#depressed--and--underdressed

[hirukochan]

Stood-up

A Severus Snape x fem!reader Oneshot

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Pairing: Severus Snape x former student reader

Summary: Your former professor saves you from embarrassment when your blind date doesn't show up to the fancy restaurant you were meant to meet at.

Warnings: Smut, Loss of virginity, virgin reader

Wordcount: 5007

Read on Ao3 or below the cut

You did not expect life after Hogwarts to be…this. Whatever this is. Boring. That much is certain. You finished school five years ago with good grades and that was it. You celebrated your graduation with your friends who were already gushing about their future careers and their dream jobs, and you had nothing to offer to the conversation. You didn’t know what you wanted to do after school. And five years later you still don’t know.

You wanted to move out of your parents’ house and so you went to interviews for any job you thought yourself decently qualified for. You ended up working in a depressing little second hand bookshop in Diagon Alley. The owner, some rich fuck that doesn’t even live in London, pays you well to take care of anything that needs taking care of because the shop belonged to his wife’s grandfather, and she can’t bear separating with it. 

You also get to live rent-free in the one-room flat above the store. You have a kitchen, a bed and a bathroom and no controlling boss looming over your every move. Life is…good. It’s ok, nothing groundbreaking, but how many people get that? How realistic is an action filled, thrilling life actually?

Your friends seem content with life as it is and so you try to be content as well. 

In reality you feel lost.

You have looked into universities, but you aren’t sure if you’d be good enough and the fear of failing holds you back. Besides, what would you even study? In school charms had been your favourite, but was that because of the subject or your teacher? Professor Flitwick had made each class a delight to be in.

You shove the thoughts away, focusing on finishing up closing the store. A friend has set up a blind-date for you. Some guy she works with at the Ministry. She has gushed about him endlessly and you are sure were she not in a relationship herself - she would totally try to date him. 

That is a recipe for disaster, but you want to indulge your friend or perhaps just make her shut up and so you go along.

You lock up the shop and hurry upstairs to shower, change and put on some makeup. An hour later you are standing outside the shop, mentally preparing for the apparition. You are certain you’ll never get used to it.

Pleasant, classical music floods the street as you open the door to the wizarding restaurant and bar in central London. This is already outside your comfort zone. Too fancy and too full. Are you underdressed? Are you overdressed? Shit, what if he isn’t here yet?

“Reservation for Everett.” You say to the hostess who swishes her wand and looks through the list of reservations.

“This way, madam. Your partner is not here yet.” Shit. Of course, he wouldn’t be. You are early. Way too early. Pathetic, desperate early.

The hostess shows you to your table and you smile kindly as you sit down. A waiter hurries over to you and asks for your drink order.

“Wine. Red, please.” The waiter is gone before you can finish your sentence. A glass of wine floats to your table shortly after. You let your eyes wander over the room as you take small sips. A few couples sit at the tables, some more stand at the bar, chatting with each other.

You wait.

And wait.

Three glasses later you know you got stood up. You try to fight the tears stinging in your eyes and dig through your purse for some money to pay for the drinks and scurry out of the restaurant as fast as possible. 

How pathetic! Hot shame spreads through your chest, your guts twist at the mere thought of getting up and leaving. Your feet don’t work. They simply won’t respond to your command. With all your willpower you stifle a sob in your throat. This is your last straw.

All the disappointment over life after Hogwarts, the loneliness, being lost and left behind by the golden opportunities your future had promised you - and now not even your date could bother to show up! You didn’t even want to meet him. Prick!

“Ms. (L/N)?” You flinch. That voice. You are sure that voice would give you war-like flashbacks for the rest of your life. Running through corridors at night, blood pounding in your ears, already feeling safe as the entrance to your common room approaches just to be violently stopped by those words.

You turn and meet the dark eyes of your former professor for potions. 

Severus Snape has not changed in the five years since you last saw him. The same hooked nose, same pale skin. Black greasy hair falling into his face. The long black robes hiding every inch of his skin.

“P-professor Snape.” You reply, because you have to say something. His eyes wander over you, clearly made up for a date and then twitch to the empty seat across from you. They narrow as they see the three empty glasses and the slight redness of your eyes. Without saying anything he slips into the seat across from you.

“Two glasses of whatever the lady has been drinking.” He says as he grabs a waiter by the arm. He gestures towards the glasses. “And get rid of these. What kind of service is this?” The waiter apologises profusely and hurries away quickly. 

You stare at Snape in bewilderment. He is sitting across from you. He saw you got stood up and sat down. And he ordered drinks. 

He is looking at you. Say something. Anything. Shit shit shit.

“I was supposed to meet someone.” You say, cursing how meek you sound. You look away and try to subtly wipe the corner of your eye where a stubborn little tear tries very hard to run down your cheek. You know if you allow that one to pass your lashes, there is no holding back the rest.

“I gathered.” He leans back in his chair, his eyes still roaming over you. Instantly you feel like you are back in the dungeons of Hogwarts, trying your best to brew a potion while he stares at you, waiting for the moment you fail. You swallow hard as the familiar nervousness of being around Snape takes over.

“A boyfriend?”

“N-no. A friend set it up- never met him.”

“What do you do these days?” You blush. You were afraid he might ask that.

“I-I run a little b-bookshop in Diagon Alley…sir.” The ‘sir’ slips out before you can stop it. A smirk tucks at the corners of his mouth at the sound of it but dies instantly.

“A bookshop? And you’re happy with that?” You shrug. You aren’t, but you wouldn’t tell him that. You cling to your glass. This is worse than getting stood up and humiliated. Infinitely worse. Snape leans over the table, his dark eyes glinting with something you can’t quite place.

“I am not going to bite you. Unless-” You tense. Is he flirting? Merlin’s beard- You feel heat rise to your face and stare down at the wine in your hands. “I apologise. This is inappropriate and you clearly wish to be as far away from me as possible. I’ll leave you to it.” Snape says, an edge of self-loathing sneaking into his voice. He digs through his pocket and puts down a few coins on the table.

“Stay-” You have no idea how you manage to force the word out of your constricting throat but there it is. Out in the open. 

Snape stares at you in disbelief. You take a shaky, deep breath and look up to meet his intense gaze.

“Stay.” You repeat, firmer this time. That expression flashes through his eyes again and after a moment of hesitation he settles down.

“U-unless I am keeping you from meeting someone. I-” You hadn’t considered why he might be here. Shit, is he on a date? And instead of that he took pity on you? Does Snape date? 

He chuckles. The sound as foreign to your ears as kindness or praise from him. It goes straight to your core, and you gulp as you are violently tossed back into your old crush. That is the last thing you need now! 

Imagining him doing all sorts of things to you during class was bad enough already - mainly because it really messed with your grade - but imagining them now that you are no longer his student, no longer sixteen- You blush even more as you realise that - in theory - you could do these things now. 

It has been five years since you graduated, sure it is a bit weird maybe, but entirely allowed. You have not been in contact with him since graduation. He has made no inappropriate comment to you while you were his student ever- in fact he barely ever talked to you.

You feel Snape’s hot gaze burn through your skull. It’s almost like he knows. Which is entirely impossible. Or is it? He has the uncanny ability to know when students are planning mischief behind his back and such things as reading minds isn’t at all a ridiculous idea to wizards- shit.

Snape’s lips curl as you stare at him.

“Oh, yes.” His smooth voice says in your head. “I know. I know all the little fantasies you have been coming up with for years.” The colour vanishes from your face. You take a big gulp of your wine, downing the entire thing in one go to aid your suddenly parched throat. Snape swirls the wine in his glass, never taking his eyes off you.

“A-and is that some-something you’d…you’d want?” You ask. Your heart twists and turns in your chest, your insides clench almost uncomfortably. You have no idea where you take the bravery from to say it out loud. 

His grin grows, his eyes darken, snapping down to the neckline of your dress. In one smooth movement he gets up and holds his hand out to you.

This is it.

The one opportunity you’d get.

You take his hand. 

Your skin tingles where it touches him and a giddy feeling spreads through you. 

You are going to sleep with your Potions professor. Former professor. Dark, unapproachable, cruel Snape. The man you have been fantasising about since 6th grade. The man that terrifies you as much as he intrigues you.

Together you leave the restaurant. He guides you towards an abandoned alley and lets go of your hand to snake his arm around your waist.

“Hold on tight.” He whispers in his ear. You can feel his breath on your neck and a shudder runs down your spine. You take a shaky breath and put your arms around his waist. You are swept up in his scent, musky and herbal. It clouds your mind instantly and you bite your tongue so you don’t inhale deeper just so it can flood your senses more. His magic wraps around you and you squeeze your eyes shut, waiting for the apparition to pass. You can feel the chuckle rumble through Snape’s chest before you hear it.

“Still no fan?” 

“No.” You reply breathless and separate from him. He holds onto your waist, eyeing you as though he expects you to collapse. Right- You did. During Apparition training in your 7th year, you lost consciousness after your first successful attempt. He was one of the teachers overseeing the training. 

You blush as the memory of how embarrassed you felt waking up in his arms, your whole year watching, resurfaces in your mind. You clear your throat and look around. You’re in Diagon Alley, not far away from the bookshop. You dig through your pocket and get out the key as you walk towards it. 

You are going to have sex. 

You are going to have sex with Snape. He’s walking right behind you. Nervous doesn’t even begin to cover how you feel.

“This is it.” You say and close the door behind you. Your flat looks terribly small with Snape standing in it. 

“Do you still want me to stay?”

“Yes. I’m just-”

“Yes?” He steps closer.

“You intimidate me.”

“Is that a good thing? Or a bad thing?”

“Good.” You reply breathlessly. Your mind is already foggy just from him standing so close to you. His eyes roam over your face, as though he is determined to enter all its details to his memory. Your heart beats impossibly fast in your chest, smashing against your ribcage so hard you wonder whether Snape can hear it. He leans down, inky hair falling into his face, stealing your view of the room around you. 

Your insides clench and scream for him to kiss you. Finally kiss you. You bite your bottom lip to stop its pathetic quivering. His scent floods your senses and briefly renders your mind nonexistent. 

Snape runs his fingertips over your arm, starting at your wrist and drawing goosebumps across your naked skin, all the way up to your shoulder. Your breath hitches and you barely manage to withstand the urge to hold onto him.

“You’d have to take this off first.” He says, quiet, calm. His voice sends a shiver through your body. He drags his fingers over your shoulder to your neck. He takes the zipper and slowly pulls it down, the sound resounds in your room loud like thunder. 

He barely touches your skin when he peels the straps off your shoulder and gently tugs the dress down and over your hips. It pools around your feet on the ground.

Snape takes a step back and takes in your body. You aren’t wearing a bra, you own none that would have looked good with the dress and stand in front of him only in a pair of black lace knickers.

His eyes remain as unreadable as they always are. He seems to assess your body with the same impartiality as he used to look at your potions. You shiver, cold air swirling around your heated skin, goosebumps spread across your skin and your nipples harden. Your face is burning hot though, and you barely resist the impulse of covering yourself with your arms.

Just when you begin to think this is some cruel joke, he is playing on you to embarrass you, he closes the distance between you two - too fast for your mind to catch up. He grabs your waist and smashes your body against his. His lips crash against your collarbone, his teeth graze your skin.

You gasp and sink your hands into his hair, marvelling at how soft it feels. He kisses your skin, sucks and nibbles. White hot lust seeps into your skin from the saliva he spreads across it. 

He holds your waist in his surprisingly strong arms and attacks your chest, worshipping every inch of you as though you are some ancient artefact promising prosperity and luck to loyal devotees. He groans against you, and you join with a moan of yourself, arching your back, offering your chest up to him. He accepts without hesitation, with enthusiasm even. Snape licks broad, firm strokes over your exposed breast, roughly kneading the other with his hand.

His thorough attention is dizzying. Blood pounds in your ears and waves upon waves of merciless pleasure course through you, twisting your vocal cords into the strangest of sounds you have never heard yourself make.

“Are you a virgin?” He groans against your skin.

“Y-yes-” He stops, dead in his tracks. Slowly his head tilts back, his gaze snapping in on yours.

“Yes?” Hunger flashes through his eyes and he licks his lips. “How the fuck are you still a virgin?” You blush more fiercely if that is even possible. Your shrug and drops your hands to his shoulders.

“Um- nobody was ever interested in me like that.”

“You’re what? Twenty-one?”

“Twenty-two.”

“And nobody ever touched your gorgeous fucking body?” He sounds baffled, like your words are the most ridiculous thing he has ever heard.

“Touched, yes…snogging at parties in the common room and such, but-” Your voice trails off. 

“You are telling me.” He says, his voice growing to untamed deep turmoil of unabashed desire and feral lust. “Nobody ever sucked on these dainty, splendid nipples?” As if to emphasise his words he closes his lips around one, holding it between his teeth and flicking his tongue over it. You whimper. Your legs shake under the weight of your own body, and you cling to his shoulders. His eyes never leave you, the weight of them heavy on you, buzzing on your skin. You throw your head back, moaning like you’ve never moaned before.

He chuckles, the vibration of it ripples through the tissue of your breast and sinks deep into your body, melting into your bones. He kisses his way back up to your collarbone and neck.

“Fools. Every single one of them that did not realise what they are missing out on.” He gently sucks on the sensitive skin in the crook of your neck. He steers you backwards until your calves meet the frame of your bed and you allow your body to fall back.

