n would sit and listen while rubbing his back.
She thought for sure that his siblings missed him. Oh, how wrong she was. She found that out when they returned back to their timeline. Both lovers had fallen to the ground back in their thirteen-year-old bodies.
“ Does anyone else see Little Number Five and a little girl, or is that just me? “ A male queried as five people peered at the two.
Y/n and Five both got up from the ground looking down at their attire. Their clothes were ten times too big for them now. Five appeared to look just as young as he did forty-five years ago, and so did Y/n. Five couldn’t help but smile at her gorgeous appearance that he hadn’t seen in years. She was beautiful at all ages, but he was particularly fond of her teenage form, as was she of him.
“ Shit. “ Five muttered as he walked past them, and Y/n followed.
Five led her into the Hargreeves manor. It was a huge house, one that consisted of too many bedrooms and bathrooms for one person. He held her hand tight, and he stood at the end of the table. At the same time, his siblings piled around the table.
“ What’s the date? The exact date. “ Five’s voice was stern as he began making food, “ The 24th. “ A brunette female responded.
“ Of what? “ Five asked, annoyed, “ March. “ She replied again.
“ Good. “ Five said, opening the loaf of bread.
“ Are you gonna introduce us to your lady friend? “ The male from earlier questioned, and Y/n took refuge behind Five.
Five sighed as he pulled her next to him, letting his arm rest upon her waist, “ This, is Y/n Hargreeves. “
“ Hargreeves? Is she dad’s biological child, or was there another child we didn’t know about? “ The big male quizzed, and Five smirked, looking up at his siblings, “ Or perhaps the most obvious conclusion, but you guys aren’t smart enough to see what’s right in front of you. “ Five insulted, which made Y/n lightly hit him.
“ She’s my wife. “ The boy summarized, kissing her cheek, “ Wife?! You guys are thirteen. “ A woman in a blue shirt interjected.
“ Ignore that. What just happened outside? “ A large male queried as Five continued to make his food, “ It’s been 17 years. “
Five scoffed, “ It’s been a lot longer than that. “
Gently Five removed his arm from Y/n’s waist, and spatial jumped behind Luther to grab something. Y/n was hesitant but took a seat on the counter as her husband's siblings stared her down
“ I haven’t missed that. “ The big male murmured, “ Where’d you go? “ Questioned a male in all black.
“ The future. It’s shit, by the way. “ Five replied as he spatial jumped from getting his marshmallows and back to the front of the table, “ Called it! “ The skinny male exclaimed
“ I should’ve listened to the old man. You know, jumping through space is one thing. “ The teen began as he looks through the fridge, “ Jumping through time is a toss of the dice. “
The boy looked up from what he was doing and took his sibling's appearances in, the ones he missed dearly but saw all dead. If you were Y/n, you could see his green eyes glass over. But if you were the Hargreeves siblings, you saw a heartless and cold teenage boy.
“ Nice dress. “ He complimented, “ Oh, well, danke! “ The skinny male exclaimed.
“ Wait, how did you get back? “ Asked the anxious brunette, “ In the end, I had to project our consciousnesses forward into a suspended quantum state version of ourselves that exists across every possible instance of time. “ Five answered.
“ That makes no sense. “ Blurted the black-wearing male, “ Well, it would if you were smarter. “ Five smirked.
“ Five, stop. They’re trying to understand. You probably sound insane. “ Y/n spoke up for the first time since coming back, “ Oh, I like her. “ The skinny male chuckled.
“ I’m Klaus. “ He introduced, “ Pleasure. “ Y/n greeted with a smile.
The strong male looked baffled, “ How long were you two there? “
Y/n sighed, “ Forty-Five years. Give or take. “ Five answered, “ So what are you saying? That you two are 58? “ He questioned again.
“ Our consciences are 58, apparently our bodies are 13 again. “ The teen boy answered, “ Wait, how does that even work? “ Questioned the brunette again.
“ He got the equations wrong. Meaning his math was off, bringing us back into the same bodies we left in. “ Y/n softly explained as Five ate his food.
“ Guess I missed the funeral. “ Five said as he picked up a newspaper on the table, “ How’d you even know about that? “ Asked the large male.
“ What part of the future do you not understand? “ Five barked, “ Heart failure, huh? “
“ Yeah/No. “ Contradicting answers.
“ Nice to see nothings changed. “ Five said, clicking his tongue, walking away.
“ Uh, that’s it? That’s all you have to say? “ Questioned the curly-haired woman asked the boy who was walking away.
“ What else is there to say? It’s the circle of life. “ Five said now out of the room and into the rest of the mansion.
“ Well, that was interesting. “ The big male concluded.
Y/n sighed, “ I’m sorry for him. The past few years for him haven’t been the greatest. Just know he cares about you guys. “
“ I’m Vanya. “ Smiled the anxious brunette, “ And that’s Allison, Luther, and Diego. Klaus interjected earlier. “ Vanya introduced, pointing at each member.
“ Nice to meet you all. I’m going to go find Five. “ Y/n smiled as she walked away.
It took a couple of minutes, but she eventually found what seemed to be like their bedrooms. Only one door was shut, so she knocked hesitantly on it. Sniffles were heard on the other side.
“ Five, it’s me. “ Her voice was serene and quiet, “ Come in. “ His voice was muffled through the door.
Her hand turned the door handle, and she walked inside. Gently she shut the bedroom door and locked it, knowing he hated people seeing him vulnerable. Y/n turned to see him sitting on his bed with his elbows resting on his knees, hands on his face crying.
She knelt in front of him, taking his hands into her own, “ They don’t care. “ Were the first words muttered from his mouth, “ They do care. They’re just confused. “ Y/n replied.
He shook his head and sat on the floor in her embrace, sobbing, “ It’s going to be okay, Five. I’m right here. I’ll always be right here. “ Y/n reassured as she ran her hands through his hair.
She felt a gentle kiss being laid on her shoulder, knowing it was his way of acknowledging what she said. After minutes passed, he had stopped crying and instead fell asleep, right in his lover's arms where he was always accepted.
once again, this is very much not the content that you all signed up to see, but i have no choice but to make this post because i am mad at disney.
now, i’m sure most of us feel at least a little inexplicable rage at that mouse once or twice a week, but today my rage has surpassed both “little” and “inexplicable” and become full fledged anger that the audacity of the stupid little mouse.
thats right. im talking about high school musical the musical the series.
if you happen to be one of the fortunate people who has never heard of this, consider yourself lucky because it has been taking up valuable space in my brain for the last year.
most of us know high school musical, the beloved disney channel movies from the latter half of the 2000s starring zac efron, vanessa hudgens, ashley tisdale, lucas grabeel, corbin bleu and monique coleman. they told the story of basketball star troy bolton falling madly in love with scholastic decathlon champion gabriella montez through their unlikely and accidental love of high school theater. and we all definitely cried when they broke up in the second one (however briefly it was).
these movies became the staple of a generation (mine) and however cheesy they may be, they rank in only the most iconic of television. i, like many others, are very protective of these classics.
so. in 2019. a grand total of 13 years after the first high school musical movie aired on the disney channel, disney released a disney+ series called one other than high school musical the musical the series, starring olivia rodrigo and joshua bassett.
from the beginning, i was infuriated by this. but not because of the content of the show, i did watch the show and the show was actually quite good and i thoroughly enjoyed it. my issue was with the absolute abomination of a title.
titles should roll off the tongue. and whatever the fresh fuck that is certainly doesn’t roll off anything. it’s long. it’s clunky. the acronym looks like a pre schoolers attempt at spelling their name. it infuriates me.
but, i was willing to put this aside because i enjoyed the show.
but now, two whole years later, i am no longer willing to overlook this outrageous and dastardly mistake that the mouse made because the show was renewed for a new season. and guess what. they are not putting on high school musical.
now, in my rage i realize that i forgot to explain the premise of the show. in said show, east high school (the school where high school musical took place), gets a new drama teacher who learns that the school has never put on high school musical before. and the show is about their trials and tribulations of doing so.
so in season 2, which just recently came out, the east high drama department puts on another show, you know, as drama departments tend to do. and guess what show it is?
since this is a rant post, i will tell you.
it is beauty and the beast.
yes. that is correct.
and last i checked, beauty and the beast has nothing to do with high school musical.
so why on earth is the show still called high school musical the musical the series of season two has literally no connection to high school musical except for the fact that it happens to take place at the same high school (and yes apparently they were initially supposed to put on hsm 2 but changed it because of a plot point).
and disney, the cheeky bastards, knew that this show was going to get renewed. because in the very end of the last episode the theater teacher says “wait till you see what i have planned for the spring” or something. so they knew. they knew that this was going to get renewed. and yet. they still named it.
high school musical the musical the series.
if we’re following the trend, it should be called beauty and the beast the musical the musical the series.
they could have named it something so much better. like. east high theater. or east high drama department. or something other than fucking HIGH SCHOOL MUSICAL THE MUSICAL THE SERIES.
Mr Leonhart wasn't redeemed and I refuse to accept him as such
If you’ve been anywhere near my blog, you’ll know that I don’t tolerate that guy in any way, shape, or form, nor accept his apology to Annie
I have multiple reasons to believe his apology wasn’t sincere/well-intentioned.
He had the worst motivation out of all warrior parents
I think the reason I'm angry with Mr Leonhart the most compared to other Warrior Parents, even though they're all shit (I guess with the exception of Pieck’s father) is that the rest of them believed Marley's propaganda
They believed in the whole Eldian sin and Island Devil thing. Most parents of warriors, even kids training to become warriors, believed their kids were giving away their lives for a good and honorable cause. This is still abuse and it’s gross, but really, it’s not out of the “ordinary”
Parents place ridiculously harsh and harmful expectations on their kids all the time. Plus, I don’t think they would’ve straight up abandoned their kids if they didn’t make it as warriors
Mr Leonhart, however, never fell for Marley’s shit version of history nor did he care. He came from abroad and Annie once said he was in the same situation as her (mixed parents), when he took her in as a baby for a purely selfish reasoning
While it’s easy to put some distance since the situation of the warriors is nothing like in the real world, I’ll give you an example:
Someone adopts a puppy and then trains it for underground dog fighting to make money and better their financial situation. If the dog loses/isn’t good enough, he’s gonna throw it out. This also puts the dog at risk of injury, shortened lifespan, and overall reduced quality of life
I don’t feel hesitant using an animal in this example, because Annie was merely a tool, and like all tools, if it’s not doing its job, it gets thrown out
His apology wasn’t for Annie
Annie only miraculously became his daughter that he loves and cares about only after he’d gotten what he wanted: an irrevocable(?) Honorary Marleyan title. Doubt he would’ve had the same “revelation” had Annie failed her candidacy
Two aspects of his apology, in particular, piss me off: the timing and the rootcause/motivation
If Annie’s 13 years of titan shifting end when she’s 22, that means she got her titan powers when she was 9 years old. But the attack on Wall Maria happened in 845, when Annie was 11
Why the two year gap??
It’s not like military work as a titan shifter is a part-time job or a 9-to-5. She probably went away for days if not weeks at a time during Marley’s countless expansion and invasion efforts. She could’ve died or been captured during all of those and yet that still wasn’t enough for Mr Leonhart to realize his fatherly feelings towards her
I think it’s control
In the Lost Girls manga, Annie says her relationship with her father was “one of absolute obedience.”
And Annie was never a rebellious kid. She only went against him once (when she broke his leg) and never again
While in the military, Annie was being constantly monitored by her commanding officers. She had rules to follow and consequences for disobeying
But leaving for Paradis on a longer mission? She’s free
She’s free from him and from Marley and he knows she won’t care for her mission the same way Reiner, Bert, and Marcel cared, because she doesn’t believe in the Island Devils propaganda in the first place
I highly doubt the Paradis mission was announced to them the morning of their departure. They’ve known for a while, and yet he waited until the morning of her departure to say something
To be fair, it wouldn’t surprise me if he’d gotten somewhat attached to her over the course of 11 years. The other warriors still had families to return to, but once Annie is let go, she’s gone. So that might’ve played a part
Another part that pisses me off is that his regret never seemed like he was sorry for Annie, but for himself, for the type of person he'd become
After all, no one likes to believe that they’re evil/the bad guy
Considering that he still lives in the same rundown house as before, I don’t think(?) he’d taken advantage of any/many of the perks and privileges awarded to the parents of warriors during the 10 years Annie’s gone
But this all strikes me as self-flagellation, that he’s more concerned with feeling better about himself and his own past deeds, and not really the entire life he’d ruined and the child he’d mentally, emotionally, verbally, and physically abused since day one
It was always about him, and it's still just him
There’s this shot during the rumbling that MAPPA added, in which we see Annie’s old house right before it’s stomped:
Those are the same padded polls Annie used to train with. He hadn’t removed them
At first glance, this looks like a way for him to not sweep his past/guilt under the rug. To face what he’d done to Annie every time he’d step out of the house or even look out the window.
Shows his remorse, right?
Sure, but what about Annie? What if she had returned with Reiner 4 years ago?
She finally manages to get home to her father, her family, the only reason she kept going, only to find her open-air torture chamber still up, like it’s been waiting for her return all along
I’m not saying he was planning on getting back to his old ways as soon as she got back not at all!
But even with his bad leg, over the course of 10 WHOLE YEARS, he could’ve dug them out. He could’ve asked it as a favor of Reiner and I know Reiner would’ve absolutely done it had they the smallest doubt Annie might come back and see them
But he didn’t because it’s about him feeling like he’s not escaping from his past mistakes, facing them head on like an honorable man
Annie? she doesn’t matter
Her return as his daughter is also another way for him to feel better about himself and that he’s actually making it up for his actions; atoning for his sins
Also, note the difference between how Annie remembers the apology:
vs how Mr Leonhart remembers the apology:
(those two shots are from the same chapter)
It really feels like his perception of that day is completely different from Annie's. She looks at him directly and smiles, while Annie mostly remembers herself still being in shock even as she promises him to come back
I’m not saying his apology was entirely a manipulation technique. But Annie was and still is a tool to him, this time with the fancy title of “daughter”
If her previous purpose in life was to become a warrior and complete her mission, then her current purpose is to become a good daughter so he could feel like a good father
Post-canon, this would likely take most (if not all) of the verbal and physical abuse out of their relationship, but I can’t say the same for more covert types of mistreatment: mental and emotional
I think it’s important to respect/try to understand Annie’s point of view as well, for still loving him, since he was the reason she survived and come to think of her life as one worth living, even if only to return to him and be his daughter
Still, I wouldn’t really say that Annie has forgiven him. Not really
I doubt she even realizes she was hurt in a way that matters. Simply disassociating from that whole aspect of her life—blocking it out. Especially considering how she was able to tell her story to Hitch
The chance of simply “having a father” and be something more than a tool, was enough for young Annie to not even think about all the harm he’d done to her
It was always about him, and it's still just him
Summary: reader convinced spencer to let her take the reins in the bedroom... or does she?
