#STUPID FUCK!!‼️ anyways I thought about what it would feel for him to touch my skin with his hands

[mayonaisalspray]

.

[riki-riks-chick]

HIII KASS ‼️‼️‼️

recently i js got out of a rlly toxic relationship with my bf, and it made me think! heeseung helping yn realize her abusive bf is bad for her??

can i be 🐮 anon?

Realize ┃L.HS

heeseungxreader

yn is in an abusive relationship, heeseung wants her to know that she deserves better.

cw: angst/fluff! domestic violence, hitting, swearing, abusive relationship, degrading.

wdct: 1.2k

tysm for your request. im so glad you're out of that relationship 💚 pls stay safe and don't sell yourself short bc u deserve a person who respects you and loves you.

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Third Person POV~

You'd be lying if you ever said this is the first time you've left your apartment in the middle of the night. It's definitely not the second either, and you're sure it's not the last. You're in a relationship, and have been in the same relationship for two years. You love your boyfriend dearly, and you're sure he loves you too, but alcoholism is a thing, sadly.

He works long days, and sometimes nights.. You'd like to think it's stress leading his actions. At least that's what you thought at first. All the time's he's come home slightly drunk, you were never bothered by it, but it seemed like he started getting more agressive as the long weeks went on.

Picking dumb fights with you over small things, getting irritated by simple touches or gestures. Slight agression over you not wanting sex from him. Everything just seems to have gone downhill the past few months.

He got home about an hour ago, at around midnight. You woke up hearing the shower, and you got out of bed, stumbling into the bathroom. "Baby?.." You call out lowly, and he peeks out from behind the shower curtain, scoffing. "I thought you were sleeping?"

"I was.. Sorry I didn't wait up for you." You apologize as he rolls his eyes. "I don't expect much from you anymore anyway.." He says as you frown, rubbing the sleepiness from your eyes. "What is that supposed to mean?.."

He turns off the shower, wrapping his towel around his waist as he steps out, his hair dripping onto his damp skin. "You're smart enough to put it together, aren't you?"

You're clearly puzzled at the annoyance in his tone, but he doesn't seem to care. "Did I do something wrong?"

He scoffs, grabbing another towel to dry his hair. "Let's see.. I basically never get sex from you, you don't wait for me at night, I hardly ever see you anymore, and you cop an attitude everytime I say anything to you." He argues as you sigh. "It's hard to want sex when you're always coming home drunk lately."

He raises an eyebrow at your words, stepping closer to you, you can smell the scent of his bodywash fresh on his skin. "Oh really?.. So if I wanted to fuck you right now, would you give in?.."

Your back hits the counter as you step back, your chest rises with each heavy breath as he traps you in between himself and the counter. "You've had a long day, and so did I.. Let's just rest.."

He chuckles, pressing himself against you, you can feel everything thanks to the thin towel he's wearing. "I think fucking you would help me relax way more.." Soon enough he's leaning in to kiss you, but you dodge immediately, pushing him away by the chest.

"Just put some clothes on and we can both sleep.." You suggest, only to be ignored when he pushes your hands away, attempting to kiss you again.

This time you shove him away, leaving the bathroom. He follows, shoving you against the wall once he has a good enough hold on you.

"Please.. Just calm down." You attempt to move, only to be pressed firmly against the wall once more. You can feel a bruising pain blossom throughout your left shoulder blade from the impact of your back hitting the wall.

He attempts to tug on your sweats, but you hold them up. "Stop, just leave me alone!"

He pulls back, staring at you as he scoffs. "You stupid bitch.. Show some respect."

The next few seconds blur as you feel his palm strike your cheek, the pain burning itself into your skin as you immediately press your hand to the spot to soothe the pain.

Your eyes are watering and he's seemingly shocked by his own corse of action. As soon as he parts his lips to speak, you run past him, grabbing your phone before leaving the room.

You slip into some shoes, grabbing your keys and your wallet just in case. And then, you left.

Now you're standing in the rain, feet planted on the doormat of your closest friend's doorstep as you raised your fist to knock.

Though it took awhile, the door eventually opened, Heeseung staring down at you with a pitied expression. "Y/n?.. What are you doing here this time of night?.. Did you guys argue again.." He leaves before you can answer, soon coming back with two towels. He sets one on the floor so you can walk in and then he wraps the other one around you.

You finally release the well of tears that you tried so hard to hold back, and Heeseung's worry multiplies itself. He decides that comforting you is worth more than staying dry, so he hugs you, rubbing comforting circles onto your back.

"What happened..?" He questions gently, pulling back to look at you. You take a second to calm down before staring up at him. "He hit me..." You divulge with a sob, and Heeseung's expression twists confusedly.

"Your boyfriend?.." He asks, and when you nod, his eyes go dark. "I told you to break up with that asshole ages ago, and now he's hitting you?!"