Snape kicks his shoes off and slips out of his cloak before he follows you, crawling over the bed, up your body like a predator about to devour his prey. A shiver rushes through you at that thought. Yes- you want him to devour you, to worship you, to ruin you and build you back up. He braces his arms against the mattress on either side of your head.

“And you still want me to stay?” The words fall into the space between your bodies, filled with heat and want, desire and fear, buzzing with anticipation. His eyes are softer somehow, less intense, but not less hungry. They tell you how much he wants you, craves you but also tell you he’d stop. You just need to say the word and he will leave. Without shaming you, without a cruel word or ounce of disappointment. 

“Yes.”

“You want to give this first experience to me? Of all people?”

“I’ve always wanted it to be you.” Snape groans and closes his eyes. His head drops, coming to rest against your shoulder, nestling to the crook of your neck.

“Do you have any idea-” He is breathing heavy, clenching his fists in your sheets, his body one large, tensed muscle. “-what you do to me?” Before you can answer he grabs one of your hands and brings it down. He presses it against his upper thigh where his cock is very hard, straining against its confines. You gasp at which Snape smirks. He rolls his hips against your hand.

“It’s big…” You whisper, more fear mixing in with your burning arousal.

“You can take it.” He leans down. His lips brush over your cheek. “I’ll make sure of it.” His breath dances over the shell of your ear, prickling. As soon as it passes your skin feels terribly cold, like it’s never going to be warm ever again just to be replaced by burning heat. Snape drags the tip of his tongue across the shell of your ear and back down to close his lips around your earlobe.

The whimper that falls from your lips at that is more of a high pitched squeak and finally, finally he kisses you. His lips are soft like silk and warm, reminding you of a mug of butterbeer in the Three Broomsticks in winter. 

You sigh and move your lips with his, threading your fingers through his hair. Despite the way he has been acting so far, he kisses you passionately, almost slow, but no less thorough. 

Severus Snape is nothing if not thorough. 

And he intends to savour you.

You part your lips for him, eager to move this along, eager to feel him and the pleasure he can bring you, but when it comes to actually deepening the kiss you hesitate. Snape senses your nervousness and takes over the decision making from you. The tip of his tongue meets yours and he slides it slowly over your own, easing you into the kiss and coaxing a small moan from you. 

You relax against him and surrender yourself to his touch once more. You have never been kissed like this. With want and need, with passion and hunger. He maps out your mouth as though he is trying to dissect a potion he has never seen into its separate components. 

His hands run over your body, your sides and stomach to your thighs. You whine at his touch and muscles twitch under your skin as if to reach out to his calloused fingers. The wool of his frock rubs against your skin when he moves. You reach out to work on the endless row of buttons but are rather abruptly interrupted by his fingers against your cunt. 

A surprised, shuddering gasp escapes you and your fingers tense against his chest. Snape chuckles into the kiss, never once stopping his assault on your mouth. Playful he circles your entrance, gathering you slick and spreading it to your clit. You cling to his shoulders and push your head back into the pillows. Pressure builds deep in your cunt, and you need him to ease it- need him to- to-

“Ahh-” You cry out and dig your nails into Snape’s shoulders. Your own fingers never felt that fucking good.

“Are we enjoying ourself?” Snape teases, watching the pleasure drunk expression on your face.

“Mhh…Snape-” You buck your hips into his hand. “Please- fuck me-”

“Patience, dear. I told you I would make sure you can take me.” He teases your entrance with a finger, coating it in your slick and then gently pushes inside you. “I will fuck you. I will fuck you so well nobody will ever compare to me, but first I’ll stretch this virgin cunt because as you so eloquently put it - It’s big.”

“There was this rumour back in school-” You murmur, blissful pleasure clouding your mind and rendering it utterly useless. “-that- that….oohhh-”

“That I’m a virgin?” He smirks. He pumps his finger inside you, curling it and pressing upwards slightly and a flash of searing pleasure explodes inside your cunt, and you squirm under him, rolling your hips into his touch to get more more more. “Does it feel like I am? Like I’ve never touched a woman?”

“Snape-”

“Dear, believe me, I know your body better than you.” You want to get offended by that statement. What a man thing to say but then Snape does something with his finger, twisting and curling at the same time or something else, interrupting your thoughts harshly with another mind-blowing ripple of pleasure. 

Snape adds a second finger, stretching you carefully and kissing you the entire time, then a third. You are hot all over. Sweat clings to you like a second layer of skin. You are shivering from unfulfilled need and the steadily building pressure deep in your cunt just outside of Snape’s reach.

It builds and builds, beyond anything you were ever able to do to yourself and you have no idea how it keeps building and where all this pressure goes because the thought of it all staying confined in you is absurd!

You whine at the loss of his touch and buck your hips in a futile attempt of stopping his fingers from leaving you. Snape looks very fucking smug, but you are to wound up and needy to even care. 

He watches you squirm, your slickness dripping off his fingers. He traces your lips with his ring finger, spreading your own arousal over them. You are too far gone to really care. Your tongue darts out and licks your lips clean, accepting his finger into your mouth. You suck his fingers clean, one after another, Snape’s dark eyes never leaving you.

“What a good girl.” He coos. His voice rolls over your skin and sinks into your body, causing your insides to clench. 

You watch Snape undo the rest of the buttons and toss the black frock away. He opens his belt, the quiet clink of the buckle echoes in your mind. You’re about to see Snape’s prick. Snape just fingered you. You’ve been kissing Snape! 

Your heart beats faster, like a hummingbird forced to forever fly on the spot in a too small cage. Anticipation takes your breath away and impossibly so, more slickness rushes to your entrance. Every second he takes to open his trousers feels like another fire being lit on your skin. 

He slides a hand in his pants and now you are sure he is doing it to see you squirm because who moves that slow?

You let out an impatient whine and squirm, bucking your hips to grind against him.

“So impatient.” He chuckles and finally, finally frees his prick. 

It’s big is a pretty accurate description, you don't know what Snape has against your eloquence. Jesus fuck, is another option but you doubt Snape would find that more eloquent.

His plush, purple cockhead is already leaking pre-cum. Snape mutters an incantation, you recognise as a contraception spell, before aligning himself with you.

“Don’t worry, dear.” He coos. “I’ll be gentle. Just relax.” You try. You really try, but Snape has your nerve endings running in circles, screaming, while on fire. Stop, drop and roll is not an option that they can think of, mainly because thinking is quite difficult when on fire. 

He pushes against you, and you tense further. Snape rubs your thigh, and you take a deep breath and try to relax your muscles. Slowly, inch after thick inch Snape enters you. Beads of sweat collect on his forehead from the strain of going slow. Inch after inch of your tight channel is mercilessly forced to yield to his girth, stretching you open with a small sting. 

Snape grunts and sinks into you to the hilt, sacking above you to give you time to adjust and also catch his breath.

You are so bloody full. How he isn’t ripping you open is a miracle to you. Your knuckles are white from holding onto his arms. The muscles in your thighs quiver. You give tentatively rolls of your hips, earning a low groan from Snape another wave of deep pleasure.

“You’re breathing really hard.” He mutters into your ear. “I like that - keep working so hard for me, dear.” Snape’s thrusts are long and controlled, massaging your inner walls and hitting just the right spots. You are reduced to a pathetic, needy moaning puddle of bliss and want. 

Snape isn’t doing too much better. His breathing is heavy and loud right next to your ear which drives you deeper and deeper into your trance-like state of ecstatic bliss. His rhythm falters more than once and his groans take on an animalistic edge. 

“So tight.” He grunts and drives back into you. “Just for me-”

“Snape!”

“That’s right. Saved yourself for me, didn’t you, dear?”

“Idiot.” You laugh against his jaw.

“No need to play shy - you can tell me.” Snape smirks and leans his forehead against yours. “I won’t tell anyone, I swear.” He snaps his hips forward, hitting that spot with more force than before and your breath gets stuck in your throat. You tense and convulse, somehow simultaneously. Snape grunts when you clench around him and your inner walls spasm.

“Keep coming- keep fucking coming for me!” He reaches between your bodies and rubs your clit. A violent wave of pleasure smacks you right in the face and you scream in pleasure. Snape whispers reverent praise and fucks you through your release, coming shortly after with a long groan inside you.

Sweaty, sticky and spent you collapse on the bed, both trying to catch your breath. Snape runs his hand over your thigh absentmindedly. His cum slowly leaks out of you. Your eyelids are heavy. A heavy blanket of bliss and contentment settles over you.

“Thank you.” You whisper into the silence of your flat.

“Whatever for?” He chuckles next to you.

“It was nice.” You shrug.

“Well, I should be thanking you for even letting me touch you.”

“Let’s thank each other.”

“Fine.” You stay there a while longer, but eventually Snape disentangles himself from you and gets up to get dressed.

Lying on your side with your sheets pulled up to cover your still shaking body you watch him.

“You know-” He says but stops himself, a frown appearing on his face. “A career isn’t the only thing to measure how accomplished or fulfilled one’s life is. Your friends might think their jobs are great now, but in ten, twenty years they’ll realise they have never lived a day in their life. This job…” He looks around the flat. “It seems pretty comfortable to me. It seems to give you the freedom to do whatever you want. Create art or music, write, research or go to university. You can do whatever you want - fuck what other people think. Not everybody dreams of labour.”

“What if I’m not good enough?” Snape fastens his cloak. He looks up. His eyes seem heavy with a burden you can’t quite understand. The corner of his mouth twitches and perhaps for the first time in the years you have known him you see him smile.

“I think you can achieve anything you put your mind to. And either way. How will you know if you never try? The day will come you’ll regret having allowed your fear to hold you back.” His cloak billows behind him when he turns to leave. His hand already on the doorknob he stops.

“I hope you find happiness.”

“I hope you find happiness too, Professor.”

“For some of us it’s too late.” And with those words he disappears into the darkness of the night.

Three weeks later Albus Dumbledore is murdered by Severus Snape.

| Part 2 |

[luciferlightbringer]

Stolen Away

Here is the one shot for my first giveaway winner @hawke1917 ! Enjoy!

Lucifer x fem sinner reader

Word Count: 4.6 k

CW: Trauma, Anxiety, Kidnapping, Fluff, Fear, Hurt/Comfort, Angst Depictions of Violence, Torture

It was a relatively peaceful morning in Hell, you stood out on the balcony of your room that you shared with Lucifer and watched the residence below as you brushes out your hair. At some point you feel a hand on your arm, and you turn to she Lucifer smiling at you with loving eyes.

“May I?” he said, holding out a hand for the brush. You smiled and handed the brush to him, you loved how much he loved brushing your hair. You never wanted to make him feel obligated, but he always seemed to find you when you were brushing your hair or he would find times to play with it. And you were never upset by it because his touch was to die for.

Lucifer started to brush, “How are you this morning, my love?” he asked.

“I am doing well, it’s nice today, I like people-watching on days like this,” you smiled and sighed at the blissful sensory of Lucifer brushing through your hair. He blushed to see you so content at his touch. After a few minutes, he too looked out over the city.

“It is nice, isn’t it? Would you like to go out shopping with me in the city today?” he asked.

You turned and pulled him into a tender kiss, “Yes! I would love to. Let me go get ready.” You ran off to your closet, leaving Lucifer in a lovely daze on the balcony with the brush in his hand. He set down the brush and get himself ready as he waited for you. Along with his usual outfit, he also put on a necklace that you had gotten for him a few months ago as pet of a matching set. He wasn’t much of a jewelry guy but he loved matching with you or wearing things you got him.

You came out in a nice top and skirt with comfortable shoes for walking the city in, as well as the necklace than matched his own. Lucifer looked you over as you came out and gave you a dopey smile, “Hells you are beautiful.”

You giggled, “I feel a little underdressed next to you though,” you said, flicking the tip of his hat.

He looked down at himself and then as your sheepishly, “Is it too much? I can change!”

You took Lucifer’s hand, “No no! I was just teasing you, Luci. You look wonderful. Come on, let’s go out!”

You give him a kiss and start to pull Lucifer towards the door. You knew you had to get him going or else he would overthink that comment into an oblivion, you loved him so much but his anxiety and depression could just engulf him sometimes if he couldn’t get distracted fast enough. It was getting much better over time. But you still worried about it at times.

Before long, you and Lucifer make it down to the shops of the entertainment district of the Pride ring. It couldn’t be helped that you too would attract the stares and comments of the people of Hell, mostly people gawking and wanting to talk to Lucifer, which you understood, he was the King after all!

Some people also wanted to talk to you though, wondering how you snagged the King, some weird comments about you stealing him from Lilith, and then every once in a while you would get someone who just wanted to tear you down. Today was one of those days, because it wasn’t someone you could identify, just every once in a while you would hear a quick word or phrase. “Fake”, “sellout”, “homewrecker”, “slut”. They were all so spread out over the day that you didn’t really notice a pattern, Lucifer noticed one of the words on a more quiet part of the walk and got angry, shouting towards the sound, and you wrapped your arms around him to calm him down.

“Sweetheart, it’s ok, don’t feed into it, they just want to get a rise out of us,” you said calmly, holding his face.

“I know… I just hate that they are going after you. Lilith and I had an amicable split and she knows that I’m with you now. That should not be anyone else’s business,” he pouted.