TW: oral (male recieving), fingering, mention of overstimulation, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, penetrative sex, riding, scratching, use of nicknames (princess, love, etc.), hints at sugar daddy!spencer, age gap (not specified but i’m thinking around 10-15 years). *let me know if i missed anything*
A/N: this hinted at sugar daddy!spencer (not really hinted so much as saying it outright). I also wrote this for @anxiousblanketqueen ‘s fic contest for her birthday! i believe it’s prompt number 21. i hope you enjoy :)
you had been together for a while, now. maybe 13 months? you bet spencer could recall - more like knew he could.
you had met when you were one of his students. you're going to georgetown on an academic scholarship because no way in hell could you pay for the full tuition when you still couldn't afford it with the scholarships.
he took a liking to you - how could he not? you were a hard worker and proved yourself to be extremely determined. on top of the obvious intelligence, you had a beauty that radiated around you. and that beauty had a touch of... innocence. and maybe that innocent beauty is what initially attracted him to you, but he'd like to think it was just your personality as a whole.
you were never one of the students who would come to his office after hours for help you clearly didn't need. you would use your colored pens and highlighters to help organize your notes, so it took a while to pack everything up to leave.
one day, when there weren't any students lined up out his door, he went to your seat as you were cleaning up. you looked up, rather surprised that your inappropriate crush was standing right by you.
"uhm... hi," you smiled at him as you put your pencil pouch in your bag, breaking eye contact for the briefest of seconds before returning your attention back to him.
"hi. i was uhm..." he cleared his throat, "i was wondering if you had any questions? you never come to the office hours for questions and i was just... just making sure," he stuttered out.
"oh," you chuckled a light, airy laugh that spencer wished he had recorded so he could replay it over and over and over. "i don't have any questions. i guess that just means that you're a really good professor - very thorough," you stood up and flung the bag over your shoulder, still incredibly shorter than him.
"than-thank you," he smiled. "i'm happy to hear that you're actually getting something out of the lessons," you began walking out of the classroom, looking back to ensure that he was following you.
"yes, i truly do," you agreed. "i'm also pretty sure i'm one of the other people who isn't auditing the class," you added.
"correct, you are," he enthusiastically gestured, another laugh leaving your beautiful lips.
"i mean, you can't necessarily blame them for just taking the class," you chuckled as he held the door open for you, you gave him a subtle 'thank you.'
"what do you mean?" he asked in a soft tone.
"i mean you- you're..." you trailed off, gesturing to his entire body in hopes to convey what you meant. he just looked at you with a confused taste, letting you know you needed to elaborate. "you're very... attractive, professor reid."
"oh-that's very... thank you," he blushed as you halted by the bus stop.
"of course," you turned around, looking up to meet his eyes. "so... wait, what time is it?" you asked rather frantically.
"it's," he looked at his silver watch adorning his wrist, "6:27."
"shit," you swore for the first time in front of him, underneath your breath.
"wha-what is it?" he asked, perplexed as to why you would be so frustrated.
"the last bus leaves at 6:15 and i've missed it," you huffed out, trying to compose yourself before checking your bag and realizing, "i forgot my key and my roommate is at her girlfriend's house."
"is there anything i could do?" he asked concerned.
"no i can... i can just stay at the library. i should probably study up anyway," you tried to laugh it off although you knew it was pointless... he was a profiler for christ's sake.
"the library? y/n, this might seem a bit inappropriate but i have a spare room you could stay in until your roommate gets back," he offered kindly.
so, you took him up on his offer.
you slept in his spare room after he got you both takeout. you laughed and talked for what seemed like meer minutes but turned out to be until 1 a.m. you talked about string theory and the leonard euler's paradox. he gave you interesting facts about tortoises and achilles.
that little hangout session turned into countless hangouts over the span of three months. and then he asked you out on a real date once you finished at the top of his class - and not just because you were his favorite.
the first time with spencer was... beyond delightful. he was captivating with the way he worked against and for your body. it was almost as if he felt like his sole purpose on earth was to please you. he was eager, yet patient with the way his tongue flicked and sucked at your skin.
he was such a dominant personality in the bedroom, which was extremely appreciated since you didn't have much experience in that arena. but now that you were more versed in that world, you wanted to experiment a bit more.
casually, he began to pay for your things. it wasn't so head-on at first. it would be paying for your groceries, or buying all of your college books for you. but then it got a bit bigger. when your roommate couldn't give you the necessary half of the rent that was due and was beginning to be a nuisance, spencer quite literally let you move into his place. he would pay for your car's repairs and bought you jewelry consistently.
one time, as a joke, you called him your sugar daddy - mostly because that's how he acted. he just didn't like the term. he felt as though it made your relationship together seem one-sided when you were, in fact, very in love with the man. you came to realize it also made you seem like a gold digger, which you weren't - even though the money is a nice plus. so, you relented and didn't say that again.
spencer never really had much time off now that he was working back at the bau and traveling but now, you had him to yourself for a whole week. you had been planning this since he told you when he'd be off.
step 1: look sexy - you always looked sexy to him, but feeling sexy would also be a plus.
step 2: surprise him while looking sexy - absolutely devious.
step 3: seduce him - when doesn't he want you? exactly.
it was foolproof.
you had gotten the text 15 minutes ago that spencer was on his way back to his place, wanting you to meet him there once he had settled in. little did he know that you were in a sexy little white number - the white reminded him of your innocence which really got him going - lying in wait for him in a pair of heels. you sat in one of his reading chairs, deciding to pick up a book until he got home.
when you heard the jingling of keys coming from the other side of the door, you assumed your position. the chair was turned toward the door, you sitting pretty with one leg crossed over the other.
spencer walked through the door, hanging his coat and briefcase up before finally noticing you. his eyebrows shot up, looking your body up and down hungrily.
"wow," he smiled a wicked grin as he slowly made his way to where you were sitting. you stood up, heels clicking as they hit the floor and walked closer to him.
"i wanna try something," you placed your hands on his chest, pushing him back slightly until he was forced to sit down on the couch.
"and what would that be, princess?" he asked, hands stroking your hair that was cascading down your back.
"i..." you bent down to whisper in his ear, "i want to be in charge tonight," you placed a soft kiss below his earlobe, feeling his body shudder subtly at the proposition.
"are you sure you can handle that?" he chuckled, hands roaming to your waist and grinding your hips down on his.
you almost gave up. almost. you grasped his hands, placing them on the arm of the couch before getting close to his face. your lips were almost touching before you whispered, "no touching today, pretty boy."
you felt his hips rut up against your core, you chuckled at his eagerness. you decided to throw him a bone and ground down, hard, against his hips. the groan he let out was low and enticing, nearly enough to allow you to give him whatever he wanted.
"bedroom," you whispered against his neck before getting off of his lap, allowing him to scurry to the room. "take off your clothes while you're at it!" you giggled under your breath as you heard his clothes shuffling, telling you that he was obeying your request.
you waited a couple of minutes until you went into the room, wanting to have him go a bit insane like he normally did to you. when you walked in, he was laying on his back on the bed, just like you wanted. his cock was already red and leaky, prominent as it bounced on his tummy.
"good boy, spence," you giggled, walking over to him and straddling his legs.
once you were settled, you pressed a chaste kiss to his lips before trailing them down his torso, leaving the occasional hickey scattered on his chest. traveling kisses down his happy trail, you traced the vein on his dick and watched it twitch up and hit his stomach once again you giggled at the reaction.
"now i understand why you like so much responsiveness," you chuckled as you pressed a soft, barely-there kiss to the tip of his cock, he hissed once again from the contact.
you slowly took his cock in your mouth, agonizingly slow, and flattened your tongue at the base. one you got him as far down you could manage, you began bobbing your head just as slow. his hands flew to your hair, trying to force you to go faster until you swatted them away.
"should i tie those up?" you threatened, your hand working at his member as you spoke.
"are you fucking kidding me?" he swore, clearly agitated by your antics.
"no," you squeezed his dick for punctuation, the way he grunted made the wetness pool in your underwear. "i'm not kidding you."
you took him in your mouth once more, bobbing your head far more vigorously than before this time, just to spite him. hollowing your cheeks, you swallowed around him and began gagging around his dick before coming back up for air.
"fuck," he whispered underneath his breath, not wanting to let you know just how much of an effect you had on him.
you smiled to yourself and continued your antics until he was spilling all down your throat. you didn't stop there, you came back up and let your hand continue pumping his member slowly.
"shit," he hissed from the stimulation.
"shhh," you put your free finger up to his lips.
you gave his dick a few more strokes, curses leaving his lips delightfully before you drew your hands up his body once more before straddling his lap. after moving your panties to the side and slicking his cock with your arousal, you ground against him leisurely, trying to tease him a bit more. you unclasped your bra, throwing it somewhere in the room. finally, you reached between the two of you and lined him up with your entrance.
"are you sure you can do this?" spencer asked, not to entice you, but to make sure you were alright.
"there's a first for everything," you chuckled, knowing you had never been on top before.
you had never been on top before - you'd like to blame your lack of experience. you knew it might be hard to keep up the pace, but you were determined to make not only yourself but also make spencer feel good. that's all you've ever wanted. that's what you're meant to do - make him feel good. so no matter what it took, you'd make it happen.
you slowly lowered yourself onto his dick, being wary of how much bigger he felt from the new angle.
"shit," you whispered, your hands resting on his chest in attempt to ground yourself. "oh god..." you trailed off, feeling your dominant personality fade away as the pleasure overtook you.
"keep going, princess," he spurred you on, his hands finding your waist and rubbing gentle circles on your skin. "you've got it."
so you rose on your knees until only his tip was inside of you for you to lower yourself once more. you whimpered from the feeling of him re-entering your body, your pussy clenching around him as if he were an intruder.
"doing so good for me," he grasped your waist a bit tighter so he could help you rise and fall on his cock. "fuck, it's so good."
"d-doctor, i-" you stuttered, the persona nearly entirely gone and nowhere to be seen as he continued to move you up and down.
when you learn forward, your face hovering over spencer's chest, he took the opportunity to wrap his arms entirely around your waist. before you knew it, he was slamming his length into your pussy over and over and over and over again.
"oh! oh my god," you moaned, your voice reaching a higher octave as he drilled into your body in the most pleasurable way imaginable. "don't stop! don't stop! ple-please!" you screamed out, your hands wrapping around his torso and squeezing his body to ensure that he was there - present.
"i won't, princess. just let go. let go for me," he pressed a kiss to the top of your head so sweetly in contrast to how he was fucking you.
"i'm cumming! oh god, i'm cumming, spencer!" you cried out as you released the tension from inside of you.
only spencer wasn't done yet, so he took himself out of you, and he placed you on your back before reentering you. he moved in and out of you at a godly pace, trying to get himself to his climax before you would become too overwhelmed from the overstimulation.
"spen- spencer," you scratched at his back, surely leaving red marks for him to ogle once you were through. "i-i'm close," you sucked lightly at his earlobe before he moved his hand between the two of you, circling the little bundle of nerves at your crest.
"my little insatiable bunny, huh?" he smiled as you whimpered into his ear, nearing your second release. "loves my cock a bit too much, huh?"
"please! fuck!" you shouted out as you came on his dick, pulling at his hair. the clenching and fluttering of your pussy finally sending him over the edge, his hot release flooding your insides.
"fuck," he groaned into your ear as he carried the two of you through your releases. "good job, princess," he pressed a kiss to your neck as you stroked his hair, playing with it as you were still coming down.
"i'm sorry," you frowned once he pulled out, finally making eye contact as he lay down beside you.
"what for?" he asked incredulously.
"i just... i wanted to make you proud and i couldn't even finish without your help," you explained in a whiney manner, not allowing yourself to meet his beautiful eyes.
"hey," he grasped your chin to force you to make eye contact. "i love it when i have to help you reach that high. that's not something to be embarrassed or upset about."
"i know but i wanted to ride you and i couldn't even do that," you rolled your eyes.
"it takes time to get used to doing that," he chuckled. "and besides, riding someone on the bed is never a good way to begin. the couch is always better - that way you have the back of it to hold onto."
"really? so it's not that i'm just terrible at being a top?" your eyes widened with hope, he smiled at your eagerness.
"i think you could be a switch but it needs a bit of work, my love," he brushed your hair behind your ear before seeing your disappointed gaze and adding, "but i'll bet that with enough practice i could start calling you my little bunny, yea?"
"really?" you perked up at the proposition. "i want you to call me that."
"well then, i guess we better start practicing," he grinned before leaning in and giving you a sloppy kiss, his hands flying to your waist as he stood the both of you up to go to the couch.
needless to say, with spencer's guidance you were able to master the art of riding him. and you got that special little nickname, too.
if you’d like to be added to the taglist, please don’t hesitate to message me or leave a comment saying so!
To Capture a Moment (M. Barzal)
Author's Note: This was a prompt from the ever amazing @thatflyersfan, so thank you for this! The prompt was "taking polaroid photos", and I'm a sucker for childhood friends to lovers, so this is the product! I hope you enjoy it, and please let me know what you thought either in an ask or in the tags. Enjoy!
Author's Note 2: If you reblog this, I'll send you an ask thank you and mention you in an appreciation post (if I do this!)
Warnings: Mentions of sex, one or two slightly NSFW scenes (but VERY mild), a mention of a breeding kink (literally mentioned in one sentence), marriage, pregnancy, Santa, but the rest is just fluff!
Word Count: 9.3k
If anyone were to walk down the hall of your and Mathew’s hallway of your new home, they would see it lined with polaroid pictures. These polaroid pictures show the relationship between you and Mathew from the young age of five to now sharing your new home, married, and with two children. A hallway that was the epitome of a picture is worth a thousand words.
“Mathew, please, just stand next to your sister, please,” Mathew’s mother requests. Her tone was close to begging. Your parents had to deal with a family emergency, so they sent you to the Barzal’s to be babysat. Mathew’s mother decided to take Liana, Mathew, and you to Lafarge Park.
Currently, you are sitting on a bench giggling as you watch Mathew sigh as he gets up from where he was sitting next to you. He groaned as he got up and stood next to his sister. He wraps his arm around her but doesn’t smile. At the touch, Liana screams and begins to cry. It was close to her nap time, and the smallest things were making her fussy. Mathew’s mother sighs and goes to pick up her daughter to try to comfort her. Mathew grins widely and sits back down next to you.
“I don’t like taking photos,” Mathew says bluntly. You look at him but are squinting as the sun is in your eyes.
“You like taking photos in your hockey gear,” you point out.
“Yeah, but I don’t like taking photos,” Mathew emphasizes the word photos as if that were enough explanation. It wasn’t. “You know what I mean?”
Mathew gives you a curious look, and you want to point out his hair is getting long, but his mother calls Mathew back over to take the photo.
“But I don’t want to,” Mathew whines.
“Mathew,” she says in a mother’s knowing tone, and Mathew gets up exasperatedly. He stands next to his sister. He opts not to put his arm around her this time and looks at you before the picture is taken. You smile widely at him and wave. Mathew wears a giant grin on his face in response. His mother notices Mathew’s wide smile; she smiles when she realizes you are the reason for Mathew’s smile. She takes the photo quickly knowing that Mathew’s smile is short-lived.
“Yn, come take a photo with Mathew,” she calls to you. You skip over to Mathew. Surprisingly, Mathew doesn’t complain about taking another photo. Then again, though, Mathew never complained about anything when it came to you.
“Mom, can we do the fancy camera? The one that prints out right away?” Mathew asks.
“Sure, sweetheart,” Mathew’s mother says and pulls the polaroid camera out of her purse. Mathew insisted she bring it today, and she guesses this was why. “Smile,” she directs and snaps the photo. Once the photo is printed, she places it in her wallet.
“I’m going to hang it on my wall,” Mathew tells you after the photo is taken and that he did. After he got home later that day from dropping you off at home, Mathew begged his mother for the photo. He tapped it on his wall next to his hockey posters because to him, you were just as important. As Mathew moved around for hockey, that photo always followed him around with a few others. It sat in his wallet, and when he felt homesick, he’d look at it with a wide smile. Now, it sits amongst the many polaroid pictures on your wall.
