#standard tag despite them not actually dating

[vaya-writes]

Plus Two

So this is more than a bit indulgent, and I don't know how well it would be received, and I totally had to create some new characters just to make this scenario work but!!! If you're looking for something to read here is a reader insert fic of you attending a gala with the worlds (@eldritch-spouse's) most emotionally constipated demon (don't worry it's by design). You scheme against said demon's entitled and rude ex to make her look bad in front of everyone, attend a gala with Mervin, and then fuck nasty with him in a semi public place afterwards. Enjoy <3

M demon x F reader. 8500 words. Context required? Not really. Just that he's like that on purpose. Divider by firefly-graphics.

Mervin is visiting his mother. 

It’s... frustrating, to say the least. 

 You’re sitting in the kitchen, watching Obie cook. He wanted you as a taste tester, but honestly, you’re not very helpful. Many of the small tweaks he’s making to his dishes go above your head.  

Katia is asleep upstairs. Ludwig is elsewhere. It makes you wonder why the pride demon is pacing around the kitchen, obviously getting in his brother’s way. You get the sense he’s waiting for somebody to ask what’s wrong. 

Thankfully, Obie picks up on the mood. “So, why the stick?” 

Mervin stops, drawn from his thoughts. “What?” 

“The stick up your ass. Who put it there?” 

Mervin scowls and resumes his pacing. Then lets out a huff and joins you at the table. He crosses his arms. Mutters under his breath. You think you catch the name he says. 

“Stasia.” 

Obie snorts. “Should have guessed.” 

You glance at Mervin. “Who’s that?” 

He grits his teeth. “Not your business, human.” 

You shrug, but Obie turns with a smirk. “His girlfriend.” 

“Not my girlfriend, corkscrew.” He’s just as scathing towards his brother. 

Obie turns back to the stove. “You might not guess it, but my dearest brother doesn’t have many friends.” 

“No?” You feign shock. 

Obie grins. “No. But he does have one. Kind of. Stasia. So, whenever Merv is pressured into attending some event or gala, or whatever they do over in Pride, he has to take a date or risk looking like a dolt.” 

“And he takes Stasia.” 

“And he takes Stasia. Well, he invites her. And she says yes. And then, always the night before, she says no. And then sometimes she says yes again. It’s hard to keep track. Regardless, Merv always works himself into a tizzy when she says she won’t attend, and then shows up anyway.” 

You glance at Mervin. He’s fuming at the explanation but doesn’t dispute any of it. 

“She sounds like a piece of work.” 

“She is.” 

You turn to Mervin, who looks more miserable than usual. “So, what do you usually do?” 

He rests his head on the table and doesn’t reply. 

“Sometimes he cancels. Can’t do that too often though, or risk looking like a recluse. One time he found another date.” Obie frowns. “Somehow. But then Stasia showed up and embarrassed the fuck out of her.” 

You wince.  

“He usually goes alone. Sometimes Stasia swoops in like nothing is wrong and they’re meant to be together. Other times she doesn’t show, and my dearest brother is left to roam the event by himself.” 

“Why do we even have these parties,” Mervin mutters. 

“Here, here,” you can’t help but agree. “Even working at them was boring.” 

Mervin turns his face towards you, raises his brow. “You’ve been to a gala before? I refuse to believe it.” 

Your nose crinkles. “I did security for a few. They were human events, mind you.”  

Mervin grunts, turning his face back down. 

You kind of pity him. The demon doesn’t even bother sitting up straight – the event must weigh heavily on him. “So, are these parties exclusive?” 

He shrugs. “This one’s for mid-ranked Pride. The especially wealthy demons. Might be some others there as plus ones.” 

You raise your brow. “I thought you lot grew up in the common rings.”  

“We did.” 

“Without a lot of wealth.” 

Mervin curls his lip at the perceived dig, and sits up. “They started inviting me after they recognised my exceptional skills. I’ve worked for many influential demons in Pride, thank you very much, and as such have a very robust income.” 

You appease him with a gentle smile. “I don’t doubt you deserve to be there, Mervin. I was just curious as to how it came about.” 

He lifts his chin. “Good. I suppose even a human can recognise talent such as mine.” 

“How would everyone react if you brought a human as your date?” 

He grimaces, “you mean to imply I should bring you?” 

“I mean to offer my company if you don’t want to turn up alone. I could even help you get some petty catharsis over Stasia, if you’d like.” 

He looks at you, more sharply. But considers. “I don’t know. You’d be a bit of a novelty, I imagine.” 

You feign indignance. “I’m famous, you know.” 

He doesn’t look impressed. “Infamous. Topside. Nobody in Perdition knows who you are.” 

“Ah, yes, precisely why I’m hiding at your mum’s house.” 

His expression sours for a moment. But the longer he considers, the lighter it becomes. “It might be interesting. Taking a human to a gala,” he mutters to himself, “if a little demeaning.” 

“Not too demeaning, I hope. I’ll be there to make you look good. Being polite to Stasia, using lovely manners, mindlessly rambling about how amazing you are to anyone I pass. Easy.” 

He has to try to keep the scowl on his face, but you can tell he’s seriously considering the offer. 

“You’re vastly underestimating the danger of this evening.” 

He’s right. But you can’t help but straighten. Rise to the challenge. “And you’re underestimating my ability to turn on the charm.” You give him a sweet little smile. “Besides, you’ll be there to protect me.” 

He sneers. “You’re just bored.” 

“I'm having a pleasant afternoon with Obie.” You lower your chin. “But, yes, I haven’t left the house for days. It’d be incredibly charitable of you to take me as your plus one.” You blast him with another pretty smile and lighten your tone. “It’s a shame your date had a last-minute emergency and had to cancel, but I’m so very fortunate you were generous enough to bring me along. A truly serendipitous turn of events.” 

He keeps his face blank as he mulls over your excuse. Weighs the pros and cons. Before, ultimately, shrugging. “Let’s see how you clean up, first. I doubt your clothes will be of high enough calibre.”  

He plays it cool, but you know you’ve won. 

- 

Mervin is right, and you don’t bother disputing it. You have a bag of stage clothes that are marginally prettier than your casual wear, but none of them are formal. Some of your accessories might be of use – the lingerie, or perhaps the stockings – and you have multiple pairs of sandals and boots. But what you wear will ultimately be decided by your escort.  

“You don’t have anything black tie. These might pass as black tie optional,” he mutters to himself, rifling through your clothes in a way that would probably offend most women. “We should head to Pride. I’ve a place you can dress at. Your makeup supplies are passable, but I’m going to have to take you shopping for a decent dress.” 

You don’t complain. It’s been a while since anyone bought you nice clothes. You wave goodbye to Obie as Mervin whisks you away. And before long you’re in another ring entirely. 

You hadn’t been to Pride yet. You’d worked in multiple rings, sure, but standards in this one tended to sit a little higher than you could provide. It’s affluent, with the streets laid out in a way that demonic urban planners no doubt agonised over. Mervin leads you straight to a commerce district, dragging you by the wrist in and out of boutiques and dress shops. 

He barks orders at imps and attendants, listing off dress styles and materials. Very few meet his standards, though several he does make you try on. You almost get a headache listening to store owners bragging about their stock; the quality of their goods. Even if hearing other demons sound so similar to Mervin makes you want to laugh at first. 

“What are you wearing tonight,” you ask him. 

He pulls out his phone and shows you a photo. The suit is high end, in his usual colours. You’re not surprised. 

He listens to your input over the dresses, for which you’re grateful. You choose the colour you think will match Mervin’s outfit best; a purple so dark it appears black.  

Then finally, you’re heading back to his place, three new dresses in tow. You’re not sure how you managed to pick not one but three (three!) gala dresses in the space of one afternoon, but Mervin had insisted on purchasing them all, some excuse about their iffy quality and you needing alternative options.  

Once at his place, you let him fuss over the dresses and dig through your accessories again, while you look at your other equipment. A glance at Mervin reveals he’s still in his casual wear, sai crossed over his back. “So, is this an open carry event, or..?” 

His gaze cuts to you, where you’re looking over your weapon holsters. His lip curls. “No. It’s not.” 

A thigh sheath it is, then. 

“You really think that’s going to help you here? You should let me worry about safety. I doubt you’ll be able to take care of yourself.” 

You give the demon a too bright smile. “I don't go anywhere without my family jewels. Have you picked a dress yet?”  

Conversation successfully redirected, Mervin ushes you to his bathroom, pushing you the dress of his choosing. It’s certainly elegant, with slits up the thighs, a cinched waist, and most the skin above your cleavage on display. The fabric is silky, and feels nice against your skin. 

When you step out to show him the fit, Mervin is silent. You wait for him to voice an opinion. 

The dress looks good. You look good. You know it.  

Mervin only scoffs. “I need to get ready. I assume you can finish dressing without any hand holding.” He turns for his room, almost slamming the door behind him.  

You assume his weird behaviour has something to do with his prideful nature. He hadn’t disparaged your appearance, so it probably passes.  

You spend the next half hour applying the finishing touches. Braiding your hair into an updo. Masterfully applying makeup. Pulling on a garter belt and stockings and choosing which of your knives to holster. You’re lacing up your sandals when Mervin emerges from his room again, dressed in a suit.  

He pushes a box towards you. “Put it on. I don’t want people thinking my plus-one looks plain.” 

It’s a jewellery box. Inside lies an intricate necklace of silver, dotted with indigo gems. A discrete glance reveals they match the rings Mervin wears.  

You can’t hold back your smile. Regardless of meaning, the gesture is sweet. “Thank you, Mervin. It’s beautiful. You have good taste.” 

“Naturally.” 

You struggle with the necklace until Mervin ‘tsks’ and steps behind you to help with the clasp.  

“You’re a sweetheart,” you grin up at him. 

He shakes his head, before looking away quickly. “And you’re useless. Honestly. Who can’t put on a simple necklace?” 

You pick up on the deflection. It’s almost cute. You decide to needle at him some more. “Me, apparently. Thank you for helping. I’m sure this would take ages without you.” 

He looks down his nose at you. Perhaps you overdid it. 

“Whatever.” 

Finally you two stand, dressed and ready to go. Looking down at yourself and back at Mervin leaves you satisfied: you match. 

“So, do I clean up well enough?” 

He looks you over. “You won’t be winning best dressed.”  

You raise your brows. He was the one who chose the outfit. 

But something almost akin to a smile crosses his face. “But I guess, you’re only human.” 

- 

Mervin hires a driver to take you to the gala. You’re honestly impressed, having never ridden in the back of a stretch limo before. You quiz Mervin on the way there, asking after etiquette, who to chat up, who to avoid. How much dancing is expected. What is the schedule for the evening. Everything you should know to avoid making any faux passes. Because while you’d visited high society before – in various service industries – you'd never participated in it. It’s daunting. Exciting. Terrifying.  

You make plans for the evening. Scheming; laying contingencies. Because while this night is supposed to be social, you know you’re honestly just here to show up Mervin’s ‘friend’. He paints the picture of a conniving demoness. One who dominated in certain social circles. One who will be dismissive and icy towards you, and increasingly aggressive the longer you stick around. 

Mervin dictates how you’re to behave. How you’re to react to her insults. You interject here and there, swapping ideas until you have a seamless blend or characteristics to take into the night. A fleshed out character you’ll be playing before the surrounding audience. 

All too soon, you’re arriving. 

Mervin opens your door. It had been pre-negotiated, and he’d fussed about it (if anyone deserved the door opened for them, it was him, he should be served all night, he was only doing this because it was polite, because he needed to look like a gentleman). You brace yourself before stepping into the light.  

In the moment before you straighten there’s enough time for trepidation to rush through you. You remember how exhausting it can be, meeting new people. Playing pretend. 

But then you’re giving Mervin a starry eyed smile, and linking arms. It’s too late to back out. 

You’ve settled on a bubbly personality. Too demure and you risk fading into the background. Too assertive and it leaves you open to social mistakes. You’ll go with friendly. Lively. Sweet. Not quite arm-candy, not quite Mervin’s equal. 

It’ll be tiring, but you might manage to have some fun. Pry a dance or two out of Mervin. Or try some expensive wine. Somehow Mervin hasn't yet learned how you’d caught his brothers’ eyes (an incident involving too much alcohol, and a bar fight), so you haven't been forbidden from indulging. Yet.  

Mervin doesn’t let you wander. You mingle in the foyer, where most of the crowd lingers. Shaking hands, trading introductions, smiling. There’re a few surprised exclamations at your appearance - “A human! Where in Perdition did you find her, Mervin?” - and a few too many pinches and gropes. But you bear it all with a smile, playful indignance, and charming redirection.  

You’re just settling into your role when Mervin stiffens, almost imperceptivity.  

“There you are, sugar plum. I’ve been looking for you all night.” 

Stasia has arrived. 

--- 

Stasia is an envy demon, graced with a classic sort of beauty that would do well on Earth. She has a wide and elegant set of horns, curling back from her temples, and her long tail swishes with confidence behind her as she crosses the room. She’s wearing a floor length evening gown in a bright scarlet, and a lipstick that matches.  

Mervin is silent beside you.  

You slide into action, another starry eyed, bubbly smile fixed onto your face. “Oh wow, you look gorgeous. You must be Stasia, I’ve heard so much about you.”  

Her arms had been open, clearly about to embrace the demon by your side, but you intercept, shaking one of her hands with enthusiasm.  

You crinkle your brow and look up at the demoness with concern. “Your schedule cleared then? That’s such a relief. Mervin was worried when you had to cancel on him so suddenly.” 

Several sets of eyes land on you. Stasia narrows her own at you, but you’ve already outed her as a flake to the crowd. Somebody nearby laughs.  

She pulls her hand from yours. “Mervin, who is this?” 

Your companion relaxes. “Stasia, this is an acquaintance of mine,” he tells her your name. “Pet, this is Stasia.” No honorific, you notice. You imagine anyone looking on also notices. 

You beam up at the envy demon, “Mervin was generous enough to bring me as his plus-one. I’ve been stuck at home for weeks, it was really too kind of him. I should thank you too, Stasia. You’ve indirectly brought me here.” 

The smile frozen on her face slips, just a little. 

You’re kept from formulating any further praise – or jabs – when the host announces the doors open. The crowd dissipates, making their way towards what appears to be a genuine ballroom.  

Stasia walks lockstep with Mervin, almost shouldering you aside. You’d be offended if you weren’t expecting the treatment. Instead, you trail shyly after them, a step behind Mervin’s other side.  

Stasia is already chattering to your date, linking her arm through his.  

“You two should catch up! I’ll get drinks while you do.” You lean up to kiss Mervin on the cheek. 

Even though you’d discussed and planned PDA with him (that part of the drive had been like pulling nails), he still stiffens at the gesture, blanching a little. 

You give him a smile, “Your regular?” 

“Fine. And something for yourself.” 

You don’t catch the glare Stasia sends you, but others do. 

You hasten towards the bar. Nobody stops you, but you suspect it might get harder to navigate the crowd as the night goes on and the guests get more inebriated. Even now you’re subject to stares, and the occasional frown. 

The bartender takes your order, thankfully.  

You’re watching as it’s made when a demon you don’t recognise sidles up beside you. 

“Watch yourself, girl. Last time somebody got between Stasia and her prey it wasn’t pretty.” 

You take in the demon (purple hue and the pronged horns) with a glance, before choosing a sympathetic expression. “I appreciate the concern, sir. I can’t help but feel for her, though. Scheduling conflicts are such a pain. Imagine making time for an event, only to find you’re no longer invited.” 

The demon watches you critically. You don’t mind. You’ll either come off as naive or conniving, and both are acceptable. 

He shrugs. “You’ve been warned.” 

“Again,” you say, taking your drinks from the bartender, “thank you.” 

Mervin is wearing a strained smile when you return, locked in a conversation with Stasia and two other demons.  

He accepts his drink with a nod, and when the conversation next lulls, he introduces you to his companions.  

The night continues like this, with Mervin introducing you around, and Stasia growing tense each time he stops to draw attention to you. 

She positively writhes if the conversation so much as turns your way, stink eyeing anyone who deigns to ask you where you’re from, what you’re doing in Perdition, what you do for a living. 

Over and over you repeat yourself. You’ve been indoors for weeks. You were feeling stir crazy. Mervin was so generous to show you around. Mervin was charitable. Mervin was kind. Stasia was too; you wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for her actions. 

Until she’s red in the face, and not in a pleasant way. You decide to back off, before she erupts like a tea kettle. 

The music has since started, and more and more demons are flocking to the dance floor. You look wistfully after them. “It’s a shame I don’t know any of the dances in Pride. Why don’t you two take the first? I could watch and learn.” 

The demoness jumps on the opportunity, though conveniently ignoring you. “Come on, Mervin. It’s been months since we danced together. You remember that one time on Earth-” you don’t catch the rest of her reminiscing as she leads Mervin away.  

One of the demons you’d been standing with gives you a sympathetic coo. “You’ve been neglected all night, little bird. Why don’t you dance with me?” 

You give them an amicable smile. The excuse falls smoothly from your lips. “I’d love to, but I think it’d be rude to my date if I gave my first dance to somebody else. Maybe later?” 

The demon tuts. “Why should you be polite to him when he’s having a good time with his ex over there?” 

You manage to keep your face relaxed. Obie had called Stasia Mervin’s girlfriend. Had there been some truth to the jest? Still, you manage to shrug, looking towards the dancing pair. They’re locked in a stuffy waltz of some sort. 

“Does he look like he’s having a good time?” 

The demon blinks, before following your gaze. True to your implications, Mervin is tense. His smile is strained. He looks slightly bored, or even resentful at the way Stasia chatters.  

They huff, conceding to your point.  