It's clear Heeseung is upset, but you're not in the mood for the "I told you so" speech. "He didn't mean it... He just got upset.." You defend to which Heeseung sighs, pulling away from you. "Y/n.. Getting upset is no excuse to hit your girlfriend.. You need to end things with him.." He says blatantly and you shake your head. "He loves me.. I know it.."

Heeseung shakes his head at you, rubbing his temples. "He doesn't give a shit about you! As much as I know it'll hurt you, I can't just stand by and watch that fucker ruin you!" He yells and you go quiet, sobbing quietly. "Heeseung.. I love him..."

Something snaps inside him at your words. He grabs you firmly by the shoulders, leaning slightly closer to you. "And I love you..." He reveals, his own eyes glossed over. This is clearly something he's wanted to say for years now, but he didn't imagine it going this way. "Y/n.. I know you only see me as a friend.. But I care so much for you.. I can't watch the girl I love be treated that way by someone who isn't even worthy of her.."

You're still shocked at the question, but you nod regardless. "I didn't know you felt that way.." You mumble as he sighs, letting go of you. "I've like you since the day we met.. Sadly that bastard came along and stole you.."

"I'm sorry I didn't listen to you..." You apologize as Heeseung sighs. "I'm not mad at you.. You're the victim.. Promise you'll leave him?.." He asks as you nod, pinky promising him.

"Let's get you some dry clothes.."

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i hope this is good I'm not good at semi-angst fics

[m00nl1ght-sun25]

Again me, greenflower guy¿

Omg, poor Lloyd 😭

It was really good, but can I request a second part? Yeah, I wanna know what happen then ‼️

Thanks!

FUCK IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK ME SO LONG- BUT HERE IT ISSS!!!! i’m sorry to do this but there’s gonna be a part three- ….. IM SO SORRYYYYYYDGDHDHDHDHD

also thanks you asher bc they helped me and were my beta reader <3

but here’s the second part to “You and I Drink Poison From The Same Vile”!!!!! :D

———————————————

Lloyd sighed but took Brad's Hand. 

At that Brad smiles, glad to have gotten his boyfriend to agree to him cleaning lloyd up, and pulls the blond up and off the couch. It causes Lloyd to slightly stumble forward. Brad catches him though, chuckling a bit as he mutters "Sorry“

Lloyd kept his gaze down, shaking his head “ ‘S fine…” He had quietly mumbled to Brad, a small sneeze leaving him.

The elder one of the two sighed but decided against saying anything, so he just took his blond boyfriend by the hand and led him to the kitchen counter, making him sit at the high chair as he had gone to a cabinet to look to some medicine to make sure Lloyd wouldn’t get sick too badly, or better yet not get sick. But knowing the green eyed boys luck, he’d get a cold and would be way too stubborn to say anything until he was severely sick and passes out. 

While Brad was on the other side of the kitchen, rummaging through the cabinets for medicine, Lloyd stayed sitting. He was picking at his nails till they started to bleed. His hair falling down and into his face, but he didn’t mind at all. 

Finally when Brad had found some ibuprofen(they were in pill form though, Lloyd always throws it when when it’s a liquid, so Brad had to find them in pill form.) he made a “Aha” sound in success. And so with finding it he turns around to Lloyd with the box of medicine in his hand and a soft smile on his face.

The next thing Brad had to do was grab a cup, which he did. Then he filled it up water and handed it to Lloyd, hoping that he would take it without complaining. 

Lloyd did just as Brad had hoped, he took the pill and took the water right after to sollow the pill down without saying anything. Yeah, Lloyd did gag a bit at the taste... But he didn't whine about it or anything, but it wasn't like Lloyd had the energy to anyways. He also wasn't in the mood for arguing with Brad over something so simple. He also just didn’t want to argue with Brad in general, he didn’t want to say something stupid then Brad realize what a dick Lloyd is… because Lloyd doesn’t know what to do without Brad, he relays on him too much… he knows it’s pathetic. He’s truly a pathetic creature. 

Brad just silently stood there, watching his partner down the pill and water quietly. Recently Lloyd was always so silent, his face always to empty and unreadable. But luckily for Brad him and Lloyd grew up together at Darklys, so he can easily read Lloyd. No matter how difficult Lloyd tried to make it for him. 

Brad sighs as Lloyd stared at the floor. Lloyd couldn't help to feel ashamed to be like this infront of brad, he's the green ninja for FSM sake! Lloyd's thoughts were stopped as warm hands cup his cheeks and holding his head up to see Brad staring down at him. Lloyd tried to break eye contact but he was too weak, so he slumped into Brads hands with a defeated look on his tired face. 

"Dear, I need you to work with me here." Brad worried voice went inside his ears. "I need you to talk to me, I will hear you out. What happened to you?" Brads sweet voice echoed through out the room.

A warm bubbling feeling started to flourish in Lloyds chest from Brad's care, and his soft, love filled touches. But nothing good lasts. Just as soon as Lloyd started to feel love and happiness to have Brad there, it quickly vanished. Replaced with a cold, fragile feeling. 