Whenever you and Mathew were together, Mathew’s mother always brought the polaroid camera with her. Mathew always loved taking those kinds of photos with you. In the past year, you and Mathew have taken countless polaroid pictures that lined both your walls and his.
Today, you were sitting in a local hockey arena watching Mathew play. Well, you were watching the empty ice getting ready for warmups. You were wearing one of Mathew’s sweatshirts as you shivered in the cold of the arena. You were clutching the mug of hot chocolate Mathew’s mother gave you in hopes of warming up. When Mathew got on the ice for warmups, you smiled widely. Even at such a young age, seeing Mathew would bring a smile to your face and make you all warm and fuzzy.
You walked towards the glass to get a better look at your best friend. When he skated by you, you tapped softly on the glass to alert him you were there. When Mathew turns to see you, he gives you a giant smile from beneath his helmet. He takes a few moments to stop and looks at you for a moment. Mathew’s mother takes the polaroid camera out of her bag and quickly snaps a photo of the two of you in this exact position.
That photo remains on the Barzal mantle till this day.
The annual Christmas Fair was back in Vancouver again, and Mathew was super excited to see Santa this year. He figured that his dream of playing in the NHL would come true as long as he asked Santa for it for every year of his life until it happened.
You were both standing in line waiting to go inside the Fair. Despite being bundled up in your warmest sweater, jacket, gloves, and hat, you were still cold. One would think that after spending copious amounts of time in a hockey arena watching Mathew play, you would be used to the cold, but you weren’t.
“Are you cold, Yn?” Mathew asks concerned. He can see you shivering but trying to hide it.
“Just a little,” you lie.
“Oh, here,” Mathew says and walks over to you. He wraps his arms around you in a giant hug to keep you warm. You feel your cheeks warm at the touch, but you, at the age of seven, think it’s just you already warming up. You rest your head on Mathew and wrap your arms around him. “No, keep them in your pockets, so you can keep warm.”
“What about your hands?” you worry.
“Don’t worry, I play hockey; I’m used to the cold,” he reassures you and flashes you his signature grin. Mathew’s mother wasn’t able to capture a polaroid photo of this event, but your mother was able to pull out her phone to capture the moment. Even at the age of 7, Mathew would do absolutely anything for you.
Eventually, yours and Mathew’s families end up inside the fair and in line to see Santa. Now, a hot chocolate in your belly and a warm meal, you were slowly warming up and didn’t need Mathew to hold you anymore. He was bouncing with excitement as you both got closer and closer to the front of the line.
When it was Mathew’s turn to see Santa, he walked up, and you waited in line for your turn. A sudden gust of wind made a giant shiver rack through your body, and Mathew noticed from where he was sitting on Santa’s lap.
“Is everything alright, son?” he asks.
Mathew looks up at him with worry. “My best friend is cold, and I don’t like it when Yn’s cold. I’d rather be cold instead of Yn.”
“Well, maybe we should finish here quickly, so you can go and make Yn warm. What do you say?”
Mathew nods enthusiastically. “Yeah, I like that.”
“So, what do you want, son?”
Mathew looks into Santa’s blue eyes and is about to ask for an NHL career. He then looks at you and sees you shivering. Mathew’s heart stops and realizes that it doesn’t matter if he got the NHL career if you were cold. You couldn’t be cold because if you were cold then you’d get sick. If you were sick, then who would be Mathew’s best friend? “I want Yn not to be sick.”
“Oh, is that so?”
“Yeah,” Mathew nods. “I can’t have my best friend sick because then who would be my best friend.”
“Well, then, I’ll be sure to grant your wish, son,” Santa says. In all his years of doing this, he’s never heard this one before. “Keep Yn close, okay? Yn seems like a special one.”
Mathew always kept those words close to his heart whether or not he remembered who told them to him.
For the past ten years, you and Mathew have taken a photo on yours and his birthdays. It was always you on the right and him on the left. Whoever’s birthday it was would be holding the gift the other got them. It was tradition.
It was your tenth birthday, and the day was coming to a close. All your friends had left, and it was just your family and Mathew’s family who were still there. You were on your third piece of cake, and Mathew was trying to convince you to give him a bite, too. He looked nervous.
“Are you okay, Mathew?” you ask after finishing your final piece and giving Mathew a piece.
“I have a gift for you,” he mumbles.
“Oh!” you thought you opened all your gifts.
“Can I give it to you?”
“Yeah, sure,” you answer. Mathew gets up to grab the gift, and you throw out the plate in the trash.
“This is for you,” he says and passes the bag to you. You gently take the wrapping paper out of the bag; you set it to the side and pull out the box. You gasp when you see it. You smile and jump up to give Mathew a hug. You wrap your arms around him.
“Thank you for the polaroid camera, Mathew,” you whisper as he wraps his arms around you.
“Of course, Yn. It’s time you had your own, so we could take all the photos we want.”
“Come on, let’s go and get my mom to take a photo of us.”
You and Mathew go and find his mother. When you find her, you take the camera out of the box and hand it to her. You and Mathew position yourself against the wall, and he wraps an arm around you. You hold the box in your hand and smile. Mathew, though, isn’t looking at the camera; he’s looking at you with the widest grin on his face. All that mattered in his life was making you smile. If he made you smile, then Mathew always wore the happiest grin on his face.
Age 13 - Stargazing
Your parents had to go out of town to take care of your grandparents, so you were staying with the Barzals for the weekend. You were both currently laying on in his backyard on a blanket staring at the stars. It was your favorite pastime — laying together looking up at the stars.
You were both lying next to each other, shoulder to shoulder. You turned your head and looked at Mathew, but you looked to find him already looking at you. “It’s pretty,” he says.
“It is,” you agree and turn back to the sky. Mathew, though, remained looking at you.
“Do you have your polaroid camera?”
“Yeah, right next to me. Why?”
“Let’s take a photo,” Mathew answers. He sits up and leans over around you to grab the camera. In the process, Mathew’s arm brushes your stomach briefly, and his face grows warm at the touch. Somewhere, between the ages of 12 and 13, Mathew has developed a crush on you. He didn’t tell anyone because why would he? At this age, Mathew would get teased for having a crush on you, so he didn’t tell anyone. Besides, he wasn’t even sure if you liked him, too.
Mathew lies back down next to you and rests his head close to yours. He lifts his arm up and positions it so that the both of you are in frame. You both smile, and Mathew presses down the button.
The photo comes out, and Mathew’s heart warms at the picture reflected.
“Can I have my camera? I want a picture of the stars, too,” you ask. He hands you the camera, and his hand brushes yours briefly. You thought nothing of it, but Mathew’s heart was racing. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome,” Mathew whispers, and you give him a curious look. “What?”
“Nothing, you’re just acting weird.”
“I’m not acting weird; you’re acting weird.”
You laugh. “Whatever. Doesn’t matter.”
Mathew watched you take a photo of the stars in the sky, and he came to one realization: he never wanted to live in a world where you weren’t there.
It was Mathew’s 16th birthday, and you were sitting on a garden chair watching him have the time of his life with his friends. As you both started high school, you both found yourself in different friend groups. That wasn’t to say, however, that your friendship wavered. It just meant that you both weren’t next to each other all the time. You were okay with that new realization. You were okay with it because that meant that you could work through your new found feelings for Mathew. You didn’t know when it happened. One day, you were eating lunch with Mathew, your friend, with normal hair and normal eyes and a normal laugh. You were eating lunch with Mathew, your friend, who was normal looking. The next day, though, you were eating lunch with Mathew who had the most beautiful smile, the most beautiful eyes, the softest hair, and was the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. He was no longer the boy you grew up with. He was Mathew, and you finally understood what all the girls were talking about. It was difficult for you to breathe around him because you wanted him to hold your hand and love you. It went from Mathew being your best friend to you loving Mathew as more than a friend, and it scared you.
You were sitting there smiling when Mathew caught your gaze. He looked you in the eyes and waved. You waved back and warmth filled you. He excused himself from his friends and walked over to where you were sitting.
“You brought the polaroid camera,” he says as he brings a chair next to yours and sits.
“Well, we’ve taken the same photo for the past sixteen years. We might as well continue tradition, right?” you tease.
“Yeah, tradition,” he whispers giving you a look that makes you melt. He leans his head close to yours with a soft smile. “Can I tell you something?”
You nod trying to suppress a shiver.
“Somewhere in the past —”
“Yn, can I borrow your polaroid camera, please?” Liana interrupts as if knowing what Mathew was going to say. You tell her yes, and you see Mathew, out of the corner of your eye, blush and shake his head while also glaring at his sister.
“Um, you were saying?” you ask hoping to rebuild the bubble you both just had.
Mathew looks at you trying to figure out if he wants to continue. “Um, somewhere in the past five or six years or so, I screwed up.”
“Screwed up, how?”
“I fell for you,” Mathew whispers, a blush overcoming his face.
“But, you’re sitting right now,” you say oblivious.
Mathew laughs his laugh, and you melt into a puddle. “I fell in love with you, Yn.”
Mathew laughs again with a bashful smile settling on his features. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to fall in love with you.”
“Are you still sorry if I were to tell you I fell in love with you, too?”
“I wouldn’t be sorry, then,” Mathew says and leans his head close to yours. He takes one hand and cups your cheek. He rubs soft patterns on your cheek as he begins to tilt his head. “Can I kiss you?”
“Please,” you beg. Mathew places his lips on yours softly as your hands go to his neck and begin to softly playing the hair at its base. It was a kiss full of fireworks. All the noises around you mellowed out. All the emotions you feel for your best friend come out in one kiss as it deepens. You both pull away when a flash from a camera startles you both.
“Sorry, I just had to,” Liana apologizes, handing you back your camera with the photo printing.
“You didn’t have to,” Mathew grumbles angrily.
“It’s okay. Don’t worry,” you tell her, taking back the camera. You look at the photo and smile. Mathew was gently holding your face as he kissed you softly. You both had wide smiles on your faces as you kissed each other. “See, we have a photo of our first kiss.”
Mathew kisses your forehead softly. “Here’s to many more.”
“Yn, come outside, please?” Mathew begs with a pout on his face. “I want to take a photo with you.”
“But we’ve been taking photos all day,” you groan. It was reaching 9pm at night, and the joint graduation party for you and Mathew was over. You were both lounging on your bed reminiscing about the future. Mathew was going to have this amazing NHL career, and you were going to college.
“I just want this one,” Mathew says as he gets off the bed. He looks at the many polaroid photos sitting on your wall of both your family, friends, and him. He was in most of them. He picks up your polaroid camera and grins at you. “Please? My parents bought sparklers, and we haven’t used them yet.”
You get up because Mathew could get you to do anything as long as he gave you that grin. “Okay.”
Mathew takes your hand and leads you both downstairs. “Liana, can you take a photo of us?”
“More photos?” she asks. Liana was just as fed up with taking pictures, too. “Yn, how do you put up with him?”
You shrug with a smile. “It’s easy when I love him.”
“I love him, too, but I can’t put up with him,” Liana mumbles following you both out the door. Mathew inquires about the sparklers and is directed to his mother’s car. You and Liana stand out in your backyard. “What kind of photo does he want?”
“I’m not sure, but I know he wants a polaroid photo.”
“He’s obsessed with those,” Liana comments as Mathew walks up to you two. He hands the polaroid camera to Liana and ushers you over to where he wants to stand. He takes two sparklers out of the box and hands one to you.
“I want to kiss you as we hold the sparklers,” Mathew mumbles against your skin. His words sent shivers down your spine.
“Okay,” you whisper as Mathew lights yours and his sparklers. He looks at you with a wide smile and wraps the arm that’s not holding the sparkler around your waist. You wrap your arm that’s not holding the sparkler across his shoulder and lean in for a kiss. “Liana, take the photo when we kiss, please.”
Liana makes a comment about how disgusting the two of you are before saying an “okay.”
Mathew leans in with a smile and kisses you. You kiss him back with a smile just as wide closing the space between you two. You see the flash out of the corner of your eye and pull away slowly to set the sparkler out. When they’re out, Mathew pulls you in for another kiss full of love and passion. He never gets enough of kissing you; if it were up to him, he’d kiss you for every moment of every day.
“The photo’s ready,” Liana interrupts, not wanting to watch her brother kiss anyone even if it were you. You both separate breathlessly and observe the photo. He wraps his arms around you and settles your back against his front. He rests his head against yours and holds you tightly against his chest.
“We look cute, babe,” Mathew whispers into your ear. You look into his eyes and break out into a smile.
“We do look cute,” you agree. You were about to say something else, but the flash of the polaroid camera interrupts your words.
“Sorry,” Liana apologies. “You guys just looked really cute.”
Mathew kisses your cheek, and his heart bursts with love. He loved you so much that there were no words. From where they were sitting on the back porch, your parents and Mathew’s parents were looking on with love. You and Mathew were perfect for each other, and they knew that your relationship would stand the test of time.
You were in New York for the first time during the hockey season. In past times you’ve been in New York, it was either before the season or after the season. This was the first time that your school schedule lined up perfectly with a chance to go see Mathew play on Long Island. You met the WAGs for the first time tonight, and you instantly loved them and them the same. You were currently standing next to Sydney, who took you under her wing, at the glass as warmups just began. You had your new polaroid camera and ready to snap one of Mathew.
“Do you and Mathew have a strong connection to a polaroid camera?” Sydney asks.
You nod with a smile. “Yeah. For as long as I can remember, we’ve always taken photos with a polaroid camera. We have millions of photos together.”
“Yeah, I’ve seen them. Mathew displays them proudly across his apartment. He loves them, but he loves you more,” Sydney teases.
You don’t reply except for smiling bashfully and shaking your head playfully. You were about to say something when Mathew interrupted you by bumping into the boards in front of you. He looks at you, and his heart grows a million sizes seeing you wearing his jersey. You smile when you see him and wave. He begins to show off in front of you with his stick handling. You shake your head playfully at his actions, but you use the opportunity to snap a photo of Mathew. It’s of him concentrating on the puck. You tuck it into your purse to observe later on.
“Did you want me to take one of the two of you?” Grace asks, who was on the other side of you and has also taken you under her wing.
“Would you? That’d be great.”
“Of course,” she says and takes the camera from you.
“Can Grace take a photo of us?” you ask Mathew. You were suddenly nervous that he was going to be embarrassed of your tradition.
“That would be amazing,” he tells you genuinely. He leans against the glass on his side, and you do the same on your side, smiling at Grace. Once the photo is taken, you, once again, put it in your purse to look at later. Mathew waves before rejoining the rest of his team.
“You guys are cute,” Sydney comments with a smile.
“Oh, to be young and in love,” Grace comments and both girls laugh. You put the camera in your purse, and you smile as the heat rushes to your face. Indeed, to be young and in love.
Later that night, you and Mathew were sitting on his couch when you pulled out the polaroids from the day. Mathew looks at the polaroid that you took of him without him knowing and blushes. You notice it and kiss his cheek.
“You look good, babe,” you tease.
“Yeah, but this one is better,” he says pointing to the photo Grace took of you. His hold on you tightens as he rests his head on the crook between your shoulder and neck. “Wanna know why?”
“Why?” you giggle as Mathew’s breath tickles you.
“Because you’re in it,” Mathew flirts.
“Shut up,” you say bashfully as the warmth reaches your face.
“It’s true,” he whispers. “I’m not ready for you to go back to school. I want you here forever.”
“Don’t worry,” you reassure. “After I graduate, I’m going to get a job here in New York, and we’ll be here forever together. Don’t worry; you can’t get rid of me that easy.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Mathew says and places a kiss on your cheek.