You nail it in anyway. “He can spend the whole gala with her if it pleases him. He’ll still do me the honour of taking me home afterwards.” 

Stasia keeps Mervin for not one, but three dances, before he manages to escape her grip and find you. You pass his drink back to him, giving him an amused smile. “Having fun?” 

He scowls.  

You give your empty glass to a passing staff member before looking back up at Mervin. You’re pretty sure he’s never going to ask you to dance. Not directly. Not even if he wanted to (a surprising number of wallflowers stand testament to Pride’s inability to simply ask for a dance).  

You take the initiative instead. “Dance with me?” 

He looks almost grateful but doesn’t manage a response other than a mute nod. 

He leads you to the floor, and you take his shoulder and hand. The weight of his own at your waist is pleasant. You don’t remember the last time you danced a waltz, but it’s easy enough to slip into, and Mervin leads well.  

You want to ask him how you’re doing (you know you’re doing well, and he won’t be able to tell you honestly). You want to ask him how he’s doing (he’s clearly tired and frustrated, and likely won’t take kindly to your prying). You want to ask about Stasia (is she really his ex?). Instead, you dance wordlessly for the next few minutes. 

He starts to relax towards the end of the dance, and on a whim, he lifts you during your next turn.  

You inhale sharply, before letting out a laugh. He gives a begrudging smile back. 

The exchange wheedles some words out of you. “You know, if I’d known the dances were going to be this simple, I might have asked to dance first.” 

He raises his brow. “And go against your careful manipulations? How stupid.” 

You grin. “Maybe. But I’d still consider it.” 

He huffs. “There’ll be a few traditional dances after dinner. I doubt you’ll be able to keep up.” 

“Speaking of dinner-” You’re glad you’d questioned Mervin on the drive here. Because of it, you can easily guess what will happen when the dining hall opens. “She’s going to be in my seat.” 

He purses his lips. “We’ll get there first.” 

You’d discussed the possibility but hadn’t made any explicit plans to deal with it.  

“No.” 

He cocks a brow. “No?” 

“If I sit first, there’s no telling what she’ll do.” 

“You have something better in mind?” 

You give him a smile, this one less bubbly, and more genuine. “I think we should renegotiate your terms regarding public displays of affection.” 

His face scrunches with displeasure. “You think you deserve to touch me without express permission?” 

“No. Never,” you butter him up. “But I think she’d hate it if you allowed it.” 

He chews his lip, appearing to consider. 

You inch closer, intent on enjoying what’s left of your dance. “Don’t worry your pretty head so much, my prince.” 

He blinks and opens his mouth to reply. Undoubtedly still wanting to know your solution. Then the rest of what you’d said catches up to him, and he shuts it. He straightens, chest puffing a little. 

You try not to smirk. He’s cute sometimes. 

The waltz finishes. You give him your last words before parting. “And please don’t push me off.”  

Mervin almost stumbles as he understands your request. But before he can protest, the doors to the dining hall are opening, and dinner is due to start. You gesture for Mervin to lead the way. 

After a beat he does, and you trail after him. He pauses several times, greeting aquaintances and stopping to chat. Numerous demons still mill about, not quite ready to take their seats. 

It’s almost suspicious how Stasia doesn’t intercept you. You’d be worried if you weren’t almost certain of where she was. 

Sure enough, when you reach your reserved table, Stasia is seated in your place. She smiles at you, in a way that’s just a little too condescending, but does not otherwise acknowledge you.  

“You kept me waiting, sugar plumb.” 

You pull out the chair for Mervin, inclining your head respectfully as he takes his seat. Then, without missing a beat, you follow him down, settling on his lap. 

He stiffens, but Stasia's expression makes it worth it. 

You cover his surprise with a sweet smile. “Sorry to keep him from you, Stasia. I just thought it might be rude if I danced with somebody else before him.” 

She stares, face now blank. 

After a beat, Mervin’s arm wraps around your side. His claws dig into you, giving away his discomfort. “At any rate, I’m back. Where did we leave off...” 

Stasia resumes her chatter, and Mervin makes an effort to engage. The three of you aren’t alone; there are other pairs seated around the circular table, speaking amongst themselves, and occasionally interacting with Mervin and Stasia. You receive several glances, most of which are accompanied by amused grins. Stasia receives a handful of smirks too. You’re not sure who they favour, but at least you’re cause for humour. None of the pride demons are forward enough to ask Mervin why he apparently has two dates.  

Nobody looks your way when entrees are brought out. Stasia gets your food. It smells delicious, and your stomach rumbles with envy.  

Mervin frowns. “Did my brother not feed you enough?” 

You pout up at him. “Humans typically eat three times a day.” 

He stares down at you. It’s hard to tell, but you think he’s looking at your lips. Eventually he sighs, and passes you his spoon. “I don’t share with just anyone, pet.” 

You beam up at him, placing a kiss on his cheek before he can react. “Thanks babe. You’re literally the best.” 

A muscle in his leg twitches, and he has to work to hide his surprise. It almost has you smirking. The fingers digging harder into your side betray his growing tension. You wonder if he’s flustered at the compliment, or irritated at your relaxed demeanour. Perhaps he’s just been touched too much tonight. 

There’s a glare fixed on you when you take a sip of the first course. It’s a particularly fragrant soup, served with bread. Unimaginative, but damn if it doesn’t taste amazing.  

You lock eyes with Stasia, and smile. “It’s good, right?” 

For a moment she doesn’t reply. But after a beat she sneers. “Bland, actually. The chef must have messed up my order.” 

“Actually, the order was changed, Stasia,” Mervin interrupts. “We’re being served human safe variants of the menu.” 

You blink at the new information. You didn’t realise Mervin had gone to such lengths to accommodate you. It leaves you feeling... nice. 

Mervin notices your stare and scowls. 

“Of course, Stasia is right. It’s terribly bland compared to the usual fare. But I doubt you could handle our food. Your stomach is far too weak. Pathetic, really.” 

You smile at his disparagment. You’re honestly genuine when you praise him next: “You’re too kind, Mervin. I appreciate it.” 

He turns his face away with a sneer, ignoring you as you finish the entrée. 

You insist that Mervin eats the main course. You assume a greed demon would appreciate your excuses more – you wouldn’t dare take the food from his plate, he’s already been kind enough to you, it’s his meal, he should get to taste it, it’d be rude of you to even think of touching the food before he does – but they do the trick, and Mervin still looks a bit pleased at your fussing.  

Dessert passes without incident, and you’re ready to stand and go for a wander. Mervin’s lap isn’t the most comfortable – not while he’s at a dining chair, at the least. The food is cleared and you’re about to get up when another demon at the table ropes Mervin into conversation. 

You can’t help but fidget, not sure whether it’d be acceptable if you stood right now. You think you’re being discrete, shifting your weight just a little, but Mervin grabs your thigh and squeezes it, pointedly.  

You blush and look down in apology, reigning in your wiggles and acting the picture of relaxed and demure once more.  

Instead of releasing you, his hand creeps upwards, along your thigh. 

You force yourself not to fidget again at the touch. It had to be unintentional. You hadn’t discussed anything like this ahead of time. Perhaps he didn’t realise how high his fingers were trailing. 

You hazard a glance over your shoulder, desperate to see his expression, to gleam his mood.  

He grabs your jaw instead, and turns your face forward, before leaning down to murmur at your ear. “Stay there, pet.” 

You hadn’t really considered the possibility of Mervin being dominant before. It was always too much fun flustering him with compliments, or making fun of his stunted emotional responses. But you forget that for a moment, enjoying the firmness of his tone.  

To your immense frustration, he doesn’t do anything more. Just stroking your thigh, claws tracing the slit upthe side of your dress. It’s almost impossible to keep from squirming, and you watch the crowd critically. You’d be mortified if a concubi wandered by just now. 

There’s a cold touch at your wrist. The interruption frustrates you, before you notice Stasia leant forwards. The smile she gives you is unnerving. “Would you mind getting that drink for me now, pet?” 

Mervin’s hand stills. 

You manage a pleasant expression and a nod. “Of course. And anything for you, Mervin?” 

He grimaces. “No. One is enough for me.” 

Stasia gives you her order and you remove yourself from the table. With the distance, you’re almost grateful for the interruption. Mervin would be tempting fate, starting something with an audience so close. No doubt Stasia had noticed. You’re just lucky she’d been calm in her redirection. 

Your second trip to the bar is a little more perilous. The number of stares you receive is doubled, and one demon has the gall to actually slap you on the ass as you pass. 

A glance reveals his reddish hue, and you’d gamble he has wrathful origins. As such, you have no compunction about grabbing the hand that had touched you and twisting his fingers painfully out of place, dodging any further grabs from him. 

“Bitch,” he accuses. 

You roll your eyes, moving on before he can drag you into a fight, or inspire too much anger in you. 

You’re breathless by the time you make it to the bar, and it’s an exercise in your evasive skills to make it back to your table without spilling either of the drinks. 

Mervin and Stasia are gone. You’re irritated, but not surprised. 

You catch a glance of them dancing in the thick of things. Mervin wasn’t wrong; the music upbeat and fast paced. You don’t know your ballroom music particularly well, but based on their movements, you assume it’s a quicktime dance of some sort. You sit at the table and take the opportunity to watch carefully. You’d love to be able to replicate it by the end of the night. 

You’re so focused on analysing your date’s distant footwork that you miss your name being called. 

You start at the touch on your shoulder. 

Another wrath demon chuckles at you (did everyone bring one as their plus one?). 

“I hope I’m not interrupting.” 

You blink. “Not at all.” Then blink again. “Have we met?” 

The demon grins, revealing some of his chipped teeth. “Sure have. I probably went to all your shows when you were touring Wrath.” 

You raise your brow. You’d never done any meet and greets. So when had- 

“We met after your show at the Splatterfest.” 

You wince at the memory. Some imps had tried to protest the inclusion of a human at the music festival, and dumped a bucket of blood over your band, ‘Carrie’ style. You’d kept performing and probably given every demon in the audience a boner (you were in Wrath, what did they expect?). 

Even so, you grin. “You tried to give me your shirt afterwards. Sorry, I’ve forgotten your name.” 

He holds out his hand. “Friends call me Bean.” 

You try not to laugh at the name. “Nice to meet you, Bean.” 

“I couldn’t help but notice you staring daggers at your date.” 

You huff. “I was actually watching the dance. If I’d had any time to prepare for tonight, I’d have bothered to learn some of the dances.” 

His face lightens. “I could teach you?” 

“Do you know these dances?” 

“Too well. My mum is from Pride.” 

You’d already danced with Mervin. It might reflect poorly on him if his date looked too antisocial. So you shrug. “Sounds like fun.” 

It is fun. You stumble a lot at first, tripping over your own feet in an effort to copy Bean’s step pattern, but he grips you by the elbows, keeping you upright even as he laughs at you. You have stamina, at least, and manage to keep up with the punishing pace. By the time the first dance ends, you’re covered in sweat and panting, but you have some of the footwork down. 

Bean grins. “You’re not terrible.” 

You crinkle your nose. “You’re sufficient too.” 

Bean has his head cocked, listening to the opening of the next song. “Ah. This next one’s fun. It’s got a lot of lifts though.” 

“That doesn’t bother me.” 

His chipped grin reappears. “We take turns raising each other.” 

Oh. You bite back a frown. “How much do you weigh?” 

Bean isn’t that big. His horns and tail are on the small side, and he’s only an inch or so taller than you. Still, the number he tells you does not fill you with confidence. 

He laughs at your expression. “Scared? Or just weak?” 

You scowl. “Weak, unfortunately. May I?” You ask before touching him. 

He lifts his arms enough for you to grab him by the waist. You brace yourself and lift. 

His heels leave the ground. 

He laughs at you again. “Cute. But mostly pathetic.” 

You scowl harder. “Whatever. If you want to keep dancing, you’ll have to jump a little.” 

His laughing quiets to a chuckle. He takes your hand and pulls you in to dance. “It’s alright. We’ll manage. This one is... well I’m not sure of the translation. It’s a genre unique to Perdition. I guess you could liken it to a quick waltz? There are several lifts in each of the refrains. Then towards the end we start spinning, taking turns with the elevations. It’s easier with the momentum, but you’ve gotta watch your surroundings too, or you’ll crash into another couple.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” you mutter. You’re not too worried about bumping into anyone. Your spatial awareness is decent enough. “I feel like this dance is just so everyone can flex at each other.” 

Bean laughs again, though not at you this time. “No, you’re completely right. It's how this genre was started. It’s a competition of strength and stamina. It’s not actually that common in Pride, since it usually tends to lack finesse or grace.” 

“Hmm,” you appreciate the history lesson. 

You ease into this dance smoothly; despite the lifts it’s easier than the last. Bean is a good teacher, and he warns you ahead of any changes. You brace yourself for the first rise, and when your feet leave the ground by almost a foot, you can’t help but grin. 

“Show off.” 

“Absolutely,” he agrees. 

His feet actually leave the ground when it’s your turn to lift. Bean springs up a few inches, turning the elevation into something closer to an assisted jump. Regardless of the terminology, you’re grateful for the assistance. It sets the tone for the rest of the dance, and you find yourself having a pleasant time. 

Your dress flairs when you’re next lifted, and Bean gives you a grin. “Is that a knife, or are you happy to see me?” 

You’re breathless, but manage to reply. “A knife, actually.” 

He eyes your legs appreciatively. “Expecting trouble?” 

“Most of my weapon belts would clash with this dress,” you joke. 

“Nonsense. You’d look good with any weapon,” he argues. 

You can’t help but smile. “You sure know how to lay on the charm.” 

“Pfft, this is nothing. You should see me when I’m actually trying.” 

You’d laugh but there’s another series of spins coming up, and you have to brace yourself of them. The recapitulation begins, and you know the dance is nearing its end.  

“Steady now,” Bean encourages, before raising you again.  

You’re able to keep spinning. To avoid any collisions. To lift him the first few times. But your arms quickly tire, and Bean doesn’t do much more than bob his knees instead of completing any jumps. He still manages to send you upwards on each of your turns though, and you have to reign in your laughter. 

Especially as you make eye contact with Mervin, dancing with Stasia beside you. 

It jars you enough that your grin fades, and you remember to school your expression into something a little more dignified. Slightly less carefree.  

The song ends and you and Bean nearly collapse against each other, panting and laughing once more, even if you’re feeling subdued. 

You realise your face is only inches from his, at the same time he does. 

He glances down at your lips. “Do you... want to take this elsewhere?” 

Any other night and you’d take him up on the offer. But- 

“I think that’d give my date a conniption.” 

His smile shrinks. Bean pulls back. But he maintains that relaxed demeanour. “It’d serve him right for leaving you here alone.” 

You shrug and give him an apologetic smile. “Another time?” 

He sighs. Ruffles your hair.  

You scowl and duck out of his grasp. 

“Can you imagine his face though?” 

You bite back your grin. “I can.” 

Bean steps away. “Thanks for the dance, love.” 

You wave him off. Take a breath to compose yourself. Then turn back to the gala. 

--- 

It doesn’t take long for you to find your date. Not with the way he’s striding towards you, shoulders squared and a scowl on his face. He grabs you by the wrist and leads you out a nearby door, practically dragging you down some unpopulated corridors. 

“Where’s Stasia?” You ask. 

“I cut her off when she started trying to make me jealous of that shit-for-brains dance partner of yours.” 

You’d only danced with Bean twice. Was Mervin really so bothered? 

“Key word ‘trying’?” You ask, tentative this time. 

He doesn’t reply, but it’s obvious he’s not happy. 

You wince. Stasia’s meddling or not, this one was genuinely your fault. “I’m sorry, Mervin. It wasn’t my intention to make you feel that way.” 

“I know,” he grumbles, before practically flinging you at a wall. “But you still need to deal with the consequences, human.” 

Then his hand is on your jaw, holding you still as he crushes his lips against yours. 

You freeze, more surprised than upset. 

His other hand rests against the wall, caging you in. He doesn’t meet your eyes when he pulls back, still scowling. “How dare you ask a stranger to teach you to dance. You should have gone to me.”  

You’re still processing the kiss. Part of you is indignant – you never thought he’d work up the nerve to kiss you first. The other part of you struggles to stay grounded. To listen to his complaint. “I’m sorry, I-” 

He cuts you off with another kiss. Bites down hard on your lip this time. You think you taste blood. 

“You should consider yourself lucky that I’m still willing to associate with you. That I’m willing to do this.” 

Your head spins when he pushes your face sideways, gaining access to your throat. He kisses his way down your neck, across your shoulder. Not shy about using his teeth to punish you.  

His other hand slips below your dress. He grips the hem of your underwear and your breath hitches. As much as you enjoy leading him along, you could get used to this. Mervin's display of dominance is doing things for you. 

“I’m lowering my standards so much just to do this with you. So, you’d better hold fucking still.” 

Your mouth waters at his words. You’re somehow both burning with tension and turning into putty under his hands. And you know just what to say to make things worse. 

“Yes sir.” 

He stiffens. “What was that?” 

You have to bite back your grin, to force yourself to appear contrite. “Yes sir?” 

“Fuck,” he mutters before grabbing you bodily and turning you around. Your hands splay against the wall, bracing yourself. Mervin presses between your shoulder blades, bending you over while his other hand drags your dress up. 

The position sends nerves and excitement through you in equal measures. “Somebody could see.” 

He ignores your half-hearted protest, dragging your underwear down and palming your ass. “You didn’t care if somebody saw you flirting with that meathead.” 

Facing away, you can let your grin creep out. He sounds angry.  

His knee spreads your legs and your heart speeds up. Then there’re fingers at your folds. You can practically hear his sneer when they come away wet. 