Lloyd tried to ignore Brad's worried gaze, not answering his question either. 

Brad softly let out a sigh of air, he wasn’t exactly frustrated, just a bit upset that Lloyd wasn’t opening up to him. But he knew how hard it was for Lloyd to open up, even to the people he loves and have known for years. 

The boy with black hair leaned forward and pressed a kiss on Lloyds forehead, quietly saying “Please, Love.” 

But yet again Lloyd didn’t respond. Brad softly rubbed his thumb on Lloyds cheek, patiently waiting for a answer from the blond. But when he didn’t get one and just shook his head, gently taking his hands off of Lloyds cheeks and placing it on the younger’s hand instead.

“Come on, dear.”

Brad softly spoke to Lloyd. “We should get you to bed, you should sleep so you don’t make the cold get worse.” And as if on cue Lloyd sneezed again.

Brad chuckled and dragged Lloyd to the bedroom. 

When they had gotten there Brad gently pushed Lloyd to the bed. Lloyd wanted the argue, saying that Brad shouldn’t be doing this for him, that he deserved any little inconvenient thing that happened to him, but he couldn’t open his mouth, he couldn’t speak. He felt so overwhelmed, and just… like he couldn’t say a single word, he felt trapped in his own mind, he couldn’t even get a single croak out. Lloyd was too exhausted to even panic… FSM what is wrong with him?! 

So Lloyd just laid there as his boyfriend placed a blanket over his aching body. The blanket made felt 

like a warm, fluffy cloud was placed on him, making all of his other feelings disappear. What made it feel even better was when Lloyd watched Brad climb in bed with him, wrapping his arms around Lloyds waist. 

Lloyd turned around so he was facing Brad, who leaned down and made there lips meet. They stayed like that for a few seconds, but then backed away. Lloyd felt a lot more relaxed now, cuddling in bed with the love of his life. And so he let out a breath of air, placing his head on Brads shoulder and closing his eyes.

Brad smiled to himself, glad to have made Lloyd a bit better and more content in the time of hurt. Brad kissed Lloyds forehead again, deciding now was a good time to ask Lloyd the question again. Because yes he was in a good mood and this could ruin his mood… but he was also in a good mood and that meant he would hopefully be more honest and tell Brad what’s up. 

But Brad pondered on it, maybe he should wait till morning. Yeah, that seemed like a good idea.

[moe-broey]

OKAY. I. FINALLY HAVE DONE IT. IT TOOK A LOT OF TESTING AND TROUBLE SHOOTING AND FIGURING OUT BUT I THINK I HAVE IT

My Askr and Co. team!!!!!!! Sometimes I switch one of them out for story stuff (full immersion lmfao), but!!! It's them it's the OGs 🥺🥺🥺

Alfonse is still pretty much the same, but since the Dragon Flower limit was increased, I feel he no longer needs Fury! Which, removing it does synergize better with Florid Cane anyway, beyond the Canto gimmick (having an Atk/Spd bonus if kept healthy).

Biggest thing I needed to figure out though was who I was giving the special skills to (from an extra Acsended Mareeta and Felix). I WAS tempted to give them to Alfonse (head empty he means everything to me) but I came to the conclusion that Ruptured Sky works too well on him. I even think it's fun from a storytelling standpoint, where he's consistent almost to a fault -- can result in him being reliable, or juuust missing the mark (he's still adaptable as well though!). PLUS! Both are speed based skills, and even With my speedy Alfonse build, AND even with all those Dragon Flowers, Sharena outspeeds him at lower investment.

So it did come down to trying to decide which would work best between Sharena and Anna.

Sharena absolutely needed to be completely revised, since I realized I accidentally doubled up on Null Follow Up on her weapon and B slot (and her C slot was a wimpy Threaten skill lmfao). Ultimately I felt Felix's kit synergized better with Alfred's Arcane I gave to her -- espp Bulwark keeping her healthy! In this way I think I accidentally made her a tank. Especially with all the stat bonuses coming together, on top of a damage reduction special. Really my ONLY bit of grief here is she no longer has her special attack voicelines........... I'm SO sad about that 💔💔💔 (HOWEVER. IT. IS REALLY FUNNY.)

She's just standing there..... Menacingly........... (quite literally with the Menace skill too from the Summer Dimitri manual that's up for grabs. I'm not so sure if it Suits Her storytelling-wise but tbh it's funny. GO GIRL START KILLING‼️‼️‼️)

As for Anna! I actually haven't touched Anna's build in years, she's not a unit I ever use outside of the once a month free orb and sometimes for story... last I left her was with Life or Death 3, Vantage, and a Spur skill. I wanted to keep in line with this initial build though... bc I feel like it suits her.