Mathew is sitting next to your father with a bouquet of flowers and your polaroid camera on his lap. Mathew’s leg is bouncing as he anxiously waits for your name to be called. It was finally your graduation day. You’ve been working hard for the past four years, and it was finally paying off. Mathew was so proud of you, and he was so happy that he got to be here at his super smart, super beautiful girlfriend’s graduation day.
A name a few before yours was called, and Mathew and your family perked their attention to be ready when you were called. In moments, your name was called, and you were walking across the stage. Mathew and your family all stood up to cheer for you. Mathew put the flowers down on his chair and put the camera up to take a photo. He snapped one exactly as you were handed your diploma. He put the photo in his wallet with the same one from when you were five.
As you were walking across the stage, you caught Mathew’s eyes, and he winked at you. You smiled bashfully, and as you sat, you felt the warmth on your face. The rest of the celebration went by quickly as you all threw your caps in the air and cheered. You were done! You finished! You were officially a college graduate! You said tearful goodbyes and congratulations to your friends before making your way to your family and Mathew.
Mathew stood to the side as your grandparents, parents, and siblings embraced you and congratulated you. He could see the impatience in your eyes as you greeted each and everyone of them, wanting to greet Mathew. As you hugged your grandparents after your parents, your mother walked over to Mathew.
“Hand me the polaroid camera. I’ll take a few as she comes over to you,” your mother says, and Mathew hands her the camera.
Finally, finally, it was Mathew’s turn to see you. “Congratulations,” he says to you softly.
“Thank you,” you whisper.
“These are for you,” Mathew says and hands you the flowers. You both vaguely notice the flash of the camera as your mother took a photo of Mathew handing you the flowers. You take the flowers and smile behind them embarrassed. One of your siblings takes the flowers from you, so you can properly embrace Mathew. He wraps you in a giant hug and kisses your forehead. “I’m so proud of you.”
“I can’t believe that my girlfriend is a college graduate,” Mathew comments as you pull away to look at him. He leans his head down and kisses you softly. You reach your hands to wrap around his shoulders and pull him closer to you. You both deepen the kiss but not too much as your father was right there watching you two. As you and Mathew kiss, you both, once again, vaguely recall a flash of the polaroid camera. It didn’t matter. When you both were together, especially kissing, the entire world faded away. Finally, you both pull away with breathless smiles.
A few weeks later, you were both back home in Coquitlam, and it was nearing the end of your graduation party. Mathew was sitting on the back deck with his parents, Liana and your dad as the night winded down. In your hand, you held the two photos your mother took and wanted to show Mathew.
“Mind if I steal him for a moment?” you ask resting your hand on Mathew’s shoulder.
“Please, he keeps talking about you, and it’s making me sick,” Liana says. Everyone laughs in response, and you take Mathew’s hand and lead him away from the group.
“What’s up?” he asks.
“I want to show you the photos from graduation,” you tell him. “The polaroids.”
You and Mathew find a spot in the backyard and sit. Mathew sits first and opens his legs for you to sit in between. You rest with your back against his chest, and his arms reach around your waist to hold you tightly. He kisses the side of your cheek as you show him the photos.
“Here’s the first one,” you say and show him one. It’s the photo of Mathew handing you the bouquet of flowers. Smiles are adorned on both your faces, and Mathew’s eyes are laced with nothing but love for you. “We look good.”
“You always say that,” Mathew teases.
“Doesn’t mean it’s not true,” you reply looking at your boyfriend of many, many years.
He kisses your temple. “What’s the next one?”
You flip to the next photo and show it to him.
“Now this one, this one, we look good,” Mathew says, giving you a raised eyebrow. It was a photo of Mathew giving you your congratulatory kiss.
“We do look good,” you comment with a smile.
Mathew was contemplating on whether or not to tell you about the photo he took of you while you walked across the stage. He opted against it wanting to keep the photo to himself for the moment. “This is our thing, isn’t it?”
“What do you mean ‘our thing’?” you ponder.
“You know, all couples have their thing. This is our thing, taking polaroid photos,” Mathew explains.
“I guess it is,” you hum. “It’s not a bad ‘thing’ to have.”
“It really isn’t,” Mathew says and kisses you. He will be forever indebted to his mother for starting this tradition that the two of you have.
On your first night after moving to New York, Anthony and Mathew insisted on taking you out to celebrate. You were tired, though, from unpacking and settling in all day, so you told them you didn’t want to do anything crazy. Why was Anthony tagging along? You didn’t know. He was there to help unpack, and he said you three should celebrate, so here you were.
You let Anthony and Mathew pick what they wanted to do as you showered and unpacked your stuff in the washroom. You walked out freshly showered to Mathew and Anthony having wide smiles on their faces.
“What if we took you to Times Square?” Mathew says. He walks over to you and wraps you in a giant hug. You hum in response, but Mathew isn’t sure if it's from the hug or agreeing with going to Times Square. You wrap your arms around him and breathe in his scent. You missed his scent before you moved in with him. You spent a few years back home with a job before you moved to New York. You wanted to be on your own for a bit before making the trek across the continent.
Anthony clears his throat to signal that you and Mathew weren’t the only two in the room. You both pull away, and Mathew’s face is crimson red as he meets his friend’s eyes. “So, Times Square, yes or no?”
“Sure, but not too late because I’m tired,” you reply. Getting to Manhattan from Mathew’s, no your apartment, Long Island apartment was long. You told them the train would be easier, but Mathew and Anthony would rather drive, so driving it was. The entire night was a blur. You were tired and exhausted, and the ecstasy you felt from being in the City with your boyfriend, finally, was too much to handle. You were over the moon overjoyed.
The three of you stopped for a moment in the main square of Times Square, and you looked around in awe. Mathew was watching you with nothing but love in his eyes as you took in the sight. He spent every night over the past few years wishing and dreaming of the nights and days he’d get to have you by his side. Anthony, on the other hand, was rolling his eyes at his best friend’s love sick nature.
“Did you bring your polaroid camera?” Mathew whispers into your ear.
“Yes, why?” you ask with a smile on your face that makes Mathew melt into a puddle.
“Let’s get Beau to take a photo for us.”
You watch as Mathew asks Anthony to take a photo of the two of you; you giggle quietly as Anthony rolls his eyes but says yes. Mathew walks over to you and wraps his arms around you. Anthony holds the camera up as you and Mathew smile for him. However, instead of looking at the camera, Mathew is looking down at you as you smile at the camera. He’s looking at you, the love of his life and the light of his life. Anthony snaps the photo but rolls his eyes at the lovesickness of his best friend. The photo prints, and you throw it into your purse to look at later. You continue to explore the awakeness of the Big Apple with your hand in Mathew’s. You fell in love with the city, and you were excited to be living in the lively state of New York.
Later that night, you’re getting ready for bed and standing at your dresser in the bedroom. You set your purse on it and take the polaroid camera out. Next, you take the photo out of your wallet and look at it. You smile at you and Mathew in the photo. As you’re looking, Mathew walks out of the washroom with his sweats hanging low on his hips without a shirt on and wraps his arms around you. He holds you close against his bare chest and rests his head on your shoulder breathing in your comforting and familiar scent.
“What’re you looking at?” he asks in a low husky voice that sends chills down your spine.
“The photo from tonight,” you say in a low voice as Mathew pulls you closer into his body. “You didn’t even look at the camera.”
“It’s a waste of time to stare at a camera when the best part of my life is right there,” Mathew flirts. He kisses your neck in between words pulling a soft whimper from you.
“You’re such a flirt,” you teasingly scoff. You rest the photo on the dresser and turn around, so you’re facing Mathew. You rest your arms on his shoulders and feel the expanse of the muscles there. You watch as Mathew’s eyes begin to darken and fill with need and desire.
“How else am I supposed to keep my girl satisfied?” he smirks.
“I can think of a few ways,” you tell him confidently before closing the space and placing a kiss on his lips. Mathew instantly picks you up, and you yelp slightly at the sudden touch. He carries you to the bed and places you down slowly. In between kisses, you tell him, “I love you.”
“I love you, too. More than anyone or anything in the world,” he replies. One day, he knew that he’d be getting Anthony to take a photo of the two of you with an engagement ring on your left hand.
Four months after you moved to New York, Mathew proposed to you. He got down on one knee during a date-night at home. You knew something was up when Mathew was nervous the entire night. You, obviously, said yes to forever with your best friend and the love of your life.
Now eight months later, Mathew’s family was throwing you both a small engagement party to celebrate the engagement about a month before your wedding. It was just both of your immediate families and close friends. You didn’t invite many people knowing the majority of the important people in your life would be flying to Vancouver for the wedding in about a month.
You were wearing a white sundress that made you feel like the bride that all movies and books describe. You were surrounded by your family, but most importantly, you were celebrating getting married to your best friend and love of your life.
It was getting late, and you were sitting on Mathew’s lap. You were resting your head on his shoulder with your arms wrapped around his neck and his arms wrapped around yours. The steady breathing from him and his warmth led to you falling asleep. He was tracing small patterns on your hip as he continued to talk to the small group of people around you. At some point, you heard Mathew tell someone to grab his sweater, and he threw it over your shoulders. You were so tired and didn’t tell him you were cold, but he just knew.
You didn’t know when you fell asleep, but you just did. No one noticed you were asleep until someone asked you a question, and you didn’t respond. Mathew looked down at you and noticed that you were sleeping. You looked adorable and comfortable in his arms. Mathew’s heartbeat quickened as he realized that he got to spend the rest of his life with the person in his arms. He got to spend the rest of his life with the person in his arms who looked so at rest, so beautiful, and so happy.
Liana quietly gets up to grab your polaroid camera from your purse. She knew that you’d want to have this documented.
“Get used to this, Mathew,” your dad began. “Yn will be falling asleep in your arms like this forever.”
Mathew smiled at your father’s words and rested his head against yours. He’d be more than okay with that. Liana didn’t tell Mathew he was going to take a photo. She knew that you’d far rather that the photo was candid and not scripted. Liana approached the group quietly and snapped a photo. Mathew was too absorbed in holding you that he didn’t notice. Liana left the photo on your nightstand where you found it the next morning. You smiled at the photo when you saw it knowing you weren’t making a mistake with who you wanted to spend the rest of your life with.
You woke up the night after your wedding day curled into Mathew’s bare chest. You opened your eyes and a wide smile erupted across your face. You ran your fingers along Mathew’s stomach, and your breath hitched in your throat when you caught sight of your wedding band on your left finger.
“Morning, baby,” Mathew says in his morning voice that still makes your heart flutter. He runs his left hand across your back, and his wedding band sends chills down your spine.
“Did you know that we got married last night?” you ask sweetly.
He gives you a low chuckle. “Yes, I do know that.”
You giggle. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
You both lay in bed for a while in silence before Mathew says anything again. “Liana gave me the photos she took on the polaroid last night.”
“Oh,” you say as you sit up. You and Mathew put Liana in charge of taking a few polaroid photos of the two of you knowing she’d be the best one to do so. Mathew also roped in Anthony, but you both had more faith in Liana.
You sit up against the headboard as Mathew gets up and grabs the envelope that Liana gave him before you both left the previous night. Mathew pulls you against him as he rests against the headboard, too, and hands you the photos. You look in the envelope and notice six photos.
You pull out one and smile at it. It was your first dance with Mathew. Liana took the photo perfectly just as the song was coming to a close and Mathew was twirling you with your dress splaying out around you. Mathew had nothing but love in his for his new wife and a giant smile on his;he had tunnel vision when he looked at you. The entire world faded away except for you. You remember Mathew placing a kiss on you just as you reentered his embrace. Your heart was beating through your chest as Mathew and you continued to dance to the remainder of the song.
“We look good,” you tell him, showing him the photo. Mathew grabs the photo from your hand and is careful to only hold the corners. You’ve been on his case many, many times about not smudging the photo.
“You look good, babe,” Mathew corrects. “You always will look better than me.”
You smile bashfully at your husband’s words and smile into his chest. He tightens his grip around you before grabbing the envelope, placing the photo in it, and grabbing another. He smiles at the photo of him and his mother dancing together. “Look, it’s your mother-in-law,” he comments.
You look at the photo and smile. “Indeed it is.”
“Is it weird that she’s officially your mother-in-law?”
“Not really. I mean, it’s different, but not weird. Your mom has always been in my life, so it’s not like I don’t know her. Is it weird that my parents are your in-laws?”
“Yes, absolutely. The amount of stares that your father has given me? He never scared me when we were growing up, but in the past few years, he has.”
You laugh and place a kiss on his cheek. “Don’t worry. He’s just being protective of his child.”
“It better be just that,” Mathew mumbles. You grab another photo from the envelope and smile at the photo of you and your dad dancing together. Both yours and your father’s eyes had tears in their eyes knowing that this was it. This was what you both knew was coming but weren’t ready for. You were starting a life with Mathew and forming your new family, and your father was losing his child to the man who loves you as much as he does.
You put the photo back in the envelope and grab the next one. It was the photo of the kiss after the officiant said, “you may now kiss your bride.” You and Mathew both had wide smiles on your faces as you leaned in for the first kiss as a married couple. You remember how eager Mathew was to kiss you and how much he needed to kiss you. Sometimes, it makes you wonder how he goes on long roadtrips without kissing you. Mathew’s hands were sitting on your waist under the edges of your veil with his gold wedding band reflecting the light of the ceremony’s venue. Your arms were wrapped around his shoulders with the light reflecting off your grandmother’s tennis bracelet, your something old, and Mathew’s grandmother’s gold bracelet, your something borrowed. The space between you two was non-existent as you both needed to be as close as possible to kiss. You and Mathew both had a professional photographer at the wedding, but there was something more special about the photo being taken by someone who you loved.
The fifth photo is of you and Mathew giving each other a bite of your wedding cake after biting it. You both opted for a traditional two-tiered cake with white fondant and flowers around the base. Mathew had his left arm on your waist, your veil taken off to preserve it, with his right hand holding a fork close to your mouth. You had your dominant hand resting on his chest with your nondominant hand with a fork in it to feed Mathew a piece of cake. You both were looking in each other’s eyes but midlaugh. You couldn’t remember what he said that made you laugh so hard, but you did.
The six and final photo Liana took was of your send off. To reminisce from your high school graduation party, you and Mathew opted for a sparkler send off. Sure, it was cliche but much of your relationship with Mathew was a cliche. You and Mathew were standing in front of his car as your family and friends held sparklers cheering for you all. Mathew had his hands cupping your face and giving you a kiss with a wide smile on his face. You had your arms in his hair holding him close to you. It was a perfect ending for the day of your dreams with the man of your dreams starting the life of your dreams.
“I can’t wait to see all the professional photos,” you tell him as you put the envelope on the nightstand.
“Who really needs professional photos?”
“I mean, we have all those polaroids from growing up but not many from last night, so we do?”
Mathew looks at you and smiles. “I guess we do.”
The professional photos were exactly what you were hoping for. Each time you looked at them, your heart beat just a tad faster and your stomach did somersaults. Mathew always did have that effect on you.
After the wedding of your dreams, you and Mathew were off to Paris for a honeymoon of your dreams. Sure, it was very cliche, but, again, everything about yours and Mathew’s relationship was a cliche.
It was halfway through the trip when it dawned on Mathew that you both didn’t have a polaroid photo together. He was shocked to say the least when he realized it. That same day, you and Mathew were heading to the Eiffel Tower, and Mathew figured it was the best opportunity for a photo op, so he threw the camera into your purse and made a mental promise to get a photo of the two of you.