“Pathetic. Is this really all it takes to get you going?” 

“Mhm,” you hum agreement, throat tight. Coherency is starting to leave you when all you can focus on is the cold air against your nethers. You wish he would touch you again. 

He scoffs. “You really are just a slut.”  

You think you get wetter at the insult. 

There’s the sound of a belt buckle, then a zipper. You can’t help but clench in anticipation.  

But Mervin doesn’t touch you. 

You try to look over your shoulder, to give Mervin your most I’m-pathetic-please-fuck-me stare, but he just pushes your face against the wall. 

You let out a whimper and squirm. If he keeps drawing this out, somebody really could see you.  

You push the thought down. As enticing as it is, things could quickly turn dangerous if a third party got involved. 

“-you think I’ll do this with anyone? What makes you think you deserve me, huh?” he starts. 

Honestly, you thought he’d start talking himself up sooner. He’d barely insulted you yet.  

“-don’t deserve a single piece of pleasure until you earn it-” 

You try rubbing your thighs together, but you only succeed on clamping around Mervin’s knee.  

“-should be singing my praise, I shouldn’t have to touch you until you’ve begged for me-” 

You let out a groan. If you were still facing him, you’d snog him just to make him stop talking. “Ughh, shut up and fuck me.”  

He grips you by the hair, his voice raised in pitch, “The nerve of you, human, the utter disrespect-” 

You cut him off with a whine, “Pleeease Mervin. I need you to fuck me.” 

His breathing stutters. 

“Please touch me, please, I can’t wait any more, pleasepleaseplease,” you squirm around his knee.  

He grabs your ass again. Squeezes. “You’ve been so casual with my name tonight. I don’t think you deserve to use it.” 

You want to groan again. You barely restrain yourself. “Please, sir, I bet you’ll feel so good, please, I need this so badly-” 

His breathing is even more laboured, but he still manages to slap your ass. 

“Needy.” 

You flinch away, and end up grinding down against his knee – fuck. It’s not fair how good that feels. You decide that if he doesn’t fuck you soon, you’ll just have to rub off against his leg. Though you might leave a wet patch so noticable that concubi wouldn’t be the only ones turning heads. 

You bite down on your lip. You just want to get dicked down. Picking your words is hard when you’re this horny. 

“Needy,” you huff. “Yes. For you.” You grind against him. “Please help me, sir. Please fix it.” 

He shudders. The hand at your shoulders pushes harder, and you have no choice but to stick your ass out, curving your back as far as it will go, or topple over.  

“Fine,” he says, and you could die from relief when you feel his erection against your ass. “But only because I feel sorry for you.” 

He hilts himself in one rough movement and you moan, practically high at the sensation. There’s possibly a bit of drool escaping from your lips. 

Mervin’s not unaffected himself, one hand braced against the wall, the other digging into your waist. The groan he levels at your ear is delightful, stretching on into a softly pitched rumble that’s almost like a purr. 

Interesting. A disembodied part of yourself definitely notes that for later. 

He doesn’t move. 

You let out a whimper, trying to grind back against him. He swats you on the ass, tuting. “Ask nicely, pet.” 

Having him speared inside you feels so good. But it’s not enough. You need him to move. 

“Please,” you whisper, “please fucking fuck me, please-” 

You’re rewarded with a single thrust. “Why should I?” 

You groan; a whiney, needy sound. “You’re making it so hard to think right now- I can’t-” You want to bang your head against wall. “Nngh, Mervin-” 

He takes pity on you. Or maybe you’ve convinced him. He’s probably barely pretending to be composed right now - you don’t care about the reasoning, you’re just relieved when he starts to fuck you. He’s fast, and rough, and the ridged texture of his cock serves as a pleasant reminder that he’s in no part human.  

It doesn’t take long for him to come, practically crushing you against him when he does. One arm wraps around your throat, and the other around your waist; he bites down on your shoulder to keep from making too much noise. It hurts, but that only adds to the experience. 

You close your eyes, panting, trying to savour the way his dick twitches inside of you. But as soon as he’s finished he straightens, practically shoving you away. 

Your brain is hazy, and it takes you a few moments before you can stand, fixing your underwear, then your dress. You clamp your thighs together, to keep from dripping spend everywhere.   

By the time you turn around, Mervin has composed himself – cock receeded back into his slit, clothing fixed. You feel incredibly raw in contrast. 

He raises an eyebrow. “What?” 

You open your mouth to reply, but your thoughts stall. Forming words is somehow harder.  

His face goes blank as he takes in your details. Processes what’s wrong. The seconds that pass feel incredibly long, and you’re tense, wondering how he’s going to react. You know that biology literally compels him to be an ass, but you’re not sure how much derision you can take right now. 

You can’t describe how grateful you are that he only shakes his head, and cages you in again. “Like I said before. This is only because I feel sorry for you.” 

He slips his hand under your dress, back into your underwear. You’re slick; a mess of your own juices and his cum. There’s no resistance when he sinks two fingers inside of you. Hardly any friction when he rubs his thumb against your clit.  

You shudder, grabbing his lapels and pressing your face against his shoulder. “Fuckkk,” the word is barely muffled. 

His free hand cups your jaw, dragging your face upwards. “Don’t get makeup on my jacket, idiot.” 

“S-sorry,” you reply, eyes glazed and mouth agape.  

He doesn’t seem to process your apology, watching intently, instead, as you come apart on his fingers. You can barely stand, fighting the impulse to sieze and crumple, clinging to your date like he’s a lifeline.  

“Go on then, pet,” he murmurs, pushing hard against a sensitive spot inside of you. “You can come.” 

And you do. Head lolling back, whole body arching, gripping Mervin’s arm like a vice. You don’t care what kind of noises you’re making, but perhaps he does, because he covers your mouth with his own in another messy kiss.  

His fingers don’t stop moving until you’re limp against the wall, almost turning into a puddle in his arms. Your head buzzes. You feel high.  

Fuck, that was incredible.  

Your eyes are closed. You’re listening to Mervin’s panting; almost as loud as your own, when he pulls you upright suddenly. 

“Someone’s coming.” 

Your eyes spring open. 

“Come on,” he practically drags you away, down another corridor and into what appears to be a coat room.  

You’re still breathless, and it takes you a moment to compose yourself. Mervin has his ear against the door, tense. It almost makes you laugh.  

“If I’d known how much fun pity sex can be, I’d have doubled down on my efforts to be pathetic.” 

Mervin scowls. “Clean yourself up. You look like a whore.” 

You give him a coy smile. “Your whore, though.” 

He turns away, masking his expression. 

Still, you do the best you can to clean the fluids from your thighs, shamelessly using the sleeve of a stranger’s coat. 

Mervin is examining you when you turn back. Wordlessly he pulls a handkerchief from his pocket. “Your lipstick is everywhere.” 

You smirk, taking in his own features. “It certainly is.” You wipe it from your face, wishing you had a mirror, but Mervin doesn’t say anything so you assume you got it all. Then you stand on tip toes, cleaning the lipstick from his own face. He stiffens, but allows the treatment. 

Your eyes catch on a smear across his throat. You don’t even remember kissing him there. Feeling mischevious, you leave the mark. You consider it a parting gift. He’ll notice it later, you’re sure.  

“Your hair is a rat’s nest.” 

You’re sure he’s exaggerating, but you roll your eyes and attempt to fix it anyway. “You’re the one who was pulling on it.” 

Soon enough you’re both presentable again, bracing yourselves before returning to the fray. Nobody has noticed your absence, you think. 

You glance towards the dance floor. “So, are you going to teach me this next dance?” 

He manages to keep his expression level as he considers.  

“Not here. Having you trip and stumble in front of everyone is too painful to contemplate. You’re going to take private lessons with me. That way you won’t look like a fool next time.” 

“Next time?” You ask. 

He winces, unable to meet your eyes. 

You want to make fun of him. You want to poke at him so badly. You barely restrain yourself.  

“How generous of you, to invite me not once, but twice. I should be honoured.” 

He relaxes minutely at your acceptance. Then crinkles his nose. “Obviously.” 

“But this was simultaneously the most stressful and most boring event I’ve attended all year. You’re really going to have to make it worth my while.” 

He grits his teeth. Tries his best to look calm. “Did you have something in mind, human?” 

You can only grin. “I don’t know. I’ll be sure to think of an especially pitiful request.” 

-- 

#vaya writes #oh my god this was something #this was so so so fun to write and then horrifying to edit #can you believe editing the smut took me #checks watch #like half an hour #but editing the dance scenes took me like a day and a half #can you tell that i know more about one than the other #fuckkk never again writing a dance scene #anyway #monsterfucking #monster boyfriend #standard tag despite them not actually dating #this is a prequel to movie night in case somebody was wondering #monster romance

[a-very-bored-blogger]

ᴴᵉˡᵖ ᴵ'ᵛᵉ ᴬᶜᶜⁱᵈᵉⁿᵗᵃˡˡʸ ᴶᵒⁱⁿᵉᵈ ᵃ ᵀᵃˢᵏᶠᵒʳᶜᵉ?! (𝗔 𝗗𝗗𝗟𝗖 𝗶𝗻𝘀𝗽𝗶𝗿𝗲𝗱 𝗖𝗢𝗗 𝗙𝗮𝗻𝗳𝗶𝗰) (part 1!)

Pairings: price, soap, gaz, ghost x gn!reader Summary: Work is tiring, so gaming is more fun. Enter the world of (the game title being too fucking long) and meet people like Gaz, Simon, Johnny, and Price!

Tags: ddlc inspired madness, romance, pining, slow descent to madness, dark taskforce x reader, god this seemed like a fun idea read the prologue here: https://a-very-bored-blogger.tumblr.com/post/733340659955728384/%F0%9D%98%BE%F0%9D%99%9D%F0%9D%99%A4%F0%9D%99%A4%F0%9D%99%A8%F0%9D%99%9A-%F0%9D%99%AE%F0%9D%99%A4%F0%9D%99%AA%F0%9D%99%A7-%F0%9D%98%BE%F0%9D%99%9D%F0%9D%99%96%F0%9D%99%A7%F0%9D%99%96%F0%9D%99%98%F0%9D%99%A9%F0%9D%99%9A%F0%9D%99%A7 (for some reason it won't let me make a normal clickable link.)

Notes: -In-game will look like this!- i did not expect this to blow up. i need more of that. anyways, time to introduce the boys.

-You wake up in a dark room. Your head is dizzy.- The text blurts out as the screen begins in black. You squint your eye before clicking through the next piece of dialogue.

-"Wake up lass." a thick male Scottish accent could be heard.- The dialogue reads out. You click once again.

Then, the screen shows the picture of a man, with rather attractive features, and a sort of mohawk, looking down at you in concern, his mouth agape. In the screen was just his entire face, so you can't see much of his body, staring what feels like your eyes.

Then two choices popped up. Standard dating sim ritual, where any choice will affect your journey.

You choose the first option that shows up, feeling it suits your situation and character best. You clicked once again, only for his concerned look to turn into a cocky smile. -"Brough' yer here. Saw ya passed out in training before. Must've been the intense heatwave."-

The man continues introducing himself as Soap, with the pink box above the dialogue transforming from '???' to 'Soap'. Another two options pop up once again.

-"What the fuck kind of a name is Soap?"- (a)

-"Oh thank you so much!"- (b)

The choices were interesting, both of them enticed you. But you decided to be sarcastic and a bit of an asshole to the man who had just claimed to drag you out of a heatwave.

-"What the fuck kind of a name is Soap?" You ask, your gaze furrowed as he looks at you before seeming a bit offended at first before chuckling. +5 romance points.-

You glanced at the screen, laughing a bit before taking a sip from your glass- a simple choice of your coffee, 2 milks, 1 sugar. Curiosity lingered in your head, as you watch the screen fade into another picture of the Scotsman with a blush on his cheek, seemingly laughing awkwardly with you.

-"Aye lass, I just though Soap kinda rolled off the tongue quite well. In comparison to Price that is- old geezer's just using his actual fuckin' last name.-" The Scot retorted in response. You giggle a bit towards his response before clicking the next tab to view the next piece of dialogue.

His eyes narrowed quite a bit before smiling once again. -"Never took ye for a coffee drinker, I'm assumin' 2 milks and a sugar? All the Brits around here just like their tea.-"

Your eyes widened. There is no way this game could tell what you're drinking. After all, he was just a character you. This is just a coincidence- there is no way this game is an entire Doki Doki Literature Club ripoff right? All the thoughts raced thoroughly through your mind. You can either burn this and move on- or possibly enter a hopeless weird possibility of COD men actually falling in love with you. ("continue?") your brain asks. and you took the leap of faith of shrugging a hot character knowing your usual coffee order, and continued the cursed game. After a few clicks and so, minutes slowly turned into hours. Captain John Price was no longer you imaginary boyfriend- he is your mentor in game. And despite barely passing the training, with a grade of B- across all the training mini games, Price still gives you support. A pat in the back, some words of encouragement. Shame that this indie game doesn't have a budget to create voicelines, that would've made you even more delusional.

You have yet to meet Simon and Gaz in your 2 hour long playthrough, but the sun flashing through your window should be enough of a reminder that your time with your fictional boyfriends are enough. "I'm going to miss you guys." You uttered, pressing your pointer and middle finger against your lips, only to put it on the screen. And once again, a 'coincidence' happened once again. -"Love, I'll bring you over here one day to show you what a real kiss looks like."- Price uttered, before you briefly see his avatar blinking at you. You gasped. Yep, this is way too much game time for today, and you are hallucinating. Slamming your laptop lid directly, you took a deep breath and emitted a scream. "God, real life men can't make me scream like that."

#dating simulator #cod fan #cod soap #cod ghost #cod mw2 #cod 141 #soap cod #x reader #visual novel #dating sim #captain john price #john soap mctavish x reader #captain john price x reader #kyle gaz garrick #cod x reader #tf 141 x reader #simon riley #simon riley x reader #captain price #ghost x reader #call of duty ghost #cod mw ghost #ghost cod #ghost mw2 #ghost riley #ghost simon riley #ghost x you #mw2 ghost #ghost call of duty #simon ghost riley x reader

[deejadabbles]

hello there, Deeja!!! for the Halloween prompts, may I please request:

“I think someone’s watching us.” + 🎭 masquerade

with Fox or Jesse 💙💙

happy writing!!!

SEV! How did you know that I'm in love with the idea of Fox in a masquerade setting!? I kept getting more and more ideas for this one so I hope they all mesh well together 💙

Among the Hedge Maze (Fox x GN Reader)

Summary: You were desperate to find some alone time with Fox among the chaos of the ball. Hopefully, he gives chase. Rating: T (But Minors DNI) Word Count: 1,801 Warnings: Kissing, reader is GN but is called "vixen" once.

Edit: Here's a good song to listen to while reading Masterlist /// Tag List Sign Up  /// AO3

Lavish skirts rustled, wine glasses clinked, joyous laughter rang, all colliding with the strings and keys of the live band to create quite the spectacle of sounds. Yes, the grand hall of the senate was alive with celebration tonight. Masked patrons held gloved hands as they twirled about the dancefloor, an enchanting song topping off the scene to craft the perfect image of a fairy tale.

All you needed was your masked prince.

Not that he would ever abide by being called a prince, though you might get away with knight. You would have given anything to see the look on his face when you called him either, but alas, nearly two hours into the party and you had yet to see your beloved commander. There was still hope, though. He had been tasked with mingling tonight, after all, rather than his standard guard duty.

Yes, mingling. Fox was expected to be the face of the troops tonight, and raising money for his brothers was the only thing that could have gotten him to accept such a role without tossing himself out his office window.

It would have been amusing to watch him try his best to schmooze with the Coruscant elite, but you had spent the last two hours rubbing elbows of your own. As much as you loved the party you weren’t about to miss an opportunity to help the troopers.

Now though, now you were craving a break and, once you heard a whisper that the good commander had been pulled into a waltz by the flirtatious dowager Starfield, you decided it was more than time. 

You skirted the dance floor, knowing full well that the moment you entered the throng you would be pulled into dance after dance. Still, even given the crowd, you actually managed to spot your Fox. He was stiff as a board, that red and silver mask of his doing nothing to hide how out of his element he was. Dowager Starfield was comically shorter than Fox, practically being able to rest her head on his stomach as he pushed them through the crowd in the moves you had shown him barely more than a week ago.

Though, even out of his element, Fox was more than competent. Despite his stiffness, he moved in the dance just as well as anyone else, showing that the little classes you’d given him in your office weren’t wasted. Maker, was there anything this man couldn’t do?

His strategic side was showing too. You did not miss the way he stuck close to the edge of the dance floor for a quick escape.

Fox wasn’t the only one who could plan, though. Keeping your head high, you moved along the rim of the crowd, always staying where his eyes might spot you while you thought up a fun little game.

You noticed the moment he saw you. The way his eyes widened behind the mask, the way his shoulders lifted…and how he glanced down at the widow who was clinging to him like a prom date. Aw, he didn’t think you were jealous, did he? You flashed him your best smile and watched the very subtle way his back seemed to relax, just a bit.

Perfect timing, too, as the song was drawing to an enchanting end. Keeping your eyes on his, you tilted your head towards the open glass doors not far away, then started to walk towards them.

Confident that he saw and could find some excuse now that the dance was over, you stepped out into the enclosed courtyard.

One thing you loved about these parties was the chance to come here, to the well kept gardens where florals and fauna from all across the galaxy were cultivated. It was a breathtaking sight within this city. There were a couple of guests out on the veranda but, what looked completely deserted, was the small hedge maze at the center of the garden.