You gave him a soft smile, “We are in hell baby, this is going to happen. Come on, let’s go get some food.” He sighs, tucks a stray hair behind your ear, kisses you, and then takes your hand as you walk together down towards a favorite food place of yours. On your way to the restaurant, you saw a store on the was that had the most adorable little circus clown rubber duck in the window, you almost pointed it out to Lucifer, but then you realized that you would rather it be a surprise, so you kept quiet and had a thought to come back for it later.

You two arrived at your favorite lunch spot, and of course one of the staff scrambles seeing the King of Hell at their front door. Lucifer tries to help the poor sinner remain calm and you get set up at a table. Lucifer reaches over to hold your hand during most of the meal, partly because he was romantic like that, but also because all of the attention was starting to make him feel nervous. He liked being out with you but fuck, these sinners sometimes made it really hard to be out. You tried to sooth him by rubbing your thumb on the back of his hand, and you watched him relax a little. He sighed, maybe he should have dresses down a little, maybe he wouldn’t have gotten as noticed then.

Food came and the both of you ate and chatted, giggling and having fun. At the end, Lucifer went to go pay for the meal. You told Lucifer then that there was a store you wanted to go to by yourself really quick and that you would be right back. Lucifer gave you a quick kiss before you walked out and down to the store. You tried not to run, but you were just so excited about this duck, it just fit his vibe so well.

You walked into the store and saw an imp in a cowboy hat and bright yellow eyes at the counter. They saw you approach and gave you a big smile, “Welcome in! It’s an honor to have you in your highness!” he said with a a southern accent and a wide sharp smile, a smile that almost felt a little forced.

“Oh… hahah… oh no I’m no royalty,” you added.

The imp laughed and walked around the counter, holding a glowing white lasso, “Haha, oh I know.” He quickly tossed the rope and caught you in it, spinning you in tightly before you can get free. You try to scream but he uses his tail to hold a knife to your throat, and not just any kind of knife, one made of angelic steel. You went quiet.

“Ahh, a smart one I see. Figured you may have been at least a little familiar with this metal. Seeing as how you and your Princess’ little friends seemed to be dripping in it several weeks ago,” he sneared. So… he had been watching you?

“What do you want from me?” you asked quietly.

“I want you to come with me,” he said, tugging the rope tighter, “we are gonna go someplace where your little King will never find you.” He laughed and you felt a sharp pain in the back of your head before everything went dark.

Over near the restaurant Lucifer waited for 10, 20, 30, minutes, and you never returned. He started to get nervous. He sent you a text or two and you didn’t respond. This was not like you at all. After the half hour, he decided to just call you. There was no ring, it went straight to voicemail, a chill ran up his spine. He called again, voicemail. And again, voicemail.

At this point, Lucifer was starting to panic. He took off and started to fly up and down the streets, most were just marveling at his wings, but a few called out to him. “My girlfriend, (y/n), she was just with me and now I can’t find her. Has anyone seen her?” He gave your description, showed a picture of you to a few people, even showed the necklace to see if anyone had seen someone with the same one. One person pointed him towards the shop that you went into. He went towards it and landed, seeing the circus rubber duck in the window, is that what you had come here for?

He walked in but saw no one there, “Hello!” he called out, still on guard. He heard a noise from a hall closet. He carefully went and opened the door, and a young imp woman tided in ropes tumbled out. Lucifer got her free of the ropes quickly.

“What happened?!” he said to the woman.

“Your majesty! I… I don’t know! This man came in, an imp, cowboy hat and yellow eyes, southern accent. He tied me up and shoved me in here! I heard someone else come in, a woman that he called “your highness”. I think he took off with her.”

“Where?!” Lucifer yelled.

The woman pulled back, “I don’t know! He didn’t say! Please don’t hurt me, your majesty!”

Lucifer took a breath, realizing he was scaring an innocent woman. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to yell at you… I have to find her.” He ducks out of the shop and takes to the air, looking to find and signs of you or the imp the woman had mentioned. But this man was quick and he had gotten you out of there quickly, there was no trace of you or him.

What could he do? Where was there to start looking for you? Who could he call? One of the Sins? He thought quickly, thinking about who would be the best to call. Then he remembered that Ozzie had told him about his boyfriend Fizz getting kidnapped several months ago, maybe he would have an idea of where to start. From the skies, Lucifer started a video call with Ozzie.

Ozzie’s face showed up on the screen, “Hey Luc, not like you to call out of, ohhhh noooo, Lucifer what’s wrong?” Ozzie said after seeing Lucifer’s face.

“It’s (y/n), I think she’s been kidnapped. Please I need help and I don’t know where to start,” Lucifer wailed into the phone.

“Oh shit! Uhh… ok, hang on.” Ozzie’s faces move to look at someone off screen. “Fizzy? Do you have the number of that old friend of yours?” Muffled response from Fizzaroli. “Ya, Blitzø.” Muffled response. “Shit.” Muffled response. “Stolas? Ok.” Ozzie looked back at the camera, “Do you mind if I add Stolas Goetia to the call? He has a… friend of sorts that can help. He has saved both Fizzy and Stolas before.”

“Anything, I’ll take anyone’s help. I just need to find her!” Lucifer panicked.

“Ok ok! Try to stay calm Lucifer, we will find her. Try to find a place to land for now. I don’t want you flying while you are panicking.”

Lucifer nodded and landed on a nearby building roof while Ozzie got Stolas on the call.

“Well hello Asmodeous! A pleasure to hear from you, and… my stars, is that Lucifer?” Stolas asked.

“It is, he has a bit of a problem, we are wondering if you can help connect us with the person that saved you and Fizzy, that… Blitzø? Lucifer’s girlfriend has gone missing.” Ozzie said.

“Oh my! Has she been taken from you, my dear King? I would be happy to connect you with my Blitzy, him and his friends are very good at finding and saving people,” Stolas said with pride in his voice.

“Yes! Please! I need someone to find her!” Lucifer said, pulling at his hair. How many more people would he need to get on the phone before he could find someone that could help? As many as it took! He kept anxiously fidgeting with his necklace.

Stolas added Blitzø to the call, and Blitz chaotically picked up the phone ”What the fuck do you want Stolas? I’m in the middle of a meeting right now! Also video call, that’s bold of… whoa. Holy shit is that fucking Lucifer?” Lucifer awkwardly waved. “Whoaaa, Moxxie, Millie, Loonie, look it’s King Lucifer!” Lucifer watches as the faces of the other three squish into the video and wave, Lucifer gives another awkward wave back.

“Wait,” Blitz said “this isn’t some weird sex thing, is it Stolas?”

Stolas waved a hand, “No no no darling, this is a matter of the utmost importance. His majesty’s girlfriend has been kidnapped and I know you are just so talented at finding things, he needs your help.” Lucifer caught some flirty undertones in Stolas’ voice towards Blitz but he chose to ignore that.

Blitz blinked, “The King of Hell needs our help, this is fucking awesome! Alright, lay it on me, Luci, what’s the sitch?”

“And you uhh… trust this guys Stolas?” Lucifer added.

“With my very life,” Stolas said, putting a hand over his heart.

“Mine too!” Fizz called out from behind Ozzie.

Lucifer nodded and told Blitzø everything that had happened with you leaving to go get something, no response on phone calls or texts, and the reports from the woman.

“Wait… run that guy’s description past me again?” Blitz asked.

“Imp, short white hair, cowboy ish hat, yellow eyes, a kind of southern accent?” Lucifer said, “I didn’t see him but the woman at the shop did, she was tired up with rope.”

“Kinda like she had been lassoed?” Blitz said flatly.

“Ya!” Lucifer said.

“Fuck! Not that god damn prick again, why does he keep fucking kidnapping people?!” Blitzø said as he set down the phone and started to dig for tools.

Stolas gasped, “You don’t think it’s that Striker now, do you Blitz?”

“Oh I know it’s fucking Striker, he has such a signature style I can practically fucking smell it at this point,” Blitz added.

“Who is Striker?!” Lucifer asked.

“He is an Imp who is a sort of bounty hunter of sorts, he kidnapped Fizzy, Blitz, and Stolas before. He almost kicked Stolas before!” Ozzie added.

Killed? “Wait… does that mean he…” Lucifer said.

“Has access to angelic steel? You bet your fucking ass he does, and I have a fucking score to settle with him,” Blitz picks the phone back up, “but that also means I know exactly where he is. The Wrath Ring.”

“What? But… mortal souls don’t leave the Pride ring?” Lucifer added.

“That wouldn’t stop him from finding a way to smuggle her into the ring, also you would be less likely to suspect him there with a mortal soul. Trust me your majesty, I have this covered. Anything else you need me to know?” Blitz asked.

Lucifer sniffles, “No, just bring her back to me. Please.”

Blitz salutes Lucifer, “We will get her back sir” Blitz puts on some sunglasses, “Alright, bitches. Saddle up, we are heading to Wrath!” Then Blitz hung up on his end.

Lucifer took a deep breath and sighed, he was so worried about you. Worried that this “Striker” guys was going to harm you. Was it to get to him? Or something else?

“It’s gonna be ok Luci,” Ozzie said.

“Yes, and is there anything else we could possibly do to support you, Lucifer?” Stolas added.

“I… I don’t know… I wanna go back home but I don’t wanna be alone right now. I’m so scared for her. If I knew where she was I could take care of it myself… but tracking is not one of my strong suits…” Lucifer said.

“They have a hellhound on their team, she is good, she found my daughter when she got lost on Earth one time. They will find her, Lucifer,” Stolas said.

“How about you come over and hang with me and Fizz, Lucifer. Stolas can come too if you want that,” Ozzie offered.

Lucifer nodded, “Be there in a sec.” Then he hung up. Lucifer opened a portal and stepped into the lobby of Ozzie’s residence, and a second later, Stolas opened his own portal and stepped in, right as Ozzie rounded the corner with Fizz. Ozzie sighs and puts a hand on Lucifer’s shoulder.

“I’m just so worried about her, especially if he has access to angelic steel… oh… my darling girl…” Lucifer started to cry. Ozzie and Stolas looked at each other, Stolas was thinking back to his own encounter with Striker, but he was not going to share that with Lucifer now, it would only worry him.

“Nothing we can do now besides wait Lucifer, I’m sure once they find (y/n), Blitz will be calling us so that you can swoop down there and take them out yourself,” Stolas said.

“Until then, come join Fizzy and I for food, we just finished making lunch,” Ozzie said leading them further into their home. Lucifer had still recently eaten and was not feeling like more, but he was willing to be with them while he waited for the results of the search. Fizzaroli chanted “Burger time, Burger time,” as they walked to the kitchen, which at least got Lucifer to crack a small smile. But seeing Ozzie with Fizz and Stolas talk about Blitz made him feel your absence even more. He held onto the necklace that matched yours, and thought, ‘We will find you, Sweetheart, I promise.’

———————————————————————————————————————

Your eyes opened as you came back to consciousness, the only thing you could see was the white glow of the rope around you, and two bright yellow eyes, that were looking at you from several feet away.

“Aww, so the King’s pet is now awake. Welcome back to the land of the dead… for now,” the man said and chuckled.

“Who are you? What do you want from me?” You asked.

The eyes squinted and moved up and then slowly towards you, “Name’s Striker, not that it will matter soon. and I’m here to torture you, maybe kill you.” He gave an evil chuckle, and as he grew closer, you saw another light start to shine silver about a foot below his eyes, in the shape of a blade. You froze, remembering that he had angelic steel on him. One wrong move and you would be dead for a second time, no Lucifer, no hotel.

You swallowed hard, “I’ll do anything you ask, just tell me what you want.”

He continued to walk towards you and held the angelic blade to your chin and lifted it up, you could now see a little more of his face, and it was the same man who tied you up.

“Smart girl,” he growled, “But I didn’t drag you here because I needed something from you, although using you to get to that royal family would be pretty nice. But I know I can’t take him on. No… I’ve been hired to kill you my wanna-be royal.”

You scowled, “I am not a wanna-be royal, I love Lucifer despite him being the King, and I care about what Charlie is doing despite her being the Princess!”

Striker flicked the blade across your check and you gasped as you started to feel blood drip down your face. “Pitiful that you would believe your own lies, anyone that chases a blue blood is always wanting what they have. Even if you do care, there is something someone wants out of it. And the people that want you dead, don’t like that some sinner got to be by his side. What makes you so special that he chose you above anyone else?”

You breathed heavily, “There… there are other sinners that want me dead because I’m with Lucifer?” This comment earned you another flick of his blade, this time on your arm, then he kicked you over in the chair you were in and glared over you.

“More than just sinners, baby cakes,” he glared down at you. “I’m personally a fan of all the royals and their mates being dead. They treat us like scum!”

“No! Please! Striker I don’t want anyone to feel that way! Let me talk to Lucifer and we can try to fix things!”

This response ended with the knife plunged into your thigh, and you let out a scream.

“Oh see! Now that you are at the end of my knife, you are willing to reform things. Well it ain’t gonna work this time! I’m not listening to blue bloods, or their lying simps!” Striker yelled.

Tears started to stream down your face. All you could think about was Lucifer, how scared he probably was, and how he was going to find you in this cave, dead. You dare not make any more comments, hoping that maybe your silence will buy you more time for… something, anything. You didn’t know if anyone was going to save you from this, but you wanted to hope.