You and Mathew purchased your tickets and took the elevator to the top of the tower. On the descent, you and Mathew got off on the second level to get more pictures opting to take the steps down. You were looking at the Parisian skyline with Mathew holding you against his chest. Your arms were crossed against your chest with Mathew’s arms on top of yours. The metal of his wedding band sending shivers down your spine.
“Can we take a photo?” Mathew mumbles against your ear.
“Yeah,” you whisper back. You aren’t sure why you whispered, but you didn’t want to break the intimate moment.
“I’ll go find someone to take it for us. Polaroid, right?”
You smile softly. “Yeah.”
Mathew asks one of the working attendants to take a photo for you two. You hand the polaroid camera to the attendant. You and Mathew take the same position you were just in; however, now, you were both facing away from the skyline. You smile for the camera, but, as usual, Mathew isn’t looking at the camera but at you.
“Your husband wasn’t looking at the camera, would you like me to retake it?” the attendant asks.
You laugh softly. “No, that’s okay. Thank you.”
The attendant walks away as you look at the photo. “Why don’t you ever look at the camera? We rarely have any photos of us — polaroid or digital — where you look at the camera.”
“I think I’ve said this already, Yn, but there’s no need to look at the camera when all I want to look at is you.”
You smile and shake your head playfully at your husband. “Okay, smooth talker, take a photo of me?”
Mathew took way too many pictures of you on his phone, but his words were “it’s important to capture your world in someone else’s eyes” which he did.
Three weeks after giving birth to your first son, Isaac, you and Mathew were exhausted to say the least. Being new parents and with the stress of the end of the regular season coming soon, you and Mathew were just plain exhausted.
Mathew was at a hockey game that night. Somehow, despite the exhaustion of being a new father, Mathew was still playing well. He managed to have a four point night; the commentators said something about his new found “father strength.”
The game ended about an hour ago, and Mathew would be home any minute. Finally, finally, Isaac was sleeping and wasn’t crying. You posted a note on the door for Mathew telling him that if he woke Isaac, you were going to a hotel to sleep. Mathew, chuckled to himself, when he read your note. He walked into your apartment, and his heart melted at what he saw. You were sitting on the couch with Isaac sleeping on your chest. You were stroking his back to keep him quiet. Every few moments you’d kiss his head out of love.
You left the polaroid camera on the kitchen counter after taking a few photos of Isaac and your new family. Leaving the camera out allowed for Mathew to take a photo of you without knowing. He puts his stuff down quietly and picks up the camera. He takes it out of the case and snaps a photo. The flash of the camera startles you slightly. When you look over to the flash, you smile when you see your husband. Mathew places the photo facedown on the table and walks over to you. He takes his tie off and rests it on the side of the couch. He sits next to you and kisses your forehead. “Hey,” he whispers.
“Hi,” you whisper back.
“How was Isaac?”
“He was good,” you tell him. “I’m tired. I’m not sure how I’m going to get through the rest of his life.”
“Hey, we’ll be okay, okay? We’ll figure it out, okay?” Mathew reassures.
You nod. “Yeah, we’ll be okay.”
Later that night, you put Isaac down for bed and enter your bedroom. You fell asleep easily that night in Mathew’s arms with a soft smile on your face. Yeah, everything would be okay.
Shortly after giving birth to Isaac, both you and Mathew were hit with a really bad case of baby fever. Everytime you or Mathew held Isaac, the next immediate thought you both had was “let’s have another baby.” Every time you saw Mathew doing skin-to-skin contact with Isaac, your heart would flutter with love for your husband, your son, and a strong desire for another baby.
Seven months postpartum, you finally felt comfortable with approaching your husband with the topic of having another baby. Mathew was super excited that you brought it up. At first, trying to conceive was slightly painful. You were both patient with the process knowing it would happen when it would happen. You finally conceived after six months of trying.
Five months later, you felt comfortable announcing it to the world. You bought a whiteboard and wrote a message that said, “Baby Barzal #2 coming soon.” Also, you placed the ultrasound photo on the top corner with a baby jersey with “Barzal 02” on it. You took a photo of it to post both on yours and Mathew’s instagrams. You smiled at the messages you received from your friends, family, the WAGs, and Mathew’s teammates. You both opted not to tell anyone except for immediate family wanting to enjoy the news on your own for the time being.
“Mathew, do you know where the polaroid camera is?” you call out realizing that you had a polaroid of the baby announcement for Isaac but not baby number two.
“On the dresser, probably,” he called from Isaac’s room. You could hear the scrunch in his nose as he changed Isaac’s smelly diaper.
“Thanks, babe,” you call back and walk into your bedroom. You grab the camera and walk back to where you have the pregnancy announcement still sitting on the floor. You snap a photo and smile as you place it on the wall.
With baby #2, your heart was full and excited for what would be coming in the future.
“Anthony, please?” you beg.
“Why do you guys always get me to take the photos of the two of you?” Anthony whines.
“Because you’re the best at it!” These words do not convince him further to take a photo of you, Mathew, your daughter, Shannon, and your son, Isaac. “What about, if we have another baby, we name them Anthony”
“What? No,” Mathew yells. “No way. No more kids”
“Just give me the camera,” Anthony sighs. You, who is holding Shannon, and Mathew, who is holding Isaac, walk out to the door of your new house. Shortly after finding out you were pregnant with your second child, you and Mathew began looking for a house to live in, figuring an apartment, no matter the size, was too small for the family you both wanted to build.
Mathew holds Isaac in his right arm and wraps his left arm around your waist. You hold Shannon in your left arm with your right arm wrapped around Mathew and look up at him and smile. He smiles back down at you. Anthony knows, after taking way too many polaroids for you two, when to take the photo — when you both inevitably kiss. As he expected, Mathew leans down and kisses you with a wide smile. Anthony holds up the camera and snaps a photo. You both pull back as Anthony hands the photo and camera to you.
“One of your future kids better have Anthony as their middle name or something. Don’t say you’re not having more because we both know the way Barzy is,” he grumbles as he walks back into your newly finished house.
Mathew goes into Isaac’s bedroom to put him down for a nap as you put Shannon down for a nap and grab the tape to put this new polaroid photo on the wall. You put it up and smile at the rows and rows of photos that line the walls. You stand there looking sentimentally at all the memories.
“Hey, you okay?” Mathew asks and rests an arm around your waist.
“Yeah, just look at all the photos from our lives,” you tell him. You rest your head on his chest as you both your eyes trace over the photos. The photos spanned from many different parts of your lives, both together and separately. On the wall, there are many photos of you and Mathew from when you were young, to young adults, to adults living together in New York. On this wall tells the story of how you were best friends from a young age to being lovers to finally being married. The wall tells the stories of you and your friends from high school and college, and it tells the story of Mathew’s hockey career. The wall tells the story of your engagement and marriage. All the photos are a piece of who you both are.
“Here’s to many more photos on this wall,” Mathew says.
“And to maybe another wall dedicated to polaroid photos,” you add on getting a smirk from Mathew.
“The more kids we have, the more photos we’re going to have.”
You giggle. “I thought you didn’t want any more kids.”
“We make some really great kids, so maybe.”
“And it's not because you have a breeding kink?” you tease, and Mathew blushes at your words.
“Maybe it’s because you look great pregnant.”
“So, maybe more kids?” you suggest with a smile.
“Maybe more kids,” Mathew confirms with a kiss on your cheek.
Despite the wall being 75% filled, you knew that your best days were still ahead of you. You couldn’t wait for the future photos that will tell the story of yours and Mathew’s lives together.
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Fuck it, in-depth analysis of what the final lines of Animaniacs season 2 episode 13 mean within the in-universe context under the cut. Warnings for manipulation and medical harm to children.
So, those last lines were absolutely terrifying and I’ll break them down one by one. These lines are taken verbatim from the subtitles on Hulu.
Dot - “Sounds like a problem for next season. If there is one...”
Yakko - “Guess we’ll wait here until they make more new episodes, just like we did in the 90′s...”
Wakko - “This time, I wonder if we’ll dream...”
So Dot’s line is relatively simple to break down. The intro only had them signing on for two seasons in the reboot, and even though we know that a third season has been ordered, the Warner siblings evidently don’t. What gets me, though, is the emphasis on “if”. The italics show up in the subtitles, so they’re meant to be there. It feels like a notation that they as the characters have reason to believe that there won’t be a next season. Dot certainly looks scared at the idea. Were they outright told the chances were slim, or did they overhear something? I’m thinking the first, since the people they work with to produce the show (at least the higher-ups, and they interact with the CEO a LOT) would know about plans for a third season. Was it used as a threat, then? A way to keep them in line - “behave yourselves, or we won’t renew you for a next season”? The implication is there, I think.
Yakko’s line is a bit ambiguous. Does “wait here” mean to wait in that exact position, or within the limits of the studio? Probably the second, though the concept of the first is unnerving to say the least. It’s canonical that they’re locked in the water tower when they aren’t filming, and this line implies that the practice has continued. Which is fucked up and a conversation for another time. The first time they were locked in there, it was for a 60 year stretch, and the second time, as confirmed by that line, it was for 20 years. Yakko believes they are about to undergo that again “until they make new episodes”. Not “until they film a third season”. Another point towards the theory that they’ve been lead to believe they won’t be renewed for a third season, and that they’re about to be locked up in the water tower for an indefinite amount of time. Fans of the show generally believed that they were awake and bouncing around the water tower for that time...
And then there’s Wakko’s line. What. The. Fuck.
Immediately, this changes a lot. They aren’t awake when they aren’t filming, and they aren’t dreaming. Or at least, they didn’t dream last time. So, what kind of controlled sleep lasts for a very long time and (for the most part) doesn’t induce dreams?
Sedation. Which is seven kinds of fucked up, but makes sense.
Normal sleep could never last as long as 20 years, let alone 60 years. That would be a coma, and while there are non-sedation ways to induce one, most of them would bounce right off the Warner siblings as a result of cartoon physics. When under sedation, most patients do not experience dreams because drug-induced unconsciousness is not the same brain process as sleep. It might be the only explanation for Wakko’s line that makes sense in-universe and not as a throwaway meta gag.
So under this theory, when the Warner siblings aren’t filming videos for the studio, they’re sedated and left unconscious in the water tower until they’re woken up to film more videos. And now I’m wishing I had the power to jump through the screen so I could beat up the people doing that, which is most likely (based on association with and power over the Warners) the CEO giving the order and Dr. Scratchansniff carrying it out. No wonder these kids have so much energy whenever we see them - it’s the ONLY TIME they get to run around and be awake and be KIDS, and yet the whole time they have to play by a script and have the ever present shadow of being sent back to unconsciousness once it’s all over hang over their heads.
Justice league x ex(?) villain reader pt2 (batman x reader)
This was so messy, I’m confused about what the hell happened here.. but I fixed it... I hope.
When they defeated you, Batman put you in the justice league, whether you like it or not.
1-bad writing, 2-bullying.
adjusting was hard... and it’s still hard especially when everyone around me is constantly judging me, I guess it’s the price of my actions but still... still it’s better being in The batman castle than being in the watch tower with all those heroes... but it’s strange how he gave me his trust this fast.
Batman gave me a chance to show my potential, for the first time this month he gave me access to the training room.
In the training room
“just in case, wear this watch, it’s just like an electric monitor but much more advanced, so don't even think about doing something” Batman warned, giving Nightwing a look before leaving.
“so how’s living with the heroes been doing with ya?” he said with a smirk
rolling your eyes at him, “not much of a talker I see, how about you show us your moves?” giving you a sign to attack, his smirk is starting to annoy me...
glaring daggers at him, finally launching an attack at him, he dodges it with ease, “wow I didn’t take you for a magician?” he seemed to be impressed about magic but disappointed at that shity hit.
attacking him once again, “woah calm down, I meant because you didn’t use it in the fight” still easily dodging those lousy hits.
finally speaking “fighting with magic in the war is highly forbidden” charging another attack
“you know, you need intense training with this kind of aim” he knows what he’s doing hehe
after a couple of hours of training, “it’s time for you to go to bed princess” putting his equipment back, leading you back to your room, this extra supervision is annoying.
in your bedroom.
of course, you can’t lock the door, villains don’t need privacy duh.
anyway they couldn’t catch this tho, the last piece I have of myself is this.. this book might be my last hope.
if they find it I’m doomed
suddenly the door opened to reveal Nightwing again, “oh hi sorry, I forgot to give you those essentials” he put them on the table “and goodnight” he closed the door. locking it, yes finally!
once I felt safe, I finally opened the book, writing in it “why did he take me?”
The book answered immediately
"isn't obvious they want to use you for their own good," the book said in a spiteful way. writing back “what should I do?”
"do what they tell you to do till they trust you, then we will contact again"
“wait! didn't the plan already fail? that means a new leader will continue the mission”, "we will take this as part 2 of the plan, I will write to you when the mission is ready to play" the book closed.
-sighing deeply- if I have to play this game so be it, for the first time in history they give a leader a second chance... and it’s me, how convenient...-lays on the bed- and I thought I will be finally free, I guess I’m the luckiest person in this world... my type of luck...
"Miss... miss please wake up," opening your eyes slowly adjusting to the light, “what do you want” in a grumpy way.
“It’s morning and master... wants you to eat breakfast with us,” Alfred said, you finally get up. sighing...
Alfred casually walks you to a big dining room, you sit in the chair he chose.
they aren't wearing masks anymore, they must be nuts.. that’s the only logical explanation.
shit... it’s... the famous... Bruce Wayne, he’s looking at you too. you finally notice a familiar face sitting with you on the table, your dear sister.
I used to love her but all those years ago she didn’t come searching for me, made me hate her... call it jealousy, but I was wronged.
looking at her for a solid minute with a poker face then looked at Bruce. AKA Batman.
“You already know your sister is here with us...” looking at you and your sister, “will you just cut to the chase” already hating all of this.
I can’t believe it, she lived with Bruce fucking Wayne all her life. of course, she’ll forget about me.
“-sigh- of course, you know you can’t do much at the moment, once we trust you.. we’ll see how it goes -sigh- as you can see we all revealed our identity's to you, as a sign of trust. Trust me when I say this is the first time I’ve ever done something like this. so don’t mess it up. I won’t hastate on putting you down” his calm serious never seemed to relax you.
finally bursting out in denial “how could you do such a dumb thing, I’m a villain you can’t change the facts, how can you be so sure I won’t expose Bruce Wayne as fucking batman” he smirked “it’s easy really when you have this much money and power. I can shut you up easily, plus no one will believe a villain anyway” they all smirk at you.
“Why would I help you anyway?” feeling all of their eyes on me, “it’s either jail or be with us? choose?” he took a sip from his tea.
"Wrong move stick to the plan" a mysterious sound rang in your head, and your head immediately start hurting...
Every time I do something wrong this happens. as a punishment from the ‘gods’ let’s say that.
“Nevermind, what do you want me to do anyway?” finally feeling cooperative, he took a minute to respond, weirded out by your behavior “we will go in an hour to the watch tower so eat and get ready...” he got up and left.
Damian got up to your face “listen bitch be thankful that I didn't beat you to the ground! you were so rude, never heard of manners before?” Damian said furiously about what just happened
“I do what the fuck I want. I only listen to him, not to you”, “stop trying to start a fight y/n” finally your fake-ass sister talked.
in a serious manner quietly turning to her “mind your own business” and giving her a death glare, seems like she got disappointed “how are you even my sister” giving her a serious “sure”, and getting up before she can speak, “I'm going to get ready” Alfred follows you to your room to make sure.