By the time you reached its entrance, you glanced over your shoulder and were delighted to see Fox rushing out of the double doors, head turning as he searched for you. The moment he spotted you, you blew him a kiss and darted into the maze.

Excitement filled your chest as you ran, especially when you heard the rustling of greenery behind you. In truth, it wasn’t much of an actual maze, but it was enough to give the tantalizing illusion of a chase. There wasn’t even a need to slow down, you knew he was probably right on your heel, right where you wanted him.

Unfortunately, the hidden little path ended too soon, and let out deep in the heart of the all but deserted garden. Crisp night air filled your lungs as you slowed to a stop and caught your breath. Oddly enough, now that you were still, you realized that you no longer heard Fox’s pursuing footsteps. You peered back into the corridor of hedges, confused. There was no way you had lost him-

Strong arms closed around your waist, pulling you back against a firm chest and causing you to gasp in surprise.

“Caught you, my little vixen,” a voice purred in your ear, which nearly caused your knees to go weak right there.

Instead, you turned your face towards his, finding that your lips were dangerously close. “Have you? Or was this all my grand scheme to finally get you alone?”

He hummed, as he lowered his lips to brush against your neck. “I think it’s both. And thank the maker, if I had to spend one more minute with them, I was ready to say there was a bomb threat in my office.”

You gasped theatrically, “And leave me here to deal with them all alone? How rude.”

“At least you’re used to this sort of thing,” he grumbled, “I was hoping the mask would help them overlook me- isn’t anonymity the whole point of these masquerade things?”

“It’s the illusion of anonymity.” Despite the hold he had on your waist, you turned within his arms so you could face him. 

Finally you could take in his appearance up close, the deep red silk with white lining the cuffs and accenting the lapels in swirling patterns. Not to mention the mask made of surprisingly delicate looking metal, whose striking design curved into ears that pierced his curls. Fox looked absolutely stunning.

You hummed playfully as you ran a finger over the red metal, “Of course, if you wanted to stay anonymous, you probably should have worn a less obvious mask, Fox.” Your hand moved to the back of his head and untied the silk strand that held up the animalistic accessory. “You need a mask with a little more mystique.” With your other hand you untied your own mask and, with a bit of maneuvering, managed to secure it on your lover’s handsome face. “There, now they definitely won’t recognize you!”

“Ha ha,” he said dryly, but there was the smallest hint of a smile on his lips. 

Then, his eyebrows lifted as he watched you put on his own fox mask. When you looked at him and batted your eyes playfully, you could have sworn you heard his breath hitch.

“Well, how do I look?”

Now his eyes were half lidded, and the arms around your waist tightened. “I think it suits you,” he said, voice low as he leaned in closer to you, “just like I think these colors suit you.” He ran his hand over the scarlet collar of your top, where your chest was exposed. “Don’t think I didn’t notice you wearing my colors,” he whispered, his warm breath touching your lips.

“Maybe I just like the color red,” was your breathless reply and your eyes fluttered shut right when his lips pressed against yours.

You moaned into the kiss, never tiring of the way he felt and tasted. Your arms wrapped around him to pull him closer, deepening the kiss as his lips moved against yours. One of Fox’s hands slid up from your hip, running along your spine until he could cup the back of your neck and press you harder against him.

Lips had just parted, letting his tongue slip in, when he paused. To your dismay he was pulling away the next second, scanning the nearby trees and bushes with narrow eyes.

“I think someone’s watching us,” he whispered to you.

Before you even had the chance to respond, Fox was bending to pick up a decent sized stone from the pebbled path and, with an expert flick of his wrist, sent it shooting like a bullet. Before it even had a chance to hit its target within the bushes, the greenery rustled frantically until two figures fell into view.

Despite their masks and even from this distance, you could tell who they were from the hair styles alone. Their training had them dodging that stone, but even still, Thorn and Hound were caught.

“What the hell do you two think you’re doing?” Fox said, arms crossing over his chest.

“We weren’t spying,” Hound assured.

“We just saw you run off and thought we should check on you,” Thorn added without missing a beat.

Fox’s tone took on that commander quality, “And that required you to hide in the bushes?”

“Well yeah, we were taking cover,” Thorn rolled his eyes.

“Optimum camouflage, you know,” Hounded nodded.

“So you two were waiting to…what?” Fox snapped, “Save me from taking a walk with the senator?”

“Walking?” came Hound’s snort.

“Since when do walks need that much tongue?” Thorn muttered.

“Inside. Both of you. Now!”

The dangerous tone may not have actually scared the two, but they at least had enough respect for Fox to turn and hightail it out of there at the order. By the time their footsteps were nothing but an echo in the night, Fox let out a long suffering sigh.

“I’m surrounded by idiots.”

You couldn’t help but laugh and pull him back into your embrace, “You know you love them.”

“I can love idiots,” he grumbled, before letting out another sigh and pressing his forehead to yours. “Sorry if they ruined the moment.”

“They didn’t ruin anything.” You pressed a light kiss to his lips. “Want to go back inside? I think you still owe me a dance.”

He let out a tired hum, “Hm, not inside.” Then, he took your hands and placed them on his shoulders. “We can dance here, just the two of us.”

As if all the social stresses of the day had caught up to him, Fox rested his forehead against your shoulder, taking comfort in the feel of you being so close.

"This is what I wanted all night," he whispered against your skin. "You and me, enjoying the night together."

And with that, he started swaying your bodies to a slow, intimate melody that only the two of you could hear.

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#fox x reader #commander fox x reader #fox x you #commander fox #clone x reader #halloween prompts #clone wars halloween requests #halloween fic #deeja writes

[joe9cool]

Collide-Justin Herbert- 36

A/N: This is fanfiction only, I am not affiliated with anyone who knows or associate with The Chargers. Also you do not have my permission to post my story anywhere else.

Sara was exhausted.

Something in her switched when Ryder brought up Taylor. After all of these years he still knew how to pick at her biggest insecurity.

After she showered and Justin had given up on trying to talk to her she laid in bed, but she didn't fall asleep. She was back in her overthrowing insomnia phase. For some reason she found herself on Taylor's twitter, where she was liking comments about her and Justin. They were discreet to anyone who wasn't in on the drama.

You're better

Don't let a man leave you for a 2(00) pound bitch.

Deciding to torture herself some more. She went on instagram and went to Taylor's profile and her tagged photos.

She was stunning, and fit the beauty standard. Tall, blonde, thin. Looked good in everything. Put a lot of effort into her appearance. Not that she didn't, but since the pandemic she lived in baggy clothes and little to no makeup.

Even up close she was stunning. Sara's photos posted by professionals were photoshopped. All of the lines and dents of fat and the hyperpigmentation were noticeable up close. Despite men lusting after her, like Taylor said, guys like Justin didn't go after women like Sara. Maybe there was a reason that he wanted to keep her private. How long would this facade last? When they break up would he go back to Taylor? She looked good on his arm, and knew her sports.

Sara ended up staying up the entire night falling down the rabbit hole of Taylor. She looked at her instagram messages.

Fat Bitch

Didn't know Herbert liked them fat

Taylor is better

I saw all of his exes. Blonde, skinny, and actually attractive. You are a secret side chick

There was one more message that stood out. It was a profile by the name of Rachel Hurst who apparently Justin followed.

Rachel Hurst: I didn't believe the rumors til I saw the pics. You're not his usual type. I fucked him in college. Guess he needed your stomach as a pillow you fat fuck.

Seriously though besides the fact he downgraded. What future do you have? You thrive off attention. He doesn't. Leave him alone and find someone who loves takeout and fame as much as you do. Justin likes girls who play sports

She clicked on the profile and saw it was open. She was an influencer that lived in Long Beach California but was from Oregon.

The whole Herbert family followed her. She went to Oregon with Justin and Patrick, she was athletic and was more his type.

She had a photo from December. It was a home game against the Rams.

So proud of you representing our home state well! 🥹😘 @JustinHerbert

And he liked it.

The comments where exactly what she was expecting

Girl you dating Justin Herbert? Liked by RachelHurst

Tell Justin we all love him! @RachelHurst Liked by RachelHurst

So why was he here? Just to get her to agree to sleep with him again? Make his meals and take care of him?

She was sobbing,  trying to control the sobs so Justin didn't hear. She looked and saw it was 4am. She didn't want to face Justin not yet, otherwise she would swing at him. Sara clicked on the messaging app and texted Brittney, hopefully she was getting pregnancy insomnia like she was with Liza.

She was in luck because Brittany was up, and hungry. She texted Sara that she would pick her up.

After brushing her teeth and washing her face, she put on her glasses and some leggings with a hoodie and grabbed her purse just as her sister pulled up. Sara was surprised to see her other sisters in the car. Getting in the backseat next to Alyssa she asked. "Not that I don't mind you and Katie being here, but I didn't think you'd be up this early.

"We all think we need a sister drive." Sister drives started when Katie got her license and a car for her 16th birthday. Whenever there was a personal crisis going on, mom and dad were arguing, or just needed to get out of the house. They kept a tradition even when Katie went to Michigan for college and Alyssa went to move to Chicago with Brent. It was their special time

"Where do you guys wanna go? I'm assuming we are heading straight to the hospital once the visiting hours start." Katie pulled out of her sister's driveway.

Brittney cut in. "Well we have to get food. These girls are hungry." All at once the group looked at Brittany, who was sheepish. "It's another girl?" Sara squealed excitedly, her troubles disappearing for a moment.  Brittney smiled. "Yes, but please don't say anything. Mom doesn't even know and we were going to wait til the baby was born." The girls had to calm her and assure that they wouldn't say anything. Over the years, the sisters knew each other's deepest secrets that they would take to the grave. So far no one has spilled anything, even being trashed.

Once the celebration was over they focused on the reason for the drive. Sara told her sisters the entire story, from their meeting to everything that led them up to where they were at now. They listened, only interrupting to clarify things. Once she was done they had just pulled up to McDonalds. "Wow. I mean he does love you, we all have seen how he looks at you." Brittany pulled into the drive through and they all ordered their breakfast items. Sara was glad she was in the back away from the window, the last thing she needed was to be recognized

They ate in the farthest end of the parking lot while they talked. "Sara, it's up to you, but I think Justin is a good guy. I mean he came all of the way here to beg for you back. Sure he didn't make an effort, but I think that once he realized what life was like without you, he is pulling all of the stops to make sure it doesn't happen again." Alyssa looked at Sara who sighed. Katie cut in. "Is there any other reason besides hesitancy that you won't take him back?" She paused. "Is Harry back in the picture?"

Sara shook her head. "No! We are just friends." She looked down at her coffee. Brittney sighed. "Sara I love you but you really think we don't know our baby sister. What happened that you're not telling us?"

She didn't plan on telling her sisters about what happened before she got the call about dad but she'd rather them hear it from her than someone  else. "Harry came over and we just had lunch and began talking."

Alyssa took a sharp breath. "You are thinking about getting together with him?"

She shook her head. "No, but he wanted to, not only that but he asked me to marry him. Had a ring and everything."

The car erupted in a gasp. Brittany nearly spilled her orange juice on herself. Katie spoke first. "What the fuck? When were you going to tell us this?"

Sara rolled her eyes. "Gee, probably when we visit dad and put mom in the room next to him."

"Don't be a smartass, this is serious." Katie chastised her younger sister. "What did you say?"

"Nothing! Erika came in with the cat and he left. But he told me to think about it."

"And?" The girls were on the edge of their seats. "No way! Are you serious? I'm not going to marry Harry. I can't believe you would think that?"

Alyssa giggled. "I mean you were so crazy about him."

She rolled her eyes again. "Yes, but a lot has happened."

Brittany cut in. "Yeah and we didn't know about it. I mean that article that came out, we were all shocked. All of this time, you said you weren't seeing someone. Hell Brent invited a couple of his teammates to our summer barbecue to set you up."

Sara looked down. "Yeah mom told me she was hurt."

"Well can you blame us? I mean I understand not telling mom and dad. But we're your sisters, we tell you everything. You met everyone in his family, he took you to Oregon and you met his family and girlfriends. Plus he told you he loved you at his college stadium-"

"Wait what? How did you guys know that?" Sara was confused. She had never read the article, so she didn't know what details were in it. She figured it was your typical details that basic sources know, but this was very specific. "I need to read that article." She muttered.

As her sisters chatted away, her brain was working overtime. Who in God's name would sell her out like that? This was a very specific and personal detail.

One that she only told a few people.

Hospital visiting hours officially started. The girls looked at each other. "Do you guys want to go shopping in the downtown district? I don't want to go to the hospital just yet." Katie laughed. "You don't want to hear mom fuss over every single thing?"

With the agreement that they would wait before going up, they started heading towards the shops downtown. They spent a few hours in and out of stores for some retail therapy. When they grabbed lunch at the bistro, Sara's phone buzzed with a message from Justin asking to pick her up from the hospital later. She agreed, knowing that she couldn't avoid the conversation about their pending reunion forever.

While heading back to the car Katie's phone rang and when she picked it up all they could hear was screaming. "We need to get to the hospital now."

The car ride there was quiet, the girls wondering what was causing so much emotion. Once parked, they ran as fast as possible into the hospital and up to the floor (since Mike was off the ventilator, they moved him out of the ICU onto a more private floor)

They found Willa and their mother yelling at each other, security threatening them to calm down or they would be kicked out. They ran up to both of them "What the hell is going on?" Mike's doctor approached the group. "Let's go to my office where we can all talk."

"They all followed into an office room. Once the door was closed Cathy unloaded. "That woman." She pointed at her sister in law. "Says there is no hope and we should consider taking him into hospice."

The girls gasped and Willa rolled her eyes. "Oh please, the man is as dead as a doorknob. You all are just too stupid to see it. Why prolong all this pain and suffering just because you have money to do it?"

Brittany cut in. "He is off the ventilator and making good progress, this isn't your call to make!"

Willa smiled. "Oh but you didn't know that your dad put me and your mom as power of attorney in his will, so I have just as much of a right." Brittany took a sharp breath, her being a lawyer she knew exactly what that meant.

They were trapped unless their dad woke up.

They all knew it too, that's what was so enraged that no matter how terrible she was to all of them she would always have an in.

The doctor cut in. "If I may, he has been here for three weeks. Maybe a rehab facility would work If he wakes up, but hospice would not be a viable option, since he doesn't fit the mold. He is breathing on his own, we are just waiting to see if he wakes up and what damage there is."

Willa threw her hands up. "But this is ridiculous! We have lives!"

Sara growled. "So fucking leave! If you are so concerned about your own life! Leave us be! Don't you have a daughter in prison?" Remembering when Kelsi was brought up at Thanksgiving. Her Aunt's eyes narrowed at her. "Your dad paid for her bail and lawyers, better than wasting it on your career. Which by the way, if I were you I'd get on that chin lipo."

Cathy stood up. "We are not putting Mike in any facility! He is to stay here until he wakes up! I trust the medical staff one hundred percent over the likes of you!" She jabbed her finger at Willa's chest.

"Get your fucking finger-"

"Ladies!" The doctor yelled. "I won't hesitate to kick all of you out and not allow you to come back!"

Everyone  became silent. "Look, I suggest you hire a mediator to deal with this. Mr. Wozniak's vitals look good and we won't know more until he looks good. His heart and brain I'm most concerned about. Until then, all we can do is wait." He got up. "Now excuse me, I have to run rounds."

The group got up and walked out, Sara being one of the last. Her mom and sisters were so engrossed in their conversation they didn't notice what happened next. Sara felt her arm being pulled in the opposite direction. She turned to see Willa pull her into a private corner. Her long, pointed nails were digging into her skin. "You're hurting me!" She tried to pull her arm away but for being in her 60s Willa was strong.

"Listen here, you got some nerve showing up after what you did to your father." Sara was confused. "This doesn't concern you."

"Yes it does, you know how upset he was when you went to visit that giant loser pauper family in bumblefuck Oregon?" Sara was red. "Don't you speak about him like that! You don't fucking know shit so fuck off to your house that your husband owns!"

Willa smiled menacingly and dug her nails deeper into her niece's arm, causing her to wince at the feeling of punctured skin. "Do you really think that he is the one for you? That Taylor that he cheated on you with, is gorgeous, the perfect package someone like him needs. She's blonde, thin, and could be the wife he needs. His agent isn't going to approve of some fat, Brunette who Is loud, obnoxious with a suicidal past."

Sara tried to not let the emotional hit hurt her, but it was pretty below the belt. "You know nothing about our relationship."

"Oh please, Kelsi told me everything. All of those girls who look like models he is following. They are in his inbox right now, and all it takes is for you to eat one cheeseburger before he goes looking, and who could blame him? There is a reason why family friends would call you the ugliest sibling. You contribute nothing to society, you can't even run a mile, do you think it's good for an athlete's image to have you on his arm?"

The tears were flowing now. "Stop it right now. Willa laughed. "Only reason anyone hangs out with you is because of status. Let's face it, all that money and fame goes away and you're nothing but that thirteen year old fat, loser who sits in her room to waste all day!"

"What the hell is going on!" They looked to see Brittney standing there, ready to kill Willa. With a newfound strength, Sara ripped her arm out of her Aunt's grip, resulting in a bad scratch. Not wanting any attention on her, she ran past her sister, past her other relatives and down the stairs so they couldn't catch up with her.

—--------------------------------------------------------

Justin was anxious.

This conversation they were going to be having was the make or break of their relationship. He was nervous, the ball was in her court. Justin wanted nothing more than to be back together. They had been making alot of progress up until last night. Something happened in the few minutes he went to pull the car up to the door. She did her usual shut down and then made sure to be out of bed and gone before he even woke up.