Striker continued to walk around in the darkness for a while, leaving cuts or jabs into your body with his knife, leaving you screaming as he tormented you. You secretly hoped your screams would tell someone, anyone, that you needed help, but who in Hell would come save you other than Lucifer and the hotel crew? How would they know where to find you.

A while later, you heard something that sounded like a motor and a light, showing more of the area round you, and showing that you were in a cave of some sort. Striker was distracted by the car as it came closer until it came to a screeching halt as three imps and a hellhound jumped out.

“There you are you fucking psycho! Nice job finding a different creepy ass mine shaft in Wrath, how many of these places are there!” The tallest of the imps called out.

“Blitz?! What the hell are you doing here?!” Striker asked as he moved into a more aggressive stance, pulling out a gun.

“Ahh, well you see, you pissed off the King of Hell and uhhh… he has contacts. And unfortunately for you, you are so fucking bad at your job that you practically leave a calling card at this point! An imp with yellow eyes, a cowboy hat, and a southern accent that loves kidnapping royals or there bitches? That just screams “Striker” pal.” Blitz started pulling out his phone as he talked.

“What are you doing?” Striker said.

Stolas picked up the phone, Blitz smiled and just said, “Oh nothing, just tell my friend where we finally found you sick fucks with King Lucifer’s girlfriend, at the middle part of the eastern mineshaft in Wrath by the way, so that he can come take care of you.”

A moment later, a red portal opened up above you all and Lucifer flew out, all six wings flapping furiously, full demon mode out on display. Lucifer saw you, and then locked his eyes on Striker and dove at him. Striker was able to narrowly miss Lucifer’s first lunge, but not the second as Lucifer swung back around and grabbed Striker, taking him to the ground and knocking the weapons out of Strikers hands, and holding him down.

“WĦÄȚ ŤĦĘ FŲĆĶ ÐÍÐ ŶØŰ ŤĦĨŅĶ ŶØŮ ŴĚŘÊ ÐØÏŃĞ ĶĪÐNĄPPÌÑĞ ĦĚŘ?” Lucifer roared at Striker below him. Striker was now shaking.

“Please! Ahh… My King… it was a job, a good paying one, I just take what I can get,” Striker stuttered beneath Lucifer, now fearing for his life.

“ŴĦØ ĦĨŘĘÐ ŶØŮ ȚØ ĶǏŁŁ HĘŘ?!” Lucifer roared again.

“Just this small group off pissed off sinners! Fan girls of some kind, I don’t know! They had crazy money to pay me!” Striker pleaded.

Lucifer was about to start swinging when he heard your voice.

“Lucifer, stop,” you pleaded in a pained whisper.

Lucifer turned to look at you, bloodied and beaten in a tipped over chair. Millie and Moxxie ran over to untie you and put on some basic bandages to cover open wounds.

“Būț ŵħŷ, mŷ løvę? Łøøķ ãț ħøŵ ħę ħåş ħůřț ŷøù?” Lucifer said calmer.

“Yes… but he says the imps suffer… and are treated poorly… worse than sinners… I want… to figure this out…” you slowly said through a rasp.

Striker’s eyes went wide, was this bitch for real? He looked up at Lucifer, who looked down at him. “Ïş țħâț țřüę?”, Lucifer asked down at Striker, who nodded. Lucifer then looked over at Blitz, Millie, and Moxxie, who also nodded.

Lucifer sighed, and referred back to his normal self while still holding Striker down, “Fine. I’m sorry you have all had that experience, I will work on seeing how we can do better with that. But if you come for me and my loved ones again, it’s gāmė øvęř for you pal, ok?” He said looking down at Striker. He nodded again. Lucifer got up and released him, and Striker slinked away.

Lucifer then ran over you and looked you over, cupping your face in his hand, “Baby… oh fuck…” He almost started you cry seeing all of your cuts. He started to heal you, and it sort of worked, but heeling does not work as well again wounds made with angelic steel.

“Sweetheart, it’s ok… I’m ok. I’m sorry I was so stupid,” you apologized.

Lucifer shook his head, “No… this isn’t your fault my love. There are some crazy people in hell and… I’m sorry. I should have known better.”

“Sounds like we just need to be more careful going out,” you added.

“Well… as touching as this love fest is, can we get the fuck out of here? One of your little portals would be killer for getting out of this shithole… ya know, if you don’t mind… your majesty,” Blitz said, realizing throughout the statement that he should probably talk to Lucifer with a little more respect. Lucifer lifted an eyebrow, but sighed and picked you up, and opened a portal back up to the Pride ring, not far from the hotel, and everyone went through, even Blitz’s car.

Lucifer and you then took your leave of the others and he flew you over the hospital, even though you insisted that you were ok. You were patched up and sent back home a few hours later. Once at home, Lucifer continues to fuss over you until you asked him to just lay by your side. Eventually he did lay down next to you and calm down a little, holding you close to him but being careful of your wounds. Every shift and groan made him look at you with fearful eyes still.

“Do you need anything? Do you need me to move?” He asked.

“Luci, it’s ok, it’s gotta hurt for a bit but I’ll live, I promise,” you stroked his hair, “What would help the most is if you don’t panic with every move I make. I promise if I need something I will tell you?”

“Ok…I just don’t understand how you can be so calm after all of that,” Lucifer said setting his head down of the pillow and looking at you.

“I’m not calm… but I’m not scared either… I’m home save in your arms. I know I’m safe with you,” you said.

“I’m the reason you got hurt,” he said sadly.

“No. You are not responsible for what sinners do or how imps act. I left myself in the open. Shit happens. I just know that I need to protect myself more in the future. Ok?” You said, moving a hand to cup his check.

He nodded, and he snuggled in close to you as you both drifted to sleep after a long, chaotic day.

[autosadist]

the way these fantasy rp nerds full on psychologically torture each other with their underdressed thoughtforms is crazy. wyrmguardsecrets is a psyop designed to make people think these neets are cringe and out of touch with society, meanwhile they are giving each other kinnie psychosis and depression

[massivekornlover]

♡ High School Jonathan Davis x Male Reader ♡ "Class of '89"

I've never written a fic before and posted it so bare with me!! Not much of a writer either, but I'm bored.

Context: It was prom night. A night you had been looking forward to for years. Unfortunately, you got ditched by your date, and you were extremely upset. But Jonathan sees you, and decides to sit with you.

This fic is sort of long mb

Warning: F-slur and other homophobic words used!! Sorry 😓 also cringe as fuck probably

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

You were so excited for prom. You had always thought it would be exactly how it was in the movies. You and your partner slow dancing and sharing a kiss under the spotlight, even possibly becoming prom king. That might've been a little dramatic, but you didn't care. You convinced your mom to buy you a pretty expensive suit by letting her not give you your weekly allowance for the next month. You did your hair perfectly, and not a single piece of hair was on your suit from how much you rolled the lint roller over it. You were especially excited because you've been asked by a guy you had your eye on since the beginning of senior year. You were convinced it was going to be perfect.

Once you got there, you saw Ronnie, your crush, waiting at the entrance. He wore one of those t-shirts that looked like a suit. You were a bit disappointed by how underdressed he was, but you weren't going to let that ruin your mood. You told your mom goodbye, shut the car door and almost ran towards Ronnie. "Hey! Wow, you look--" "I changed my mind." You stopped dead in your tracks, your smile fading a little. You chuckled out of confusion. "What do you mean?" Ronnie scoffed after you asked that. "You kidding me? I was fucking with you." Your heart dropped down to your feet it felt. You just stood there with a dumbfounded look. "..I don't.. understand.." Ronnie scoffed again and had a shit eating grin on his face. "You think I'd go out with a fag like you? I'm not a homo like you.. not in a million fucking years. Go find some other fairy to hang out with." He walked away with his friends who had been watching. That left you standing in the front of the building, frozen like a statue. After a few seconds of nothing, you finally reacted and started quietly crying. You covered your mouth before walking into the building to go to the gym. 'Maybe it'll be dark enough to where no one will see me..' you thought to yourself. Thankfully, it was. There wasn't really a theme since no one had any good (or appropriate) ideas. You went over to the bleachers as quickly as you could so no one would see you. Once you sat down, you looked at everyone else. The sparkling of most of the girl's prom dresses and the disco ball above everyone caught your attention. Anything that sparkled always would distract you for a second no matter what was happening. You sat there sniffling and trying to pull yourself together, looking at all the pretty dresses the girls wore, and how lucky they were to have not been ditched like you had..

You had since gotten a cup of punch, halfway through it by then. It was honestly disgusting, but there wasn't anything else to drink. You were calmer than you were a little bit ago, but still upset and zoning out. "Excuse me.." You flinched a little once you snapped out of your depressed thoughts and looked over at who spoke. A boy with glasses was who you were faced with. He was wearing a black suit, just like all the other boys were. His voice was very soft and light though, unlike all the other boys. You examined him for a second before responding awkwardly. "..Yeah?" The random boy smiled faintly once he realized and sat at a reasonable distance. "Sorry for scaring you. I don't normally just walk up to people and strike up a conversation." He laughed nervously. You just sat there with a confused and almost annoyed expression. 'What could this kid possibly want? I clearly dont want to be messed with right now.' He continued talking after the uncomfortable silence. "..I'm Jonathan.. Jonathan Davis." You looked him up and down again. "..Y/N.." Jonathan nodded and smiled again. "Nice name.. anyway, I came over here because.. well, you seemed lonely and in need of company." You just hit him with an annoyed "hm" and took a sip off your punch. "..Were you ditched too?" The question caught you off guard for a second. "Uh.. no?" "You're lying. I can tell. You're the only one who isn't talking with anyone and seems as though they want to get outta here as soon as possible." Damn. He saw right through you. You gave up on trying to act tough and ignore the kid. "Fine. I got ditched. Happy?" You chugged the rest of your disgusting drink and threw it into a nearby trash can, missing it but not bothering to go pick it up. Jonathan sighed a little bit at your current state. "..I got ditched too.. but hey, just think of it as us being too good for them, huh?" He tried to lighten the mood. He wasn't good at comforting people. You sighed. "Did your date call you slurs and laugh with his buddies? I don't think so." Jonathan's eyes widened slightly. "Damn.. I'm so sorry that happend, man.. uh.. you want something from the snacks? I brought money.." You glanced over. You were honestly a little hungry and could go for a cookie or something. "..You wouldn't do that." "Oh, but I would. You're upset, and snacks usually make me feel better." He grinned a little, seeing your tempted look. He leaned forward. "I know you want something.. come on.." He pulled out some money and showed it to you. You glanced at the money.. you let temptation take over. "..Fine.. I'm dying for a cookie honestly." "There you go! Come on." Jonathan stood up and waited for you. You stood up slowly and followed him to the stand.

He got you a chocolate chip cookie. Two of them. You already felt a little guilty for already having one, but two was a lot. "I didn't need two of them.. you sure you don't want one?" Jonathan shook his head, looking down at you with a sweet smile. "Nope. I bought those for you. I probably wouldn't have spent this money anyway, so I'm honestly thankful I got to do this for you." You were warming up to Jonathan.. now that you started really looking at him, he was a real cutie. You ignored that, and took the first bite out of one of the cookies. It was nice and chewy, and the chocolate chips weren't too sweet. "Fuck, that's good.. thank you.." "You're welcome." You two walked back to the bleachers and talked for a bit.

You had been done with your cookies after a little bit, and kept talking to Jonathan for the majority of the prom. You were then curious. "So.. what'd your date do?" Jonathan's smile he had on his face fainted a little. "Oh.. uh.. he just didn't show up.. I tried to call him earlier, but he didn't pick up." The words "he" and "him" caught your attention. 'He likes boys too??' You must've had a slightly surprised look on your face, because Jonathan looked a little cornered and tilted his head. "You okay? You seem a little lost." He chuckled a little after saying that. You snapped out of it once again. "Oh! Yeah.." He smiled a little. "..Yes, I like guys too." It was like he read your mind. "Cool! ..Cool." Jonathan's gazed seemed a little different now. He looked you up and down. "..You're very awkward." That threw you off. "Thanks..?" "I like it though. It's cute." THAT threw you off. A faint blush came over you, but it was too dark to tell. "..I don't know about cute, but.." Jonathan scooted closer and you mentally panicked. "It is cute though. You're cute." The way Jonathan said that made your mind race like earlier, but not in a bad way of course. "..I can't believe you got ditched like that. Someone as handsome as you.. I can't imagine it." He reached for your suit and fixed it a little bit, keeping his eyes on you for any reaction. 'Holy shit this guy is hitting on me. Me??' "W-well.. it happend! So.." You chuckled nervously. You cringed more at each thing you said or did. "Hm.. his loss then.. poor bastard." He started to fix your hair a bit now. You just sat there and looked at Jonathan, feeling your face get hotter as he continued to fix you up. "There.. your hair was covering your face. Couldn't see you." His hand moved to your cheek, holding your face and looking at you. You had absolutely no idea what to do at this point. You were in too much shock to say or do much. Suddenly, the speakers came on and it startled both of you. "Alright class of '89! Grab your partner and head for the center, 'cause it's time for slow dancing!" Some slower music came on, and everyone started heading over with their date to the middle of the gym. Jonathan looked back over to you and smiled. He got up and held a hand out to you. "Wanna dance?"