Outside of this one time (very early on, before I really put a lot of thought into things) I Never use Life or Death (I'm too cautious HAHAH) so I was comfortable giving her a Life or Death 4 I had laying around. BEYOND THAT. IT WAS. SUCH A NIGHTMARE. To figure out What the rest of her kit should be. A Lot of trial and error, testing, troubleshooting, everything. Because the BIGGEST THING is I wanted to keep Nóatún on her. She gets INSANE movement from it, and I felt like if I could Just Get This Right, I could pull off something as gimmicky as my Hit and Run Canto Alfonse. You have to trade SO much power for that movement, and she's already made of glass and paper the way I'm building her (but I am SO committed to this idea bc it's EXACTLY how I conceptualize her character in my mind -- strong starter, hard hitter, high movement = speedy and lots of experience on the battle field!! And SOMETHING in her C and Seal slots to communicate teamwork and commanding.)

EVENTUALLY. WHAT I THINK WORKS. Spurn helps her Not Die As Much/As Quickly (thank you damage reduction), and I think the balance between Oath/Solo skills gets the idea across.

BUT ALSO. THIS. THE MOST FUCKED UP THING I DESPERATELY WANTED TO SHOW OFF IT'S SO FUCKING GOOD!!!!!!!!!

LOOK at this. LOOK at how STUPID this is. How by giving Alfonse Odd Tempest HE IS. SO POWERFUL. HE MAKES A KILLER OPENING (EXACTLY AS HE ALWAYS SAYS HE WILL‼️‼️‼️). Reposition into Canto into look at him fucking go. He's fucking gone. Halfway across the battlefield. AND ANNA HAS FANTASTIC SYNERGY WITH THIS!!!!! Being able to get That One Extra Space thanks to Nóatún!!!!!!!! (Unfortunately this was a terrible matchup and she died instantly, but this is more for demonstration purposes 🫡)

I am a little sad that Sharena gets left on the back lines when this works out but. I think she's still doing her part. Esp since I'm testing out Ardent Sacrifice on her, where I typically exclusively only use Reposition and always have a healer. On top of eating hits, she also covers for her allies as well! Making sure they're okay :)

Finally! Takumi! I. Have no idea how he fits in here tbh I don't even know how Pathfinder works. But I love him so much so dearly and he's here because he's a highly respected veteran member of the Order of Heroes. Also everyone say thank you Alcryst for fucking finally giving him a usable weapon and decent skills (I have gone through SO MANY ideations of base Takumi builds and they have NEVER been on the level of stronger units he was ALWAYS WOEFULLY OUTCLASSED. Which is DEVASTATING bc I really like using base forms sometimes!!!!). I'm SO happy he's finally on par w stronger units now!!!! OH. AND. THE MAJOR THING ABOUT HIM ACTUALLY. Is once he gets the ball rolling he is procing Deadeye every fucking turn. Just like in Fates... 🥺🥺🥺 (killing and maiming and violence complete with a cheeky attitude and bravado!)

[boognish-worshipper]

Midnight City AU

this is an au where the main characters are all young adults!! (or millennials ig? they’re in their 20s basically) i gave a rundown of what’s what on a diff post,, i’m also splitting it up into diff chapters,, so this is gonna take a looooong time to finish. i’m posting this before i nitpick my writing to the max

it’s basically a lot of references to that point in time, artists, pop culture etc. all the chapters are named after songs from that era (including the name of this au bc i love midnight city and what better way to describe LS ‼️), and the lyrics r usually connected to what the chapter’s about, or about a character dynamic :D i hope this isn’t too cheesy, or sounds off ig. any typos in this were probably over looked bc i constantly reread my writing and rearrange stuff and make sure it sounds good 🥳 hope y’all enjoy !!! i’m also including a tag to find the chapters under :)

//Chapter 1: Crimewave

Trevor would never, ever admit it, but he had fallen into the category known as “post-hipster”. This was a strange era that began culminating, taking LS by storm. Whether he liked it or not, he could never avoid it. Even if he swore up and down he wasn’t like them, it was practically a paradox. Saying he wasn’t like them just made him a branched off version of the thing he denounced. Each aesthetic that was churned out as the 2010s rolled in were tied to a style, a sound, and Trevor couldn’t care less. It’s not like people liked what he liked. He didn’t belong to anything in particular, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t like them. If anything, he just became another obscure genre in the mix.

One of his favorite music groups was a Canadian duo called Crystal Castles. He enjoyed a good number of their songs, developing an interest for electropunk and pop punk. There was something unique about the sound, and it made Trevor feel special, like he discovered some sort of hidden treasure. He was into pop punk groups like Paramore too, but it was something about them that was just different. People knew Paramore. He often lingered around Sterling Lake, where other post-irony hipsters and classic hipsters resided, careful not to fully associate with them. After all, he apparently despised them, even though he participated in their strange… “culture”. If you could even call it that. From time to time he would find himself discussing his favorite artists with whatever semi-normal person was there, making a couple friends himself who weren’t the snooty kind he’d grown used to.