It was around 4 o'clock when he decided to call Sara

No one picked up. Furrowed his eyebrows, he shot her a text

Leaving in ten. Are you hungry? We can get dinner on the way back.

Sara usually responded quickly unless she was at work. This was weird. Justin waited a few minutes before looking at his phone again. Nothing from her at all. Instead of sending another text, he decided to go to the hospital.

He wasn't sure what he was expecting when he pulled up, but it wasn't Brent looking around frantically. Once he spotted Justin getting out of the car he ran towards him. "Is Sara with you?"

Justin was confused. "Um no, I told her I was going to pick her up here earlier why?"

He shook his head. She ran out about an hour ago. She and Willa got into a bad fight and she ran out. I don't know what was bad but according to Brittney she was hysterical. She's not answering her phone or anything."

Justin's face paled. "What?" Brent shook his head. "When Sara gets upset she likes to take walks, sometimes just wanders. It doesn't matter where or when."

"Where do you think she is?" Justin was ready to jump in his car. Brent shook his head. "I don't know, I don't know downtown Pittsburgh like she does. She used to hop buses and trains and take them all around the city, she did that when she would visit me and Lyss in Chicago.

He got back in her car. "I'll try to find her, just keep me updated." Brent shook his head.

Justin drove off, this was more difficult than he thought. This was his first time in the city, and he only had his GPS to guide him. He thought of the bridge that Sara had framed in her bedroom and he began to go that route. After a quick sweep he found nothing, he remembered a few places she said she loved and he went there, but found nothing. Even went inside a few establishments. It must have looked weird for someone his height to do a quick sweep and just walk out but he was desperate.

He had been out for a couple of hours before heading back to the house. Hoping she was there he walked in and called out her name. But unfortunately he was met with silence. Fuck.

He remembered Brent's words. She takes walks.

She probably walked home. He was going to kill her. Granted, being in April it was lighter later, but that was still dangerous, no security guard. Not answering her phone. No one knew where she was.

His phone buzzed and it was a message from Brent

She messaged all of us she was fine. Just needed to be alone. Didn't say where she was. Let us know when she comes home.

What the hell? Why didn't she message him? He wanted to throw his phone against the wall.

—------------------------------‐–‐—--------------------

Pittsburgh Botanical Gardens was always a beautiful place to reflect.

Sara never told anyone this was her hiding spot as a teen, because she just wanted to get away from it all. It was her place to just think and not have someone try to give you advice, or just brush off the action that hurt you.

She ran as fast as she could out of that hospital, all of the training for the fashion show paid off. Although if Brent was there, he could have easily caught up to her. Once she got to a certain point, she recognized the bus route that could take her to her personal safe haven.

So far no one approached her and she kept watching her back to see if anyone was taking photos. It was a Tuesday, so it was mostly older people, and the kids who were into the beauty.

She had been walking around disguised in sunglasses and a mask, hoping no one caught her tears. Her arm still stung underneath her hoodie, but she didn't bother to look.

Her family and Justin were blowing up her phone. Justin more so. He let her know that Brent messaged him. Sara sighed, she knew she was going to have to face him eventually but what could she say? She was never going to fit into his lifestyle, and vice versa.

It was five pm when she left, it would take about an hour to walk home, however there were sections where it wasn't the most safe and not every area had a sidewalk. Deciding to call a taxi, she routed it to the Starbucks near her house. It would only be a fifteen minute walk from there but she could easily do that.

Thankfully the taxi didn't care who was in his backseat. The entire time she kept checking her phone

Hello?

Sara please tell me where you are so I can get you.

At least let me know you're safe.

Sara

Let's talk please. Don't shut me out

She huffed at that one. Yeah so they could resolve nothing? He could get her to fall again just to tear her heart in two when something happens again? What about Taylor? And this Rachel who the family knows? She thought back to the beginning, Bellas words

You come from two different worlds.

Speaking of which, she should call her. She'd been shutting off all of the friends that reached out. They knew to give her some space, but they were worried.

At the Cafe, she found a private space in the corner and contacted her team. She had messaged Erika since their fight the other night. But from what Alex and Heidi said she was keeping down the house well.

All of her things were pushed back, and like Justin, she was feeling the pressure to get back to work. The Met Gala was in a few weeks and she had been invited this year, with Law Roach, Zendaya's stylist, reaching out to Sara's team to style her in Valentino. To be honest with everything up in the air she didnt even know if she wanted to go anymore.

She made her phone calls and caught up with all of her work. So by the time she was done with that it was nearly ten, and the cafeteria was about to close.She walked the rest of the way home, and after figuring out everything decided that she was going to end things with Justin. As Sara approached her home, she saw Justin's rental car in the driveway and all of the lights on. Standing in the driveway deciding how to sneak in without him noticing. She hoped he was at least asleep, considering he had therapy early. Luck wasn't on her side though

Going to the front door, she slowly put the key in the lock, turning in as softly as she could. She opened it and poked her head in looking around. She slowly stepped in the foyer. Sara heard Justin's voice, coming from the living room. She took off her slides and tiptoed to the area in which he was standing. Peeking again around the corner, she saw his back was turned towards her as he was talking to what seemed like someone on his management team.

She took a couple steps slowly and when he started to turn she ran for it, hoping to get to her room.

"SARA!" She made it halfway before she was lifted off the ground. His right side wrapped around her stomach as he was on the phone. "Yeah she's home. Tell everyone not to worry." He hung up and carried her to the coach where he dumped her. Making sure to put both arms on each side to create a cage.

She felt like a kid being busted breaking curfew. She didn't look him in the eyes, even though he kept trying to meet them. Finally she looked at him to see his green eyes full of anger and worry.

"What the hell is wrong with you!" He got up and began pacing. "Do you know you had me worried sick! This whole time I had no idea where you were! If you are okay!. Where were you?"

"I was around the city."

He stopped to look at her. "How did you get home?"

She shrugged. "I walked." His eyes widened and she realized what he thought. "Jus-"

"YOU walked! What the hell is wrong with you! Do you realize how stupid that was?"

Sara began to get angry as tears gathered at her eyes. "Why do you care?"

He looked at her stunned. "What?"

"I said why do you care? Matter of fact, why are you even here! Shouldn't you be in California or somewhere with Taylor or Rachel? Or someone who fits your needs? I don't understand why you are trying to fight for me when there's no point?"

Justin was lost. What was she trying to say? Was she telling him to take a hike? "Sara what are you saying?"

She shook her head. Tears rolling down her face. "I'm not what you want or need. I'm just someone to fuck and support your football needs. I won't look good on your arm at these events. I'm not athletic. I'm not blonde or skinny, so you're just wasting your time."

She turned her back. "Justin just go home."

He shook his head. "No."

"Just let me forget you." She sniffled. "Who are we fooling? We are two different people. I can't be what you need." She turned towards him to see that he was getting choked up. "Go back to your normal life."

He walked up to her, and before she knew it, he was on his knees in front of her, which was almost her full height. "I can't do that." He looked up at her, tears down his face.

"I belong to you! You're my everything. You don't understand. I love you, you're the love of my life. I can't fall asleep unless I'm next to you. All my life there was always a piece of me missing, I thought it was fulfilled by sports, going to Oregon, the NFL." He took a deep breath. "I finally realized these past few months it was you. Sara you're my lifeline, you're my heart and soul. The best part of the game is waiting for your call or knowing that I'm coming home to you."

Sara's heart was in pieces hearing this. No man had ever made her feel this, have ever spoken to her. "Tay-"

"I don't give a fuck about her. It is you, its always you."

Sara sobbed. "I'm not loveable-"

"I love everything about you. I love your smile, your laugh, how you incorporate movie quotes in conversations. Your passion for your career and your friends. How you add garlic powder on almost everything you cook." She had to laugh at that. "Your makeup all over the bathroom, your obsession with Doritos, and how you only eat lifesaver gummies; everything else candy has to involve chocolate." He rubbed her sides. "There are not enough words In the English languages to explain  how much I love you."

She sniffled. "If we get back together, we do it slowly." He nodded. "It's just me and you, no one else. We have to learn how to communicate."  

Justin nodded and pressed his face into her hair. "I'll claim you for everyone to see." He muttered. She ran her fingers through his hair and pressed a kiss to his head. "I hate how much I love you." She muttered. He looked up at her and pressed his lips to her, backing off he said. "I hate that I ever took you for granted."

She wiped his tears. "Let's just agree to look to the future. Just me and you?" She pushed him away and he got up to stand. "Gee it's warm in here." She pulled off her hoodie and set it down next to her. She smiled at him but saw his focus was on her arm. She noticed what his attention was on. It was bruised, with nail marks that drew blood. Sara hadn't looked at it, it was burning and tender but she had been distracted.

"Oh wow." She was rubbing at the dried blood. "I knew it was hard but not this hard." He grabbed her arm and examined it. "Did someone do this to you?" His voice was menacingly, you knew he was pissed.

"My aunt pulled me aside after the meeting with the doctor." She didn't want to tell him what was said. Of course it being Justin, he didn't let it go. "What the fuck did she say to you? She had no right to put her hands on you." He rubbed the spot, and she winced. "Come on, let's clean it up."

They went upstairs and into Sara's master bathroom. He grabbed a washcloth from the closet and put some warm water as she sat down on the toilet. He grabbed her arm and began cleaning. It was silent for a minute before she spoke. "Tell me everything about Taylor again." He looked at her. "I deserve to know the truth."

"She started off as a fling at the NFL awards in 2021. We just agreed it was a casual thing due to our careers. However we did go places and we were spotted and it was on social media everywhere. She was in Europe after last year's season ended. We just left things up in the air. I met you at the wedding and sort of forgot about her." He shrugged. Sara cut in.

"But you went by her house, and you slept with her that night I was in New York." He shook his head. "I did go over to her place and we had dinner. She tried to initiate sex but I told her no. She kissed me and then I ran out. Before you came back I ran into her at the grocery store, she got in my car to talk and I told her that I no longer wanted to see her. Taylor wanted to get into a relationship and when I said what I said she told me to quote 'fuck off' and that was it." He took a deep breath. "Those photos of me in the restaurant were with a girl I went to school with, Kristen and her boyfriend David.  She knows about us."

He grabbed a couple bandaids out of the cabinet and applied them to the scratches. "Whose Rachel?"

He looked at her confused. "A girl I went to school with. Why?"

"My aunt was telling me all these things about how fat I was and that you were nothing but I didn't even deserve that. It's funny how I believed that. I don't know how I even let her get through my head.

He grabbed her and kissed her passionately. She wrapped her arms around him and moaned, missing his kiss. Pulling away he spoke. "Stubborn woman, never believe a word she says. What does this have to do with Rachel though?"

Sara pulled her phone out of her pocket. Opening the social media app she gave it to him. He took one look at it, and grabbed his phone. She watched as he clicked a few buttons. "I blocked her, and I sent out a message to my family." He was still on his phone. "I also unfollowed Taylor."

"Won't people speculate something went down?" He shrugged. "Who cares?"

She smiled, and kissed him. While she knew all of their problems weren't fixed, it was a start. It was a promise of something new, a fresh start. She moaned and Justin's lip trailed to her neck. "Wait." She pulled away.

"I'm sorry, I know you said we need to go slow." He breathed and she laughed. "Well there's that too, but I also haven't been taking my birth control properly since we broke up and I hate condoms." He smiled. "Me too, but if you wanted to use them I wouldn't complain." She laughed. "I mean we should take things slow. Last time we went too quickly, and I think that was part of the reason for the breakup."

He didn't agree with that. Justin loved that their relationship went fast, but he had to respect Sara's wishes. "Yeah." They left the bathroom, Sara deciding to get ready for bed. Justin decided to go to his room, but she called him back. "Can you sleep with me?"

He didn't hesitate, he nodded and within minutes he was in and out of his room, his bedtime routine completed. She laughed as he got under her covers quickly and patted the spot next to him. "Hold on, I got to get ready for bed."

As she did her routine, Sara got lost in her thoughts. She always knew deep down she would probably take Justin back. He was the one she truly loved, despite his flaws. Her heart felt truly healed now they were back together. She told him they were going to take things slow, and she was going to try her hardest to stick to that plan.

But damn he was her Justin, and she was his. Those words he spoke to her, his actions.

Of course they had things to figure out. But for the first time since they met, she felt peace.

She felt sure.

A/N: I dont know how I feel about this one, I couldn’t keep them apart any longer though! However, they are taking things slow! Thank you for all of the love!

#Justin Herbert #Alexa writes collide #NFL imagine

[clockworkspider]

I feel like we should go back to tagging "romance" as a genre cause like, frankly & vs. / tag isn't enough to indicate the genre.

Like I wrote a fic where there's def enough erotic tension between the characters to read as a slash fic. And some characters are def clearly together, but the fic isn't about them getting together. They're just arguing. (Most of my fics are just people arguing.)

Like yeah sure this is a slash fic but the romance isn't the point of the fic.

And then I go into the rest of the ship tag and I get confused like "why are these characters actually like. Together together. Under the ship tag" and "oh wow these are fics about characters having crushes and dating, huh..." cause despite shipping the ship I just never envision them getting together in a standard romantic relationship or anything like that.

Anyway if people can tag their romance fic that's like. Romance focused, I can 1) feel less awkward about putting my fics under the / tag and 2) filter out the romance focused ones cause they're not what I am looking for.

#clockrant #ao3

[nice--cunt]

Approaching 23 now and it's a bit depressing to realize that I've never really been apart of a Group of Friends IRL despite how long I've been enshrining the idea since I was 13 or so. I'm relatively social and seem to make acquaintances just fine and lots of them but I never seem to be able to progress it past that.

It feels like I never can possibly click with anyone IRL and I don't really know where to find those sort of people because chances are they wouldn't be in a rock-climbing gym, they'd probably be at home on discord or etc.

I don't know if my standard for IRL friends is too high because I've spent so long romanticizing it but every time I do try to force it and just hang with whoever is happy to have me tag along I just find it draining and drift away from those people. It's never bad or terrible, people are kind and welcoming but I don't really feel like they ever actually know me much.

I'm thinking if I'm still somewhat alone in 7 months or so I'm going to say fuck it and sign up for dating apps allah forbid so I at least have a chance at something. I didn't really want to date before I had mates since that's a quick and easy way to become totally reliant on your bf but beggars can't be choosers I spose.

[restwellsoon]

Trying to decide on which BNHA WIP I should tackle next and

why are all of my Dabi ones fucking annoying 😭 how is Reader supposed to fall in love with this

Sign & Date

And in your hurry you locked eyes with vibrant and shocking cerulean. Dabi grinned at your awkward pose, the automatic doors still open from your sudden stop. It seemed like he’d finally get lucky. “Shit,” you mumbled, hoping that maybe he was looking at someone behind you. You tried to walk past him. “You’re right,” he smiled, nearly two steps too close for comfort as he approached. “Enji Todoroki is a piece of shit, which is exactly why you should sign the petition to take him out of office.” “I uh…” Hoping to avoid confrontation, it was just your luck that you’d walk right into it. You were frozen once more as you tried to figure out an escape. The intensity of his gaze wasn’t the only thing that intimidated you. It was the piercings–loads of them adorned his face and ears, glimmering back silver under the sun. He had poorly hidden tattoos as well, defiantly visible beneath his rolled up–and wrinkled–button-up. They didn’t look like the standard yakuza ink that you’ve seen but instead some modified form of blackwork. This time his smile held different intentions as he threw a smug glance to his partner who wasn’t paying attention to either of you. His partner’s gesticulations were wild with his voice inflecting as if reading from a script. That was probably what he meant about showmanship. “I get it,” the man before you sighed, running the hand that held the pen through his hair, making it look even more unruly. “You forgot what I said because of my good looks. It happens.” He sighed again because of his burden. “It’s been happening all day actually.” You’d seen him since they started collecting signatures in front of Lawson’s. Again, it was that fear of confrontation that held your tongue from speaking the truth. “Allow me to repeat myself, sweetheart.” He cleared his throat. Your eyes searched his chest for a name tag or company to report the lack of professionalism. There was nothing but a peak of lean chest below that undone third button. “Enji Todoroki is an incompetent buffoon who's been lying to the masses about his platform of strong family values. To start, he bought his wife to strengthen political ties and–” Though you weren’t deep into politics, you knew that the government official had a constant swirl of rumors around him. Despite that, you couldn’t really recall how his family looked or their names. The public usually loved to bring dishonor and shame to everyone involved whenever possible. A part of you wondered if Enji Todoroki had enough decency to protect his family from their judgment in their daily life. “I’ll sign it,” you blurted after he started to ramble about a conspiracy about Todoroki having repressed homoerotic feelings for his political rival.

Sugar Sub

“Look doll, I ain’t askin’ for much,” the pale haired man told you, though you both knew he was lying. “Just nice clothes, good food and a warm place to stay. Gimme six months tops.” He threw his hands up as if he was the one forfeiting something great. “Honestly, you’re the one getting a better deal out of this than me. You don’t get in trouble and you get to ride this big dick as much as you want.” You shot him a dirty look, wondering if he hit his head during his criminal activities. His sense of measurement was wildly off.  “When you told me you were gonna take me for a ride, I thought you meant a ride in that Rolls Royce in your profile picture.” Dabi clicked his tongue. “See, that was your first mistake. I never promised you that. That wasn’t even my car. I was just standing in front of it and posing.” He chuckled at your sour face. “Don’t tell me you believe everything you see online?” He ruffled up his white hair. Sure, he was wearing a cap in most of his pictures, but you could have sworn it was black. Your silence made him ask, “What? You’ve never been catfished before?”