This is what you had been waiting for for years. You didn't expect it to play out like it had though. You sat for a few seconds before slowly taking his hand and standing up. "..Won't we be made fun of? Y'know, 'cause.." "'Cause we're happy with our dates and they're not? Probably." The word date caught your attention. "D-date?" He chuckled and took you to the middle of the gym. "Of course? Why not?" He held your hand in one of his hands, and his other hand rested on your lower back. You were blushing like crazy, and it was finally visible thanks to being under the light. Jonathan smiled, keeping his eyes on your slightly panicked expression as you looked at everyone else. Some people were staring and whispering. "Hey." He gently moved your head to make you look at him, placing the hand back on your back. "Don't mind them. Okay?" You nodded at his words. He then started to gently sway you guys, taking lead. You both kept your eyes on each other as the sound of the room grew quieter to the both of you. This is the moment you had been dreaming of. Jonathan spoke after a minute.

"..I'm glad I met you tonight.." you smiled at him when you heard that. "I'm glad too.. this would've been the worst night of my life if it weren't for you.." You noticed Jonathan glancing at your lips, then back up at your eyes. It was like he was asking if it was okay. You gave him the same soft look. He brought a hand up to your cheek and caressed your cheek. He then shut his eyes and kissed you deeply, exhaling through his nose as he kissed you. You shut your eyes and kissed him back, feeling your blood heat up all through your body. You heard gasps and people's whispers getting louder, but it didn't effect you like it would have done a minute ago.

Jonathan seemed to be getting a little too into it, so you pulled away slowly. He opened his eyes slowly and looked down at you. He had a look of pure love on his face unlike anything you had ever seen before. "..Wow.." That was all you could manage to get out. Jonathan chuckled a little, his face almost as red as yours. "Sorry, got a little carried away, huh?" You both chuckled a little. "..So.. what does this mean? You asked him, reaching up and caressing his cheek with your thumb gently. He leaned into the touch, keeping his eyes on you. "..You think it'd be too early to ask you to be my boyfriend?" "After you bought me snacks, started flirting with me mid conversation and kissing me in front of everyone? ..Maybe a little." You were being sarcastic, and he knew it, his smile growing a little more. You then gave him an actual answer, smiling sweetly. "..Yes. I'll be your boyfriend." Jonathan leaned down and kissed you again. It was full of genuine love and care.

Prom turned out way better than you could've imagined.

[outshinedskeleton]

Probably Best 4 Days in my life… pt.1

This post will be long as hell but I want to share all my thoughts, experiences and photos.

Last Wednesday I went to Open’er Festival with my boyfriend and some friends. We stayed there until Sunday because we had our tents set at a campground. I never thought I will go on this festival because it always seemed like idk… Polish version of Coachella. Fashion, big brands etc. I never vibed with that but when I saw the Lineup for this year I had no other choice than getting my ass there to see bands I always dreamed to see live.

Wednesday

On the first day we putted up our tents and stuff. Drank some beers. Ate some food. (Jesus fucking Christ it was so expensive there like I get it this is big festival but beer for 19 zł?! [It's almost over 5 USD] Crazy. We kept smuggling beers on campground area) It was really nice the weather was also fine. It was sunny. My first impression about Open'er Festival was that I'm underdressed... I saw all those people in great outfits and compared them to myself dressed like some middle school Avril Lavigne listener (in a good way ofc) but felt that I'm not fitting to this whole vibe. I've also made a lot of mistakes packing my stuff because I was expecting conditions such as at Woodstock... Anyway...

First big concert we wanted to see - Massive Attack. I don’t listen to Massive Attack so much like I know two albums which I like the most but the show was… I think meaningful. Because artists decided to show a lot of “controversial” stuff on telebims during preforming. I don’t think personally this was controversial but for the people that try to ignore or want to avoid thinking about the topics like Palestine, Ukraine, Trump and his shit it was like punch right in the face. They showed numbers… informations… about how many people were killed in Palestine, how much money was spent on weapons, they showed real footages of people that were bombed. I heard after leaving the area in front of the stage a lot of silence, people were mostly just thinking about what they saw. I heard somebody said that it was too uncomfortable to enjoy the concert and they were thinking if it was right to dance during the show. And honestly I think it was right… like I know that these topics are sad, depressing and devastating but the band gave us the message and the space to throw all the frustration and sadness away. Maybe away is not the correct word but I hope you know what I mean. My partner said that It was so Rage Against the Machine.

This was the only concert we attended on Wednesday. I wasn't taking photos during Massive Attack becauce I didn't even thought abot that. Next we went to see what’s going on the rest of the festival grounds. It was kinda empty. No queues to anything or small ones so it was fast and pretty chill.

(sometimes kinda liminal vibes lol)

Thursday

Next day was a big Day for me. Concert I've waited so fucking long to see - NINE INCH NAILS! When I saw they will be there I almost shat my pants. I was so hyped. Our time before concerts looked mostly the same because we didn't wanted to go on every concert during the day. We wanted to eat, relax and enjoy our time also it was probably the first time that I was in Gdynia. So we went to some second-hands in the city etc.

After that we came back to our tents, changed our clothes and went to festival area to make sure we will be close to the stage. I really wanted to be close and see Trent Reznor on my own eyes. On the main stage there was another concert of - Tyla. She played two last songs so we entered the fenced area in the front of stage. Security guy checked If we don't have dangerous stuff ( the area in front of the stage was fenced and they were limiting the ammount of people that can be there so it was important to be faster to avoid queues and to have chance to be close to the stage ) and we stayed on the side to the end of her show so when her fans were leaving we could just storm right to the front of the stage.

We were in sixth row. Great view. I couldn't dream about better place during concert. The cost of that we were this close was the time because we needed to wait hour like this. We were watching the stage and how they were changing the whole scenery for NIN concert. I don't know when but time flew so fast during waiting. I was listening to people around me. They were talking all excited like me. The lights went on and the show began...

I gasped. I couldn't believe I see him live. First song began and I just started singing and jumping. The people around me were doing the same so I wondered If there is a chance for mosh pit. Second song started and I see people making circle and I said in my mind HELL FUCKING YEAH! The crowd in front of the stage was awesome. I saw some people that were on Tyla and stayed to see NIN evacuating from the concert. (They seemed to have no idea of what is going on and what kind of music NIN is, I hope they survived and are all allright). I wasn't checking setlist before but I hoped they will play The Wretched. And they played. I screamed and sang it so fucking loud that I hope nobody close to me turned deaf after that. What's amazing is that there was no break during this mosh pit. I felt that I will have a lot of bruises after and I almost broke my ankle because for the rest of this festival it hurt me so bad. Worth it. I don't regret anything. About hurting... They played Hurt as the last song. I was touched by the fact that the crowd just stoped jumping and everyone was singing politely. Honestly even after all those concerts later during days I think NIN was the best. I can even say the best concert in my life. Trent didn't even needed to lead the crowd and say anything. Cameraman did great job and sometimes I was watching whats going on screens. It was art. Everyone was in awe... just beautiful... performative. My words can't even express what I saw.

After that we went to eat something warm because it was getting colder and then we went back to tents to rest and enjoy what we just experienced.

Friday

We woke up early because of the sun and the fact that after 7 AM it was really hot in our tent. My friend Piotrek had tent that didn't get hot inside and I called him "bourgeois" because of that. Friday was a big day for Piotrek because - Muse was playing on main stage that day and he is a huge fan. I know Muse but idk I don't like them that much but as a good friend we promised him that we will go with him in front of the stage like he did with us on NIN. On that day also our other friend Dominik came to the festival, he is one of my favorite persons in this world. Like, he brings good vibes and he said that we should do something else than just chill on campground. So we went to festival area earlier than usually.

We were goofing around etc. It was good time. (don't mind my bitchface... I was happy... REALLY)

We went for a while to Mother Mother concert which was on different stage. I don't know them, maybe one or two songs and that's all but Dominik wanted to go. We also went to big tent where were stands and activities like "Femfund" where our friend Zuza (Nekrofobia) was making screen prints on bandanas after paying donation for "Femfund".

Time passed quickly with activities like this and we went to the main stage to wait for Muse concert. Tbh it wasn't the greatest show... The mics weren't working at all... and sometimes we couldn't hear what they were saying. Even the crowd started to shout "MICROPHONES" to give them a sign that something is off but they didn't fix that probably because they didn't know what was wrong and how long will it take to fix it. So the crowd sang. Piotrek was jumping and singing. He really enjoyed this show. They played "Supermassive black hole" and we all pretended that we are Alice from Twilight throwing baseball. Also I think they had too much effects like, confetti, firethrowers from the stage (Like it wasn't hot enough?).

After this concert we were a little bit disappointed (except Piotrek) and we went to merch shop to see what's there. I bought myself some stuff. It was the last day that the queues were small and then after that we waited for Justice concert because rest of our friends wanted to see that.

AND THAT ONE WAS FIRE! It fixed all the disappointment after Muse. My boyfriend didn't know Justice and he said sth like "close enough, welcome back Daft Punk" he enjoyed their concert me also. Unfortunatelly my back and ankle started to hurt so bad and we went out of the concert crowd and sat down under the fence and stayed there for the rest of the show. This day we came back to tents really late. Busy day... but I knew I need to rest before Saturday...

[maxxineiscringe]

Depressed stressed and always underdresses

[theres-a-bea]

Penance and Piety | r. abbott

pairing: rhett abbott x ofc (original female character)

word count: 3.2k (to be updated)

warning/s: mentions of death, nicotine and liquor use, depictions of depression and ptsd, angst, yearning, yearning, yearning...

summary: Rhett Abbott finds himself meeting a pair of eyes he once thought he would never be able to see in his lifetime again.

ao3 link here

i. a trampled fuckin' fence.

It’s not long until Rhett fell back into his old routine.

Those weeks with Maria had been enough to unearth his entire system, like a trampled fuckin’ fence, as he’d called it. He didn’t expect to find himself still reeling from her departure, from the dust that had tracked after the wheels of her car when she’d left without so much as a goodbye deep into the fading summer, speeding to get away from whatever it was that had bound everyone to Wabang, like a disease of some sort.

One that he’d most likely already caught.

He supposed there were better ways to cope, better ways to fill the hole in the pit of his chest outside of liquor and one night stands and a few more broken bones. With Amy gone, there was no-one to talk to but the horses, the cattle. So he goes back to drinking, in lieu of having to realise that his life was probably pretty much over.

The time when he thought he could be happy had long since passed.

The walk back to his truck was a haze as he nursed his wrist with his good hand, hoping to catch a drink at the Gambler after the loss he’d just had. Last ride of the year, and he’d come in last with the furious hunk of a bull paired with him. There was no riding in Texas by January, not until the spring, where he’d be back to working his way up to regionals again.

As much as he hated being idle, he hated how far he is again from leaving for good, his step forward useless from the three he had to take backwards after that loss. It was still the goal, of course, the thought of Maria wasn’t going to be an obstacle for him eventually leaving town. He’d be grateful for it, even, to no longer be able to see any traces of her or anyone else who’s ever left him behind in every place he stepped foot in.

He gave a kick against his tyre. It was weak, a lame one that couldn’t possibly express the despondence in his stomach. If he were angrier, maybe it could’ve been a little harder, but he found he was numb to anything else beyond exhaustion.

There would be no time for a drink tonight.

He tries another kick. The truck barely moves, but it shakes a little, and he hears an ever so soft shuffle of a sole scuffling against dirt from the back of the truck, the damning smell of Marlboro reds following after it.

A breeze blows.

Rhett doesn’t quite understand what he’s seeing, like a ghost that had come to haunt him in the strangest of ways, reminding him of the chances of leaving that he’d never taken. She stands under the flickering light of the old streetlamp, looking rather underdressed for the occasion of a rodeo, no hat, no boots, just her old waxed jacket— like she had run out in a hurry that morning and hadn't bothered to bring anything else but the lit cigarette in her hand.

It was too easy to recognise her, even beneath the dim of the flickering streetlight, even after the years that had etched themselves permanently onto both of their faces. There was that same telltale freeze her entire body did whenever she was caught off-guard, like a deer staring you in the face right before you shoot it, the same slump in her shoulders, the same world-weary eyes that still refused to meet his.

Hello, Grey. Rhett holds his tongue before the greeting could spill out of his lips.

He did not think he would ever see her again.

“Can I help you?” It was polite, he thinks, appropriate, but his voice comes out as harsh, almost hostile, a remnant of what seemed to have been the bitter mix of defeat and resentment that he’d harboured for someone he barely knew.

It must be a hideous trick of fate.

“Sorry.” Something in him had hoped she was merely a hallucination, that someone else’s voice would come out of her mouth and he’d blink and see a completely different person before him. But the quiet whisper of her voice carried the unmistakable lilt that he knew only she had, the crisp, clean-cut lack of an accent permeating through the silence amongst the noise of people coming and leaving the stands. “Just having a smoke. I thought I was alone.”

Does she realise it's him? Does she recognise him at all?

“By all means.” He shrugs it off, but she stands ever so still, not even taking another drag from the half-finished stick in her hand, “Don’t let me stop you.”

A second passes, followed by another, the silence stretching over the few feet of distance between them. Rhett looks down on his wrist, basking in the quiet, his good hand clasped around his keys in his pocket, unsure whether or not to unlock the truck and just drive away and leave her in the dust as nothing more than a memory he’d tried so hard to forget.