They all loved talking about how exceptional their taste in music was, a wide variety of people hanging around with their own cliques. Some liked Fall Out Boy, while others liked Blink-182, and then there were the weirdos who liked groups like Radiohead. Most of those guys were whiny, proclaiming how misunderstood they were. He knew maybe one Radiohead song at most (he definitely, definitely never cried to “Creep” and even if he did, so what) but never found himself willingly getting into their music. Then you had the nosedivr crowd, which consisted of mostly girls, and the occasional hipster guy that defected. Their taste was.. alright. Consisted of artists like Lana Del Ray and Marina and the Diamonds, who were their idols. He found almost everyone there besides the few friends he made kind of edgy, and not in the cool way. But he figured all hipsters and guys like them were kind of uncool. Don’t even get him started on those other indie rock types. God. He still came back as often as he could though, establishing some kind of routine. Most people there avoided him anyway, which he preferred. He had enough troubles with them in the past. There was one day he grew tired of the people gawking at him, and he launched a hipster right into the lake. So yeah, nobody within their right mind so much as looked in his direction. That was just how he rolled.

Today, he sat on a nearby bench in Sterling Lake’s park, watching some ducks float on water. His usual friends had been there too, seeing his clowncore buddy Wade with his cousin Floyd. Wade was extremely different than the pretentious fucks around them. He had a shit ton of piercings, and ICP was his favorite music group. Floyd on the other hand, fit right in. Almost too much, like it was something he was forced to do. But he did genuinely enjoy Weezer, of all things you could enjoy. Wade started waving at Trevor, while Floyd hid behind him. All he did was awkwardly wave back, turning his attention back to the lake. He liked Wade, but the clown stuff he wore sometimes spooked him. He didn’t pay much mind to his relative. Looking back across the water, he saw someone new, observing the area. Some dude a little above the average height, hands in his pockets walking around. He seemed a bit lost, and Trevor figured he should help if he was. After all, what was this guy doing here? New people didn’t show up often.

“Hey bud, you lost or something?”

“Oh uh, nah not really. I’m just looking for this girl I met a while ago, said she hangs out around here?”

“What she look like? I’m here pretty often.”

“Uhh kinda short, dark brownish hair? Wears fishnet stockings, high waisted shorts or whatever those grunge people are into.”

“Let me guess, she into the Neighborhood?”

“How’d you know?”

“Yeah, that’s Amanda, she’s a bit of a regular. Not too fond of me I must say.”

“How come?”

“She’s just petty towards me.” He said with a shrug. He didn’t feel like relaying his encounters with her if the guy was dating her or something.

“Oh… well d’ya think you could help me find her? I don’t really know anybody else here. I could actually use the help, since you know her.”

“Eh sure, why not.”

It’s not like he had anything better to do. The two began to walk around the park, gravel and dirt crunching beneath their feet.

“So.. what’s this place about?” The strange guy asked.

“Hm? Oh, it’s just one of those places the hipster folks meet up I guess. Don’t understand it much myself, nor do I really like them.”

“Then why do you come here?”

“Dunno. It’s relatively peaceful, those freaks keep to themselves.”

The man, who was only a smidge shorter than Trevor, glared up at him.

“Hey man, don’t call my girl a freak.”

“Ehh I don’t really count her in with the generic skinny jean wearing hipsters. More of a.. what is it called.. nosedivr type. Whatever that stupid website’s called. Why do you think she dresses like that?”

“Huh.. Never really thought to ask her.”

As he thought about the stuff Amanda wore, he took note of how the man next to him was dressed. He sported an olive jacket with a black turtle neck, and a plain pair of jeans. He wore beat up black converse to top it off, and a pair of Rimmers sunglasses sat upon his head. He looked simple, yet distinguished with the way he presented himself, hair neatly combed back. He figured the two would look nice standing next to one another. They would’ve made an attractive couple, if they weren’t dating already, the kind that turns heads. Trevor wasn’t like them. He wore a black beanie over his mullet, and his favorite pair of red Dix sunglasses rested on the bridge of his nose. The rest of his fit looked disheveled. He had thrown on a wrinkled top, solid black with little surf boards and cars along the bottom- he was a sucker for Hawaiian shirts. His pants were tan colored but had some bleach stains, with old combat boots on his feet.

“Yeah, we may not like each other but I don’t really consider her a freak like those guys.”

He jutted a thumb in the direction of a circle of guys huddled around a phone. The man holding the phone had strawberry blonde hair and a clean outfit on. An expensive looking outfit.

“Who are they?”

“The people here I absolutely cannot fucking stand. The genuine hipsters.”

“Oh.. and you’re..?”

“I’m my own kind. I’m not like these losers, all uppity and shit.”

“Right. Gotcha.”

They walked around a bit more before finding the group Amanda was with. She sat on a bench, chatting with a few girls who dressed similarly to her. All of them had black incorporated into their style. She herself had a black jumper on, tucked neatly into the front of her jean shorts. Just like the guy described, she had fishnets on under them, skater shoes to match. Loose braids fell on her shoulders, and a small black choker was wrapped around her neck.

“Oh, there he is now! Babe! Over here!”