#rest reveals her wips

[sunflowerdigs]

Anyway, it's fine to think that a gay sexual experience might be healing for Roman. Certainly, it's no worse than thinking that being degraded without aftercare or safe words by his dad's most loyal employee is healing for him. In fact, it's kind of odd that out of those two options, anyone would pick gay sex as the more inherently negative one for a CSA victim (which we don't actually even know that Roman is).

This is Succession. Every relationship and encounter is driven by trauma. Whether it's the addict currently dating another addict so that he can use, or the woman trying to control her gold-digger husband in the same way that her father controlled her so that he won't leave. Or the aforementioned degradation between a boss and employee who's known him since he was a kid. Or the homoerotic frathouse hazing relationship between a mid-level executive and much younger employee. And yet, every one of those relationship has its redeeming factors, ways in which it has allowed the character in it to heal or function despite perhaps not being 100% healthy. So, it's weird to apply a different standard to a queer sex act, suggesting that it must be 100% healthy and therapeutic or else fans aren't allowed to enjoy it or hope it happens. Because fans enjoy all of the relationships listed above and talk all the time about both their positive and negative aspects.

Logan's abuse of Roman is irrevocably linked to homophobia. Specifically, homophobia against effeminate men who enjoy being fucked by other men. For whatever reason, he picked Roman out as the one most likely to fulfill that particular role as a young child and physically abused him because of it. In fact, that particular prejudice rebounds throughout the series. So, is it so surprising that fans might hope that the specific kind of sex that Logan constantly denigrates to Roman might be a part of Roman's healing? Gay sex often can be healing for gay/bi people who have felt lonely and isolated because they've assumed their whole adult lives that they were bad at sex.

Like, lbr, gay sex for any of these characters probably isn't even on the table. We live in a heteronormative society, that's just how it is. So why attack folks for hoping for it? I see things all the time on the tag that make me side-eye, but I leave them alone. It's a complicated show and more than one reading of a character is possible.

#succession #roman roy #not to discourse #but I don't want queer fans who relate to Roman to feel censored in talking about him #dream your dreams about these nutty republican business people

[house-of-slayterr]

I Need a Vacation Pt. 4: Daylight Rings

Tag List: @vechkinfan @dickspaghettii @yor72 @thelostboyswife @panickinanakin1 @slashers-and-witchcraft

David's POV:

We followed Y/N's so-called "best friend" into town, to a hotel on the edge of town. I could tell Marko was uneasy around the stranger, chewing on his thumb the whole way there. Something he only did if he was anxious, or horny, and I was sure he wasn't the latter. Dwayne looked impassive, as usual, and Paul wouldn't shut the hell up the whole way there. We ducked into the hotel room and quickly drew the curtains. I didn't like being in a confined location with a stranger like this. But Y/N said she trusted him.

"What are we doing here?" Dwayne was the first to speak up.

"My friend, I can convince her to make you all daylight rings, so you can walk in the sun. She just needs to gather the supplies first."

"But, we dont have time- Y/N is hurting."

"And she'll be fine, she's gone through this plenty of times, it gets easier."

I could tell he was lying, he didn't even believe himself. He pulled out his phone, presumably texting this friend of his, I locked eyes with Paul, begging him to stop pacing. Marko heard my thoughts, and pulled him into a bear hug, sitting him on his lap.

"He does anything, we kill him and get out of here," Dwyane spoke through our bond.

"I wonder what it feels like," Marko asked.

"To be in the sun?" Dwayne responded.

"No, to be bit, would we hurt as much as she does? Would it be quick?"

Quite a profound thought from Marko, but I was curious too. Turning wasn't all that bad, from what I remember. But her's, it gave me goosebumps. Something about watching her write in pain made my head spin, and not in a good way.

"Yo, ask them to stop doing whatever they're doing, it's creepy." A male voice said.

A blonde and a shorter brunette walked in, I hadn't heard them enter due to the loudness of Paul and Marko's thoughts.

"Dude." The brunette chastised.

They were human, that much was obvious, I could hear the brunette's heart skip a beat when he looked at me. Not scared, just uncertain. The blonde carried himself like someone who could die any minute.

"Bonnie's contemplating."

"She'll come through, this is Y/N we're talking about."

"She almost let Caroline burn, and then literally set her on fire." The blonde stated, casually.

"Your friend set your other friend on fire, gnarly," Paul said.

I could tell his interest was peaked by these humans, they were bad-looking per se, just not my type. Paul didn't really have standards, which is why we try to steer him toward better prey.

"She'll come through, Matt. You know she hates seeing Y/N in pain just as much as the rest of us, if this will make her happy, Bonnie will do it."

He seemed annoyed, I was starting to like this Stefan.

"She found a place that sells the stones, three just loose but as long as they keep them on their body somewhere, it should still work."

"Should?" I asked.

"You can get the jewellery configured later. Despite the term "daylight ring" it doesn't have to be an actual ring. Just something you keep on at all times."

"You seem to know your stuff." "Yeah, well my girlfriend is a witch, I kinda have to. And she's coming to save your asses, so be grateful."

He had some fire to him, interesting.

"Is she hot?" Marko asked.

I see they were trying to distract themselves from the situation at hand. The boy scoffed.

"Where the hell did you find them again?" The blonde asked.

"Y/N has an attachment to them, she never gets attached to anyone... I'm not going to question it. I'd be a shitty best friend if I judge her for her dating choices when she never judged me for mine."

Another ding from his phone.

"Alright, she'll be here soon."

Another.

"And Elena wants you to text her Stefan." He sighed out the last part.

Dwayne watched the whole interaction in silence, carefully watching every move they made in case we needed a quick escape. he was good at strategising and thinking on his feet.

"What could she possibly want right now?" Stefan mumbled, excusing himself and stepping outside.

Which left us alone with the humans.

"Why do they let you live?" Paul asked, in a sleepy bored tone.

"Excuse me?" The blonde asked.

"Your vampires, we don't normally fraternise with humans, not long term at least. I'm surprised they haven't eaten you yet." Paul finished.

I bit back my smile at his antics, always antagonising someone. making a game out of their fear.

"Beacsue we're friends, asshat. Friends don't kill each other. Though we have tried. Vampires are harder to kill than you think. Besides, Stefan's not that bad, it's his brother that's a dick."

"You got a girlfriend?" Marko asked, shifting Paul on his lap.

"No..."

"Of course he doesnt, look at him." Paul jeered.

"What's that supposed to mean."

"Nobody likes a square, and you, my tasty little morsel, and the squariest."

I watched the hair on the back of his neck stand up at that. Suddenly the door opened and a small black girl stepped inside, followed by Stefan. She had a look of determination on her face. As if to show off her power, she used it to shut the door behind her.

"We're going to get one thing very clear here, I male you these rings, you can't go around killing innocent people? Got that?"

"Paul went to wine in protest, but Marko beat him to it."

"We're vampires cutie, it's what we do."

"Sunlight or I kill you all right now. Your choice."

Dwayne growled at this, but I sped to him, holding him back.

"Think rationally" I reminded.

He was normally so level-headed.

"Define innocent." I quizzed.

"Don't- I don't like playing games. I could burn you alive without even raising a finger, do you really want to test me right now."

Yeah, I kinda did. Pretty or not, she was a right bitch. Star would hate her.

"Y/N would hate you," Dwayne spoke up.

"She's known you for like what, five days, doubtful."

"And I've known you for all of three minutes, but I can tell you're just an insecure baby witch, who thinks she has something to prove. The minute you stop pretending to be so tough, you're afraid one of them is going to drain you dry and leave you in a ditch somewhere. So you play it up, but really, you take no joy in hurting people, even vampires. That's why you didn't kill your one friend."

"How does he know about Caroline?" she asked.

Seems like Dwyae was spot on, like always. It was like having a free therapist around.

"Fine, innocents." I agreed.

There were plenty of douchbags to kill anyway.

"Right Paul, Marko..." I said in a threatening tone.

Marko sighed, and Paul nodded his head. I would do anything to make sure my coven was safe. If we could go in the sun, that would change everything. We could get away from Max, go where he can't reach us. I'd have to ensure he never got his hands on the witch.

"And your friend?" The witch asked.

"Dwayne will agree, you just caught him in a mood."

"Good, then let's get started." She pulled me forward by my shirt collar suddenly. "But know, if I find out you lied to me, I will make your death slow and painful, and make the rest of them watch."

I smirked.

"I would expect nothing less." I could see now why Y/N was friends with her, she was fun and intense just like her. We sat and watched as she worked, it didn't seem like a demanding spell, Not that I knew anything bout magic, but it seems like something she'd done many times before. The look on Paul's face when the stones started floating was priceless as if he couldn't fly himself. It honestly wasn't that impressive.

"Done." She said.

"That's it?" Marko asked.

"Yes."

She shoved a stone into his chest. She left the rest on the table for each of us to pick from. Jeremy, I think his name was, brought his girlfriend in for a kiss, ending the interaction with a kiss on her forehead. They were sort of cute together, I had to admit. The blonde eyes Marko suspiciously, and I rolled my eyes at him.

"How do we know they work?" Dwayne asked.

"Why don't you wait around until daylight to find out? Or are you eager to go out there and get mauled to death by my friend? Would ruin all my hard work." She sassed.

"Thank you." I cut in.

"Bonnie."

"Bonnie."

"Bon we should go, see if we can track Y/N and Ty."

They exited the hotel room.

"Matt, why don't you go find Damon and Elena, I'll stay here with them."

This was going to be a long night...

Y/N POV:

I was more than grateful when the sun came up. Most people would be mortified to wake up naked in their brother's arms, but I was just happy he was here with me. I suppose that was the real curse of the lycan. Tyler looked down at me.

"How are you feeling?"

"Like all the bones in my body were forcefully broken and put back together." I joked.

He rolled his eyes.

"Care is on her way with some clothes." He took off his jacket. "This is all I can offer right now."

I grateful to put it on, scrunching myself into a small ball so it would cover as much skin as possible. I winced when I moved. Normally it didn't hurt this much.

"What happened?"

"Well, it appears my vampire gene outweighed my werewolf gene. You tried to kill me last night, multiple times. After the fifth time, you bit me, I had to stop you somehow."

"What?!?!"

"It's fine, it healed." He laughed.

"That isn't funny Ty. Why would I-" I huffed.

I looked over the injuries on my body, they weren't that bad. They would heal in a few days, thanks to my regenerative abilities. I looked up when I heard the scrunching of leaves. Caroline stood there with a worried look on her face. I cut her off before I could speak.

"I'm fine Care Bear"

She gave me a small smile, handing me the outfit she picked. My brother was quick to turn around.

"I'm gonna head back into town. You good?"

"Yes, go Ty."

Caroline's outfit was a bit too cleavagey for my current mood, so I put my brother's hoodie back over it. I zipped it halfway, allowing it to fall over my shoulders.

"OH come on Y/N, that outfit was perfect!"

I rolled my eyes.

"And this is comfy." I gave her a quick spin. "Very comfy, which is what I need right now. I feel like roadkill."

She chuckled, pulling me into a hug and leading me back to civilization.

"You look like it too."

I playfully hit her shoulder. We walked back into town and there was only one thought on my mind… the boys. I wouldn’t be able to see them until nightfall. I wonder if they were ok, would they forgive me for not telling them what I was? I never meant to hurt them, or anyone for that matter. And god did I feel awful right now. My insides were worse than my outsides. Caroline seemed to notice my discomfort and grabbed my hand, giving it a light squeeze.

“Come on, we’ve got a surprise for you.”

I raised my brow at this. Surprises from Care were never good. I followed after her, a little worried about what would be waiting for me. But I was pleasantly surprised when we got to our destination. Maybe my eyes were fooling me, maybe I'd finally lost it. But there they were, standing right in front of me.

Marko was wrestling Paul in the sand, and Dwayne was chatting with Elena and Damon. And David sat beside Stefan, smoking a cigarette, I watched as Stefan accepted it. Now I know I was dreaming.

"Since when do you smoke?" I asked.

Both of the boys, my boys, looked up at me. It was weird seeing them in the same place. The guy I'd been crushing on since sophomore year, and the guy I was sure I fell in love with five days ago. David grinned up at me, his pretty teeth sparkling in the sunlight. I mean he looked good in the dark, but damn was he pretty in the light? Stefan cleared his throat after I had been staring.

"Since you stressed me the fuck out last night, Mouse."

"And he swears... David's rubbing off on you!"

He rolled his eyes. David took out another cig and lit it, noticing the one in Stefan's hand going stale. He passed it to me before taking a drag.

"Such a gentleman." I jeered.

"Just shut up and take it."

I took a long drag before passing it back.

"That what you were going to tell me last night before I wolfed out on you?"

Stefan coughed up a plum of smoke, and I almost felt bad... almost. David grinned like the Cheshire cat.

"Careful there Kitten, I think you might kill your boyfriend here."

"He's not my boyfriend." I squished in between the two of them. "If anything, he's my girlfriend."

I ruffled Stefan's perfect hair, and he swatted at my hands playfully.

"You ok?"

I gave him a thinly veiled smile.

"Physically? Yeah..."

"I'll convince Klaus to turn you, I promise."

"Dont do that thing you do Stefan, this isn't your problem to fix. I'm a big girl, I think I can convince Mr Brittish Psycho Manic to turn me, myself.

"British Psycho?" David asked.

I shot up from my seat, attempting my best impression of my least favoutite vampire.

"I am Klaus, the Immortal Hybrid, bow before me!"

This seemed to have got the attention of the others, because Damon let out a curt laugh, and Marko and Paul stood there confused.

"He's more of an Immortal Douchbag, who tried to date my bestie." "He never tried to date me." Stefan joked.

"You sure, 'cause that thing you described in the 20's" Stefan slapped a hand over my mouth and I giggled incessantly. I bit his hand, the venom only worked in werewolf form.

"JK, I was talking about Care Bear you dork."

Carolien swept me up into her arms, spinning me around.

"Aww, he could never steal me from you." She said, peppering kisses all over my face.

I tried to wiggle out of her arms but her grip on me was tight.

"A little help?" I looked over to Paul and Marko.

"No can do Babe," Marko said.

"Yeah, sorry but this is really hot," Paul said.

"Fat load of good you two are, this is why Dwayne's my favourite."

His head perked up at that, and he sent me the most angelic smile I'd ever seen. I could have sworn my heart stopped. Carolien finally put me down.

"So, how are the daylight rings treating you?" I asked. "Thank you, by the way." I aimed my thanks at Bonnie.

"There just stones right now," David said.

I raised a brow.

"They don't have much Lapis jewellery available in this town." Bonnie shrugged.

I grinned widely at that. They all looked at me confused.

"Tonight, give me your stones, I can fix them up for you. It's the least I can do before we have to go back home. You've been so kind to me, have to give you something to remember me by."

It would suck that I would have to leave soon. But I was sure we'd keep in touch somehow. Each of the boys had a distinct style, and I'd have to perfect their jewellery.

#i need a vacation #the lost boys 1987 #the lost boys #the lost boys imagines #the lost boys movie #paul the lost boys #david the lost boys #marko the lost boys #dwayne the lost boys #the vampire diaires rp #stefan salavatore x reader #poly lost boys x reader #bonnie bennet #tyler lockwood

[goth-link]

You know what fuck y’all I’m ranting about, Adarh, Amiss, Bak’runa, and Purevi

Adarh is the only one I’ve finished playing! They’re a tortured dark urge moon Druid tiefling (with a level or two in monk) they’re based off my other preexisting Adarh characters. This time around they’re rude and mean but not cruel. They have no want to cause harm but that pent up energy causes them to lash out. Especially considering they had to kill Shadowheart (the girl he romanced) to save the Nightsong

Amiss is a cruel dark urge drow oathbreaker Paladin. They love and reveal in the pain they cause however they very much want to hide this side of themselves from those around them. Manipulative but approachable theyre a particularly bad influence for Astarion. They actually secretly started to try and take down the dead 3 by starting the events of the game to weaken everyone by having them pool resources into the plan before ripping the rug out from under them and dedicating themselves to their secret pursuit of Justice as a Paladin and turning away from their urges- that was, at least until Orin does her bullshit and causes them to backslide.

Bak’runa, as I mentioned in the tags of my last post, is a githyanki cleric of selune. She’s a good guy and dating Shadowheart. Not much more to say about that but oh my god. The racism in this game made her difficult to play especially in the beginning. While the rest of my characters experience the fantasy racism Adarh is rude enough that besides the grove it doesn’t come up and with Amiss it makes the game easier and they lean into the stereotypes unfortunately but I genuinely had to take tons of breaks while playing Bak’runa bc it was actually upsetting. It’s such a big thing in this game and I usually have a strong stomach for most everything but despite the fact Bak’runa is the most fun I’ve had with any character she was genuinely overwhelming for a bit”

Lastly Purevi! Purevi is a sorcerer; a bronze Dragonborn with the power of blue dragons. They’re the one I know the least about right now! I know they’re not evil they are however selfish enough to be evil by most standards. They won’t help without compensation. They’re also absolutely obsessed with Lae’zel. Originally this character didn’t exist! Originally I made a character called Vormit who was a mix of Purevi and Amiss. A bad dark urge blue Dragonborn Paladin dating Astarion. However when I broke Vormit apart and made Amiss I had to improvise.

And that’s all my characters! I plan on finishing these 4 custom characters and my playthrough of good guy Astarion x Karlach (idc if Karlach and Astarion are dating but they are best buds and the best duo and nobody can tell me otherwise) before anything else

#goth link says some shit #LONG post #I would’ve condensed it but I can’t on mobile :/

[pspettigrew]

Don’t Be Sad; Get A Tattoo

Date: June 29th, 1984 Location: Prewett Estate and then Peter’s Flat Tagging: Self-Para

Peter was left standing alone in the room after James took off, and there was a mixture of feelings swirling in his chest. 