“I saw you ride.” When he looks up, he catches a flicker of regret in her face. Brief conversations with her always started out like this, regret in their tones after breaking a momentary silence, ungraceful phrases uttered with the most awkward of timings.

He gingerly rotates his wrist. He didn’t even want to think about the ride that had cost him his spot tonight, the thought of her watching from the stands without him knowing or even noticing was almost unsettling to him, realising that she had seen him fall.

“Wasn’t much of a show.” There it was again, that harsh tone. He hated it, how he couldn't be any more gentle to her even if he tried. It stung more than the loss, more than the inevitable question that threatened to slip off his lips. Why are you here?

She doesn’t seem to argue.

“That needs a splint.” She says, clearing her throat before finally putting out the cigarette, leaving it half finished on the ground, “Your wrist.”

Rhett pauses in the middle of hauling his gear into the backseat. The concern in her tone was familiar, the back of his brain recognising it from an offhand comment on a bruised cheek made years ago. He could no longer remember who had given it to him, but he remembers her voice, remembers what she’d said. You should ice that. He almost curses himself for remembering. Her voice sounded the same.

“It’ll be fine.” The response comes out before he could think about it, like muscle memory on his tongue. He doesn't think he could bear to even look at her direction. He thinks he'd rather die than remember that feeling that he'd locked away deep in his chest so long ago. Frustration, sorrow, fondness— Oh, the deep and utter fondness that he felt at the very thought of her—

But time has its way of wearing down even the strongest of locks.

He hears a shift, the creak of the back of a truck. Rhett doesn't dare to look, but he hears what she's doing better than he could see: the thunk of a stranger's cooler lid being cracked open, the clink of ice being scooped up by the handful. The lid is shut, and her shoes hit the ground. And he hears his name. Uttered ever so softly as though the mouth where the sound had come from was unsure whether or not it was still allowed to say it.

An entire minute passes before he could bring himself to look up.

He'd never quite felt the feeling of ruin until he was greeted with the sight of her face up close for the first time in eight years.

"For your wrist." She says, her voice is quiet as it had always been. He could smell the reds on her, still fresh enough to leave a trace, a new bad habit to add to the one she already had of not saying goodbye. Something inside him skips, moves, stops. He isn't quite sure, nor was he sure if he ever was. She always did that to him. Her words don't quite register until he feels the cold shock against his wristbone, his hand mindlessly taking what looked to be a makeshift ice pack out of a handkerchief from her hands.

He wondered about them, her hands. Were they numb from holding the ice? Were her palms white and freezing from the cold? They brush the back of his hand for a split-second, his brain responding with an almost disturbing question. Are your hands cold, Grey? The voice of someone younger prods from the back of his brain, like a stubborn weed reaching out from deep within a half-forgotten memory of the cold, of the snow from who knows how many winters ago, You can put them in my pockets.

He looks down on the ground, seeing their combined silhouettes against the still-flickering streetlight. And then she steps back, her shadow parting from his.

When he finally looks up, she was gone before he could ask.

Rhett stands still. He gives himself a second. Just one. It's all he'll allow. It's all she'd given him then. The weight in his chest had dropped to his stomach, his lungs loosened, his heart pounded against his ribcage. It's different from the kind of hopeless he'd felt all his life, not stuck— rather the kind he felt when anxiously awaiting the aftermath of an upcoming storm.

He gets into his truck and starts the engine. It's not the first time she's left him in the dust.

━━━━━━━━━

He can't even be bothered to turn on the radio. There was nothing to keep him company but the hum of the engine in his ears, the sight of the streetlights sparse against the almost never-ending two lane road. The ice had begun to melt, dripping down onto his jeans as he drives one-handed, almost desperate to get home so he couldn't be alone with his thoughts. There will be no two-hour drive to urgent care, no slow drive home. He breathes worry in his lungs, burning hot against the cool September wind, it's what he breathed when Amy went missing, what he breathed when he left Perry alone with Trevor for a few minutes outside the bar a few months ago. But he'd known back then what he'd worried for. This time, he had no answer.

Although he thinks he might have half of it at the memory of the silhouette against the flickering streetlight from barely twenty minutes ago that he saw whenever he fucking blinked.

He blinks again. His headlights reflect a lone figure on the side of the road, walking forward in the dark. Tiny, ant-like. The closer he got, the more he could see the details. The dark hair, the muddy sneakers, the unmistakable dull sheen of a waxed jacket.

The truck skids to a stop.

The headlights illuminate a small stretch of the road, the truck door slams shut, and his feet hit the asphalt before he could think about what he was doing. Maybe this was what he'd been breathing in his worry for, constricting his lungs temporarily. Not enough to suffocate, just enough to nag. She wasn't too far away, perhaps a few feet from where he'd pulled over, but she kept walking, as though she didn't care who was behind her. It's dark, and the road that led to the woods to her grandfather's property was still a few miles from where they are.

Did she walk all the way?

"It's going to be a long walk."

She stills. "It's just a few miles." Her voice is steady, monotone, louder than it had been at the parking lot.

"Where's your car?" He tries to remember any abandoned cars he might've passed, maybe it had broken down in the middle of the road and she'd left it to be towed in the morning. But the road had been empty, it was too early to go home, and too late to be out all at the same time.

"In the shop." He could recall the car she'd driven away with all those years ago, her grandfather's green vintage sports car that nearly woke the house up when it drove into his driveway and left as quickly as it had pulled up in front, like a rude and inconvenient U-turn. Had she driven back to Wabang in it?

"It's late," Rhett lets out a breath, eyes still trained on her figure a few feet away from him, "I'll drop you off."

He almost flinches at the phrase, like he was caught doing something he wasn't supposed to do. With anyone else, it was second nature. With her, it would be damning himself into enduring twenty minutes with someone in the passenger seat. Someone he knew. Since he had bought his truck, it had been the designated seat for a stranger, for potential placeholders for whoever he wished to belong to. It was empty now. It had been for months.

"It's not too far from here now," She says as a breeze blows past them, her steps just as slow as they had been before she'd stopped. There's a sense of dread in the way she's moving forward, as though she did not want to go anywhere but in a direction she was sure to get lost in. "I can manage, thank you."

Her tone isn't distrustful, nor was it harsh. If anything, it was polite, almost sweet. As though she were politely refusing a friendly stranger. But was he really just that to her now? The thought accompanies a chill down his spine. A stranger?

The next breath he lets out shakes, the ache in his chest rising up to his throat, suffocating, like panic. If he leaves her alone, he thinks, would he ever see her again?

Something in him says he might never will.

"Greyson, please." It comes out strained, breathless. It's the first time he's said her name in a long time. He's surprised he hasn't yet forgotten how to say it. "Please. Get in the truck." He hopes the worry hasn't leaked into his voice when it escapes his throat. The last time it had, she'd walked away until she was out of his sight, never once looking back at his direction.

Somehow, this time, she turns around.

The truck is dead silent when the engine hums to life. He stops himself from grabbing the seatbelt for her, stops himself from reaching past the stick for her hand. It's not something he does anymore, said actions have been reduced to mere movements done only out of muscle memory that he didn't think his body could still remember. For his sake, he decides, the unmistakable presence in his passenger seat was nothing more than a stranger.

Rhett swallows the dread in the back of his throat. He doesn't dare think about how her presence on the passenger seat seemed like the only thing that felt right in the world.

He doesn't dare turn on the radio either. Maybe the silence would help him make sense of what's happening to him. It was almost so illogical, the very thought of Grey fucking Vandenburg beside him, that he thinks he must be dreaming, that he was still in the arena, unconscious after being trampled by the bull, or he'd passed out in a holding cell for the night after one too many drinks. But he hears her breathe, same way as she always had, smells the reds still on her clothes, all proof that she wasn't a ghost or hallucination. That she was real, she was alive, and she was sitting in his passenger seat like it had always belonged to her.

He keeps his eyes on the road, until he turns right towards a trail leading to the tree line of a wooded area too familiar for him to bother reading the sign at the end of it. The truck drives further into the trail, only stopping before the large automatic gates that blocked them from moving forward. Beside him, Grey rolls down the window, punching in a code onto a keypad beside the intercom, the tiny red light above it turning green before the hum of machinery interrupts the silence of the forest, heavy and groaning as the gates slowly opened to let them in while she rolls the window back up.

The lights of the house don't appear until nearly a mile in, the scattered streetlamps across the vicinity of the main house all miraculously lit, the empty lawn filled with several parked cars in varying makes and models, half of them vintage, all of them undoubtedly expensive; a sight that could make the everyday person uncomfortable. The place was never this occupied back then, he knew, it had always just been Grey and her grandfather.

His first guess was a party. His second was a much more somber alternative.

Rhett pulls up not too deep into the driveway, his eyes moving from his hand on the handbrake to hers on her lap, tightening into a fist as he kills the engine. Light from a nearby streetlamp poured into the inside of the truck. He could see her face a lot more clearly now, her expression blank, a contradiction to the fist of her left hand. She's ever so still, not making even a single move to leave, blinking emptily at the windshield.

"Did you walk?" His voice is a whisper, softly cutting through the silence that had settled between them for the past half hour, "To the rodeo?" It's the only thing he could stomach to ask.

"I wanted to see the horses."

He realises why the lawn looked so strange now. The horse fences that had once been present in the lawn were gone. It looked as though they'd been gone for a long time.

Rhett hears a soft clink, before her seat belt retracts. The steps of the main house were occupied by several people now, flooding outside at the sight of his truck, probably wondering who else had arrived.

Or perhaps they already knew. And they were waiting for her.

"Thank you for the ride." She whispers, "It was nice to see you again, Rhett."

With a blink, the door shuts, and the passenger seat is empty again, its former occupant now making her way through the rest of the driveway, pushing past the people beginning to frantically ask questions, asking her where she's been, almost all of them in feigned concern. She stops at the door, her hand holding it half-open, as though she knew he wouldn't leave until she stepped inside, that she could run right back into his truck and he'd drive her away from them.

What bothers him the most, he thinks, is that despite the regret and the confusion and the pure fucking grief in the pit of his chest, he would take her away from there in a heartbeat if she asked him to. Like a dog waiting for its command. But instead she meets his eyes, her head tilting briefly into the slightest hint of a nod, before she steps through the door.

He lets out one final breath, a soft sigh, and starts the engine once more.

My hand slipped oopsie tee hee I didn't mean it

I country boy I love youuuuuu 👅'd too close to the sun and ended up with a new fic outside of my other wips please I need to be shot in point blank I wrote this after watching the crush edit one too many damn times and realised I had to MOVE

[slippinmickeys]

Old Chem, pt 4

The funeral, then weeks of work; Scully catching up on all she missed. Mulder had to head two symposiums, back to back. They tried to plan a few scattered dates here and there, but life got hectic. The one weekend Mulder was home, Scully had to head up to Maryland to help her mother clean out her father’s study, which was depressing and dusty. Mulder had offered to come help, but she told him no.

She went home to an empty apartment. Opened the drawers she’d given to Mulder; looked at the clothes he hadn’t worn in weeks. His toothbrush sat in her bathroom, limp, dry.

He felt distant, but she didn’t know if she was imagining it. Another week went by with schedules that just didn’t align, and then on Friday, a text: meet me at the Project 562 Bar at 7:00? They hadn’t actually spoken in days. Was this a break-up? She wondered. Set in a public place so as not to cause a scene?

Not knowing what else to do, she gave the text a thumbs up. 

She pulled up to the address at 6:45, all nerves and disquiet. It was one of the newer hotels in town, boutique and upscale; the bar it hosted was small, but nice. Scully felt underdressed. 

She grabbed a dry martini and a table and kept her eyes glued to the lobby entrance, waiting for Mulder. By 7:00, she’d drained her martini and was contemplating another one when she felt a looming presence next to the table. She looked up. 

“Mulder,” she said, surprised. “I didn’t see you come in. I’ve been watching.”

“I didn’t come in that way,” he said, holding out his hand to her. 

“You-”

He gripped her hand and pulled her up and led her through the back of the bar through a dark curtain that Scully assumed led to the kitchens. Instead, behind it was an elevator bank. Mulder, still holding her hand, pushed the Up button. 

“Where are we going?” she asked. 

“You’ll see,” he said. 

On the fourth floor the elevator stopped and Mulder pulled her out and around a corner, using a key card to unlock room 478. Had he gotten a hotel room for them? They lived here. It seemed like a waste of money but-

She walked into the room and turned to him. “What are-”

“Our last weekend away,” he interrupted her, “was truncated and traumatic. I feel like we haven’t connected in weeks and you’ve been so sad and so busy and…It’s not a real fireplace, not really,” at this he turned to the small electric fireplace on the wall behind him; wavy, blue unnatural flame creeping along the polished rocks on its bottom. “And the room has a two person jacuzzi that’s not nearly as big as the hot tubs up north, but-”

Realization dawned and she lowered her head in relief and stepped forward to clunk her forehead onto his chest. 

“For a weird minute earlier today, I thought you were dumping me,” she admitted, and he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her in. 

“Hardly,” he chuffed. “I just thought we could use a weekend away is all. A full one. A happy one. I wanted to surprise you. I’m sorry if I-”

“Don’t apologize,” she said, finally tilting her head back to look up at him. “Not for this.”

He smiled down at her. “Anything I should be apologizing for?”