She narrowed her eyes upon seeing Trevor standing next to him.

“Hello, Trevor.” She huffed.

“Relax, I was helping your boyfriend or whatever look for you.”

Her face softened slightly, but still kept a small glare in his direction. She pressed her lips together tight before replying.

“Thanks, I guess.”

“Yup.”

The man turned to face Trevor, sticking out a hand.

“Hey, thanks for showing me around. Trevor, is it?”

“Don’t wear it out.”

He shook his hand, noticing how soft it was. It was in stark contrast to his own, which was rough and calloused.

“Name’s Michael. I’ll see you around most likely? Thanks again.”

“Yeah, no problem.”

Amanda huffed again, nudging Michael’s shoulder.

“Let’s go hun, Bean Machine closes soon!”

“I’m comin’ I’m comin’!”

The two sauntered off, hand in hand. Trevor stood dumbly, watching them walk away. He was right. They did look good together. He wondered if he would actually see this Michael again, kicking a rock. He went back to the bench he originally sat at, putting his earbuds in, listening to some Crystal Castles again to pass the time. The beat thumped in his ears, and all he could think was how much better this shit was compared to that club music shit that played on every radio station in a 5 foot radius. He sat there, scrolling through his own secret nosedivr account, reblogging some photo of a lit cigarette. Right before a hand touched his shoulder causing him to jump.

“What the fuck- Oh. Ron.”

Ron was another friend of Trevor’s, a guy he had met outside one of the iFruit stores talking about how “they’re tapping the phones they sell in there!” and all that conspiracy nonsense. He was a paranoid guy, but Trevor kind of liked that about him. Those were the kind of freaks he liked. He was shorter than Trevor, sort of frail in stature. He wore a bright red windbreaker over a faded tourist tee that read “I went to Liberty City and all I got was this lousy t-shirt!”, along with khaki colored cargo shorts. It didn’t help that he wore some goofy looking bucket hat, and socks with sandals. He dressed like someone’s middle aged father.

“Trevor! Have you seen Wade around anywhere?”

“Last I checked, he was with Floyd.”

“Did he say where he was going?”

“Uh no, but my best bet is they went to that vinyl shop Floyd’s girlfriend works at.”

“Will ya come with me to find him?”

“Now why the fuck would I do that? What do you need him for?”

“Well I- I uh- um..”

“I uh! I uh! Spit it out Ron!”

“It’s about the Merryweather Night Club.”

Merryweather was a big organization that had a wide range of private clubs all over the country, and complimentary body guards to suit. They were all expensive as fuck, and anywhere they settled jacked up the prices of everything else. A lot of neighborhoods became gentrified as a result, and people actually considered it a good thing. What a fucking joke. Trevor of course couldn’t stand it. He hated bullies, and Merryweather was no exception. He’d been wanting to dismantle the club since they settled in LS, seeing as they only amplified the fake feel of the city. Let’s just say he’s gotten into more than a few scuffles with the club. And let’s just say it ended with someone getting stabbed as a result. The guy had it coming to him anyway. Between bouncers and the clubbers, they didn’t like Trevor or his kind loitering around the joint. It didn’t stop him from plotting some sort of revenge though. Ron per usual was on board, his reason being Merryweather’s violent history that had been swept under the rug. They were rather forceful relocating people who had lived in certain neighborhoods for years, Ron being one of their victims. Wade only decided to tag along because he wanted to be included.

“Ah fuck, what’d those bastards do now?”

“They’re throwing some big party!”

“…What fucking for?”

“All I know some guy’s coming to visit, somebody they labeled important and he’s-“

“Woah woah woah wait, Ron. Who?”

“Steve Haines.” He breathed out, careful not to be overheard.

Trevor’s eyes widened, his gaze shooting over to the posse he had poked fun of before. Steve was talking to the group, all of them doing that fake laugh they always did. God, even their humor was pretentious.

“Those fucking hipsters!” He hissed.

“I abhor them, you know that-“

“I know. I know. But, that Weston guy’s gonna be there with him-“

“Weston? Devin Weston?”

If Trevor hated hipsters, then he utterly loathed rich daddy’s money boys like Devin Weston. He had only gotten that stupid fucking night club because his father paid Don Percival enough money to let Devin do whatever he pleased with the Merryweather body guards. It was an elitist club, and they only allowed the best of the best in there.

“What the fuck’s going on there?”

“Something to do with those guys he hangs out with. I think they’re doing something major, expansion maybe-”

“And him and Devin are working together or..?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t hear much after that, that’s why I wanted to grab you and Wade and-”

“Then let’s fucking go get him, Ron!”

The two rushed out of there, heading for the vinyl store to look for Wade. Trevor knew a shit storm was coming, and he absolutely couldn’t wait.