Hope, for starters. Hope that perhaps with this, he and James could somehow mend their friendship and things could be okay. Hope that James believed him, and wanted to fix things as he did. Hope that maybe not everything was ruined, and that maybe with a little work, the Marauders could be pulled back together. That hope was something that Peter would cling to, and not let go of.

Pride was the next feeling. Pride at being able to actually do a Patronus, and pride at having done it in front of James of all people, who seemed to be proud of him. No matter how much Peter grew, that was one thing he would never be able to stop; feeling like he needed James to be proud of him, to think he was doing a good job, that he was doing the right thing. Truthfully, he wanted all his friends to be proud of him, to be happy that he'd finally managed a Patronus, but out of all of them, James was still the one he craved validation from the most.

There was an uneasiness there too, from the whole conversation. Despite that hope, Peter had that nagging feeling in the back of his head, that maybe this was as good as it would get. Maybe... Maybe this is what they all were now. Maybe in order to be himself, to be the better version he was making of himself, to feel finally useful and needed for once... he had to lose his friends, because they didn't want that version of him. Luckily enough, it was just a tiny voice, and the hope drowned it out... mostly.

As he continued practicing for awhile after James left, Peter realized a few things about the memory he'd used first, and the memories that had come to him, that had made it easier to cast that Patronus and make it bright enough to run around the room as it had. The thoughts rolled around in his head, as he found himself getting tired and deciding that it was enough practicing for the day. He had to come in early tomorrow anyway for some stuff he wanted to look over, and so he decided to head home for some sleep.

James had said to focus on how the memory made him feel back then. The happiness of it. But Peter had also focused on the other words James had said 'you were safe. you were secure.' and the way that had felt. And it was true, back when they'd first all told him that he was there friend, he'd felt safe and secure and happy and... loved. And he'd tried to focus on just that, but then another instance popped into his head. When else had he felt safe?

It felt odd almost to have thought about when James was standing in front of him, using his Patronus to chase away the Dementors from them, when they'd truly been in danger... But perhaps it was that feeling of knowing that even after their fight, James was willing to run to him, stand in front of him, protect him, that made Peter focus on just how safe that had made him feel.

And as he kept practicing, that led into other memories. Not just of James, but of all the Marauders. Maybe some of them weren't truly 'happy' memories by any standards to anyone else, but they were all times that Peter had felt safe and wanted and loved, and that was the feeling that had worked so well to get the Patronus charm to work. James, standing in front of him and fighting the Dementors off, Sirius, protecting him from some of the jerks at Hogwarts, Remus, helping him with his homework as he struggled, Lily, coming over after his fight with James to bake with him...

They were his friends, the only family he had, and Merlin and Morgana did he just want to go drag each and every one of them into a room by their hair and force them all to just talk and fix all of this. But Peter knew better, and knew that that wasn't going to fix anything, and most likely was just going to make it all ten times worse. As he got home and moved to make some food, he squared his shoulders slightly, becoming even more determined that he was going to have to start stepping up and really pulling them all in somehow, speak with each of them. Because this had to be fixed, it had to.

Peter began to change for bed, and paused. Looking in the mirror, he absently put his hand over the rat paw prints tattoo on his chest, over his heart. He chewed on his lip for a moment, looking lost in thought, before an idea came to him. Yanking his shirt on to sleep in, he made his way over to his desk, scrambling for some parchment and a pen. Finding them, while also knocking quite a few things off the desk as well, Peter sat down and began trying to draw.

Now granted, Peter Pettigrew was not the best at drawing, but he wasn't absolutely terrible either. He was pretty sure if he handed this to the person who'd do the tattoo, they'd know what he was asking for, and be able to do a much better job than he had, to make it look nice. But as Peter looked at the mockup he'd drawn, he had to smile softly to himself. The rat paw prints, being circled by a stag's prints, a dog's prints, a wolf's prints, and lily petals, that would be in motion. Because those were the people who made him feel the most safe, the most secure, and it would be a quiet reminder to himself to think of that, to think of them, as he cast the Patronus.

Now all he had to do was get enough courage to actually go to a tattoo shop and get it done, without the others being there. That would be the most challenging part.

#~ * ~ I'm Writing You A Chorus And Here Is Your Verse (Interactions) #D: 6-29-84 #//Mentioned: #~ * ~ Fit The Crown To My Head But I Was Only A Kid (James Potter) #~ * ~ A Falling Out We Won't Tiptoe About (Sirius Black) #~ * ~ You Would Be The One To Rescue Me (Remus Lupin) #~ * ~ You'll Never Find Anyone As Trusting Or As Kind (Lily Evans) #~ * ~ You Know It's Not The Same As It Was (Marauders)

[thattimdrakeguy]

was it the new dc movie slate that got you down? :( but anyway, if dc comics aren't bringing you joy anymore then I think it's good choice to take a break. hopefully you'll get stuff you'll like again some day.

yeah, like the comics are just really awful, have been for years with very short periods of quality that it's getting pointless to try and even wait it out

surrounding myself with people that somehow manage to like the stuff isn't great on the confidence or mind, because i'm literally putting myself in a place i'll get myself frustrated

but i was still like "AY, LOOK, I STILL GOT THE MOVIES"

but what they got planned? fuck that

I'm not watching the Flash, it has Ezra Miller. I'm not watching Aquaman it has Amber Heard. The Authority? Heard it was a good comic, but I'm just plain not going to have the same interest I had in a Guardians of the Galaxy or even The Suicide Squad.

Keeping some of the actors but getting rid of Henry Cavill? Fuck that. He's the only one I'd want to keep since Batfleck is done beyond cameos.

and i am certainly not watching The Brave And The Bold. I don't give a single living shit it might have the other Bat-Family members in it. What is the fucking point if they're there but we skip past the stories that'd be worth adapting. it's just literally fucking fan service, and the fact they're willing to skip so much only means they probably don't care about what makes them then, making it even less worth it

but i know the fandom will eat it up, so i'm certainly not going to be checking the tags again at least for a long time

i've already been decently far away from dc. most of my queue is months, maybe even over a year old actually. it literally posts one thing a day because that's the lowest i can set it. i actually wanted the queue to stop entirely when i did that, but i couldn't

sick of DC being just people's weird fan fictions. and i know technically every writer after the first is that. but their used to be some kind of standards that made it worth paying for

why should i pay for something that is half assed just in it's design?

been watching and reading about Ben 10 instead, 'cause I loved it as a kid and it's good nostalgia, and i already know i like it. and i'll probably start reading Ultimate Spider-Man, maybe I'll post about that stuff who knows

A person can only live off of old and sometimes dated comics for so long, especially with a fandom that pats itself on the back for being so nice, despite being filled with some of the most obnoxiously dense people that apparently have no way of detecting how obnoxious they're being

Lot of lovely people in the fandom don't get me wrong, but they're only getting fewer and far between, and I'm just not someone who can switch their opinions just to get the praise of a bunch of strangers i don't know

but will i like it again some day? very unlikely. everything is only going to get worse which it has been for years

i'm tired of stupid fucking sitcom bat-family

i liked the characters 'cause they were deep, layered, complex, and stood out. that isn't even remotely the case anymore

and DC films being James Gunn "what ever the fuck i want" universe was depressing. wasn't even properly mad. i didn't get red faced, i didn't feel this overwhelming sense of anger 'cause i no longer had the movies to look forward to. i was just disappointed, because 'Wow, i wasted my time being invested in this stuff even once'

the negatives of this experience of mine outweigh the positives

Ben 10 Omniverse is underrated

[daja-the-hypnokitten]

Jukebox reviews part 16! For context, see my post “A Project” under this same tag. If you want to see a full list of his EMCSA     stories,  they can be found here, sorted alphabetically.And if you want to see some of his drabbles, check out his blog at @jukeboxemcsa

Love Like Winter

 date uploaded   date updated     Tags

9/10/2010                                     mc ff

And the end of the three-story set. Just like "A Whiter Shade of Pale," I don't find much to like it in. My heart breaks for Abby and Carly, and what they lost because Dalila came into their lives. 0/10 spirals.

 Suicide Blonde

 date uploaded   date updated     Tags

9/17/2010                                     mc ff

This is a nice palette clenser after the Winter trilogy. I like how Natalie approaches Hannah, here, and calms her down rather a lot. Granted it's completely unethical, but there are shades of unethical and as that goes this one's well within tolerance for saving someone's life. (It's worth mentioning, despite the title, nobody dies in this one, it's a happy story). The control is well described and I enjoy seeing how it progressed. 8/10 spirals. 

 Changes (Jukebox)

 date uploaded   date updated     Tags

9/26/2010                                     mc

... My go-to forest grove is evergreen, so no I can't see the maples changing color, but moving on. This is another script, a pretty standard "feel pleasure" one, with a bit of "leaving things behind" (bad habits, memories the reader wants to let go of, etc) which leans a bit towards therapy, but not overly so. It's a good induction, for all it does assume things about the type of forest the listener - and this just feels like it was written to be read aloud - is going to picture. 7/10 spirals because give me redwoods over maple and oak and poplar. 

 All You Zombies

 date uploaded   date updated     Tags

10/3/2010                                     mc mf

I super want to know what the *method* here is. There's plenty of the WHAT, but not the how. Also I kept trying to turn the mall in question into the mall in Dawn of the Dead (the original), but the description never actually *worked* for that and I got more annoyed by that than there's really any reason to. Look, these are highly subjective reviews. But if I stop trying to make the mall layout match, it's ... eh? I'm not a zombie fan, never have been, and with the mechanic of the control being pretty unclear, it's just not a story for me. 5/10 spirals. 

 Dancing With Myself

 date uploaded   date updated     Tags

10/9/2010                                     mc ff ma

This is an interesting one. The control - the hypnosis - is clear and you can see the progress of it, but that doesn't explain the ending! I'm curious as to what else is going on here, what magic the tiara has, to lead to this outcome! I don't know anything about this style of dance, so I can't comment on any of that, but I enjoy how well Jukebox paints the picture here, and the control is *delicious.* 8/10 spirals. 

 What a Girl Wants (Jukebox)

 date uploaded   date updated     Tags

10/16/2010                                   mc ff sf rb

Another Girl(tm) story, and another story where I get distracted by the description of enthralling eyes. It's A Thing. And the strawberry scent always gives me an internal giggle, for reasons. This one is *powerful,* seeing how easily a Girl(tm) takes someone from destructive rage to happy, submissive bliss and compliance. It always feels so inevitable when the Girls(tm) are involved, and I love that sense of not if, but when. 9/10 spirals. 

 Electioneering

 date uploaded   date updated     Tags

10/24/2010                                   mc ff

Nope, nope nope nope nope nope. Serial recruitment *and* encouraging people to not vote? Nope. 

 Secret Journey

 date uploaded   date updated     Tags

10/30/2010                                   mc mf ff md

*grins* I won't say my favourite part of this story - it will quite spoil the surprise - but I do love the dynamic here, the playful nature of it, and just all of it. Jukebox's characters are as solid as ever, and I could read more with this cast any day! Diane is lovely, Sigmund is delightful, and the interplay between them is charming. And the sense of the effect, how easily it works... it's completely believable, given the space they're in, which just makes it better. 10/10 spirals. 

 Sweet Surrender

 date uploaded   date updated     Tags

11/6/2010                                     mc ff

... none of this is how biology works. I know I've started a review with that before, but it's just as true here. It's just enough science babble to sound plausible, but none of that is how it works. It's hot enough, sure, though we're learning a lot about weight science that indicates what we *think* we know is wrong, so like, that part I could do without? But the idea of a drugged chocolate leaving someone soft and submissive and pliable? Well, now, that's just delightful. I do wish it was less sci-fi magic and more hypnosis, but that's just personal taste. 7/10 spirals. 

 A Pretty Girl Is Like a Melody

 date uploaded   date updated     Tags

11/13/2010                                   mc mf fd cb

Oh, so much supehero shenanigans. I think Venus Ascendent would probably like Veena, if they got to talking; they have similar styles! Also this reminds me quite a lot of the more-recent MCU movies, which is an entertaining thing given how much this story predates Winter Soldier (I think that's the one that started Natasha having a trigger for the Hulk), though I don't know Hulk comics well enough to know if it was used in the comics at all. Basically, this feels absolutely like something that could fit right in at Marvel, except for the more explicit portions of it. 8/10 spirals.

#jukebox reviews

[prue84]

Warren Worthington III headcanons - Romantic life

Further headcanons. In this part, about Warren's romantic and sexual life.

Part I | Part II: romantic life | Part III: more powers | Part IV: his women

Under the read more so I can add more if they come to my mind. [Updated 08/12/2023]

Romantic life

The whole thing about him being a womanizer is mostly a myth. Sure, he had his fair share of enjoying his status of handsome rich single guy in his teens[*] and "playboy" has been one of his definitions along with billionaire and philanthropist, but he tends to be very monogamous: when he gets serious with a woman then he means it and stays with them unless life does something that fucks that relationship up. He’s never been hinted at flirting or hanging out with someone else after he got together with Candy back in school times. Then, besides his three big main/long relationships, and his unrequited love for Jean, any other romantic feelings he might’ve harbored... were fake and induced (Moondragon anyone?). That’s very, very canon. With Candy ended because she thought he was cheating on her with Jean (he and Jean were very tactile but it was a “man is best-friends with a woman of whom he was once in love with” scenario). With Charlotte ended because he was a broody blue Death Archangel trying to adjust to changes in his life and the thing fell apart. With Betsy the first time ended because he wanted to move things further and Betsy wasn’t ready (the whole “flirting with Neal” was the straw that broke the camel, not the main reason). The second because he felt betrayed by her**. I won’t mention his fling with Husk. I’m not a rabid hater (unless we talk about the “sex in the air right above momma Guthrie’s head”) but I feel we could remove that portion of his romantic life from Warren’s history and not miss/loose anything (although this pairing deprived us of more flirting and panel presence of Stacy X who was unceremoniously scraped off). They were attracted to each other out of the blue (especially him; Paige had every reason to be JUST physically attracted but he? They probably never shared a panel before since Gen X debuted), then together one moment, and the next they had fallen out and their relationship never be mentioned or hinted at again***. - [*] Actually, it’s not believable, as he had to hide his wings, and it would be quite hard to hide his wings during sex, since the harness reached down to his knees. It was believable, that Warren kept changing girls, in the 60′s (because he wouldn’t go beyond some heavy kissing or over the clothes petting), but not so much with today’s standards. Someone with the sexual life that Warren is canon-ed with, should have shown his wings around half of NY. Which would... well, cause all sort of problems when the X-Men debut and there’s a very white feathered winged guy flapping around. Any of her former lovers would immediately recognize Warren as the flying mutant of the X-Men.

Despite his playboy fame, he's not much for sleeping around. Not to say that when he's not involved he practices chastity, but he's not as a womanizer as people think he is.

He's (unwillingly) a gossip pet. Gossip magazines then and sites now publish all kind of shit on him - 90% of it is fake. Like all the women who claim on socials that they fucked with him. He doesn't know any of them.

Warren likes to woo. He's old fashioned and romantic as they come. He's the guy that pulls out the chair for his woman, he's a guy for slow dance on the notes of a piano melody, the guy who shows up with a limo to lead his woman to a romantic date. He's the guy who buys flowers and likes to make gifts of all kinds. When he was younger more than often overdid by choosing too much expensive gifts or proposing to make absurd purchases - to his defense, he's never been taught to look at the price tag, so he buys what he catches his eye or thinks his woman would like to get.

When he falls he falls bad. He's the guy who gets very smitten, to the point that at times looks and acts like an idiot.

He’s very loyal toward his exes or women he liked Back when he first met Dazzler, he stood by her side after she rebuffed him, ready to stay as a friend. Also, he went to help her around her back, not interested in buying her gratitude but out of generosity. At the same way, he didn’t shy away when Betsy needed him against the Shadow King in London and I trust he wouldn’t either if Captain Britain needed Warren Worthington CXO or Archangel the razor-sharp winged horseman in her Excalibur’s feats. His portrayal in the Dazzler’s miniseries was cringey at best. The clingy, stalker Warren was so OOC it hurt, plus he was depicted as a full damsel-in-distress incapable to hold his own despite at the time having already under his belt some years as X-Men and the - albeit short-lived - sting with the Champions. Too sad their friendship was never referenced to again. On Betsy and Astonishing X-Men (2017), it’s never explicitly said if they had rekindled their romantic relationship or not. I always thought they were back together (why would he be flying half-naked in Scotland if he wasn’t for Betsy’s presence in London?), they are very touchy, Betsy really entrusts herself to Warren and Warren is very protective of her during the heat of the battle. Also, there is Uncanny (2019): I outright refuse to think they weren’t a couple during that run. Although, now that I think about it, they could’ve returned together after Astonishing. Still, he acted like a protective boyfriend - they had to rekindle their relationship at some point after Uncanny X-Men when Archangel-glorified-drone-slash-Betsy’s-pet and incomplete-and-hurting-Warren merged.

He’s very loyal toward his exes or women he liked, part 2. Even though their relationship ended badly, and she was a too proud woman to accept his monetary help back at the times, Warren - fights, sentinels and other X-Matters permitting - has tried to keep himself informed about little Tommy. And, if only Charlotte wasn’t so stubborn (and rightfully sour with him), he would gladly give Tommy a generous scholarship, because what’s the point of being multi-billionaire if you can’t buy your friends and people you love a nice house and provide them some economic cushion so to make sure they will never have to worry about money for the rest of their lives? He and Charlotte eventually sorted things out and, while not best friends who often keep in touch, she knows he will always be there should she or Timmy need help. - When Warren discovered he had healing powers he offered to try to heal Timmy.