Getting your bag, looking at yourself in the mirror.
I wish I won, “miss are you done?” Alfred said in the hallway, actually respecting your bounders.
The watch tower,
Everyone glaring at you with disgust, those stupid heroes think they are better than everyone. I never imagined heroes to be such divas'
suddenly black canary came and extended her hand... confused for a minute, finally getting it and you shook her hand back. she smirks at your response before throwing you to the other side of the room, earning laughter from everyone.
That actually hurt “wth...” confused and hurt from what she did, “you trust too fast, how naïve of you” smirking at you once again before handing you her hand again.
Getting up without her help, giving her a bitter look, and walking off immediately after that, I would’ve never done that to anyone in my life and I’M THE VILLAIN. anger filling your heart by the second.
stopping in your tracks to see your little sister laughing with shazam and booster gold... and a couple of other heroes, she must be popular or something eh.. she got the life I wanted her to get... everyone to their own in the end
walking again, searching for something interesting to look at, shazam approaching you
“hey you are the new member? the villain one” rolling your eyes “yup that’s me”
a weird hint of red covers his face “nice to meet you, I’m shazam” he extends his hand
“you do know I'm a villain, right?” confused at his kindness and kinda scared to do the same mistake...hehe...
“I know... but I believe everyone can change -smiles- “ he gives you a genuine smile, “don't mind shazam he's young and doesn't really understand life because once a villain always a villain,” your dear sister said.
“and who asked for your opinion, you're really getting on my nerves” trying your best to control yourself “I'm really sorry for Batman for believing in you... who knows what you’re planning now?” worry covers her face but deep inside you can see her smirk.
Everyone stopped what they were doing to listen, “Sweetheart why don't you go play with your hero friends” trying to act sweet but your anger is clearly starting to control you.
“You really didn't change one bit and I bet everything I have that you are planning something bad” she didn’t even bother hiding her smirk this time because she knows everyone on her side already.
what a bitch.
“what? I’ve always been like this? what did you tell them too? that I sold you to the villains? wow, you are worse than me... they should've taken your soul instead” really amused by this, who knew she was that evil? “as much as I like chatting with you dear sister, I have matters to attend to” waving goodbye to her.
silence roamed the room.
walking away searching for batman, that hurt, she wasn’t wrong I am planning something but when she was with me, I treated her with nothing but love and care... all of this was for her...
I might write a part 3 someday but now I’m trying to edit all the chapters I already wrote to ‘clean’ my book on Wattpad. once I finish with those I’ll start publishing the new ones.
if you like it please tell me, and reblog 🖤
Jack Frost Designs Review
Yes it’s finally his time. This is going to include his book designs including previous incarnations in said books. There are more movie concept designs than book so, let’s dig in shall we?
This was in fact the first ever Jack Joyce designed while he came up with The Guardians Of Childhood. He even comes with his own backstory! (Which was cut. Sorry Joyce posts walls of text so it’s a girthy read.)
So instead of a young mischievous trickster, we got a much more depressing story of Jack. (Jack by default is sad obviously) but this one... It kind of hits differently and almost reminds me of the story he crafted for Pitch. A dad who tried to defend his family but through tragic events was ripped from them and changed completely.
Design wise, he’s a lot more tree than snow. There doesn’t exist a colored version of this so we’ll never know if he sported winter and dull dead leaf colors rather than grassy greens.This Jack has a weird presence to him, I can’t put my finger on it.
Rating: 6/10 He’s really neat! Just a little too Autumn feeling rather than a blend of both Autumn and Winter.
Nightlight feels like the baby evolution if Jack was a pokemon and that's what I’m gonna stick with. Below is a more recent version of him colored.
In all honesty that one is easier on the eyes proportion wise because sometimes Joyce has ‘interesting’ anatomy choices but we aint going into that today. It’s interesting how his hair somehow looks shorter and longer than Jack’s at the same time. Could be because the longer strands float seamlessly but star boy hair physics what can ya do. It’s a little hard to tell what is his skin and what is his armor, so that is a casuality in making a character only have one or two colors in their color scheme. I love other artist’s depictions of Nightlight but the canon one feels a little weak color wise.
Rating: 5/10 Sorry, get some better LEDs and then come back.
Here we have a book Jack but I can’t entirely recall if this was used in the books or not. I digress. This design looks like him still wearing very Nightlight-esque armor/clothing and slowly growing into his new persona as Jack Frost. The intricacies are hard to make out but we’ll work with it. This one is very interesting to me because he very much looks like an older teen close to young adult. His hair looks very fluffy too. Not many complaints about this one but not much praise either.
Rating: 6/10 Not great but doesn’t stand out that much.
Remember when I said Joyce had ‘interesting’ anatomy decisions? Jack looks like he has half a head here and it bothers me GREATLY. This is the adult Jack design he went with. Supposedly he likes the opera and he sure looks it. This! Exists!!
Kind of wish it didn’t. The outfit is nice but it just doesn’t fit Jack as a whole. This just screams to me that it’s someone else with a similar-ish hairstyle.
Rating: 3/10 Guess he’d be the...Phantom Of The Opera. (I’ll go home and so should he.)
And finally the final Jack. This is the one that almost exactly resembles the Jack we got in the movies(Probably because it was made after the movie but w/e) but just add a cape on him. I can’t really tell if hes got a hoodie and a cape, or just a cloak+hood on top of a sweatshirt. It isn’t too important because my thoughts on this one are obvious.
Rating: 10/10 Edna Mode would have a field day with you boy.
MOVIE DESIGN TIME
Joyce claims this is a design he drafted when Leonardo DiCaprio was considered to voice Jack and I can kind of see that with how his face is drawn here. This Jack looks a lot more like a warrior and less of that trickster look. I can’t say I’m a fan of the weird antenna his hood has but his sword is really cool looking.
Rating: 4/10 Nice bow and sword but it can’t save your fashion choices.
This looks like a lanky 11-13 year old who would put rocks or slugs in my shoes and relish in my disgust. He has the exact look of a snot nose kid and I’m unsure how to feel about it.
His various hairstyles drafted here sort of make him softer looking or just more of a snot nose, no in between. Maybe even an Anime Protagonist.
The top right one almost looks like Hiccup from How To Train Your Dragon if you squint. It’ll be a little hard to rate them all as one individual but why not.
Rating: 5/10 I don’t hate them but they aren’t my cup of tea.
AH- IS THAT A FUCKIN GREMLIN?
Oh wait no it isn’t he looks like a 10 year old. Whatever don’t feed him after midnight. The staff’s design of not being shaped like a G is an interesting tidbit but the whole design looks like he’s really young or like a troll etc. This Jack looks like he thinks girls have cooties uses outdated slang.
Rating: 4/10 This is me being generous.
It honestly looks like he hiked his pants up all the way to his chest. A late teen with horrid fashion choices once again. Not many other thoughts here.
Rating: 2/10 Get a sweater on or something.
This is one is very interesting looking to me. His clothes looked a lot more leather based and very human-like. The tatters, tears and frays all make him look like he was a victim of an accident that never changed his clothes. It makes me wonder if this Jack had the same death as the final movie Jack or something else entirely. Either way, this one looks like hes a mid to late teen which really adds to my intrigue.
This was another image that greatly resembled the design so I included it here. It almost looks like his skin is blue here which is pretty neat to me at least. He’s also got leaf motifs here, which from the first Jack design Joyce made, we can see a pattern here.
Rating: 8 /10 I was originally weirded out by his head but now its not so bad.
This Jack is definitely dressed more like a nature boy rather than him having human influenced fashion and it’s an appealing touch. The tiny leaf sprouting from his staff is also kind of cute since the designers seemed to want to put leafs somewhere on his designs. His hairstyle is also very cute but it reminds me of Sasuke Uchiha in a sense. (Not a setback for me at least)
Rating: 7/10 13 year old Jack is going thru a phase.
I thought this Jack didn’t show up again in story boards but I was wrong!
They look a little different from each other but just similar enough to pair together, so bare with me. The first one obviously has looser pants, slightly longer sleeves and got his leaf motif going. This second Jack is a VERY green. It gives the impression that this Jack made his clothes out of plants and natural materials. Again I’m not wholly sure if greens fit his color scheme but they sure went for it for a while. I can’t say I’m a fan of it because it heavily reminds me of Peter Pan.
However a very similar looking Jack could be found in this storyboard. It doesn’t look as green as the other storyboards made it out to be and looks more like dead grass. Which is a pretty nice touch.
Rating: 5/10 I don’t hate it but it just doesn’t vibe yknow.
Speaking of a vibe...hoo this certainly has one. This Jack isn’t old but certainly doesn’t look very young, maybe in the 20-30 range, thats just me. He has facial features that remind me of Pitch but resembles the Jack Frost of Santa Clause 3
That being said, I wondered if him looking similar to Pitch was in the storyline of them being brothers.(Which was a scrapped thing, who knew.) He’s a bit more menacing in this design but certainly seems like he relishes in his work.
Rating: 4/10 I’d make it a lower score but I gotta give it props
NOW THIS JACK IS KINDA INTERESTING. This one looks like he’s 16 and going through a grunge phase. He’s gonna play Nirvana loudly and not turn it down even if you tell him too. His staff itself has mini icicles hanging off of it and leafs look stuck to his shirt. Did you glue or staple those on Jack? His hair also looks much longer than his other designs and I kind of dig it( Shut up I’m bias.) I’m not wholly sure why else this design has stuck with me but it just has something about it that I just love. I wish there was a full body drawing of it.
(He also kinda has the same hair as the Jack Frost in Runescape but I wont go on about that hoo hoo)
Rating: 9/10 *Bad Boy by Cascada plays in the distance*
This one definitely feels like middleschooler trying to be in a band. His sticks just resemble drumsticks to me what can I say. I’m a big fan of his shoes and his color scheme screams a hibernating tree in winter. His hair also looks like it’s covered in frost rather than it being wholly white, which is very neat!! He looks like he wants to fight but has slight hesitance. Overall a very balanced Jack.
Rating: 8/10 He’s ready for band practice
Not many thoughts here, I just found these tiny Jack designs cute. His hoodie being a jacket instead just adds to the charm of this one.
No talk to him he angy.
Rating: 6/10 fun sized boi
Now this Jack resembles the one earlier that dressed entirely in leather brown colors, however he clearly is different than that one. I’m gonna say it, he looks like a zombie or undead in this design and its pretty fucking gnarly. I don’t know whats going on with his hair but I’m gonna assume it’s just the wind making it look like that.
He just has the vibe that he was once human but was turned into something else entirely. It isnt in uncanny territory but borders that. This version of Jack meeting Pitch and the others would have been *very* interesting.
Rating: 7/10 Eat a twinkie Jack you’ll feel better.
The final design! I can’t complain much about this one. The way his staff subtly has a G shape and a hexagon(his signature shape) is a wonderful touch. Additionally, the way the frost is gathered mostly where his hand is such an intricate detail. His signature hoodie is iconic at this point so I can’t bad mouth that either.(I can’t anyway because there's no complaints from me here.) Although, I never understood the leather straps that his pants had or their functions. I couldn’t find any colonial outfits that resembled Jack’s pants so its a total mystery to me at least.
And I can’t go on about this design until I mention the snowflake pattern in his eyes
Pure beauty. It’s at a hue of blue that almost looks impossible to have, combined with the electric blue color of the snowflake in his eyes. The amount of detail in this movie amazes me to this day.
Rating: One Great Blizzard <3/10
alright all that’s left now is to hit post and
oh wait, what? whats that? i can't reblog with more content on the main post? it’s technically too big?!
oh well well well then okay. hey :leans in close: did i… ever crash your app with the op post? i wanted to apologize for that. truly sorry. the truth is, the original post also crashes my app! wild! yes, well, as big of a fan of push media as i am i’m going to have to break away from the original post to get the job done this year but if you’re new here and don’t know about the eye theory please for the love of god click the below link to read through the original. it’s required reading.
(click for the op)
yes ok. welcome back! did i make you dizzy? jeepers my eyes do hurt, just after putting together this update! but i come bearing gifts…! frankincense, myrrh, gold, and a *plump* 2021 eye theory update for the remaining bakers dozen or so of us left hanging in this manger… because apparently that’s just the way things will be 😘 again, i’m far past proving this thing and more into sharing, yeah, sharing the fun memories over the past year living with this theory so that’s what i’ll do. and this requires more than the ten picture limit so in lieu of that i will be updating only once but with links to each finding. my demarcation is the same as last year:
so without further ado, here comes our…
2021 year in review
★ kimby posting the eye mirror thing at the beginning of the year (which i posted about at the end of the last update)
★karlie liked a tweet (a rarity at the time) from henry hall promoting his new album… that had an eye and the number 13 on the album cover.
-we found another great photo match example
☆ we noticed something up with a new carolina herrera ad that ended up showing up again later in the year
☆ we noticed taylor covering her eye during rep tour while singing even in my worst lies you saw the truth in me
-we noticed an oft forgotten appearance of the evil eye ring in the rep promo material, photos of her on the beach
☆ we found a potential easter egg in the end game mv
★ one of the lyric videos for fearless TV had a fun synching moment ..that taylor then put in her instagram stories
★ taylor posted a bleachella era pic of her and the haim sisters that had the sisters covering eyes with their hoodies, and then honest to god this is just one of those thing i can’t quite conscionably explain but there are two boxes of pizzas being held and the cheese only pizza looks like the “blank” of the two pizzas and it’s to the right of the picture
★ kayda and kai did some eye funny business
★ the grammys… so, taylor’s performance included choreography that covers her right side eye along with the line “guess i should have known from the look on your face” and i know this is one of the things people particularly do not like but i’m such a sucker for prop comedy: i think the shape of the lean-to cabin itself is the shape of an eye and also the belted waist part of her dress looks like an eye, i said what i said
-and this can’t help but feel like chance, but, we got this red carpet press photo of her grammy covering her eye
-something also feeling serendipitous, karlie got papped by some eye graffiti
-The Vault reveal left me wanting to get my eyes checked 😂
☆ we realized one could make the argument that there’s a eye isolated by the mask on her male counterpart in willow, and that the mask has a drooping daisy embroidered on it
-i got the chance to talk a little bit more about my thoughts on the editing that went on with the mert and marcus rep photoshoot photos, and my thoughts on computer graphic manipulation as it relates to other things, in particular lead time
★ taylor seemed to have more fun with synching up the fearless tv clip to music 🙈
★ taylor’s mother’s day merch included a postcard with a daisy and the lyric “i love you for giving me your eyes”
-not for nothing, austin posted a picture of him at the Oculus building in NYC (oculus being a word that means eye, austin being someone who rarely updates his instagram these days)
★ karlie got back in the saddle with posting an eye out of frame
★ some preview photos of karlie’s green adidas collection were released, and they included this amazing shot
and wouldnt ya know it she made it her profile pic after the collection release
★ more kayda funny business (i feel like there were a lot more of these but i wasn’t able to keep track)
★ karlie got papped wearing a prada jacket with a print of a one eyed beach babe
-taylor mixed up her words during a thank you speech while accepting an award and said “she helped me to edit my eyes” which i mean i don’t think it was intentional but it certainly made my year 🙈
★ karlie wore this versace blazer that inexplicably has a hole cut out of it to the right?? which was made even more meaningful given the fact that i had been spiraling over the tie with the hole in it in the lwymmd video a few months prior idk 😆
★ the how long do you think it’s gonna last album was announced with an… eye collage… 🙈🙈 and kept the promo coming into july with eye cutout moments like this
★ then the Renegade music video was released and it was just chock a block with eye manipulation! singled out eyes, taylor covering her right side eye with her hands, with her hair, the eyes on her face cut out and zoomed in on. like, i’m sorry, it’s 2021 and we are really doing this ladies???