//the next chapter’s gonna be longer i promise lolz

[hatterstan-shameblog]

Prompt My Own Damn Self # :He’s Not the Guy You Marry, But He Is The Guy You [REDACTED] in the Night Club Bathroom at Two O’Clock in the Morning, Which is Also Important

Summary: Literally what it says in the title, except we find out what [REDACTED] means, which is very fun and exciting. That’s right, everybody, we’re 👏 going 👏 there 👏

Warnings: ‼️18+‼️ Extremely Explicit Sexual Content. Do NOT be uncool and read it if you’re not of age. Otherwise, there’s alcohol involved here (wow what a surprise 🙄), like one mention of drugs, and smoking. Aside from that, it’s pretty straightforward.

Genre: Mediocre Smut

Pairing: Hatter/Fem!Reader

Notes: There are two types of people in this world: people who are very attracted to the weird sexy hat guy who started a death-game pyramid scheme, and LIARS.

Real talk, though: this is pretty explicit. More explicit than I’ve gone in a very long time, so I’m a little rusty. It veers into “hate sex” territory, which was kind of fun to write, honestly. I live for the banter. (Also, the “you” character in this is kind of great? I like her.)

HEY! Just another reminder! This is 18+ so if you’re not of legal age, do yourself a solid and ditch this little thing, okay? Okay.

💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕

It starts with tequila shots.

Salt licked. From your wrist. His chest. The hollow of your throat.

Lime bitten. Held between your fingers. Between his teeth. Between your pushed-together breasts.

Music pulses. Lights flash. He’s got a hand on your ass. You’ve got your lips on his neck.

“Wanna go somewhere?”

“Yes.”

And he leads you, hand on the small of your back, away from the bar. People stare. You like it.

‘Somewhere’ is, apparently, a two-stall women’s restroom, tucked away in a narrow little hallway which runs to the left of the bar. A place for shooting up drugs. A place for scribbling on the walls with permanent marker.

A place for sex. Hot, sweaty, anonymous sex.

...Well, semi-anonymous, anyways. It’s impossible to live at the Beach and not know who the man in red is, the man who sells a shot at salvation for nothing more than a few playing cards.

You lean against the tastefully cream-colored counter which hosts, among other things: a sink stained pink with cheap soap; three forgotten tubes of lipstick; a small mirror, holding an abandoned credit card and two small lines of cocaine; a crumpled up hand towel; a half-finished bottle of Asahi beer; and what was probably once a wedding ring.

“Great ambiance,” you murmur flatly. The harsh light of fluoresent bulbs burn your eyes, diverting your gaze to the white floor, “Been ages since I got fucked in a classy place like this.”

“Ages?” Hatter flicks the lock on the door with a low thunk.

“Hours,” you answer, mournful tone betrayed by a smirk tugging at the corner of your mouth, “Had you not come along, my dry spell might’ve gone on through the morning.”

“Perish the thought.”

And he does not so much approach you as he descends upon you, mouth sucking at your collarbone and leg pushing between your thighs.

“Tell me,” he pants into you ear, breath hot and fingers deft as he unties the strings of your bikini top, “How do you want me?”

“Now,” you hiss back, “Don’t care how, just—fuck, just give it to me.”

“Then, if you would be so kind?” He holds a condom between his index and middle fingers.

In truth, you’re glad for it—you’d rather not deal with the mess after all is said and done—but there’s no way you’ll give him the satisfaction of a ‘thank you.’

“Fine,” you huff, snatching the foil square from his grasp, “Don’t suppose you have anything better to—oh!”

Hands on your hips spin you around so you’re facing the mirror. You grip the edge of the counter, knuckles straining, and watch as he reaches around to palm your breast.

“Apologies,” he makes eye contact with you in the mirror, “but I seem to have my hands full at the moment.”

And that’s when you feel fingertips slipping beneath the seam of your bikini bottoms, an insistent press against the slick of your slit.

You spit a curse and fumble with the condom, desperation setting in as his hands continued to dance across your flesh. After some moments (too many for your liking), you’re successful in your endeavor, and pass the unwrapped nuisance over your shoulder.

“Much obliged,” he thanks, removing his hands to sort himself out, “You know, I appreciate—“

“I didn’t come here to talk,” you snap. He laughs in response.

“Ooh, you’re mean!”

And he’s sliding the crotch of your swimsuit bottoms to the side, exposing only what is necessary and lining himself up—and, okay, that’s the kind of semi-impractical hotness you were looking for from this particular encounter. Your muscles clench involuntarily around nothing and you cant your hips back to get him to move it along...but nothing happens.

God, what is this guy’s problem?!

“But, I wonder,” he whispers into your ear, “are you desperate enough to say ‘please?”

Of all the guys to pull for a quick fuck, of course you get the one who’s a total tease. So smug, arrogance blooming as he presses a soft kiss to your left shoulder. There’s no way you’re giving in to this asshole, so you glare at him in the reflection of the mirror.

“Fuck you,” you spit, teeth bared and mouth formed into a malicious smile.

He shrugs his shoulders.

“Close enough.”