“No warning,” she said. “We’re spending the weekend here and I didn’t pack a thing. I don’t have any other clothes.”

“Oh,” Mulder said, leaning down so his lips were just touching hers. “I don’t think we’re going to need any.”

[pekingin-ankka]

"I am stressed and possessed, blessed with unwanted guests Underdressed for this test, but I'll give my best and I won't protest Maybe then I will get my rest, maybe I won't feel depressed Maybe my soul can digest all this pain and distress"

[cursedbyastorm]

This one pretty please!

Edward Elric was thirteen the first time he packed a suitcase

AHHHH this is exciting!!! You picked the only wip that is honestly 98% angst. Really just a psychological analysis of what could've happened to Edward after BH if he didn't stay in the military (and tried dating Winry. They break each other's hearts.) Just the pipeline of gifted child to burnout and depression. I'm still unsure on how I should finish the story - it gets very dark and Ed is not in a good place mentally. Anyway. Enjoy the angst.

[x]

By twenty, Edward was a stranger in Amestris. Risembool was filled with memories of his mother and father. East reminded him of Hughes, a parental figure he could never find in any one man. Central haunted him with shadows, darkness following every step he took. Xing was out of his possibilities - Alphonse deserved a place to be alone. To grow up. A place he could call home. 

Edward could never call home a place. Not anymore. Not since he was ten and burning down his own home. Not since his own regrets follow him around, phantoms of what his life used to be back when he had alchemy. Back when his life was a straightforward path of getting his brother’s body back. 

Back when his existence made sense. Some kind of sense. 

Now Edward just… lingered in places, not long enough to unpack his suitcase. 

It was in this state he found himself one late fall night. Walking in Central like a lost soul. The wind was cold and strong, icing his cheeks and his hands. He was underdressed. He was usually underdressed. 

Edward ended up going to the only house he knew like the back of his hand (and he remembered Riza making him learn by heart this address: if anything went wrong on the promised day, he was ordered to get here), the house of the one and only Colonel Roy Mustang. Well. Now a General. It was probably later than 10 pm when he knocked the door, and Roy opened his door after just a minute – one glove in his hand, ready to snap. 

“It's you,” he said, lowering his glove. “I didn't think I'd see you around here again, Edward.”

[starkissecl]

A ISABELLE MATHERS lookalike just arrived in Aureum City, pulling up in their BLACK PORSCHE TAYCAN like they own the place. DEVON MOREAU just celebrated their TWENTY-FIFTH birthday, and rumor has it they’ve already started making waves. Some say they’re CALCULATING, but others swear they’re CAPTIVATING — either way, they won’t go unnoticed for long. With a reputation building in VELVET ROW, they’re bound to attract attention. You might recognize them as a MODEL/INFLUENCER, but soon enough, they’ll be known for something much more interesting. ( IC cis-female / she/her )

aesthetics — mirror selfies in glass storefronts, champagne flutes in the back of black cars, velvet couches and city lights, smudged eyeliner, ashtrays full of half-smoked cigarettes, polaroids of people she’ll never text again, tanned skin and diamond anklets, fur coats draped over slip dresses, the scent of danger and Dior, slow songs at sunrise, heartbreak hidden behind fake laughter, unread texts, gold lighters, silk pillowcases, shattered trust and curated perfection.

CHARACTER TRIGGER WARNINGS: Emotional neglect / toxic parent relationships, Parental abandonment, Substance use (alcohol, cocaine, casual drug references), Mental health themes (anxiety, implied depression, self-worth struggles), Emotional manipulation / avoidance, Sexual content, Body image / modeling industry pressures

BASICS

full name: Devon Ayla Moreau nickname(s): Dev, Velvet Girl, Little Moreau (used by old family friends) date of birth: March 3 zodiac sign: Pisces gender: Cis-female pronouns: She/Her sexuality: Bisexual with a preference for men occupation: Model and influencer known as: A high-profile model, influencer, and modern-day muse — both adored and envied. social media: @ devon.in.velvet

FAMILY

mother: Ayla Moreau relationship: Image-obsessed, emotionally distant. Plays the perfect mother in public — behind the scenes, their love is fractured and performative. father: Alexavier Moreau relationship: Celebrity plastic surgeon. Generous with money, absent with presence. Devon inherited his perfectionism and his emotional coldness. siblings: Only child — and was treated like both heir and accessory.

APPEARANCE, VOICE, & MANNERISMS

face-claim: Isabelle Mathers hair: Long brunette waves, sometimes sleek and straightened. Always styled to suggest she woke up like this (she didn’t). eye color: Sea-glass green, hard to forget. height: 5’6” body type: Slim, lithe, and toned with soft curves. skin color: Sun-kissed tan, often glowing from facials and filters. scent: A blend of white florals, vanilla, and cigarette smoke — expensive and addictive. general wardrobe description: A mix of effortless off-duty model (micro mini skirts, leather jackets, claw clips) and high-glam editorial. Never underdressed — even her hangovers are styled. dominant hand: Right disorders: Anxiety and unhealed abandonment trauma masked by hyper-functionality. tattoos: Tiny script on her ribs that says “no one stays” (never posted); a delicate constellation on her hip; a barely visible white-ink heart on her wrist. piercings: Multiple ear piercings, a belly ring, and impulsive but now signature nipple piercings. habits: Biting her straw, disappearing without warning, dodging emotional questions with humor, always carries a lighter but never smokes it herself.

PERSONALITY

label(s): The It Girl, The Untouchable, The Lonely Starlet positive character traits: Charming, magnetic, intuitive, ambitious, clever, stylish, emotionally intelligent (even when she hides it). negative character traits: Distrustful, impulsive, emotionally avoidant, image-obsessed, self-medicating, commitment-phobic. fears: Being truly known — and then abandoned. lucky number: 11 sociability: Extroverted in public, deeply private in her heart.

FAVORITES

drink: Champagne or vodka soda — heavy on the vodka. flowers: White orchids (cold, perfect, high-maintenance). time of day: 3AM — the hour when things are raw, real, or ruined. weather: Warm, golden evenings with a breeze that feels like a secret. color(s): Champagne gold, jet black, emerald green. animal(s): Panthers. Mysterious, elegant, and dangerous when cornered.

ADDITIONAL TID-BITS

mbti: ENFJ-T – The Protagonist enneagram: Type 3 (The Achiever), wing 4 (The Individualist) temperament: Sanguine / Melancholic split hogwarts house: Slytherin rising, Hufflepuff heart seven deadly sins: Pride (medium), Envy (low), Lust (medium) seven heavenly virtues: Charity element: Fire with Earth undertones anger type: Suppressed until it erupts. love style: Eros + Pragma — intense and idealistic, but careful and strategic. love type: The Romantic Realist — she wants the story, but won’t fall until you prove you’ll stay. self-knowledge: High ambition, high authority, low vulnerability archetypes: 48% Lover | 36% Ruler | 16% Rebel what shape does your pain take: Glass — always reflecting, always sharp, always see-through. what color is your muse: #C9B6D3 – muted violet where does your soul belong: Inside a high-rise window at midnight. dark core personality: Low across all traits, but notable narcissism (20%) and entitlement (10%) why are you unlovable: You disappear before they get the chance. your plant personality: Rosemary — classic, sharp, deeply rooted, misunderstood. tea type: White jasmine — delicate, perfumed, and intoxicating. how do you best like to be loved: Show up. And stay. Even when she says you shouldn’t. what kind of sexual deviant are you: The Performance — she makes desire look easy, but rarely lets anyone close enough to touch her soul.

BACKGROUND INFORMATION

Born into wealth, status, and scrutiny, Devon Ayla Moreau was the only child of Dr. Alexavier Moreau, a renowned celebrity plastic surgeon, and Ayla Moreau, a former model turned image-obsessed socialite. Her birth was announced in Vogue. Her baby photos were taken by a fashion photographer. Her childhood? Largely ornamental.

From a young age, Devon understood that she was something to be looked at, not listened to. While her parents threw charity galas and sat front row at Fashion Week, she learned how to sit still, smile softly, and never cause a scene — even when she was breaking inside.

Alexavier, her father, was a master of reinvention — sculpting bodies, reputations, and press statements — but was never around long enough to ask who Devon really was beneath the surface. His absence was gilded in black cards and designer gifts, but his presence was never guaranteed.

Ayla, her mother, was all eyes and mirrors. She curated Devon’s outfits, enrolled her in etiquette classes, corrected her posture at age six, and told her love was something you earned by being beautiful, quiet, and exceptional. Devon learned to perform perfection, even when her heart was crumbling.

Devon was raised by nannies, stylists, housekeepers, and tutors; people who rotated in and out like background actors in a movie where she was the unwilling star. She grew up watching her parents love each other only in photographs and learned that affection was for nothing more than show and survivial.

At sixteen, she was scouted by a major modeling agency; though it’s hard to tell whether they found her, or Ayla sent them an invite. Her career exploded: runway shows, campaigns, parties she wasn’t technically old enough to attend. She learned quickly that the industry loved broken girls in expensive shoes.

By eighteen, she was living alone in a Velvet Row apartment — gifted by her father, but earned through long nights and longer lies. She became the face of It Girl glamour, her Instagram a highlight reel of private jets, luxury villas, and people who never stayed the night.

Despite the glamorous image, Devon developed a reputation for unpredictability: disappearing from events, cycling through flings, partying too hard, vanishing from the public eye for weeks. The whispers called her wild, magnetic, dangerous to love — and she let them.

Drugs and alcohol were never addictions — not in the traditional sense — but they became her armor, her escape hatch, her blur. Vodka helped her forget what she never got. Cocaine helped her feel present for once.

Her romantic life remains a public mystery. She’s been seen on yachts with billionaires, in clubs with actors, but never once claimed anyone. The truth? She doesn’t believe people stay. So she leaves first or never opens the door at all.

At twenty-five, Devon is still at the height of her fame, but something quieter brews beneath the surface. A hunger for genuine connection, a crack in the armor, a girl who’s never been held the way she needed to be. But she hides it behind her sunglasses, her curated posts, and the careful distance she’s mastered.

[archcr]

SOUNDTRACK ||  A    MUSE    PLAYLIST    STUDY    !   ↳    list    5    songs    that    you    associate    with    your    muse    !    ...    (    bonus:    include    lyrics    if    you'd    like   !    )

I.   AS GOOD AS IT GETS . LITTLE HURT . I got a good heart, but fuck it up for the art / Had a good life, I could never really see that / Got so bad, lookin' for love in the trash / If I had it, I wouldn't know how to keep it / Well, maybe I'm a mess / And maybe I'm depressed / And maybe I'll just find out who I am, and I won't like who it is / And I'm a wreck / I do it for the sex / And maybe I gotta realize this is as good as it gets

II.   CAST THE BRONZE . RAYNES .  Would it be wise to play this closer to the vest? / Apologize for being green or underdressed / Do I imply that I'm just beautiful and blessed? / I try to care, but just care less / So you moan and compose a response / But you don't even know what you want / Go tell someone what you wish I would've done

Make me bleed if you need to confirm that it's something I can do / And I'll paint it red / If you're still unsure, let me lie for a day / Before they formally announce me dead / When I'm gone, cast the bronze for the bust of my head / To be displayed in the library / Engrave that I gave my consent / To be anything that anyone prefer I be

III.   WORK THIS BODY . WALK THE MOON . It was a strange place and a tender age / I was just a babe in school / Saw them roll their eyes at me / Every time that I thought that I was cool / Well uh God knows I was no chosen one / That just wasn't my prime / Yeah it's just matter of time, honey / It's just a matter of time

And I will work this body / I will burn this flame / Oh in the dead of night / And in the pouring rain / Yeah, I'm a work-a-holic / And I swear, I swear / Yeah, and one day I will beat you fair and square

IV.   ONE NIGHT IN TOKYO . BEAST IN BLACK . Dangerous attraction / Femme fatale in action / The most beautiful mistake of my life / She's a neon flower / Pure seduction power / One night in Tokyo / One night worth all my love / Willfully blindfolded / Mesmerized on this bed / When you touch me, I am where love is born / Feverish desire / Getting high on each other

V.   I'LL BE YOUR HERO . RHAPSODY OF FIRE . One day, I'll be your hero / Burning fast, take my place in the world / One day, I'll win for you / Turning tears into dreams with my hand / One day

[iamhollywood]

i've deluded myself into thinking the weather is getting warmer. on one hand, my seasonal depression is improving. on the other hand, i have vastly underdressed for what is still a winter day

[chicspo]

if you could tell something to your 13 year old self what would you say?

so many things. dont try to fit in, dont lose yourself be who u have always been. ur not overdressed theyre underdressed. having no friends is better than having people around u who only hurt u. dont let what others say affect how u think of yourself, u know yourself better than anyone else. dont rush to grow up. only do things that u feel like doing, no one can force u into anything. speak up and be honest and direct with people, let them know how they've made u feel. mood swings are all hormonal ur not insane ur not depressed ur not anything it will pass. just focus on yourself and your future. always be several steps ahead. and love urself more than anything

[servin-up-surveys]

survey #250

New tats in your near future? Probably not, but I wouldn't say it's impossible. My dad gifts me and my sisters Christmas money every year, and while I'm leaning towards saving it for other stuff this year, I might cave and get a tat, idk.