-and i came up with a funny (/emotional)
-karlie met with schiaparelli in paris, who had just come out with a collection full of gilded eyes among other body parts
★ karlie blocked an eye for estée lauder —a true pastime— and thus began the formalization of the tradition of me waking up to karlie having posted something ocular to instagram
☆ adam rippon posted a little ode to karlie’s “looking camp right in the eye 👁 ” moment, which normally id just chalk up to it having become a meme but at the same time, bobby berk liked the post and they were both in the yntcd mv, so it’s sorta amusing
★ karlie posts “filed under baking inspo” moodboard which included a pic of a face made of food with one eye 🥴🥴🥴 like i’m sorry, is this not proof of acknowledgement 😆
★ karlie posts a photoset of her in workout clothes and she’s covering the left side eye in a lot of the pics
★ karlie wore some eye-like rain and sunshine earrings from two jewelers that also make custom lover’s eye jewelry
★ taylor covered an eye on the tiktok
-i noticed that each of karlie’s adidas collections had their own moments
-also like this is simply an act of god but somehow taylor and karlie got a photo taken at the 2014 met gala where karlie is standing to the right next to a woman with an eye purse…?
☆we noticed two things about the UPS commercial she did during rep era
★ karlie hid an eye while getting ready for the met gala which was the start to a crazy crazy day here on kaylor tumblr
☆ someone kindly pointed out to me that birch feat. taylor swift just as names of trees goes is also sus 🥴
-we listed up some of the possibly eye theory -aligned taymoji
★ karlie posted a promo clip of her designing her met dress at carolina herrera and it had an eye moment
-taylor has sort of established winks as a Taylor’s Version easter egg gesture so i don’t really count things like this in the grand scheme of things but i can’t help but feel this wink was exaggerated in post which would mean the eye could have been edited, and for that i’ll mention it
-this is just an it’s a small world moment having to do with researching the band of outsiders brand
★ taylor using an eye covered pic of shania twain on her tiktok
★ karlie blocking eyes again in a photoshoot make that two
✦★✶ karlie went to mert alas’ gin release party in paris I REPEAT she went to the party being held by the guy who took the rep album photoshoot photos aka the guy who took the actual eye theory photo and not only did she get a pic with him, she drank out of the gin glasses that had an eye like pattern cut into them???
★ karlie woke me up again and chose violence
-i forget how i ran into this but it’s this old photoshoot of karlie in a daisy full body suit with her arms and head in the shape of an eye idk lol
★ karlie posted a photoset with some eye blocking moments going on
-in a moment of meta, karlie got the chance to post a pic of bert and ernie to her instagram stories as she was also a part of the WSJ innovators issue
☆ taylor’s grammy dresses went on display and the waist fabric looked even more like an eye so sue me!
★ karlie really made it christmas morning every morning 🥴
★ RED TV lyric videos also got a moment
★ the IBYTAM video had us all reeling for plenty of reasons but i made sure to have my fun …kinda cool how it fits though 😂 this stood out to a lot of us and this too
-it’s the little things
-blame it on the vault crest and red dresses but i allowed myself to lean in to the crazy a bit more than usual and tbh i had the best time with it
☆ i had a thought about So It Goes as it relates to rep tour
-The Missing Eye Puzzle Piece it turned out that the missing capital one red bundle puzzle piece was simply missing, and it has been found, **but** i had an amazing couple of weeks imagining the ARG possibilities. oh and i still love that the right side eye is the 11th puzzle piece across, 8 rows down (karlie numbers)
★ karlie posted again blockin an eye 😂
★ shes so good at finding an opportunity
★ karlie wearing a sweatshirt with an eye on it because why not i guess 🙈
-surely coincidental but i did laugh at where her music choice in this post led me
★ and it turned out the eye glassware at the mert alas gin release party ended up being used in the promo photos for the stuff
★karlie did a ‘comeback’ -esque spread for WSJ and she delivered
-add this to the list of potential cross-media tie in opportunities that surely weren’t intentional but i would point to in terms of what she could potentially do should she want to bring back this level of easter egging for reputation TV
★ waking up again to some uncanny carolina herrera hijinks
★ karlie blocking an eye again 🙈
-i talked a little bit about the evil eye ring making it’s appearances with the angel wing ring
★ like i said, this karlie post waiting for me when i woke up thing, it became a morning ritual
-there was a red tv album print mishap… istg the way i moved (is this what the kids say)
★ taylor blocked an eye in her new years reel
so there you have it, folks! 2021, a kaylor year that had me throwing my hands up and deciding to bend with the wind and roll with the punches… paid dividends?! i included the ephemera (the winks and out of frames) just because i see them as a sustainable avenue for the dreary new parent, but all these aside it still blows my mind how many distinctly significant things happened in conjunction with the theory this year and i hope very very deeply and earnestly that each and every one of you may have had the chance to crack a smile or two as well 😌
its weird… seeing karlie and mert photographed gave me this lavish sense of… coming full circle! but 🥰 who knows what next year will bring. what can i say, as if it was my greco-roman destiny, i know i will always beat the drum for this theory if they will have me. eye can’t help myself!
have a happy new year🥳
Scream blue murder.
Bonten! x yakuza! leader [part 3]
word count - 2,538
💿 - deathwish by poutyface, to the bone by j.t machinima
Warnings❕- angst + fluff+ suggestive. Mentions of death, sewer slide, drugs, physical and mental abuse.(slight hints of ptsd) Mentions of Izana x reader and others. Spoilers! Bonten arc. Blood and gore. (pinky cutting and mentions of gas poisoning, mass murder.) reader goes berserk! putting a knife in each other's throat? reader is freaky fugg. and also apparently, an expert at chemistry.
[part 1] [part 2]
“So, 12 years… You were gone, just like that and you aren’t gonna say anything, huh? Saying ‘I love you’ like that, ain’t fucking fair, y/n. I missed you for all those years. I searched for you like a madman. Fuck, you didn’t even come by to look for me or shit. You know how fucking miserable I was, after Izana was gone and you too!” Everyone flinched at the sight of the usually calm Kakucho raising his voice. You were surprised too, but you kept on an indifferent facade as you looked down, guilt overwhelmed you.
Kakucho takes a few steps towards you, “I wanna hate you for it but I can’t. You’re too fucking precious to me. The last one I have here, and I thought you were fucking dead.” You did no such attempt to avoid the slap which landed on your face as tears flowed down Kakucho’s face. You heard the faint gasp from all the executives of Bonten. You just kept quiet.
“Hug me, god fucking damn it. I missed you.” With no hesitation, you engulfed him in a hug, basking in his warmth which came into contact with your bare skin. You smiled, relishing the memories of your childhood.
“Fucking hell that was touching as shit.” Sanzu fake cries, deep down he still felt bad since he knew that you were as important to Kakucho as Mikey was to him. Losing you would have meant losing his entire world. In reply, you lifted your middle finger, sticking out your pierced tongue at the pink-haired male. He chuckles slowly.
“Holy shit, yer got piercings, that’s hot, dude.” You nodded at Rindou’s question .
“Show us, I mean your tattoos and piercings.”
“That’s a pretty specific kink you have, Sir Mikey. I mean, I know I look hot as shit but.” He snickered, signalling that he only wants your full identification.
“If you insist, your honour.” You fake sighed as you turned around and began explaining your tattoos.
“29 piercings and last I checked, around 18 or 19 tattoos. Got my first tattoo at 13, illegally. Thank god I didn’t die of infection or some shit. Dude was a nice guy, he even taught me how to take care of a new tat.” They all gasped, ‘doesn’t that shit hurt you?’. Ran and Rindou who were basically half covered in tattoos were also surprised by your ability to withstand the pain.
“Which one hurt the most though? Your tits or sumn?” Sanzu bluntly asks as he touches the tattoo on your left arm.
“Oh well, yer wanna see? Better pay money though.” You smirked and sent him a wink as you gave him a slight teaser of your tattoo, he blushed. Welp, you broke the dope peddler.
“You’re quite a mystery, aren’t you?” Mikey says, his voice dark and screechy, almost like he has been straining it.
“Your back. That ain’t a tattoo. Someone carved those characters into you.” He traces the Chinese characters on your back. You slightly flinched at the sudden cold touch of his finger. “Only the top brass of Yakuza has this, yeah? Which means, you’re the current hidden leader of the Yakuza. Working for them quietly backstage, is that fun? Don’t you wanna take the credit?” He was inches away from your face, you tilted your head slightly at his demise.
“Take credit? Pftt. Observant but dumb aren’t yer, pretty boy?” You cupped his jaw between your gloved fingers. “I fucking love it when people worship me, bow to me and praise me for all my work but I wouldn’t want my pets to go unrecognised do I? Plus, isn’t it harder to keep myself lowkey from the police that way? I have my plans, baby and I don’t like it when people question me.” You smiled and let go of his jaw, never in his life has he been this stunned by someone’s actions and indifference. This was a first.
“This carving was done by my dad. I was the only child who was able to take over the family business so, here I am. Healthier than ever!” You smiled, highlighting the dimples which brightened your eyes even more under the light which shone above you.
“So, you’ve taken a blood oath?” Kokonoi asks, curious.
“Oh that’s fucken bullshit. We don’t do those. We’re just old delinquents who don’t wanna follow laws, we don’t sacrifice ourselves. I mean that does sound cool though. The most we do is cut our pinky. I’ve cut 12 as of this week,” You sat back down, nonchalantly telling them. You put your suit back on, adjusting the tie.
Bang! A loud gunshot was heard from behind you, in one swift movement, you swooped Ran and Sanzu who were directly in front of you. ‘Top criminal organisers but can’t see a bullet coming their way? Great, fucking idiots.’ You looked down, the bullet grazed by your shoulder slightly. Thank god for that. You picked up the shell and the bullet which landed not far from it. You analysed the bullet, standing up immediately after recognising it. ‘Mauser C96. 0.45 ACP. Made in Germany. Oh fuck, why are they here?’
“Oi, you twinks. Came here to save me or something?” One by one, your members peeked their heads out from behind the oil tanks. Number 2, Tanaka Ryu. This kid has been behind you since juvie days. Once he got out, he looked for you and followed you till the very end even if it meant jumping into hellfire for you.
“If I couldn’t fight, I would have died to these hot dudes, you know? Do we need to practice again? Should I drill it into your brains?” All the members, a good 25 of them, stood at attention, weapons dropped to the floor with their hands behind their back.
“No, your honour!” In unison, their voices echoed one another. Bonten was too stunned to say a thing. Their mouths merely shut tight as your dominant aura overflowed through the entire warehouse.
“Good, and Tanaka, don’t mind, okay? Small mistake. I’m fine, n’ways.”
“Apologies, your honour. Take my pin-” You shushed him as you signalled everyone to get down and ready their weapons. Bonten, who was behind you, followed your command. You gestured for Mikey to come to your side, he slowly strides towards you.
“Mikey, listen. Now, your turf is being infiltrated. You heard that gunshot? Nagant M1895. That strong shit is only used by the Yakuza traitors. Those fuckers have been on my back for the last few months and I need a few extra hands so that I can alert my turf. After that, I’ll help yer. There should be at least 230 of them. 2 top heads and the other 8 executives. The rest are all their lackeys, bad fighting skills but good spirits. Now, we separate, I’ll alert your members too.”
You and Mikey, the leaders, moved into positions immediately. Working together for the first time but it almost seemed as if you’ve worked together for the past 10 years. You stationed Sanzu and your number 3, Haruto, right in front of you. These two are wild and have a few screws loose in their brains, so they make a good pair. They can slaughter some while you make a few alerts to your guards in your territories. You wanted to get it over and done with fast even if it meant, murder. So, you analysed whatever you had in your reach.
“Y/n-chan. What are you doing? I wanna smoke.” Sanzu said, questioning what you were looking at.
“Shush, let me think of a way to get rid of evidence fast and simple.” Haruto drags Sanzu back to their station as they both chat away, swinging the bloodied weapons in their hands. Psychos, I swear.
‘Benzoyl peroxide, TNT, fire extinguisher, bleach, ammonia and diesel.’ Fucking hell, they were making this a bit too easy isn’t it? You called Sanzu and Haruto over to help you. You took the empty tank, putting on your mask before starting and gesturing the two males to do the same. You poured the bleach into the empty tank followed by ammonia.
‘Do you think what you’re doing is right?’ The tiny voice in your head asks. ‘Well these people mass murdered 226 of the Yakuza members, isn’t it only fair?, ‘Of course, but can’t the police punish them?’. ‘What. They hurt me, not the police, I’ll make them save me a seat in hell. Especially that blabbermouth oldie.’, ‘I guess there’s no stopping you, y/n l/n. You’re a murderer after all.’ Wait, what the fuck? I’m not! They did it first, why is it me? Why am I to blame? Fuck, fuck you. ‘You’re a murderer by nature, y/n. That’s why your Mom and Dad passed this onto you.’ Shut up. They’re dead, they are just ashes, seeping into earth or maybe being swallowed by maggots. Those 2 are dead to me. ‘Your mom isn’t dead. Not yet.’ Well, I want her dead. ‘You gonna kill her, too? Like what you did to your old man? You’re naive, a pretty soul, one that I would kill to dirty but you already did it yourself.’
You halted your movements, Sanzu and Haruto stared wide-eyed at your face. Your face contorted with rage, aura screaming murder at them. This brings Sanzu back to 12 years ago when- nevermind. “Earth to y/n, we gonna continue?”
“Haruchiyo. Katana. Haruto, pass him your pistol, I’ll be right back.” ‘You’re gonna regret it, y/n.’
“SHUT UP! HOLY FUCK SHUT THE FUCK UP! UGH!” You let out an indignant roar, making Kakucho and Mikey halt their movements as they continued throwing punches to the opposing team. Kakucho ran towards you, covered in blood which did not belong to him.
“Hey, y/n. Hey, look at me.” You looked at him, tears of anger welling up in your eyes. (You can only cry when you’re angry but not when you’re sad.) He pats your back, telling you to kick some ass to relieve your anger. Well, that was your green light.
You swung the Katana out from your back which had a strap, tailor made for you to store katanas. As always, pecking the handle beforehand, showing respect. ‘About 104 left, gonna be easy.’ The rest of your members and Bonten members along with the executives gathered, wanting to watch you fight. It was almost like a playback of 12 years ago.
You dropped the katana to the floor, jumping onto the first person you see, hanging from the shoulder. You swung around, possibly breaking his spine and picked up two other men by their collars. Swinging them towards the tower of diesel tanks, you made your way to your next victims.
“So, pick yer death.” You smirked, but your eyes were empty and lifeless. Your bloodthirsty aura engulfed the entire warehouse, stripping the audience off any form of excitement. The male approached you, in a split second, he was inches from your face.
“HAHAHAAHA, you’re fast but you lack experience, sweetheart.” You caressed his face, voice coated full of sinister but in his ears, it was like honey. It gave his brain whiplash how contrasting your voice was to your actions. Without batting an eye or even giving him room to recover from your touch, your left leg flew forward. Landing directly onto the wound of his temple, plunging onto the floor. You took the chance to take a seat on his back.
You rummaged through his pockets, stopping when you found his phone. You dialed a number, the others stared at you curious. “I need about, uhh, 7, no, 8 ambulances, for the Shibuya area. The warehouse down the second turn. Thank yer!” You smiled and threw the phone across the room.