You both cry out when he fills you with a single, fluid thrust. And—fuck, fuck, fuck!—that is good. One of his hands curls around the jut of your hip, while the other splays across your collarbone, thumb and forefinger framing the base of your throat in a firm but gentle touch.

Otherwise, he remains still—perhaps he’s being gentlemanly and allowing you time to adjust? No, no, he’s definitely being a tease again.

Seriously, what is his goddamn deal?

Since he seems content to take his merry time, you take matters into your own hands, moving against him in a somewhat-awkward but still satisfying rhythm.

“You,” he says between heavy breaths, “seem eager.”

There’s something in his voice that seems amused, as if he finds your candor endearing. You lean forward a bit, angling your hips so his length is able to sink deeper and, oh, that’s much better.

“Want something done right,” you pant, “gotta do it yourself.”

“You don’t think I’d do it right?”

“Sweetie,” you coo with a condescending smile, “I know you wouldn’t.”

And you’re lucky that guys like him are all the same—arrogant, showy, desperate to prove their sexual prowess—because he finally (finally!) decides to get his sorry ass into gear and make something happen.

The hand that was around your neck gropes at your breasts, the cool metal of that stupid-ugly-tacky ring catching on your skin in an annoyingly tantalizing way. The other shoves its way between you and the edge of the countertop, deft fingertips circling your clitoris in a way that makes your toes curl in your sandals. You bite your lip to keep from crying out as he fucks into you, hips snapping hard but steady against the plush of your ass.

“You know, the people I fuck usually try to be nice to me,” he says, “nicer than you, anyways.”

The hand on your breast pinches your nipple, earning him a sharp gasp.

“Why be nice?” You clench around him, causing his rhythm to falter, “You’re just the means to an end.”

“And here I thought we were making love.”

Teeth scrape down the length of your neck, and fuck—you’re getting close. Your arms are shaking. Your heart is racing. You hate to admit it, but he’s good at this.

“Darling,” he growls into your ear, “I do believe you’re about to come.”

“Shut up,” you snap, trying desperately to sound cool and unaffected despite the fact that your composure is about to shatter and there is not a goddamn thing you can do about it.

“Well, go on then. After all,” he hisses, “I don’t have all night.”

What starts as anger is quickly overtaken by pleasure—white-hot and blinding, enough to make your knees shake and your eyes spring with tears. It’s exactly what you were looking for, exactly what you had been expecting from the most notorious sex fiend at this God-forsaken place.

Apparently, he must’ve come too, because he’s pulling out with a surprising tenderness—gentlemanly in one way, at least. He even makes sure to right your bikini bottoms, making sure that they’re once again covering you completely before turning his attention to himself.

“You know, I didn’t know people could glare their way through an orgasm, but you made it happen.”

“I’m a woman of many talents.”

Before you choose to look in the mirror, you fix the rest of your bathing suit with a tremble in your fingers. You can feel him watching you, and honestly, you’re not sure how you feel about that. Good, mostly, but tinged a bit orange with annoyance. You try not to think about that too much and, with a deep breath, look at your reflection.

The first thing you do to assess the damage of your little liaison is check your makeup—your eyeliner is a bit smudged, but that’s easily fixed with a few swipes of your littlest finger. Your hair, however, is another story, so you set to fixing it with a dissatisfied huff.

You hear the snick of a lighter behind you and the scent of fresh-burning nicotine hits your senses. You turn around to see him leaning against the tile wall with a cigarette between his lips and smoke curling in wisps towards the ceiling.

He raises an eyebrow when you approach him, then chuckles when you snatch the cigarette right out of his mouth and take a long, deep drag. It’s almost as good as the sex.

“You know,” he says, “I think you might be a bit in love with me after my spectacular performance.”

That makes you choke, your lungs switching from laughter to coughing and back again.

“Spectacular?” You quell your sputtering with a gulp, “You were passable. At best.”

“Careful, sweetheart. You’re getting awfully close to giving me a compliment.”

You take a step closer to him, shoulders squared, fingers ashing the cigarette onto the floor.

“Not your sweetheart,” you say, taking one last drag and blowing the smoke directly into his face. You smile when he flinches.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me,” you say, pressing the mostly-smoked cigarette between his lips, “I have somewhere to be.”

You turn on your heel and begin to walk away, making sure to sway your hips just so as you do. There’s no way his eyes aren’t glued to your ass, and the thought makes you smile triumphantly.

“Until next time, then,” he calls—and it’s cute that he sounds so sure that you’ll come crawling back to him.

You exit the bathroom with a self-satisfied smirk, enjoying the thought of him lighting another cigarette and trying not to chase after you.

Three days, tops. That’s how long it’ll take for him to beg.

You can’t wait.

💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕

also just in case you were wondering, he DID leave the sunglasses on—BUT they were on his head kinda holding his hair back because I truly believe he would do that. also the kimono has pockets and he thinks it’s very cool to carry around all his stuff in there (for example he keeps a granola bar on his person at all times because sometimes you just get hungry yknow?)