How about piercings or re-piercings? It's looking like I might get my nose re-pierced for Christmas.

Are there any rooms in your house that you don’t go into every day? Mom's bed and bathroom, dining room.

Have you ever kissed someone who has previously kissed someone you hated? Lol yes, I used to despise his ex because of my own history with her. We're chill now.

Do you have any relatives with red hair? Not that I know of.

Have you ever known anyone who committed suicide? Yes.

Have you ever had rabies? No.

Do you know anyone who ever had to get a rabies shot? Uhhhh possibly?

Ever eaten deer? Duck? Squirrel? How about lamb? None.

What is your least favorite ice cream flavor? I haven't tried too many, but I know I really don't like strawberry.

Have you ever been tempted to steal? GUYS as a kid I was obsessed with Dory and one day I went to a friend's house and she got a Dory toy from McDonald's and I loved it and wanted it and I remember I considered taking it lmfao, but ultimately I didn't.

Would you rather travel to Ireland or Japan? Ireland.

Does tickling turn you on? No.

Have you ever video-chatted with someone you met online? I've AUDIO chatted, but not with video, it makes me uncomfortable.

How many siblings does your best friend have? One.

Have you ever dated someone who was emotionally or mentally unstable? Yes.

Have you ever had a reptile for a pet? Multiple.

Did you attend Sunday School as a child? Solely because I was forced to.

Who was the last person you cuddled with? My boyfriend.

Your boyfriend/girlfriend isn’t around but their phone is. Do you look through it? No.

Have any of your exes ever given you roses? While we dated, Jason did.

Do you think your last ex ever thinks about you? Certainly not romantically, but in the sense that she's a bitter person, I'm sure there are times she thinks of me poorly.

Would you rather have salad or french fries for a side dish? French fries, I'm sadly not thrilled by salads.

Which one of your relationships was the shortest? Well, if you even wanna call it a "relationship," Juan and I were together for literally less than 24 hours.

Which was the longest? Jason, three and a half years.

Would you feel hurt if your last ex is in a relationship? Nope.

Are you going to be getting any new pets soon? No.

Do you like BBQ sauce? Nope.

Should the guy always pay for the date? lol no

Do you know anyone who has autism? Me, my niece, my friend...

Do you use Instagram often? I use it daily. I look way more than I post.

Do you have a Pinterest account? I do, don't browse it much though.

What is one question you don’t like being asked? Hygiene questions because as a person that struggles so much with deep depression, I have a hard time with self-care, and most people don't get it until they experience it.

Who is someone you know who is talkative? My nephew.

When was the last time you saw one of your uncles? It's been years upon years.

Who was driving the last time you were in a car? My mom.

How many times do you talk on the phone a day on average? Zero.

Do you like your bed? I wish it was softer.

Are you tanned? No.

How old is the last person you kissed? 31.

Has there ever been a time where you found yourself to be completely overdressed or underdressed? I don't think so.

Do you wish you were more busy or less busy? I wish I was slightly busier. Not overwhelmingly so, but just a bit busier, because my life is very dull.

Last person you shared food with? Girt; I tried mac and cheese off his plate on Thanksgiving, but I didn't really like it. I'm picky with mac and cheese.

Have you been a happy, angry, or sad person lately? Sad and frustrated.

When was the last time you wore a dress? Oh jeez probably not since my older sister got married like eight years ago.

When was the last time you laid in bed with someone else? Thanksgiving night.

What’s something you remember about kindergarten? I didn't wanna shut up during naptime lmao.

Is there a person you talk to every day with? My mom, and it's extremely rare Girt and I don't message each other.

Does your best friend have a job? Yes, he's had the same job for like... 12 years, I think? Possibly more?

What do you think of people who have sex before marriage? IF you're worried about sexual compatibility, honestly I think it's a good idea to know before marriage. But ultimately, this is purely a personal choice, it's NOBODY else's business when you decide to start having sex.

Do you drink regular or diet soda? Regular, because I despise diet sodas. I'd rather just not drink a soda than drink diet, it's disgusting.

What's one of your favorite artists/bands, and least favorite song from them? Ozzy has a number I'm just not interested in, I don't have a song that REALLY stands out, but for Rammstein, I cannot stand "Seemann," which is crazy because the fandom seems to have a soft spot for it.

Have you ever seen them live? I haven't seen either. ;-; Ozzy's touring career is done (he keeps trying, but his health has stopped those plans many times now), and Rammstein doesn't plan on touring again for I think at least two years according to Paul, they just toured for multiple years straight.

Are you registered to vote? Yes.

Do you consider graffiti to be true art or just messy? I mean, it can be both, and "messy" isn't even inherently bad.

Do you currently have a fan on? Noooo, shit's cold.

Do you take a lot of pictures? No, sadly.

What's your McDonald's order? Quarter pounder or McDouble to save money, fries, Coke.

What do you do when you can't fall asleep? I browse my phone or much more rarely these days, get up to get back on the laptop. Both you're not supposed to do lmao.

Do you know anyone who keeps a Christmas tree up year round? No.

Who were you last in a vehicle with? My mom.

What's the strangest video you've ever seen? Hell, probably an Unus Annus video at some point. What a fucking YEAR that channel was, god I miss it. Mark and Ethan made something so amazing lmfao.

If Kirby absorbed you, what power would they get? Overthinking everything imaginable. :^)

What's your go-to appetizer? French fries.

Have you ever received a present that made you cry? Yes.

What's something you are addicted to? Technology.

When did you last receive a business card from somebody? I willingly took a business card from someone when I went to Pride this year. ... I think? Or did I just take a picture of her socials? Idr.

Would you try that Flamin' Hot Mountain Dew? Isn't that so wild? Okay, as a Mountain Dew and hot Cheetos FIEND, I would TRY it, but I don't expect to like it, honestly.

Do you own any adult coloring books? I do, but I honestly don't really use them.

Do you have any chores you need to get done? I need to dust my room.

Have you ever had a bad sunburn? I've had sun poisoning, and that was hell.

Name three of your favourite crepe toppings. I don't think I've ever had a crepe.

Do you watch How I Met Your Mother? What did you think of the ending? I've seen episodes casually, but I've never watched it willingly.

Have you ever played paintball? Did you get hit? No, this doesn't appeal to me at all. I've heard that shit hurts.

How do you feel today? Tell me about it. I'm... better than yesterday. I had an anxiety attack last night that really upset me. Today, I've tried being more productive and conscious of what I'm doing, and I've started a very popular self-care app.

Do you ever use a laptop in bed? For over five years at least, I LIVED in my bed doing this. It was one of the biggest mistakes of my life. My body fucking withered; I went through muscle atrophy in my legs, and in more recent news, we think this is why I've had two different x-rays where I've been informed I have weak bones. I sit at a desk with my laptop now, I refuse to bring it back to my bed.

Have you ever eaten Caribbean food? I don't believe I have.

Where did you last fly to on a plane? To/from Illinois.

Have you ever been evicted? Why? Yes, because Mom couldn't keep up with rent.

Have you ever worked as a manager or supervisor? No.

Do you eat at a table or on the couch? I either eat at my computer desk or on the couch.

What was the last thing you voted for? A Tumblr survey, I think.

What’s the longest you’ve ever stayed awake? Why did you do it? Three days, because I was manic.

What are the five apps on your phone that you use most often? Instagram, Facebook, Pokemon GO, Dragons of Atlantis, DragonVale.

[iveneverdoneanythingwrong]

So I have the day off today, and I marked the entirety of it down to watch Red, White, and Royal Blue. This was a good decision as I've had to pause three times and I'm 3 min and 40 seconds into the movie. I just get so

and I have to stop and calm down. So I'm blogging when I have to pause.

Such a fanfic set up - Enemies to Lovers, royalty AU, slow burn, 400k.

I'm at the after-wedding party and the cake is SO BIG I KNOW WHATS COMING I CAAAAAN'T

IT'S LOOMING LIKE ITS READY TO ATTACK

ALEX IS DRUNK ALEX STOP ALEX YOU ARE AT A WORK FUNCTION AAAAALEEEEEEXXXXX

OH NO OH NOOO DRUNK!ALEX HAS SPOTTED HIS NEMESIS HARRY IN FRONT OF THE FERAL CAKE

The cake has chosen a victim. To be fair, Alex attacked it first, so I can't blame the cake…

This is the funniest face, I don't know why but I can't stop laughing at Alex's reaction to icing. You'd think it was cum

THE CAKE HAS ATTAAAAAACKED . Alex FAFOd. RIP Alex.

I love how this whole thing is basically Alex's fault, but the crown prince blames Henry. Family tension, yay!

I also love how Alex is called on the carpet in the oval office and it's ALL WOMEN IN THERE. He's cracking jokes, and they're talking trade negotiations and polling numbers around him.

Zahra is my favorite person ever. GET HIM!

Ok, Alex, sweetheart, honey, you are FIXATED on Henry being 6'2''…. do you have a, shall we say, issue? "Making it was one of the most depressing moments of my career - and I once saw Mitch McConnell eating a banana." Thank you for your service, ma'am.

Smile, boys. I SAID SMILE.

"Alex has very strong opinions. And he shares them. Loudly." 🤣 He's just American, Henry. 🤣🤣🤣 This is our Get-Along-Press Conference.

OK, so my friend who is also watching says her first unbelievable moment was the wedding gown without sleeves. I don't know enough about fashion or royalty to argue, but MY first unbelievable moment is shots fired at a hospital and they're NOT in the US? DOUBT.

Active shooter and Henry is more focused on how Alex smells and why Alex doesn't like him. "Makes sense." "What do you mean by THAT?" "It means you have good taste, Alex."

Oh wow, Henry is showing some emotional intelligence here.

Nevermind, I take it back. Henry! Don't be a douche! Ok, I take it back take it back. Thanks for being vulnerable, Henry.

Fireworks. OK, that makes more sense.

I also love Alex's bodyguard.

"Kill me and I won't have to go." Hey writers, this is more relatable than making him talk about how expensive the cake is. Same, Henry, same.

My god, Alex's eyelashes are insane. Why. Why does he need those? To flirt with men?? Oh wait, yeah, I guess he does.

Oh my god, they actually POINTED OUT HIS EYELASHES. This movie was made for me. Is that guy flirting? Back off, man!

Henry is an amazing texter. I love the way they fit social media into the movie format.

Can I have another two or three hours of them just hanging out and snarking at each other please? kthx.

Alex's NYE party - is this the first time Henry has been underdressed for an event? *gasp* the mutual "oh no he's hot" moment.

aaaand already Henry has been bit by the little green monster. Pugsley. That was fast.

EEEEEE the kiss. Alex is like, I'm not touching I'm not touching I'mnottouchingIswear.

"The first fifty rows of a Gaga concert." 🤣🤣🤣 The women in the movie are On Fire.

"He grabbed my hair in a way that made me understand the difference between rugby and football" WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?????

"He can't ignore me all night. Can he?" Oh honey....

LUNCH BREAK - I started this at 8:30 am, it is now 11:30. I am 37:45 into this movie. 🤣

Why is Miguel coming off as skeezy to me? I want him to go awa-ALEX, your literal prince has ariiiiived.

Henry, sweetheart, you are not fooling anyone.

Damn Alex, *fans self* So... this was the "fade to black" of a sex scene. I mean, I wasn't expecting this movie to be subtle, but c'mon!

Henry: I just don't want you to fall in love with me. Me: How's that clown makeup feel?

Well now I gotta know. How many/which famous men have you shagged. Henry? Henry, COME BACK HERE!

"I'm so not playing this cool right now." Don't worry Alex, you guys are dork4dork.

I KNEW MIGUEL WAS A SCUMBAG

Ugh, Dickbag alert! Ah, jealolus dickbag alert!

Alex!! You've broken Zahra!! Zahra my loooooveee!! Put these boys in their place! That ENTIRE scene was AMAZING. This movie was worth it just for that.

HAHAHAHAH they didn't even get through the whole gag set up "I'm definitely not doing karao-*singing karaoke*

It's taking me forever to get through the floating dock/Alex confession scene. The whole "rope attached to my chest" is real Jane Eyre vibes. Henry, you need to say something. Communication is key, my dude. Or drown yourself, that's valid.

Oh you are NOT just sneaking out. No. I forbid it. Ugh, men.

"What happened in Texas?" "I ended things with Alex" NO YOU FUCKING WELL DIDN'T, YOU DICK.

Of course there's thunder for the big romantic confrontation scene. It has to be raining! For reasons!

oh, that is some grade-A projection there, Henry.

Mr never had a key has a key....

Damn, Alex, you have game.

"When they write the history of my life I want it to include you" Damn, Henry, you have game, too.

Ok, the most unrealistic thing in this movie - these motherfuckers don't move in their sleep??! The covers are always immaculate when they wake up. FAKE. FALSE. THIS DOES NOT HAPPEN.

DOUCHE DOUCHE DOUCHE DOUCHE DOUCHE DOUCHE

Zahra is so done. Go ahead, Zahra, smack him with a pillow again, I know you want to. You've earned it! "mooning over the prince like a cow in labor" 🤣🤣🤣 Marry me, Zahra!!

Stephen Fry playing a homophobe?? He really stretched his acting chops for that. "Take the American with you." Thanks gramps.

Do you think anyone noticed??

Final tally: It took me 5 hours to watch this, not including the hour lunch break.