“Now, there’s only… let me see… 3 of you left. Rock, paper, scissors. Winner gets to pick the lucky one.” You signaled them to start playing, with trembling figures, the 3 males began playing. You placed the lit cigarette in between your lip, enjoying others misery.
“She’s kinda hot, though.” You heard Sanzu whistling and howling from behind you as you exhaled the smoke and took off your blazer, rolling up your sleeves. You sent a kiss his way as you made your way to the poor male - a prisoner of his own bad luck.
“Hey, mister. Long time no see. I’m bigger now, if you can’t clearly see.” You subtly flaunt, towering over the male before you. You bent lower so you could make direct eye contact with him. The eye contact sent cold shivers down his spine which made him froze, his lips quivered as you moved your gloved finger, gliding down his tattooed back.
“Oi, mister. I’m talking to you, it’s rude to not reply to your master, y’know? It kinda hurts my feelings,” You faked your sadness, pretending to sob into his shoulders. If he wasn’t already stiff, he is now officially the statue of liberty.
“Y-yes, your honour!”
“Good pet. Now, let me get my work done. You know what happens to traitors, don’t you? Perverted old man.” You removed the kunai which was secured tightly in the pocketed garter which hung from your thigh. You simpered, looking pleased at the amount of fear you could elicit from the pathetic man.
“AHHHHHHHH!” He writhed in pain, screaming blue murder.
“Okay, that was the last one! 12 plus 10 equals 22! 22 pinkies!” You giggled, cracking a smile from your scarred mouth. A horrifying sight, it was.
“Fuck, didn’t know you were capable of such cruel shit.” Ran sends a surprised look, scanning you up and down as you wiped the blood off your gloves and chuckled.
“Born and bred to do this shit.”
You knew you were done but there was some unsettling feeling that irked your senses, but what was it? Could it be you forgot something-
“We’ll take over from here, as an apology and a thank you for not murdering us.” Mikey said, a small smile on his face.
“Oh no, it was great working with you, Sir Mikey.”
“Don’t call me that, on god, I’ll put a knife in your throat.”
“Do it then, it’s not a threat Mikey. ” Your little bicker was put to a stop when Kokonoi seemingly ‘cleared his throat’ loudly.
“So, you’re a professional torturer, a sugar mommy, free show stripper, yakuza leader, a mass murderer, chemist and now, a hooker. What else do we not know about you?” Kokonoi asked, voice laced with curiosity. His eyebrows raised as his eyes searched for answers in yours.
“Oh darling, I’m a walking unsolved mystery. Yer wanna find out? Yer gotta dig deep into the layers of this earth. Yer wanna solve me still?”
“Yeah, I do.” The short, purple haired spoke up. (You forgot his name.)
“Oh then, put on a raincoat. This year’s theme is bloody halloween. Wouldn’t want blood staining yer expensive suits.” You stuck out your tongue, making a move as sirens filled the quiet warehouse.
‘Roppongi, Don Quijote, 31st October, 9 P.M. Be there or else you owe me candy.’ The boys chuckled, making a run as the police broke in.
15-week Hindi learning review
Here's what I've been up to recently Hindi-wise:
Reading (13 out of 15 weeks)
I've been keeping up reading Devdas fairly regularly. As it's closing to an end I've also found another book/audiobook combo and I can hardly wait to check that out too. This time I will not have the aid of English translation as I've had with Devdas so it's really going to be a test of how much can I grasp from the Hindi version alone.
Grammar (13 out of 15 weeks)
This time I've really amped up my grammar studies. I am actually in the middle of ten (yes, ten) different Hindi grammar books that I read one chapter at a time in rotation. I find this method quite rewarding - many books introduce new grammar points in similar enough order to nicely complement each other but add enough new perspectives and details to keep it interesting. But believe me, my pace is slooow with them, it takes me at least two weeks to go through one rotation of the 10 books.
Writing (12 out of 15 weeks)
I still very much enjoy writing scripts for my Hindi videos, although my pace has significantly slowed down due to, well, life. Now that I've done 40+ videos and it's been about a year since I started, I can really see some improvement in my writing and thinking in Hindi. I still keep making mistakes and there are some very basic things I just don't know how to express in a natural way, but progress is happening. Going through more pages of grammar books also means more completed writing exercises.
Listening (12 out of 15 weeks)
I've been listening a bit less this time than before. I am still listening to audiobook Devdas, occasional Hindi podcasts and Hindi film songs fairly regularly though. One of my favourite things still is to listen to the songs I used to listen to four-five years ago and catch the meaning of a phrase or chorus I know by heart but couldn't really understand before. Those 'oh, that's what they are saying!' and 'I got that!' moments are so precious.
Speaking (11 out of 15 weeks)
I had to change my iTalki tutor again, but I like my current one so so much that I don't even mind. For some reason, I've been living a very antisocial hermit phase lately so I've only booked a lesson about once in two weeks or so, and I haven't really chatted with or talked to other Hindi speakers either. I know 11 out of 15 weeks isn't terrible but I feel I could have done more. Not using the language for what it's meant, communication, isn't great for my spoken Hindi skills. But I guess I just have to go with my gut and trust that the day I feel like reaching out and having some human interaction will come. I'm fairly sure it will!
Watching (8 out of 15 weeks)
I've come to a realisation that the time I have available for language learning is limited (a shocker, huh?) and I seem to be able to focus on one project at a time - if I am reading a novel, I cannot effectively focus on a series or vice versa. So perhaps after Devdas, it's time to watch something and gain some slightly more modern vocabulary too while I'm at it. I did however watch Don (2006) with my son who was just at the right age for it ('wait, which guy died again?').
MC is Half-Demon and They Look Awfully Familiar Part 2!
Part 1 Lessons 1-5 Lessons 5-6 Group Retreat Lessons 10-12 Lessons 13-15 Part 3 Part 4
Okay, They’re Your Cousins but You’re Not Sure How They’re Related to You...
(Barbatos, Simeon, Solomon, and Luke)
(It’s mostly Luke)
Barbs likes smol Lucifer. Smol Lucifer likes Barbs. They bake together with Luke. MC nearly set the kitchen on fire. MC needed to learn to cook.
MC is forever delegated to mixing duty because they refuse to admit that they don’t know how to work the oven.
Simeon is the one telling MC embarrassing stories about Lucifer and the rest of the Student Council from when they were all angels. Lucifer never hated Simeon more than when he found out that Simeon told MC about how hard Lucifer cried when he got to hold baby Mammon for the first time. MC was sworn to secrecy.
Well... sworn to secrecy, but if Uncle Mammon just happened to find out through a series of coincidences it wouldn’t be MC’s fault, right?
Simeon also tried to help teach MC to fly... but he kept distracting them with stories about Lucifer and Michael learning to fly.
“So my father was even WORSE than he told me he was?!”
“Yes, he actually challenged Michael and Raphael to a race at one point. Lucifer ended up slamming directly into a wall because he didn’t know how to stop.”
Solomon was absolutely fascinated with MC. How did their half demon half human nature affect their reaction to certain spells and potions? Do half demons have more or less magical strength than normal demons? Can half demons make pacts with humans? Wait- Lucifer why are you taking MC away they were talking- Lucifer!
Immortal troll needs to troll. MC is the unwitting victim of many of Solomon’s shenanigans.
“Why must I speak in rhymes?! This is the end of times!”
“MC, just stop talking.”
“Father, I don’t mean to be a bother but-”
“So the rhyming spell works the same on half demons... interesting...”
“I’m leaving, Lucifer. I’m leaving!”
Aw! Two kids in the Devildom! They were fast friends. Sure, Luke was a little annoying and MC was a bit of a dick, but their mutual smallness and desire to impress their parental figures brought them together.
“Michael’s just so cool and amazing! The way he flies, the way he commands everyone... I want to be just like him someday!”
“Is that why you’re making a cake?”
“Michael has a sweet tooth, and I want to impress him.”
“I wonder if Lucifer likes sweets...”
“Why would you want to give HIM sweets?”
MC just gave Luke a toothy grin and started making the dough for the cake.
Remember back in Lucifer’s section where I said MC would keep their lineage a secret to freak people out? Yeah... they kept it from Luke. At first it was a joke! They were going to tell him! They just uh... it got really awkward. They planned on revealing it to Luke right after they learned how to properly fly so they could swoop in, pick their angel buddy up and zip the two of them to school. It’d freak Luke out at first, but it was meant to be funny! MC would have even sung the song from Aladdin! It um... didn’t turn out that way.
“Hey! What the hell do you think you’re doing?” MC growled at the lesser demons that were crowding Luke.
“O-oh... uh... nuh-nothing...” a few of the demons backed off, mumbling a few harried apologies to MC as they scurried away. The remaining demons seemed a tad more... hmm... they say there’s a fine line between bravery and stupidity.
“M-MC! You can’t fight demons! I’m an angel I-I c-can...” Luke sniffled, but tried his best to step in front of MC.
“Oh please, the little half-breed and the lowest ranked angel are going to put up a fight?” One of the demons jeered, a few of the remaining demons joined in.
MC’s eyes narrowed, their glare as cold as the worst winter storm. “I’m going to tell you once, and once only,”
Their wings sprouted from their back, horns now fully grown and on display, teeth sharper and glistening in the light. Hm, it seemed half demons could make their eyes glow too, how delightful.
MC gave the other demons a sweet smile, it would have been comforting if it weren’t for the amount of teeth they were showing off. They lazily placed their hand on Luke’s head and lightly moved him out of the way.
“Leave, or I will make you regret ever crossing us exchange students.” MC’s carefree smile couldn’t mask the malice that coated every single word that left their lips. “Run along now, you’re not needed here.”
The demon that had started the taunts stiffened, he looked from MC, to Luke, to the other demons, before scoffing and shaking his head. “Whatever, the two of them aren’t worth it anyway...”
When the offending demons weren’t leaving fast enough for MC’s liking, they snapped their fingers and shot a fireball right behind the fleeing demons’ feet. They cleared out pretty quickly after that.
“Luke?” MC turned to look at their friend. “Are you...”
Luke was backing away. That look in his eyes, he was... scared. Scared of MC...
“Y-you’re a d-demon?” He whimpered, taking another step back.
“Half demon, actually.” MC let their demonic elements disappear. “I meant to tell you, I really did! It just was never the right time-”
“You lied to me! You said you were human! But you’re a demon like the rest of them!” Luke shouted, he wiped at his eye with his sleeve and sniffled. “I tried to help you, but you just..! I thought you were my friend!”
“Luke- hang on!” MC took a few steps forward, but Luke was already running away. MC felt something twist in their gut, something awful. That ball of innate pride twisted and practically screamed, filling MC’s head.
“He’s not worth it!”
“You’re above him anyway...”
“If he can’t understand how perfect you are, he doesn’t deserve your kindness.”
“Don’t grovel for his forgiveness. He’s beneath you.”
“Your help was rejected. Let him hate you. You’re the child of one of the most powerful demons in the Devildom, who is he to make you upset?”
The thoughts filled MC’s head as they desperately tried to shut them up. They were their father’s child, their pride wouldn’t be easily combated.
“Just be quiet!” MC clawed at their head.
“You’re better than this. You’re better than this. You’re better than this-”
“Luke!” MC called out again. “I’m sorry!”
It truly was a shame that their friend didn’t understand how much an apology from MC really meant.
They guessed Luke was right, wasn’t he? Demons were nasty awful liars. MC was no different...
Lucifer noticed his kid was moping around, not even Detective Toe Beans could cheer them up. Mammon even came home covered in mud from a failed money-making scheme and it didn’t even make MC crack a smile! He needed to get to the bottom of this.
Upon hearing the reason for his child’s woes, he was fully ready to break down the door of Purgatory Hall and throttle the little chihuahua, but Lucifer came to his senses and realized that MC probably didn’t want that.
He teamed up with Simeon and Solomon the things he did for MC... And managed to get both Luke and MC to the Demon Lord’s Castle to hang out with Barbatos.
It didn’t take a genius to realize that Luke missed his friend too. Sure they called him a chihuahua sometimes, but they were still the bestest friend he had made during his time in the exchange program... maybe ever...
Maybe... just maybe... he overreacted. MC did protect him after all, and they never tried to hurt him...
Barbatos was fully ready to fulfill his role as Luke’s second dad and help his angel-son make up with his friend.
It may have been awkward at first, but the two had to join forces to stop Solomon from getting within a hundred metres of the kitchen. Nothing brings two people back together more than fear for your tastebuds.
Mission success. Lucifer could relax knowing that his kid and the chihuahua were back to being friends. Maybe MC could convince Luke to quiet his infernal yapping... Lucifer was trying to work here!
For some extra fluff, after many days of asking and asking, Lucifer and Simeon agree to take Luke and MC up to the human world for Halloween. They got to go trick or treating, and everyone complimented MC and Luke on their ‘costumes’.
*insert sitcom laugh track here*
Sure, it may have been a little immoral for MC to use their powers to manipulate the humans into giving Luke and MC more candy but... candy...
Oh shit would you look at the time- they had to get back to the Devildom for Diavolo’s birthday party- MC STOP WITH THE CHOCOLATE! THE SIGN SAYS TAKE ONE! DON’T BE LIKE MAMMON.
The exchange year had been a success. Well... sort of. MC wasn’t exactly the average Joe human the Student Council expected, which is why after a lengthy break where MC went back to the human world to visit their other parent and human friends, the seven rulers of Hell (+MC) were sitting and waiting for the new exchange students to arrive.
Unlike the previous year, the entire student council was present. That included Levi who they had to physically drag there, Belphie who was carried there and had to be placed in his seat because he was completely passed out, and finally Mammon, he just had to be threatened.
“Father,” MC pouted from their seat next to Lucifer. “Why isn’t my chair as big as yours?”
Lucifer sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Because you’re much shorter than me. You can have a bigger chair when you grow a few more inches.”
“Mmm...” MC murmured, crossing their arms. “Are the students going to get here, or what?”
“Can you be patient?” Lucifer asked. “They’ll be here any moment now. I can trust that you’ll behave, right?”
MC looked scandalized, placing a hand over their heart and gasping. “Father! Of course! I’ll be the most polite person these humans have ever met!”
Not so deep down, Lucifer severely doubted that.
“Come now, Lucifer and MC!” Diavolo said from his elevated seat. “It’s almost eight am!”
Right on schedule the portal opened, two sets of screams followed.
“The next big priority should be making the trip more comfortable.” MC huffed. “It’s demeaning getting dropped straight down like that and just slamming into the floor.”
“Hm.” Lucifer rolled his eyes. “Perhaps instead we can just teleport them up to the Celestial Realm, start a war, and have them crash through not one, not two, but all three barriers between the realms with no portal.”
“Father...” MC matched Lucifer’s eye roll. “That has the same energy as ‘when I was your age I walked to school 100 miles through a blizzard!’ The polite thing to do for the exchange students is to not let them hit the floor at 100 mph and possibly give them a concussion.”
And slam straight onto the floor the two other exchange students did. Well, one of them slammed right into the marble, the other had tried in vain to use their wings to slow their decent or fly back up.
WAIT THE OTHER HAD HORNS?!
THEY BOTH HAD-
Oh and would you look at that... one looked like... and the other looked like-
Lucifer had to keep himself from actually shouting in frustration. One normal day... one day of no exchange student issues was all he asked for...
“Out of over ten million candidates out of over eight billion humans...” Lucifer grumbled. “How in my father’s name did this happen again?”
(OOOOOOOOOO SEQUEL BAIT!)