He leans toward assertive and confident women. His biggest loves involved independent and strong women who are his equal. Damsels in distress don't get his interest and he doesn't want to be a prince charming.

He doesn't feel emasculated if his women are stronger or more powerful than him. Grown up during his formative years with Jean Grey as the most powerful of a group of five has taught him to not consider it odd or embarrassing to get saved by a woman, nor to ask a woman for help.

He’s been Bobby’s wingsman for more than that time in L.A. It’s dangerous to bring an hottie like Warren to a gay bar as wingsman, but Warren has that attitude (a mix of smooth and matter-of-fact) that helps Bobby in his first dips into what is a new world for him (the “gay” world). Warren is a good shoulder and a good listener, isn’t busy with leading nor science-ing, so Bobby knows to whom to turn to to wine, complain or act like a moron in love who can’t stop babble about his new boyfriend. Warren tried everything (or at least people think he did) and has experience, so Bobby knows Warren won’t judge - he might poke and make fun but not when it truly matters. There’s one O-5er for every season, and Warren is perfect for that specific part of Bobby’s personal life.

Elizabeth Braddock has influenced his romantic life more than once. Warren has been drawn to Paige Guthrie by Betsy, who appeared to him in dream and convinced him to open up to love again. But Betsy's return eventually killed the relationship. While, surprisingly, the couple worked, the news of Betsy's miraculously and inexplicable resurrection affects their balance and leads to an amicable broke up. Paige has entered into the relationship knowing a part of Warren would always love Betsy. Paige also never expected to take Betsy's place either. But when Betsy is back, Warren's feelings are torn between what is and what has been - and could still be. Betsy's return opens up new possibilities, and Warren realizes that he can't give Paige what she deserves - not when he still, against all odds, hopes that he and Betsy could give each other another chance. Paige knew that she and Warren would fall out as soon as the news of Betsy's presence at the school reached them, so it didn't come as a surprise when Warren faced her about it. They've remained on speaking terms and, years later, there's still genuine affection between them.

Warren ultimate wish is marrying. During the wedding ceremony in which Brian Braddock and Meggan tied the knot, Warren started to toy with the idea that he and Betsy could move their relationship further. For months he pondered about finally asking Betsy, but he eventually understood that he and Betsy were moving to different paths. This eventually lead to his decision to their first break up. In Excalibur #125 there's a very inspiring panel in which Warren is seen watching Betsy during the wows. That Warren wished more is stated in X-Men #109, as the reason why he wants to break up with Betsy.

Sexual life

His wings reflect his emotions, part 2. Having sex with Warren is a bit... crowded. He has positions that are more comfortable for him, mostly involving him on top or standing. He really doesn’t like any position that require him to have his back on the bed (or against a surface), unless he has the space to unfold his wings without either knocking down things or hitting the walls.

His wings do magnificently spread when he orgasms.

When he says he needs a bigger space for his wings, he means it. During orgasm he might not control his wings, and a larger room for them has to be planned, when sexing him up.

His wings are not an erogenous zone. Unlike what people think, he can't come (nor even get an erection) if people work with his wings, or where they sprout from his shoulders.

He might be well endowed. Canon, as far as I can tell. There’s literally no other way to read this dialogue. Don’t ask me. I do need more of Charlie Huston on the matter.

He has tried pegging - and likely enjoyed it. Perhaps not with Candy, but surely he did with Betsy. She strikes me as the girl who doesn’t conform in sex like she never did in all other aspects of her life. So she would definitely want to try new and “strange” things in bed. Warren is likely more “average” in his approaches to sex, but if he trusts his significant other, is willing to try what they might want to try. He’s not that picky, he’s got an open mind. Besides, with a girlfriend who is a telepath, he knows is in good hands.

Headcanon on how the thing was discovered. The O5 are hanging around, chilling out between a decimation and an attack to their kind (and they still have a decent characterization of long-time friends, not this Krakoa/Hickman’s emotionless cold shit; picture Astonishing X-Men (vol 4) Annual dynamics to reference but with Scott too). Bobby laments about his recent flirt and how his sex life is going as bad as is former-hetero one, which means score zero, and confesses his fears about hitting last base (penetration). They might be a bit tipsy, so relaxed Warren, without even thinking, throws a “it doesn’t hurt like they say”. Which makes all eyes turn on him in a WTFF?!? How does he know?. Bobby, screeching: “When I was having a crisis because I lusted over your hot body and felt ashamed for the very same reason I lusted over my friend, you went around and tried gay sex, Warren?? And I have to discover it NOW? I feel BETRAYED!!” because Warren-I-hit-every-woman-I-meet who gets hot gay sex before him, the gay mutant who had to be outed by a teen version of Jean Grey else he would still be living in that closet? Totally classic. Warren goes all “oh, come on, I was trying to keep my mutation a secret at the time, remember? A bit hard to do that while on four and raising my ass up for someone, don’t you think?”. Jean, after a shocked gasp mixed with a choked hiccup, is so, so offended because she still holds the title of Warren’s biggest/closest friend so she totally should’ve known, bad Warren, I won’t let you paint my nails anymore! If Scotty and/or Hank want to feel a bit flustered at the image, that’s up to you (and your level of bi-ness for them). Then it’s obviously four mutants (including two Omega) ganging up on Warren to know when and how they didn’t know. Jean has that wicked look that promises no good - “And no, Jean, keep your telepathic paws away from my head”. “So, a sapiens?” because they certainly would know if he fucked with a mutant: 100% it would be a current or former X-Men - please say it wasn’t Logan during your super secret killing-squad phase, please not Logan. “Wait? What about a super secret killing-squad? What do do you mean” “Shh, Jean, later!” But Warren shakes his head: this guess who? game is getting ridiculously funny. If he forgets the fact about one of his best friends putting him with Wolverine - just no, he doesn’t like short and furry anyway. “Was he a mutant?” Warren doesn’t completely agree on that, making a hnnnn. “Not a mutant? But you just-” “WARREN KENNETH WORTHINGTON I CAN’T BELIEVE IT!!” because Jean has a very perverted mind and is now picturing very unpleasant and possibly illegal-in-most-of-US-States images. “... was it a male bird? That would make totes sense” “Bobby!!” cried by Scotty, who’s getting very, very embarrassed. Hanks derails the argument by reminding Bobby that avians don’t have penises to start with so no, Warren couldn’t have penetrative sex with a bird technically speaking, but actually there is a species of- luckily Jean TK-muzzles Hank’s mouth before this can get even more cringe. Warren is all outraged because for whom did they take him? Besides, he has tastes. “... so was it Sam Wilson, wasn’t it?” which is totally something Bobby would say, and hey, Sam is both and neither a man, since he’s a supes, and also has wings - sort of. And that would also explain why Warren was never invited to the Avengers. Because other winged guys he can think of, are either cringe or barf or other shades of no-no-n.o. and, well, Asgardian horses. Warren gets all miffed because he doesn’t get hot for a pair of wings, you know? - cue someone to remind him about Avia, because he looked very, very much hot for that gal, didn’t he? Yes yes, he truly did. Wings here certainly likes those wings, ah ah. And Bobby, with the help of Hank, probably goes on a cringe imitation of how Warren and another winged-superhero would compliment and droll on each other’s wings, “How big are your wings” and “How sharp is your vibranium feather” and “I love how your light wings look” and similia. Scott steps in because now they are bullying Warren. Besides, he wants to get to the juicy parts: who. Yes, he might look all stoic but behind his visor he wants to know as much as the other three. Mostly because he can’t believe it Warren managed to keep it a secret for god-knows how long! Warren plays mysterious for some more, while the four go insane trying to decipher the hints (Warren is partnered with basically every male Warren might’ve smiled at in his life since coming to Xavier’s school), until he confesses that he was pegged. So no, actually it was no man who deflowered him - five twin cringes at the term. If Jean gets a bit flustered and horny at the very detailed image of Betsy (which is one sexy girl, Asian or British bodies alike) pegging that one specimen of (mutant) man that is Warren her mind offers, it’s not up to you but actually a fact. As is Bobby’s grimace because hm, yeah, gross, but also, I’m suspiciously horny, but such a loss and Warren is still gay-virgin, thumbs up! If Scott takes Warren aside and asks him if pegging is good and worth it, because he’s now curious, it’s again not up to you but a fact. (But, seriously, Emma might’ve pegged him at least once - let’s ignore this for headcanon/plot reasons. Or straight ignore he ever been with Emma, if that’s your cup of tea)

He doesn't like restraints. Betsy suggested it once, and they did try, but he just can't. Seeing cuffs lock around his wrists immediately took him back to the Morlocks alley, when Callisto kept him bonded and sedated. He agreed to let Betsy help him overcome this fears of his but didn't work: as soon as the cuffs are placed around his writs he gets antsy and can't relax, no matter how much Betsy tried to coax his body or sooth him with tender caresses. Once they rekindled their relationship, and with Betsy now exerting full control on her telekinetic powers, they tried once again, this time with Betsy using her own TK to restrain Warren; surprisingly, this way his old trauma is not triggered and he discovers he actually enjoys being restrained by his partner - or, at least, by Betsy (he never had the chance to try to someone else).

He is a convinced strictly hetero, but if he got the chance he might’ve tried getting or giving a blowjob/handjob. Not much my coup of tea, but I once read a fanfiction that made me change my mind on this. I buy Tangerine’s painting of Warren helping Bobby out with overcoming his fears on gay sex by offering himself. For science and friendship. Because Warren is not only generous with his money.

He's pretty easy about sex. He doesn't have specific preferences. As long as he's comfortable and his wings not constrained, any position is fine for him.

He's more than willing to let his woman pick the position.

He likes it when his women top him. He isn't that insecure to feel emasculated if his lover asserts some command - in bed or outside.

He's open to (almost) anything. If his partner suggests they try something new, he usually goes for it unless he already tried it in the past and didn't like it. Although he might decide to give it another try and see if perhaps his opinion might change.

He did mid-air sex. Given his specific powerset, he can have sex in mid-air, and he did a couple of times. The first time was with Candy, the first woman to know about his mutation and embrace it. (Let’s collectively pretend Warren didn’t have mid-air sex with Paige over Mama’s Guthrie’s head. I welcome mid-air sex. But in privacy, where nobody can see them. It’s not something I see Warren indulging - and not Husk either, I think. Especially not over the heads of her family!)

He didn't do anything of what gossip saucy sites claim he did. No, he didn't took part to orgies either.

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*Seriously, will someone fix this? Is ABSURD that neither in House/Power of X, nor in Dawn of X we got any author dwell in the relationship. The whole "Betsy meets alternate!Warren and confesses she fears Warren's feelings about her new-original body" isn't enough and is actually some depressed bullshit that Warren should just slap out of Betsy's mouth RIGHT NOW. ** Isn't it curious that on the fated mission during House of X in which Warren dies immediately after landing, takes part Paige - who is the only other victim in that landing?

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Originally this and previous part had been published as one - I split the two in September 2022, but elected to modify the post's date to the original date in which I made the posts.

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Crossposted Dreamwidth: prue84.dreamwidth.org/69301.html Livejournal: prue84.livejournal.com/79271.html

#X-Men #Angel #Archangel #Warren Worthington III #WarrenBetsy #AngelPsylocke #Headcanons

[grittyreadsfic]

What’s your fic finding approach? Do you just read the entire hrpf fic tag on ao3 as it gets updated? or is it something else?

at this point it's a lot of just skimming the tag daily (or, well, it's been every few days more recently just as a combo of there being less fic over all and a higher percentage of things that i personally don't read) with about half a dozen things filtered out between ships, characters, and tags

lately i've had open a hrpf tag a bit more heavily filtered that i've been deep diving in from like. oldest to newest? so i'm in like. 2014 rn in that, though i've added word count filters to that despite knowing that there's a lot of spectacular fic out there that's under 4k

but honestly i did a lot of deep diving into tags when i first started reading hrpf (which is kinda what i do with any fandom, i find tropes or pairings i like and deep dive. for hrpf it was kid fic and not a hockey player and zach/willy, but also my standards for any new fandom that are usually identity porn, online dating/dating app related tags, meetcutes, and coffee shop aus) and then just. go from there.

I remember for hrpf specifically i was noticing authors i tended to like (this was pre tracking so that was actually kinda new for me) and i'd read their body of work and then look their bookmarks. i actually found one of my all time favorite fics (the ej/dstrome sugar baby fic) from looking at the gift fics for an author who i literally spent a weekend reading through their entire body of work and was desperate to keep the vibe alive

(checking out the works of the authors of your favorite fics is actually the best and checking their bookmarks is the best and again also gift fics like wow it's such a fun like mish mash and i'll sometimes find gems from other fandoms too)

some ship tags i've been through in their entirety? like i went through the tknp tag fully twice when it was under 300 fics and then kept up with the hrpf tag daily when it was at around 500, so there's very few fics for them that i haven't read that i'd be into. zachwilly i go through once or twice a year. same with mattdrai. i've read through probably all of grilled cheesby, mcstrome, and a couple of others

i've also deep dived into specific players like for a hot minute when i was just craving some good mtkachuk content i just went to his parent tag and looked through literally every sub tag it had for a ship to find things

i think it's also important to note that since i started this blog 18ish months ago i've read under 500k of hrpf fic in a month once, and usually it ranged in the 750k-1.5mil range (it's been a lil less this year because i deeply fixated on 911 and DC at various points so it's been more keeping up and less deep diving)

i also read my friends fics, fics from anyone who follows this blog if i spot it and it doesn't have any of my hard nos, recs from here and recs from friends

anyway i think the answer to this is that i don't know how to like this a normal way and fic has historically been my like. Thing ™

#this is a lot more than you asked for but uh i like to talk about this lmao #my approach to like finding fic is a finally honed system #except its based off vibes and level of whatever demon has possessed me that month #gritposting

[mxplumberry]

no one gives a shit about your shitty x reader fiction if you guys would tag properly and use read mores but unfortunately you're all entitled spoiled brat children so we're all forced to suffer and can't actually enjoy art or gifs

Hey, are you okay?

Do you think it's okay to go up to a stranger to start venting and accusing them of behaviors you think are stereotypical to a certain demographic?

Well, I regret to be the one to inform you that this message really is embarrassing on your part because it is not okay.

Seeking out posts related to topics you don't like, purely to identify and harass someone that has an opinion that is different to yours, is not okay, or frankly, healthy.

Please consider seeking professional help if you think this is okay.

First of all, your complaint about the lack of read-more's is entirely out of date. Tumblr has been forcing long posts without a read-more coded in, to be cropped short with another form of read-more button that you must manually click on in order to reveal the full post.

If you come across a post that hasn't had that formatting forced onto it, then that post is genuinely not long enough to require such outside interference. If you have a problem with that, perhaps you should take this up with Tumblr staff rather than the rest of the community that are using this site as it is.

I'll even let you in on a little secret, one that has made my time on this platform so much nicer, and I'll tell it to you free of cost!

You see, Tumblr has a fascinating feature built-in to all of the user interfaces (yes! BOTH desktop and mobile have this) to help you cope with your irritation towards the way other people interact with a public fandom space in a much healthier way than sending messages like this.

Yeah, they already considered that not everyone would be able to get along! To prevent problems like this, they gave you default access to a resource that can clear up most of the problems you seem to be facing within fandom spaces.

If someone not using a read-more bothers you

just fucking block them

And this advice applies to more than just this singular example!

If you don't like someone's art style, or the way they pick colors, or the genre of music they make, or the way they edit screenshots, or gifs, or whatever the fuck it is they're creating, you can block them, and they won't show up in the feed when you search for the tag anymore.

and I know sweaty, I know that blocking someone doesn't always stop them from showing up on your dash if someone reblogs from them. However, I will remind you that if someone you follow is reblogging content you don't like or in a way you don't find appealing, that's literally on you. You are responsible for having to curate your dashboard to your own liking.

I can't block myself for you.

It's okay if you're not following someone you consider a good friend. Maybe their blog theme isn't your jam, or they're really vocal on their feelings about (insert topic/character here), and you don't feel the same or as strongly.

That doesn't mean you aren't their friend or have to stop talking to them because you aren't mutuals. You're just curating your Tumblr experience.

You aren't being forced to do anything here.

You chose to go into the fandom tag, despite knowing that there are people in the world that might interact with it in a way you don't personally like.

You chose to act like you have no power to curate your internet experience, when in fact you have several options at your fingertips to make sure that any given blog isn't recommended to you.

You chose to act like everyone has to "correctly" tag their content in a way that suits your preferences, despite those preferences being leagues above the standards posted in the tag use guidelines.

You chose to act like someone else trying to live their life and share their art with the world is such a problem.

And right here, I am chosing to not delete this message like most of the ones I used to get when I was public with my writing.

(This is also why this message is so embarrassing for you. You decided to send this pathetic excuse of hate mail to one of the many writers that don't post everything they do online. In fact, none of my writing is posted on Tumblr, so maybe you should consider doing at least a little homework to be sure your insult is applicable enough to the target to be effective.)

I'll also be fully transparent and admit I intentionally made this post longer, without the use of a read more, to spite you, but also because I feel like the xReader community gets way more hate than reasonable. If you were constantly getting shit on for trying to share something you cared enough about to create something for, you'd get pissy with responding, too.

The internet was not built just for you.

This website was not built just for you.

Go touch some grass, you goddamn loser. <3

#ive been ip blocking this shit and will continue to do so but as an “entitled spoiled brat child” i want to stand up for my siblings #please do not let other people make you feel bad for doing something as personal and amazing as creating something #if you are not breaking the rules of the website you post to then it is fair game